by Raven Dark
“If?” He shakes his head. “Oh no, young lady. There’s no going back now.” He gives my nape a single possessive squeeze. “I’ll ruin you for other men, Sandra.”
While the way he says the words “young lady” makes my pussy throb, the promise makes me nervous, painfully aware of my own inexperience. I’m not a virgin by any means, but Skeet was my only boyfriend, and compared to Gar, I feel as if I’m about to take my first step into a strange and exciting new world.
Suddenly unable to meet his eyes, I focus on his cut. I run my fingers along the threads that make up the title on his patch—Treasurer—licking my lips. “How do you figure?”
Gar pinches my chin between his finger and thumb, tilting my face up. His eyes trap mine. “After tonight, you will wind up comparing any man who touches you to me. And he will never measure up. Not that you’ll ever be with anyone else.”
I smirk at him. “Wow. Arrogant much?”
Except that I know he’s right. I already have compared him. Skeet wasn’t a novice in bed, but after kissing Gar, it’s clear why I so often thought something was missing whenever we were together. There is an authority and danger in Gar that Skeet would never obtain, not after a hundred years.
“I am the only one for you, Sandra. Like it or not, my bed is the only place you belong now.”
My blood pressure soars. Damn, he is so hot. It’s crazy, but I feel as though there was a void in my life before he came, and now that void is filled. He’s a puzzle piece that I never knew was missing from my heart. Sleeping with him is inevitable now. The idea just feels… right. But I also know we’re a train wreck waiting to happen.
I cock my head at him. “I’m still not sure that I like you, Gar.” It’s not entirely a lie.
His eyes dance as if the notion excites him. “That changes nothing. Besides, you won’t feel that way by the time you leave.”
As if to prove his point, he turns me around, walks me backward toward his bike and pushes me up against it. At five foot two, I’m not a tall girl, but the seat comes to the small of my back, making me feel as tiny as he does.
Gar lays kisses on my forehead, my cheeks, my neck, my ear, making me shiver with delight. His arms tighten around me as if he thinks the shiver is because I’m cold, despite the warm night.
“I’ll make it good for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs in my ear. “I promise.”
His promise makes my stomach flutter. His lips find mine and our tongues dance. I moan and lose myself in the slow kiss that seems to systematically wear away the last of my defenses.
By the time he stops, my senses are hammering and I’m so wet it’s insane. I lay my cheek on his chest, my hands fisting the back of his cut. I close my eyes, letting the safety I feel in the arms of this big, bad, dangerous man wash away the fears that try to rise up.
Sinclair won’t stop until I’m dead, that’s what Gar said. I grip his cut tighter.
Gar’s huge hands massage my back and he puts his face in my hair, inhaling deeply. “What is it?”
“This is a really bad idea, Gar,” I sigh helplessly.
“Probably, but I don’t give a shit.” He releases me and walks around the bike. As he swings on, somehow I see the disaster unfolding even before he pats his knees and his hand closes around mine.
“Get your ass over here, sweetheart.”
I swallow. “Here? Now?”
“Mm.”
My cheeks grow hot with mortification. Skeet’s idea of kink was having sex in the storage room at The Eatery when I worked there. When the place was closed, the door was locked, and there was zero chance of a customer coming in. There’s no one here now, probably not within miles, but it is a public park, regularly used by teenagers who come here to make out. God, what would my parents say if they knew what I was about to do now? It’s nuts, but that idea only makes me hotter.
“What if someone sees us?” I ask.
He lifts his shoulders. He doesn’t care. “Take off your panties, Sandra.”
Oh, wow. Hotness overload. I’m going to die.
I’ve made enough bad choices in the last few months. I’m about to make another one, and yet, I can’t make myself care either.
Feeling ridiculously exposed and out of my element, I hike up the dress, slipping off my panties. They’re soaked.
“You’re crazy, Gar. You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s your fault,” he grunts, watching me with so much hunger it drives me wild. “You made me crazy doing that little dance of yours earlier.”
