Jase

by MariaLisa deMora

  “Let me take you to breakfast,” he said, intently watching her in the mirror.

  She tensed and sighed, shaking her head. “There’s been some club business over the last couple of days. I’ll have to find out how things are today before I leave for work. I might be needed here.”

  “Then let me cook breakfast for you,” he persisted, frowning as she again shook her head. Something was going on here that didn’t make him happy.

  “The kitchen is a common area and prospects do most of the cooking. It’s probably not a good idea to invade their space.” She shrugged, looking down at the countertop.

  He pulled back, dropping his hands to his sides, releasing her and watching a sad, resigned look sweep over her face as she kept her gaze down. He took a breath then hazarded a guess. “You don’t want them to see me with you.”

  “It’s not like that,” she said, still not looking at him, but now he was getting…not mad, but something like it, and he interrupted before she got any farther. This wasn’t his DeeDee. She didn’t hide her face, didn’t hide from things. He needed to provoke her, draw her out, make her admit that what was going on was something they both wanted...both needed.

  He said, “I’m gonna go out on a limb here, but I suspect you’re not willing for them to see us, because you think they’ll react badly.” She opened her mouth and he held up a hand, silently asking her for patience. “In all my life, I’ve never felt as seriously under scrutiny as I have while chasing after you these past months. Even when scouts came to the games when I was playing in juniors, I didn’t feel this watched. But, baby, you have to know the attention has been far from discouraging. If they had been after discouraging me, I suspect I’d be stuffed in a box somewhere.”

  He sighed, keeping his eyes on her face in the mirror. “When I think about everything that’s happened with the club members, I know I’m right. From them telling me not to let you get cold feet weeks ago in Chicago, to yesterday, being grilled about my long-term intentions, it feels like they’re rooting for us. Hell, I’d say it’s even a fair bet they know I’m here right now, since the bike I’m borrowing from Mason is parked right next to yours outside in the clubhouse lot. Baby, it hasn’t escaped my notice that no one—in the hours I’ve been here with you—not one man has come up here to throw my ass out. That tells me something.”

  He turned her to face him, palms sliding up and down her arms. “Baby, I think you already know all this, and also know you’re holding a bad hand when it comes to putting me off. So, if we take any difficulty about the Rebels off the table, what arguments are left? I have a couple of guesses. One is that, evidence aside, you simply don’t want this thing between us, whatever it is. Do you want me to go? Want me to leave? Like I told you last night, you’re in charge. You want me to go, I’ll walk. At least, I’ll try to if you truly want me to leave.

  He took a breath. “Then my second guess is maybe you just want the physical and would rather I shut the hell up. Do you only want my fingers and mouth, my cock, but not the rest of me? Is there no chance of a relationship here? Which is it, DeeDee? Because you’re pushing me away pretty hard, and have been since the beginning. I think there’s something here, baby, and I’m willing to keep fighting if you just give me the slightest sign that this thing is mutual. What do you say?”

  She closed her eyes as he was talking and now shook her head, sighing as she tipped her chin up to face him, her eyes opening wide. Inwardly, he was encouraged, because here again was the bravery he had grown accustomed to seeing from her. He watched her, waiting patiently.

  “I don’t know what ‘this thing’, as you call it, is. I don’t know what to call it, much less what I’m expecting. Does it have to be defined and discussed right now? Today? Jase, I’m not afraid of the members seeing us together, but you have to understand this is not my house. I feel like I’m here on sufferance, and staying here definitely means all the rules are theirs. It’s their house. I’ve been looking at an apartment, because I hate feeling...like I’ll end up owing a favor. Not that they would ever do or say anything to make me feel that way, but…something for nothing isn’t the way of the world. And, right about now, God…I wish I’d already taken that leap, because things between us this morning would be very different.” She offered him a one-sided smile.

  “Do you want me to go?” he asked.

  She shook her head and he kept trying to reassure her with soft touches, stroking slowly up and down her arms while waiting for her response, keeping that constant contact between them.

