Cutter's Claim: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 2)

by Monique Moreau

  She was thirsty alright. Thirsty to fall to her knees and swallow his cock to the back of her throat. She wiped the sweat beading along her hairline. A knowing smirk spread over his face, and he gave a crisp swat to her ass, catching her in a sensitive spot between her butt cheek and upper thigh. In place of a curse, a whimper slipped out, and she had to consciously stop herself from rubbing the spot on her bottom.

  “I’ll choke on my tongue before I ask you for anything,” she gritted out. He laid his palm on her hip and prodded her forward.

  “Go find Sage.”

  Regarding him over her shoulder, her tongue darted to the corner of her mouth. He followed the movement before his gaze dipped to her harness. In a throaty timbre, he warned, “Watch yourself, little one.”

  Tugging the ends of her jacket together, she lifted her chin. The bastard had thrown her off her game again. Cutter crossed his arms over his wide chest at her defiance and let out a low growl. An actual growl. Unfortunately, her body was primed, her nipples painfully tight. Giving him the middle finger, she mouthed “fuck you” and hurried toward a group of women standing by the fire pit. Her heart pounded against her rib cage like a jack-in-the-box gone rabid.

  ※※※

  Greta turned her back on the stacks of liquor bottles to the side of the buffet table. She was damn thirsty, but no way in hell was she going to drink a drop if it meant asking Cutter for anything. What he’d done to her was too good by half. Her peace of mind was shattered because, at his signal, she’d have dropped between his legs and unbuttoned his Levi’s. Have him give it to her dirty and crude, the way she craved it. Jesus, she must be broken inside to be fantasizing about him like this.

  Sage sidled up to her and slipped her arm into the crook of Greta’s arm. She flinched, but Sage’s smile calmed her pulse. Dusk had already fallen when Cutter had pulled his little stunt, so Sage hadn’t seen any of it Greta planned to keep it that way. Sage inquired, “How are you?”

  “Good.”

  “I hope you’re telling me the truth. I know it isn’t easy for you to be here. Any time you feel uncomfortable, I’ll leave with you.”

  Greta rolled her eyes. Like she’d take Sage away from the party. She was a type A, overachieving, overworked attorney. And that was with Kingdom setting hard limits on her. There was no way Greta would leave.

  “I know this isn’t super comfortable for you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

  “Girl, I wouldn’t miss your birthday party for the world. And it’s not so bad. When I visit with my mom, I hang out with her man and his brothers.”

  “You stay with your mom. You don’t set foot inside their clubhouse.”

  “Eh, it’s not a big deal.”

  Sage squeezed her closer. “Come on, let’s get you a drink and mingle.”

  At the mention of alcohol her gaze skittered around the space and screeched to a halt on Cutter. Nearby lights illuminated him, lounging back on a picnic table, his arm wrapped around a woman’s shoulders. Across a yard full of people, she could hear his distinct laughter. Detecting her attention, his eyes met hers. His smile fell away, replaced by a hard-set jaw and immobile features. She expelled a little sigh and saluted him with her closed water bottle. Absently, Greta said, “I’m good with this.”

  “Seriously? No alcohol?”

  “I’ll catch up, don’t worry,” she lied. Sage frowned but shrugged. They’d reached a group of women, and Sage belted out, “Hey everyone, this is Greta! Some of you already know her, but let’s welcome her to the way we party!”

  Before Kingdom, she’d never seen Sage giddy like this. Greta snagged Sage and hugged her tightly. The smokiness coming off the firepit brought back memories of playing tag around bonfires. She smiled at the women as she was introduced to them. Like the prospect outside, they looked her over meticulously. One of the older women nodded to her, and the others relaxed collectively, pulling on their beers, or taking sips from their Solo cups, and resuming their conversations.

  Chapter Nine

  Cutter watched Greta release Sage from a hug and stride into the clubhouse. Where the fuck was she going? Better not be to dance and rub up her sexy body on some other bastard. Cutter found her plastered against a wall facing the large dance area, dark and pulsing with the heavy bass of hip-hop. A woman in daisy dukes and a tube top waved her hands above her head, then dropped them to the bar in a sultry move before all eyes were drawn to her twerking ass. The air was humid and hot from the wall-to-wall crowd of people dancing and drinking. He saw Puck drag his younger sister away from a man she was grinding on.