I barely have the scrap of cloth off before he grabs the panties and makes them disappear inside his cut, not seeming to care that they’re slicked with my juices.
I drop my skirt awkwardly and wait for him to show me what to do. He helps me onto the bike, but this time positions me so that I’m facing him. While he holds the motorbike steady with his legs and straddles the seat, he yanks me against him and pulls my legs up to his hips. His cock presses right into my sex, startlingly huge and rock hard.
“This would be easier if you weren’t wearing enough of this thing to clothe the entire town.” He grins, shoving the skirt up to my waist.
I giggle. “Are you complaining?”
“No. You’re sexy as fuck in that thing. Hold your skirt for me, sweetness.”
Biting my lip, I grab hold of the skirt, gathering it at my waist. Exposing my sex for him in all its glory. Shit, this man is insane. I love it.
Gar shoves me backward until I’m lying across the tank of his bike, his big palm splayed across my chest, holding me in place. His gaze falls between my legs and he rumbles in appreciation, his other hand gliding over my slick and aching sex.
“Oh, God.” I jolt, the first stroke making me arch my back and press myself into his touch.
“Fucking soaked.” His eyes burn through me while his fingers stroke my clit, up and down and then in agonizingly slow circles.
“Oh, wow. Gar…” Gripping the fabric of my skirt hard enough to rip it, I close my eyes, rubbing against him, the sensations too much to resist.
“Yeah. Good girl. Let me know how much you like it.” His other palm slides up over my chest, around my throat, staying there just long enough to make me wonder, then back down between my breasts.
“You’re driving me crazy, Gar,” I pant.
His fingers explore until he finds the pace and rhythm that I like, gauging my responses. I rock my hips and he growls in approval. Two of his fingers slide easily into me, stroking slowly in and out.
“Oh, God!” I rock faster.
There’s something about this man that makes me so responsive, every touch is like an electrical pulse shooting through me. I wouldn’t have dreamed a woman could feel so connected, so in tune with a man as I am right now.
“I can’t wait to feel this pussy around my cock, Sandra. I’m gonna pound you into my bed so hard you’ll feel me for days.”
His words drive me faster toward the edge.
“Yes! Yes, yes…” I don’t have the brainpower to consider what my promise might mean right now.
He speeds up, watching me fuck his fingers. My nails dig into his thighs and he growls again, as if he loves the bite of pain. He yanks me up and against him again. In the instant before I come, his mouth captures mine in the world’s hottest kiss. While his tongue mates with mine, his hands cup and squeeze my ass, making me rub shamelessly into him.
Careening over the edge, I toss my head and cry out.
Gar draws out the last of my orgasm with a few more quick strokes, making sure his palm rubs my clit until the last tremors fade. I pant into his shoulder, shuddering against his powerful frame.
“Still think this is a bad idea?” he purrs. He bites my ear as he slides his fingers out.
I whimper. “Yes.” But I only hold him tighter.
“Then I’ll have to work on that.” He rubs my back. “But I’m not fucking you here. I want to spend the whole night inside you, Sandra. All night in my bed.”
“Wait a minute. Gar, can we…?” I bite my lip on a twinge of anxiety.
“What is it?”
“It’s just…the wedding is probably still going on. I’m not in the mood to be around a crowd. Can we go somewhere else?”
“You got it, sweetheart.”
What a relief. People and crowds mean noise, an easy place for an unwelcome guest to get close. And likely, questions from Anne I’m not ready for.
“If we’re leaving, can I have my panties back now?”
He smirks. “Nope.”
I smack his shoulder and he snorts.
“You’re a jerk, you know.”
“I know.” He taps my ass. “Off you get. We need to go.”
I sigh and swing off, wait for him to move forward on the seat, and then swing on behind him. “I hate you right now.” I slip my arms around him, resting my chin on his shoulder.
“Not yet. But you will.”
The words send an inexplicable bolt of excitement through me, but also a touch of trepidation.