  “How long are you in town?” She asked the question and then bit her lip hard, looking as if it had slipped out by mistake.

  “A few days. I told the hotel three nights, which leaves two now.” He closed his eyes, leaning forward and rubbing his cheek against hers, smiling at the small gasp when his stubble stroked over her soft skin.

  “Can I stay with you until you have to leave?” Whispering her question, she pulled back and looked down as if she expected rejection.

  He smiled at her, reaching out to tip her chin up, bringing her gaze to meet his. “Sounds perfect, sweetheart. We’ll roll around in the hotel bed for hours, me wrapped around you. Then do it again, you wrapped around me. What time do you get off?” He laughed and changed his question. “Off work. What time do you get off work? I know you’ll get off as soon as I get my grubby hands on you.” Dropping his head, he growled and playfully bit the side of her neck, drawing a laugh out of her.

  “I’ll call you when I’m leaving work,” she said, sidestepping out of his arms with a smile.

  ***

  “Did you see that little son of a bitch slipping out of the clubhouse this morning?” Hoss was pissed, because for the first time ever, there had been an overnight visitor in DeeDee’s suite. “What the fuck did he think he was doing, inviting himself here?”

  Slate turned his head, looking over at Hoss with a crooked smile. “Yeah, saw Jase sneakin’ out a little bit ago. What’s got your ass in a twist? She seems to like him well enough, and you told me last night you were happy with what you got out of him at Slinky’s. Second thoughts, man?”

  “Motherfucker parked in the lot all night.” Hoss didn’t know why he was so angry. He talked to Jase yesterday and had ended that conversation feeling like the man would be a good match for DeeDee. Seeing how gently he treated her had gone a long ways towards settling his mind, too. In ten minutes, he had drawn a half-dozen laughs out of a woman who seldom smiled anymore. Then, seeing the morning-after evidence climbing on his fucking bike in the lot, knowing they were together…had been together, made him irate.

  “Hard to park outside the lot in this area. Besides, he’s borrowing Mason’s scoot. You heard the boss same as me; he’s evaluating Jase. Man’s a friend of the club, means he gets a welcome into the clubhouse as long as there’s no private business in motion.” Slate shrugged and turned to glance up the stairs. “Seen Ruby this morning? I was thinking of taking a run.”

  “Not yet. PBJ said he found her sleeping in one of the unoccupied rooms last night, made sure she was covered up, locked the door behind him. What about DeeDee?” Hoss had lost the edge of anger from before, but needed guidance here. His decision not to pursue the woman wasn’t sitting right, and he kept worrying at it like a dog with a bone.

  Slate lowered his chin. “You know my answer, brother. We’ve had this discussion. She’s her own woman, and that makes it her own decision. She’s ours, but we respect her choices.”

  “Yeah, I know. I got you, Prez. Breakfast is ready, so why don’t you go get something to eat. Last night was a little tense with Machos in our house.” He yawned.

  Agreeing with a nod of his head, Slate walked towards the kitchen. Hoss’ phone rang and he looked at the display, hissing, “Fuck,” and then answered the call from a man he knew in the Detroit Highwaymen MC. After the conversation, he went to hunt Slate down again.

  “Hey, Prez, Highwaymen reported some issues with non-patched assholes up
north. You sure you don’t want a couple brothers on your six?” Mentally, he was going through the list of vertical and awake brothers already at the clubhouse. If Slate wanted company, he could roll with him, along with PBJ and a couple of the prospects.

  Shaking his head, Slate said, “Nah, we won’t go far; I just want to get the cobwebs out of my head with some wind. There’s been a lot of shit rolling around for days. Things are finally starting to settle down. Want to get it out of my head for a while, and I thought Ruby could use a break too.”

