Burned_Viking Bastards MC

by Christina Phillips

  No girl’s ever done that. Not in ten years. And not because they didn’t try, intrigued by the Leo and Cancer signs, and thinking it’d make a great conversation.

  Not fucking likely.

  They never made that mistake twice.

  I cover her hand and hold her palm against my chest. Just like I used to, but back then it was a possessive, automatic reaction. My girl and everyone knew it.

  I don’t know what it means now. Slowly she slides her fingers from my grasp, her nails raking along my skin. Her gaze never leaves mine. With practiced ease, she unbuckles my belt, but instead of dragging my jeans down my legs, she pauses, her hands on my hips.

  “You want some help there?” There’s a rough note in my voice, but I don’t follow through because it’s obvious she knows exactly what she’s doing.

  “Back up.” She gives me a little push to get me moving. “I want you on the desk.”

  “You’re stealing all my lines tonight.” But if that’s how she wants me, I’m sure not complaining. My butt hits the edge of the desk, and she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, but still doesn’t rip them off me.

  “Sit.”

  “It’d be a lot easier if you’re the one sitting on the desk.”

  “Not for what I have in mind. Are you going to argue all night, or just go along with it?”

  “I’m not arguing.” I park my ass, and it’s damn uncomfortable with the open zip digging into my dick. “I’m suffering in silence.”

  She follows my glance. “Ouch,” she says, but not as though she means it. “Maybe I’d better fix that.”

  “If you want some action tonight, then yeah.”

  She gives a little huh of laughter as she rearranges her handiwork, and I let out a relieved sigh as my jeans end up halfway down my thighs. I should’ve gone commando tonight.

  “Is that better?” She tugs my hair free from its tie. You’re the only one who’s ever done that. Strange how a small action can mean so much. “No lasting damage?”

  “I’ll survive.” I loop my arms around her waist but don’t pull her any closer. Her nails graze the back of my neck and across my shoulders, and I groan. “Maybe.”

  Her deceptively sweet smile more than makes up for the frustration burning through my blood. She brushes her lips across mine, a barely there kiss, and it’s the hottest damn thing ever.

  “Maybe?” she echoes, her breath warm against my ear. “Is that a challenge?”

  “It’s anything you want it to be.” I palm her ass and ignore the powerful need to swing her around and fulfill my own fantasies of having her on my desk.

  “Hmm.” Her tongue and teeth tease my earlobe while her fingers play havoc over my back. “I’m not here to keep score. Just to drive you out of your mind.”

  “You’re halfway there already.”

  “Only halfway? I need to up my game.”

  I choke out a laugh and slide my hands over her thighs. Damn dress. “There’s nothing wrong with your game.”

  She smiles against my jaw and then digs her fingers through my hair, holding my head as she kisses me like it’s the end of the world.

  I trap her between my thighs, but she’s still not close enough to ease the throb of my cock. Her mouth and tongue are driving me crazy, sweet and hot and everything I’ve missed and craved for way too long.

  Her hand wraps around the back of my neck as she breaks our kiss. “It’s not a game,” she whispers, but before I can even think of an answer to that, she moves down, brushing her lips over my shoulder and across my chest.

  I manage to loosen her hair, and it tumbles down her back. I grunt in satisfaction and wind some strands around my fingers as she swirls her tongue around my nipple.

  I fist my hand in her hair, pressing her more securely against me. My eyes close as she sucks and nibbles, and I’m way past halfway out of my goddamn mind.

  “Bite me.” It’s a feral growl, and she smiles, her teeth grazing my flesh, but she doesn’t immediately obey. Instead, she scrapes her nails along my back, and I arch into her.

  “Playing by my rules tonight, remember?” Her breath is hot against my skin, and she gives me a long, leisurely lick that I feel all the way down to my dick.

  “I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

  “I never said you did.” She sounds as though she’s trying not to laugh. “Do you really want to argue the point?”

  Hell, no. “I’ll shut up and take it like a man.”