  Cutter wove between swaying couples to follow Greta as she edged around the side wall and then skirted the crowds, checking each hallway of the main floor. He almost caught up with her, but she slipped into a bathroom at the last moment.

  Following her, he leaned back against the wall facing the bathroom. The door swung open, Greta stumbled out, screeched, and smacked into his rib cage. His hands cupped her elbows and her nails dug into his biceps.

  Thunder brewed in those dark green irises, overtaking the natural grass color. She looked like one pissed-off biker princess. He skillfully moved her until her back was against the wall and then slapped a hand beside her head. The sound echoed between the narrow walls of the empty corridor.

  “Time to go home, Cinderella.”

  She huffed out a laugh. “Cinderella. Funny. Or rather, not so funny. I don’t like being called names of Disney characters. One thing I know for sure is that I’m not a damsel in distress. Been there, done that.”

  “You’re leaving and I’ll be the one seein’ you home. Safe.”

  Greta quirked one side of her lips. “I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m more than safe on my own.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He breached the remaining space between them until they shared the same air. His knuckles stroked the top of her chest and followed the curve of her breast to the center of the leather harness. Yanking her closer, an obscene moan slipped from her lips and washed over him, zip-lining a surge of power and hunger straight to his cock.

  “I decide what’s best for you. Bad enough you’re wearin’ a harness, advertising your nature to every dominant male within a ten-mile radius. I bet there’s a matching collar somewhere in your house, but, lucky for you, you were smart enough to leave it. As it is, you wouldn’t last the night without some asshole getting up in your face, bossing you around.”

  She snorted softly, the sweet scent of her dancing across his cheek. “You’re talking in riddles because that’s exactly who you are.”

  Heat bloomed on her skin and sloped down her neck.

  “I’m the asshole you want, so I determine when it’s time for you to leave. I decide if you’re gonna ride on the back of my bike. I decide everything. Feel me?”

  “Hold up, you did not just say I’d ride bitch on the back of your bike.” Shaking off his hold, she said, “Whatever, that’s beside the point. Let me clear something up for you right this instant.” With a finger poking the center of his chest, she ground out, “You don’t decide anything for me.”

  He pressed her against the cement blocks of the wall, crushing her pointed finger between them. She might be on the slimmer side, but in no way was she petite. With three-inch boots she towered over most men, yet she’d have to go onto her tiptoes to lick the line of his jaw.

  “Been waiting for a woman like you. Difficult on the outside, docile on the inside. You don’t know it yet, but you’ve been waiting for me.”

  “Okay, you’re babbling nonsense. Are you drunk?”

  “I’m gonna do you a favor.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Can’t wait to hear this one.”

  He chuckled before finishing, “I’m not gonna turn you against the wall. I’m not gonna rip your jeans off or take my hand to your ass until you scream. ”

  Squirming under his bulk, she tried to shove him away, but en
ded up grinding against his erection. He slid his thigh between hers and increased the pressure. His balls drew up as he imagined her pulling out his swollen cock into her waiting hands. He captured her wrists and raised them above her with a smack against the wall.

  “Ouch!”

  “You hurtin’? Seems to me you’re not a good listener. But, I have ways to get bad girls to start actin’ right. To listen. To follow. Whatever. I. Say.”

  “Fuck you and your club,” she snarled.

  “The word ‘fuck’ is the first real one you’ve said all night. Fuck, as in fucking your mouth or fucking your pussy? Or do you like takin’ it in the ass?” He tilted his head, his gaze running down her side to her butt. “I’m partial to your ass.”

  Oh, she was feeling him now. Right between the legs, because the heat coming from her pussy was singeing him like a Taser. He adjusted his grip, taking her wrists in one hand and cupping her butt with the other. Her ass cheek filled his hand, soft and bouncy. He kneaded it, and she barely stifled a yelp while the inner muscles of her pussy clenched and released against his thigh, in tandem with his massage. Spine arching, her torso jutted forward to give his large hand more space to grip.