  Hoss nodded, and then asked, “You heard Manzino vacated?” Slate gave him a chin lift and looked a question at him. Shaking his head, Hoss said, “I don’t trust it. It was too easy after all the shit we went through.” Manzino was a drug dealer they had a fuckton of shit with while Bingo was president. The riffraff drug dealers had ranged closer and closer to the clubhouse and other businesses without any serious pushback from the club, setting a dangerous precedent.

  When Slate had taken over as president in Fort Wayne, that pushback had been reengaged with a vengeance, and the club had eliminated threats within a broad boundary around all Rebel properties in town. Not surprisingly, Manzino had taken it personal, and in retaliation had sent dozens of his men to try to reclaim his territory, buzzing around the members like pissed off hornets. Now the man had dropped off the face of the earth, and Hoss didn’t trust it at all.

  Slate agreed, “I know; I’m not feelin’ it either. We put a hurtin’ on his business, though, so he has to relocate in order to make his bank back. It could be as simple as that. We’ll sort that shit out over the next couple of weeks. Today, I want to take a run.”

  Hoss nodded and turned away.

  What is this?

  DeeDee found herself humming quietly as she folded and packed clothes into their bags. Jase would return to Chicago today, and while this interlude had been beyond enjoyable, it was time for her to go back to the real world. It was early morning, and she should be tired, given she never made it to sleep last night, but found herself strangely energized instead. Jase was showering, pouting because he hadn’t been able to tempt her into the shower with him…again. Shaking her head, she smiled, her hands pausing in their task for a moment.

  Since she walked through the door two nights ago, they hadn’t left the room except for one brief run on the bikes so she could show him the apartment she was considering renting. He wanted to see it for himself, had loftily informed her he had to see it, because not just any place would do. Fortunately, it was in a lovely complex on the north side of town, convenient for shopping and close to both Slinky’s and her favorite bar, Checkerz.

  He approved of the apartment. Then he shocked her by putting the deposit down right then and there, ignoring her very vocal protests. It was as if he didn’t even hear her. Frustrated, she threw her hands in the air and walked away, giving up trying to stop him.

  She had grown to realize over the last forty hours that it was nearly impossible to argue with Jase Spencer. The man was accustomed to getting his own way, but he wasn’t a bully about it, merely convinced that his way was the right way. His arguments about the apartment had been conducted with a heaping measure of utmost respect, as well as a chaser of humor. It made for a potent cocktail and one that she found hard to resist.

  Finishing folding the shirt in her hands, she placed it in his small duffle and patted it fondly. That shirt had been all she was wearing last night when he bent her over the edge of the bed. She had been trying to talk to him about the apartment again, and he derailed the conversation with his naked body. Pushing the shirt up gradually, he layered kiss after kiss on the skin of her back as he exposed it, nibbling on her ribs and shoulder blades as she laughed and wiggled to get away. The position had pressed his hardened cock against her ass and he rubbed it ruthlessly up and down, teasing against her anus with the head, giving her a thrill of tense anticipation.

  Reaching around her body, he had groaned when his fingers found the slick wetness between her legs and arched his body, holding his cock in place as he slowly pushed into her. Wrapping his other hand around her hip, he pulled her back against him in an unbroken rhythm, his cock gliding deep inside her with every smooth thrust. He held the pace steady until she climaxed, coming with a clenching of every muscle, his words of praise and desire helping to ratchet up her reactions, pulling a little groan from her. He then followed her over the edge, losing his words and control within a few hard, erratic strokes. She sighed, thinking, I’ll figure out a way to repay him the money. Now, she simply had to find the right counter-argument when he wasn’t distracting her in what had quickly become a myriad of her favorite ways.

  Sex between them had been explosively passionate every time. Around Jase, she was nearly out of control, constantly wanting him to touch her, cover her skin with his hands and body.

  They discarded condoms on the first night after a conversation about sexual partners. She had only been intimate with one man before Winger, and none since his death. Jase told her his last sexual encounter had been months before at a drunken party on the road during the previous season. The team’s regular physicals included testing, and he offered to provide her a copy of the paperwork. She believed him, not because she didn’t think he got hit on, but because he didn’t shy from her questioning. He also wasn’t taking the opportunity to crow about what she assumed were the many conquests and encounters he could have had as an attractive, professional athlete who was a favorite with fans and press.