  “That’s more like it. Although, it’s okay if you scream. I won’t mind.”

  I pull her head back. She’s smirking, and it blows my mind. “I don’t scream. Not even for you, babe.”

  “That’s the second challenge you’ve given me. How about a third? You might as well make it worth my while.”

  I can’t even remember what the first one was. “How about you quit talking and just go down on me? Is that challenge enough?”

  “Lame.” She shakes her head, and I relax my grip on her hair. “I’ll make you scream without going anywhere near your mighty dick.”

  I choke out a laugh. “Mighty dick? Now who’s being lame?”

  “What, don’t you believe me?” She looks up at me with those big brown eyes, and I’ll believe anything she says.

  “Prove it.”

  She lowers her head and circles my chest with hot, open mouthed kisses. Her hair falls across her face and slides over my skin, and if this is my reward for walking away from a fight then, damn, it’s more than worth it.

  Her teeth clamp around my nipple, and she sucks hard, digging her nails into my back, gouging the flesh. It’s both pain and pleasure, and I grip her head, tangling her hair as I rear into her, wanting, needing, more.

  My briefs are so tight that my dick’s in agony, but there’s no way I’m ripping them off just to gain some relief.

  The tip of her tongue swirls around my nipple, and all I can hear is my harsh breath drying my throat. Don’t stop. It’s impossible to speak, but a cracked groan escapes me, like I’m dying.

  She eases back, her breath hot against my damp skin. “You taste so good.”

  “More.” I sound feral, and she smiles as she presses her mouth over my raw flesh. She takes her time, licking and kissing, and when she suddenly sucks me between her teeth like a fucking vampire, I damn near combust.

  Her hands are everywhere, roaming over my back and hooking into the band of my briefs. I grunt in frustrated pain as she drags them down my legs, her nails flaying my naked thighs. She’s marking me as her property, and I fucking love it.

  Without warning, she takes my hands and pulls me upright. “Chair.” It’s a breathy command, and I don’t even think before I collapse on the chair by the side of the desk. She sinks to her knees and continues to torture me with hot kisses across my stomach, her wicked nails scoring my chest.

  My head falls back, and my eyes close. Christ, she’s killing me. Every bite and every scratch is winding me tighter, and every teasing lick and kiss unravels my mind. When her breath drifts across the head of my cock, I grasp handfuls of her hair, not even caring how my agonized groan echoes through the office.

  She presses lingering kisses along my length and flicks the tip of her tongue across my balls. I slide back in the chair and widen my legs to give her better access, but my jeans are tangled around my calves, and I grunt in frustration.

  Without missing a beat, she rolls on a condom, and before she’s even finished, her mouth encloses my head, hot and wet. The vision of her between my spread thighs going down on me is fucking insane.

  It’s like the first time. The last time. As though there’s not been anyone since her. I give a strangled groan as she wraps her hand around me and sucks me in deep. She cups my balls and strokes her fingertips over me, her head moving in tandem with my desperate thrusts.

  Pressure builds, blinding me to everything but Jas. Her mouth and tongue own me, and I don’t want this to ever stop. A desperate roar burns my throat. Not ye
t. But it’s too much, and I can’t hold back.

  Fingers tangled in her hair, I fuck her sweet mouth, and she takes it all. Everything. I slump back, breath harsh, heart thundering, sucked dry.

  I don’t know how long it takes before I can focus, but she’s sitting back on her heels, watching me with the most beautiful smile on her face I’ve ever seen.

  It’s not over yet.

  We’ve got all night.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ty

  After work the following day, I’m outside Jas’s apartment block before I know it. It didn’t even occur to me to go back to my place first, as though this is where I need to be.

  I lean my forearms on the handlebars of my bike and exhale a long breath. The last two nights I stayed with her felt so right. Didn’t even question it. The apartment’s shabby, almost stripped bare, and the single bed we share makes my body ache like a bitch, but a strange sense of home seeps through me every time Jas opens the door.