“What exactly does that mean, Gar?”
“You’ll see.” He winks.
“Gar.”
He laughs and starts the bike.
Whatever he thinks he’ll do that I’ll hate him for, as we ride out of the park for wherever he plans to go, I know one thing is for sure. Gar’s going to take me on one hell of an adventure, and one hell of a wild ride.
Being with him might be a terrible idea, but whatever lies ahead of me, I can’t wait to explore it all.
4
Safe Haven
After we leave the park, I expect Gar to take me back into town, but we don’t return to Whiskey.
Instead, we head further away from town, along a dirt road toward a place near the lake, where Gar says his brother Cal owns one of the many lake houses. It’s out of the way, he explains, where Sinclair isn’t likely to find me if he comes looking. According to him, it’s the next safest place to the clubhouse. I notice that he’s taken a lot of backroads to get out there. It seemed like he backtracked several times, but out here, there’s nothing but trees and dirt roads, so I can’t be sure.
It occurs to me that perhaps I should be afraid. I’m on the back of a motorcycle with a giant of a biker I could hardly fight off if he decided to force himself on me, and he’s taken me deep into a wood I don’t know very well, but somehow I know I’ve never been safer.
We’ve shared something incredibly intimate not an hour ago, and while Gar is rough and commanding, there is a gentle side to him I can hardly believe is possible. How the hell this works considering how long he’s known me, I don’t know, but he cares for me. I can see it in his eyes, feel it every time he touches me or whispers in my ear with his promises to keep me safe.
No, the real danger is out there, and he doesn’t wear a cut or ride a bike. He drives a Rolls Royce and wears a fancy suit and a charming smile.
We drive into a secluded area called Tanner Lake about an hour before midnight. It’s a gorgeous, quiet area, with a crystal clear lake dotted with docks and small fishing boats. Large lake houses line the shore, some of them close together, others miles apart. My parents and I have been up here a few times, sometimes with Anne, but not since I was a kid. The place brings back so many memories. Memories of days when I was still a good girl, when I had no idea what kind of wolves were out there waiting to gobble up girls like me.
Since tonight was Anne’s wedding, my parents won’t be expecting me home until after the weekend. They’re expecting me to stay with her friends, so I won’t have to come up with an excuse as to why I haven’t come home after leaving Cincinnati. Thank God. I feel bad that I haven’t seen them in months, but I can’t handle their worry right now, or the questions I don’t know how to answer.
The bike rumbles to a stop at the end of a path in front of a two-floor, impressive lake house with wide windows and thick pine trees guarding its perimeter.
Gar cuts the engine and dismounts.
“Wow. This is gorgeous, Gar. Your brother must come up here all the time. Is he here now?” Somehow the thought makes me nervous. I’m not up to socializing tonight. It hits me how unlike me that is. I used to love chatting up new people.
“No, he’s away on a job and won’t be back until Monday.”
It’s Friday night now. That leaves us two full days. It’s pathetic, but I find myself hoping he’ll keep me here until then.
Gar takes off my helmet and sets it down before helping me off the bike. The seat wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable on my ass as I thought it would be, but perhaps that’s because there’s so much skirt to cover it.
“Does he know you’re using his place as a fuckpad, Gar?” I ask, straightening my skirt.
His broad grin makes my insides dance. “He lets me use it when he’s away, which is most of the time. I can tell you, Calamity doesn’t come up here to roast weenies and play golf.”
I raise a brow. “Your brother’s name is Calamity?”
He pinches my chin as if I’m being cheeky, then takes my hand and starts up the path to the front door. “It’s a biker name, sweetheart. We usually call him Cal.”
“Is he a walking disaster or something?” I love the feel of his hand engulfing mine. It’s warm and huge and safe.
“No.” He laughs. “You’ll understand eventually.”
A few feet from the door, a twig snaps in the darkness, making me jump. I turn to see a cat racing out of the treeline at the side of the lake house and across the road before it disappears into the bushes on the other side. My heart is racing and I clutch my chest.