  “You like that. No wonder you have an attitude, baby girl. You haven’t been fucked right.” Her breath stalled, but she made sure to toss him one of her signature salty expressions. “Don’t play with me. I’ve barely touched you and your fuck-me eyes are begging me for a nice, sharp slap as an appetizer.”

  She shifted her attention away from him, but he snapped his fingers in her face and dragged her focus back to him.

  Eyes narrowed, she spat out, “You know nothing about me.”

  “You’ve got spunk. That much I know. And I like it,” he responded in an amused tone. His fingers returned to her buttocks, diving deeper into her supple flesh. A snicker came from behind him and the sound broke into the moment. Checking over his shoulder, irritation bubbled in his chest.

  “A new woman. How you find them…” said Puck.

  Thinking he was distracted, she squirmed, but before she could escape, he cupped her mons. “Clear out and don’t let anyone back here.”

  “Come on. You never minded an audience before.”

  “Fuck off, Puck. Do what I say.”

  Puck raised his hands in surrender and backed away. “Alright, alright.”

  Once Cutter was comfortable with Puck’s distance, he flicked the buttons of her jeans open and snaked his hand down the front.

  “What the fuck? I barely know you.” Her words were harsh, but she bit back a groan the instant his fingers slid between her wet, fleshy lips.

  “Princess, you’re gonna let me do this.”

  Her gaze roved over his hard torso, from the cords of his thick neck to V-shaped grooves of his abdomen, outlined beneath his thin Henley. Trapped between the wall and his body, his mouth descended upon hers. Devouring her orally, his thumb and forefinger latched on to her clit.

  “What I’d do to lick your pussy right fucking now. Not the time and place for that, but lucky for you I’m in the mood to play.”

  Small gasps puffed out of her as he thrust inside and ground the heel of his palm against her pussy. Groping, she found the ridge of his stiff cock and stroked hard. He tore her hand away and shoved it against the wall again. Clinging onto his shoulder with her free hand, she clamped her leg over his thigh and rode his fingers. A base growl that he barely recognized rumbled through him. His hand gripped her breast, holding her in place, as her orgasm tore through her like an explosion. Shivers crashed through her in waves. Her nails came out and raked the side of his face as her hips gyrated until she was left panting. He pressed in again, but she was so sensitive that she jerked and shook her head for him to stop.

  Satisfied, he slid his hand out, her juices coating his fingers. Eyes on her, he sniffed them and then slipped them into his mouth. Her scent brought forth a sultry summer afternoon, rich and heavy. Fertile, like a soil meant to receive his seed. Pulling them out with a popping sound, he touched her chin with his sticky fingers. “You’re gonna go home, take a shower, and rub yourself down with lotion. No touching that swollen little clit of yours. Not until I allow it.”

  Her chest heaved, air sawing in and out of her lungs. “You’re not the boss of me,” she protested.

  “Babe, my cock is hard as steel. Don’t tempt me ’cause you don’t want me to show you who’s boss right here. It won’t be pretty or gentle.” He eyed her up and down. “I see you, babe. You don’t want it like that, do you? No, you want it dirty.”

  Throwing his hand off, she fled down the hall, hurling out a fuck you for good measure. Puck stepped aside for her. Once she’d slipped around the corner, he said, “You outdid yourself. I timed it,” he waved his cell phone, “and it took you all of three minutes and twenty-seven seconds. I’m keeping score with the brothers who can get a bitch off the fastest.”

  “Where’s your sister, huh? I’d check on her if I were you,” he rejoined.

  With the taste of Greta on his lips, he stalked into the bathroom, slammed the door shut, pulled out his cock, and stroked.

  That bitch is mine.

  Chapter Ten

  It was too fucking early to get out of bed when there was a warm body beside him, but Cutter’s chances of cornering Loki, without eavesdroppers, were limited. Like clockwork, he woke up at five or six, some fucked-up hour in the morning, like a damn monk. Rubbing the grit from his eyes, Cutter dragged himself out of bed and stumbled down the darkened stairs. Roaming the first floor of the club, Cutter flipped on the lights, grumbling about how he was gonna kick Loki’s ass.