  Something I’ve never once felt in all the time I’ve lived in my own house.

  I’m not stupid. I know it’s nothing to do with the apartment. All day I’ve been looking forward to coming home, and this run-down building, in this shitty neighborhood, is home.

  Because of Jas.

  She’s leaving in two days.

  I swing my leg over the bike and make my way inside. Long ago we planned on setting up house together, and I couldn’t wait for the day when we had our own front door we could shut on the whole, damn, unforgiving world.

  The stairwell is littered with garbage and doesn’t smell too good, but the elevators didn’t work even back when we were dating. I stand outside her apartment, and there’s a strange tightness in my chest, an irrational need to get as far away from here as possible. Because Jas doesn’t live here, this isn’t our home, and in two days it’ll be nothing but an empty reminder of the past.

  She opens the door, and the strong odor of bleach and soap wafts out.

  “Hey.” She kisses me, and I wrap my arms around her, burying my face against her neck. “Are you okay?” Her whisper brushes against my ear, and it’s a wrench pulling back from her.

  “I’m good.” I can’t let go of her as she backs into the apartment. I told her there was no need to scrub the place—it’s not like the landlord cares one way or another—but she wouldn’t listen. I grasp her wrist and examine her hand.

  “I wore gloves.” She kisses me softly, and the need to get away engulfs me again, but this time, with the antiseptic stench drenching the air, it’s like a powerful punch to the gut.

  “We’re going out. Grab your coat.”

  She stands there, an inquiring smile on her face. “I’m not dressed for going out. I guess I could get changed.”

  I sweep my gaze over her. In jeans and a shirt that she’s tied off at the waist, she’s perfect. “You don’t need to get changed.”

  “Why not? What’ve you got in mind?” Even as she questions me, she picks up her jacket and shrugs it on.

  I link my fingers through hers. “We’re going for a ride.”

  …

  Jasmine

  It’s not a question, and as we leave the building and stand beside his Harley, excitement whips through me. Although he suggested taking me to the Hammer last night on the back of his bike, he wasn’t serious. In any case, I wasn’t going to turn up there looking windswept.

  But there’s no point denying it—a part of me longs to wrap myself around him again and embrace the exhilarating freedom that only comes from riding.

  He hands me his spare helmet and our gazes mesh. It’s not the same one I wore before, but it reminds me of when he went out and bought me my very own helmet.

  I smile, bittersweet. “This takes me back.”

  “Have you done much riding since you left?”

  “No.” It comes out in a long sigh of regret.

  “Good.”

  I shake my head in mock disapproval before strapping the helmet on. “Where are we going?”

  His daredevil smile steals the breath from my lungs. “Wait and see.”

  …

  I don’t care where he’s taking me as he weaves through the evening traffic and heads out of town. I wind my arms around him, just like I used to, loving how the old memories flood back, pure and untainted, of when we used to ride to the beach where nobody knew who we were and nobody cared.

  When he pulls off the road and parks, I laugh, and he turns to grin at me, even though he can’t have the first idea why I’m laughing. “It’s like you read my mind.”

  “I’ve not been to the beach in years.” He gets off the bike, secures the helmets, and we hold hands as we stroll down the path that leads to the sea. “Looks like there’s a party.”

  “We can walk in the other direction.”

  He gives a silent laugh and tugs me closer. “There’s a barbecue. Can’t you smell it?”

  I sniff, and the faint aroma of charcoaled food drifts in the air, reminding me it’s been hours since I had lunch. “I’m starving.”

  “Yeah, and I’m taking you out for dinner.”

  His meaning drops like the proverbial penny, and I pull back. “What? No way, Ty. We’re not gate crashing.”

  “Sure, we are. It’ll be like old times, remember?”

  I give a disbelieving laugh, even though my feet totally disregard my brain and fall into step beside him. “We’re not crazy teenagers anymore.”