“Hey.” Gar rubs my arms until I look at him. His voice is warm and soft. “You’re safe here, all right? I took a lot of backroads to get here.” When I don’t look convinced, he squeezes my hand. “Come here. Lemme show you something.”
Gar leads me on a quick tour of the lake house, and I quickly see what he means. Cal has installed cameras everywhere, above every door, hidden in bushes and trees. There must be at least ten of them.
“Badger put in a hell of a surveillance system here when Cal inherited it from our dad,” he says, showing me another one.
“Badger?”
“Yeah. Barbie’s old man. He’s the club’s surveillance expert.”
“Whoa.” I look up at another camera above the bay window that looks into a kitchen. “Is he kinda paranoid? Your brother, I mean?”
“Nope.” He walks with me back to the door without elaborating.
Well, whatever reason Cal has for keeping the place so well-guarded, I’m grateful for it. No one will get near the place without one of those cameras picking him up.
“I’ll show you the feeds when we get inside,” Gar says as he unlocks the door and pulls me into the house.
I nod, impressed with both the security and the lake house. It’s a beautiful open floor space, all shiplap paneling, wooden floors and elegant mid-century modern furniture. It looks like a rich man’s summer house, rather than a lake house meant for a biker’s weekend getaway.
As soon as we’re in the door and he shuts it, Gar pushes me up against it. My eyes go wide.
“I can’t keep my fucking hands off of you, Sandra.” He buries his face in my neck and grinds himself into me. The hard length of his cock rubs just right against my sex, rekindling the ache there. I let my head drop against the door with a thud. He growls hungrily in my ear and sucks on my neck hard, making me whimper.
“I don’t want you to.” I clutch at his shoulders and back, my head swimming with heat and need.
“You shouldn’t have said that. Now you’re going to spend the entire weekend on your back.” He licks my ear. “With your legs spread, and your throat raw from screaming my name.”
God, this man is going to drive me mad. It’s amazing I keep from telling him to jump my bones right there.
“Gar...” I brea
the his name.
His mouth devours mine until my head swims. When he pulls back, he grabs my hand with a wicked smile. “Come with me.”
I expect him to take me to a bedroom. Instead, he takes me into the kitchen, where he grabs a beer for himself and twists the cap off, tossing the bottle cap in the garbage in the corner.
“Seriously?” My thighs squeeze together, but it does nothing for the pressure he’d built there.
“Problem, sweetness?” His eyes twinkle as he takes a swig of beer, watching me.
Shit, he’s taking his sweet time. I bite my lip, suppressing the urge to beg him for more of his mouth, his hot body. I want this man so bad it’s obscene.
“You’d better learn to slow your roll, Sandra.” He strolls over to me and runs his hand up my nape, over the back of my hair, where it’s twined up in a clip. The caress of his fingers sends a shiver of delight up my spine. “We have all weekend, and I want to take my time with you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Good girl.” He steals a kiss. “You want a drink?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Gar?”
“I don’t need to get you drunk to fuck you.”
From someone else, that statement would sound vulgar and obscene, but he makes it sound sexy.
“Wine, please, if you have it,” I say. This man makes every part of me so wired I’ll probably need a drink to relax around him.
Gar pours me a glass of white wine from his brother’s fridge and then takes me into another room where the camera feeds are set up. I whistle as soon as I see them.
“My God. This is amazing.”
The whole wall is made of large screens, each one looking out onto a different part of the property, several showing rooms inside. I sip my wine, looking over the impressive array of monitors. Three keyboards line the oak desk. Gar presses a few keys and waves me over.
“Badger has the same setup in the clubhouse. Went a little overboard, I guess, but he likes his toys.”
“I can see that.” I grin and take a few more sips. I don’t know much about wines, but the vintage is sweet and delightfully tart on my tongue. The alcohol creates a pleasant buzz, relaxing me. Just what I need.