  Turning into the kitchen, he found him bent over a collection of knives set out on the island counter. The bastard was sharpening them. Loki kept himself to himself and didn’t want to know anything more than necessary. The brother was an IED ready to explode.

  That said, he was a good brother. One of the best, if you didn’t count the time he tried to take Kingdom out over Chopper’s suicide. Loki was an officer with a sophisticated set of skills that acted on command. End of story. The only question that remained was whether he’d stay after Prez stepped down. Civilians thought bikers were renegades, but nothing was further from the truth. They did not follow normal rules, but it made their commitment to their club more powerful. Bikers lived and died by the oath they pledged to their colors.

  Best way to solidify Kingdom’s reign was to corral Loki into supporting him. Who knew, it might pull his ass out of his monastic knife obsession.

  “Want to know why I take out my collection to clean at the ass crack of dawn?”

  Fucking hell, he had no choice but to take the bait. Leaning over the island, he dropped his chin on the heel of his hand. “Why?”

  “I come down, in the early morning, to be in peace and tend to my knives. You’re fucking with my meditation time. Best be quick about it or I’ll jab a blade in your junk.”

  “Guess a man can learn something new every day,” he snorted. “Cleaning utensils: a form of meditation.”

  “Your ignorant ass doesn’t know shit. These aren’t kitchen knives. Samurai care for their weapons like real men care for their women.”

  Here we go. Picking up a long sword, Loki began, “The katana was their primary weapon. A katana is an extension of a warrior’s arm. It is a spiritual object, and like anything on a shrine, I must keep it pure. We’re dirty motherfuckers, and it’s a warrior’s responsibility to return the object to its original, pure form after he touches it. Respect the knife and you will be worthy of handling it.”

  If a man gets poetic about his knives, it’s time to jump ship. Unfortunately, Cutter didn’t have a choice but to listen and pray he didn’t get stabbed for his troubles.

  “Men abuse their weapons with their ignorance and lack of respect. A Japanese steel katana is a work of art. It’s as demanding as a woman beggin’ to come. One of the most important ways to respect your blade is to clean it when it encounters impuri
ty.”

  Loki cut a look Cutter’s way, wordlessly telling him that he was as impure as they came. Cutter rolled his eyes.

  “Blood,” Loki emphasized. Aww, shit. Loki was going down a dark path. Fuck, this was painful to listen to. “Blood taints a clean blade. The best way to maintain the blade is to not touch it or use it. But life doesn’t work that way, does it now? Situations arise that require the use of a weapon.” He raised his hands, palms outward. “The tips of my fingers are dirty—no matter how much I scrub them. Imagine what that does to a blade.”

  Loki closed his eyes and inhaled a full breath, held it, and released it slowly. “It’s carbon steel. Since you’re an idiot, you have no fucking clue what that is. I’ll tell you what it’s not. It’s not stainless steel like the swords dumb-fucks like you buy on the internet.”

  “You’re scaring me, dude.”

  “That’s because you’re a pussy.”

  “Am I gonna get to talk, or are you going to chew my ear out much longer?”

  Loki gave him a doleful look. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, Cutter muttered, “Go on, but wrap it up quick. I’ve got a bitch in my bed.”

  Loki held up two pieces of cloth, one clean and one soaked with oil. “There are native materials, like rice paper, that Samurai used instead of cloth. Many items can be substituted, but”—Loki cradled a silk ball in the palm of his hand—“an unchiko ball can’t.”

  “A what now?”

  “In traditional sword care, the unchiko ball is used to prevent rust.” He held it in front of him with outstretched hands. “It’s filled with the fine powder of a special Japanese stone.”

  Concentration furrowed his brow as he tapped the silken ball on the stainless-steel countertop. Cutter touched the soft powder, like ash, flowing from the silk. For some damn reason, Loki’s lesson was beginning to interest him. Loki wiped the blade from hilt to tip in one precise motion.

  “I’m removing the excess oil from the carbon steel. I would normally polish it, but I won’t since you’re here.”