  He brushes a kiss across my cheek. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  He’s laughing at me, the way he laughed at me years ago when I’d protest that we couldn’t just gate crash parties whenever he wanted to. Not that he took any notice. And God knows, wherever Ty led, I would always follow.

  I’m not a gullible teen anymore, but the urge to follow him into that party right now is too damn strong.

  I’m already following him. I don’t stop walking, though.

  “Well, now.” I pretend to ponder his question, and he rolls his eyes and groans, which makes it hard not to laugh. “We could get arrested. Did that occur to you?”

  “You’re an attorney. You could get us off.”

  “Yes, I’m an attorney, and wouldn’t being arrested look good on my CV?”

  He bumps my shoulder as we reach the sand. “So that’s a yes, then?”

  “How can you possibly think I mean yes by that?”

  “I can tell you’re thinking about it. You know I only ever take you to the best parties.”

  “You’ve got me there.” We might not have been invited to them, but more often than not, the rich kids loved having a bad biker invade their space. Me, not so much, but I was part of the package, so they didn’t give me a hard time. Sure, there were a few disasters, but usually Ty, with his cocky comebacks and infectious grin, could charm anyone.

  I can’t believe I’m doing this. A grown woman of twenty-seven, behaving like a seventeen-year-old. Now that we’re closer, it’s obvious they’re not a bunch of trust fund kids, but people more our own age. I tug on Ty’s hand.

  “Are we seriously going to do this?” Should I really be so excited at the idea?

  “Already doing it.” And just like that, he strolls into the throng, and people part before him like the Red Sea.

  Five minutes later, we escape the milling crowd, clutching massive burgers in paper napkins. I can’t take a single bite until the party’s a dot in the distance, and I’m sure everyone else enjoying the beach knows exactly what we’ve done.

  “That was so bad,” I tell him, and he just grins at me before finishing off his burger.

  “The only thing missing was the conversation.”

  I scoff. “They couldn’t wait for us to leave.”

  “I don’t think they even knew we weren’t invited.”

  I consider that. Except for the way everyone gave us a wide berth, no one looked as if they wondered why we were there.

  “You could be right,” I concede, and take a bite of my di
nner. “This is pretty good.”

  “Only the best for my girl.”

  He says it so casually, as though I really still am his girl, and I rest my head against his shoulder. I’m not going to dispute his words. Not tonight. Not when my heart’s full of everything that might’ve been, recreating one last memory to cherish forever.

  The palm trees are dark silhouettes against the spectacular backdrop of orange, yellow, and gray streaks across the never-ending sky. We stand in silence, his arm around me the way we used to stand so many times in the past, as dusk descends like a phantom all around.

  …

  The following afternoon is chill and cloudy, and I grip my hands together as I sit on the hard chair in the small, whitewashed room. I should’ve just let the crematorium director take care of everything the way they took care of the cremation. There was no need to arrange a memorial service, even the most basic one, since I’m the only one here. Even Dad said that Mom didn’t need a fancy send off to know how I always felt about her, but I just couldn’t do it.

  Not that there’s anything fancy about this. I try not to look at the standard issue cremation urn, or the bright, late-spring flowers that look so out of place on the small table up front.

  I’m sorry, Mom. Sorry for not being the golden-haired daughter you wanted. Sorry for wishing you were different. Sorry for so many stupid, wasted years.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. Don’t cry. My throat aches and my chest hurts as disjointed memories from my childhood shiver through my mind. I suck in a jagged breath, trying to keep it all inside, and someone sits next to me.

  My eyes jerk open, heart thudding in unformed panic. Ty’s sitting there, wearing black pants and a long-sleeved black shirt beneath his leather vest. He offers me a small smile, but doesn’t say anything as he takes my hand.

  There’s no time to question him, even if I had the power of speech, as the service starts then. It’s short, with no eulogies from loving family or friends. I’m the only one giving her a silent, final farewell.

  But Ty came here for me.

  I cling on to his hand as though he’s my lifeline and somehow manage to say all the right things to the gentle-mannered woman who conducted the service and hands me the urn.