  She shared with him that pregnancy wasn’t an issue for her due to a hysterectomy right after Lockee was born. After having multiple miscarriages and two stillbirths as she and Winger tried for a child, when she finally had been able to carry a baby to term, her doctor had recommended the procedure. He explained to her that her body couldn’t continue to take the abuse she was piling upon it. Told her some things weren’t meant to be.

  When she spoke of the surgery, glossing quickly over the agony of the pregnancies that wouldn’t stick, wouldn’t go to term, Jase had gently used the tip of one strong finger to stroke the tiny scars she carried. She had always been troubled that it had only taken three small, inch-long incisions to remove any possibility of ever becoming a mother again. While silently pressing kisses to those indelible reminders on her skin, he slipped between her legs and then trailed his mouth down her belly, not stopping until he brought her to climax with his fingers and tongue.

  They talked. God, how they had talked through these hours together. She explained about Melanie, telling him how Lockee and the girl had bonded early and hard. How she had been there after the accident, helping DeeDee keep putting one foot in front of the other, day after day. Mel had stayed as close to her as a daughter, which was how she had come to think of her.

  Jase had wanted to know about the accident, and about what happened to her the day Winger and Lockee died. She shared her emotions with him, feeling his arms tense around her as she talked about being alone when the call came in. He kissed the top of her head when she spoke about seeing Bingo in the hospital and knowing instinctively that it was bad…that her family was gone. But, even beyond those conversations about difficult topics, he was full of surprising questions about everything. He wanted to know how she took her coffee—black—what kind of socks she liked—ankle-high—her favorite color—yellow, and her favorite animal—bunny.

  Even when deep inside her, he didn’t stop asking questions, constantly murmuring into her ear. But those inquiries were about speed and depth, comfort and arousal, feeling good and coming hard. She had never met anyone who wanted to know her in that kind of intimate detail. It was flattering; hell, this whole thing was flattering, because he was both young and hot, and still seemed to want her with a fierceness that was startling.

  He was so different from anyone she had met before. She thought back to something he said in an unguarded moment, how nothing in his life had prepared him for her. She felt much the same way, because all her expectations and
reactions were programmed to match the man she spent decades married to, and Jase was…well, Jase. He was lighthearted and fun, gentle and sensual. He made her laugh a lot, and around him, she was confident in a way she hadn’t been for a long time.

  Not that Winger hadn’t been fun; they had a lot of laughs over the years and had shared a deep and profound love. But he was sixty-six when he died. There was a big difference between how one acts at thirty and how one acts at sixty-six. She smiled, thinking that even at that age, she suspected Jase would keep anyone on their toes.

  After Winger’s death, she had done her best to come to terms with the idea of living the rest of her life alone—without companionship. She knew, by nature of being in the life, there were few opportunities to meet new people within the club. And while she loved every one of them, she couldn’t see herself leaning on any of his friends for a real relationship of any kind, much less a physical one. She remained close friends with Bingo, and of course, loved Mason beyond belief.

  She actually loved all the Rebels, because they were her boys…but she kept her guard up around most of the men. Many of them, like recent addition Birdy, made her somewhat wary, afraid of making a misstep and earning his judgment. There certainly wasn’t anything romantic between her and any of them, nothing conducive to being more than friends. And now, after being with Jase for only a few days, having this little bit of a relationship, she couldn’t imagine going back to her lonely life.

  There was no warning. One minute, she was standing at the end of the bed, distractedly looking down into the bag she was packing, and the next, she was lying on her back in the middle of the bed with one very wet, very muscular, very aroused man on top of her. He shook his wet hair, flinging water droplets in every direction, leaning in to lick the water from her face as she giggled. He pressed full length against her, his wet body molding her shirt to her chest.