Sophie swallowed hard. That wasn’t the only thing hard. She couldn’t pull her gaze away from his erection. Long, thick, a gleam from his precum at the tip.
It had been awhile since—
She slapped herself mentally. Yes, it had been a while for her, but she wasn’t that desperate to take this tattooed biker who thought she was a stripper, apparently, to bed.
She’d lost her ever-loving mind.
But the man was already naked. And, no matter what, he looked damn good. Even covered in all those tattoos. Probably prison tattoos. Ugh.
But… What would it hurt to bang out a good orgasm with the guy? It’s not like she’d ever see him again. She could mail the bill for the cake.
That’s when she remembered the cake was still out in the car. Crap.
“You just gonna sit there starin’, or you gonna get naked?”
It was like the devil sat on one shoulder, an angel on the other. Completely at war with each other.
He put a knee on the bed and his cock bobbed. She found herself mesmerized.
She made a mental note to buy more batteries for her vibrator. Because it could only be desperation making her think it was a good idea to fuck this guy. Especially after she thought he was going to assault her.
Which he didn’t. Yet.
He hadn’t even touched her since dropping her on the bed.
Her eyes flicked to the locked door. She could probably leave if she wanted to.
Her eyes flicked back to his honed chest full of badass tats.
Did she want to?
He waved a hand in front of her face. “Anybody in there? Like it rough, I can give it to you rough, babe. Like it sweet, I can give it to you sweet. Just say the word, but like I said, you probably won’t have much of a choice the first time. The second, though... Just sayin’. However, first, wanna eat your pussy like it’s the buffet at Hoss’s. You into that?”
Sophie suddenly pictured his face with its closely trimmed beard between her thighs in her mind’s eye. And for some reason, her body began to overheat and get slick.
Holy fuck, she was going to let this man put his lips to hers. And not the ones on her face, either.
She had gone off the deep end. Truly, just lost all her marbles.
No one saw them come up here. She could have a couple orgasms, finish delivering the cake and then hightail it out of here, never to see this guy again. It would stay between him and her.
Right?
Yeah.
Her pulse thumped in her neck as she pulled her sweater over her head, moved to her knees and wiggled down her jeans and panties at the same time until they got to her ankles. She kicked off her shoes and socks, peeled her pants over her feet, then reached behind her to release her bra.
Fuck it. No one knew her here. It might not have been ten years for her, but it had been long enough that she was no longer picky. At least for tonight. Because normally she wouldn’t have been caught dead with a man like him, in a place like this.
“You Zak?” she finally asked him, thinking of the name she had piped on the cake in red icing. It also said, “Welcome home.”
“Yep.”
So not only was she now willingly going to fuck a biker, she was fucking a known convict.
Lord, her life choices had gone down the shitter.
“You good at eating pussy?” she asked, sliding down the bed now that she was totally naked.
“Used to be,” came his answer as he stared at her breasts while he had a hand gripped tightly around his cock.
“Think you can remember how to do it well?” she asked, bending her knees and parting her thighs.
“I’ll do my damnedest, babe.”
“Stop talking and do it then,” she said, lying back against the pillow, but holding her head up enough that she could watch him.
His eyes widened as they moved from her chest to her face. He hesitated at her demand, then a wide smile crawled across his face. In seconds, he had his face buried between her legs and the brush of his beard against her skin made her gasp.
When his lips sucked at her clit, her hips shot off the bed. One heavy arm came across them to hold her down while the man went to town on her. Licking, flicking, sucking, nipping, working her into a mindless frenzy.
Fuck yes, he knew how to eat pussy. Damn.
Long, callused fingers slid between her folds, while his mouth never left her sensitive nub. He stroked and stroked... and stroked as she opened for him and then slid two fingers inside her.
“So fuckin’ wet, babe,” he murmured against her and the vibrations of his words made her cry out and thrash against him.
When he curled his fingers and found her spot, her head fell back, her body arched and pulsated around his digits, squeezing, trying to draw him deeper.
“That’s one,” he said.
She had to admit that it was a good one.
When his prickly beard scraped her pussy and clit, she had number two. She was trying to catch her breath when he moved over her, his cock prodding between her slick, swollen lips and she spread her legs even wider, inviting him to take her.
“Condom,” she panted. But, holy hell, she wanted him inside her… like yesterday!
“Damn,” he grumbled as he scrambled to find one in the drawer of the nightstand by the bed. “Oh, thank fuck,” he said, holding up a condom.
“Hurry up,” she demanded.
“Don’t have to tell me twice, babe. Told you it won’t take me long.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know. But that’s how it’s gonna be. ‘Specially after tastin’ your sweet honey.”
The crown of his latex-encased cock bumped against her, then he slid inside slowly. And, damn, did he fill her up.
They both sighed at the same time as he fully seated himself, then stilled.
He sandwiched her face between his palms and met her eyes. His were dark, so dark, but didn’t falter as he stared at her. “Thank you, babe, for bein’ so damn tight.”
Was that a compliment?
Then his eyes hooded and he began to move. She quickly forgot the weird compliment, wrapping her legs around his hips, matching his rhythm, determined to climax one more time before he did. She had a feeling she’d have to move fast, so she shoved a hand between them and thumbed her clit as his pace picked up and he began to pound her, throwing his head back and grimacing.
“Jesus,” slipped from his lips. “Not goin’ to... Ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I told you... Christ. You feel so good, babe. Can’t even...”
His body tensed and he dropped his forehead to hers, his breathing fast and ragged between his parted lips.
Sophie pressed harder on her clit, frantically trying to beat him to the end. He wasn’t going to last much longer. He was right. He was going to be lightning quick.
But then he slammed his hips against her, which made an orgasm ripple from the tip of her toes all the way to her core and she exploded at the same time he did.
“Fuck,” he cried out. She echoed the same curse, though silently since she’d lost all the oxygen from her lungs. He drove deep a couple more times, then collapsed on top of her, barely holding his weight up on his forearms.
His cheek landed on her breast like it was a pillow and his words vibrated against her, “Nice to see real tits on a stripper. Must be comin’ back in style. Always hated the fake ones.”
Sophie closed her eyes, struggling to take a calming breath before she beat the fuck out of him.
When his thumb brushed back and forth across her nipple, she tensed, jammed her fingers into his hair and yanked his head up about to give him the what for. As she opened her mouth and took a deep breath, a pounding at the door stopped her in her tracks.
Zak jerked at the sound of pounding on the door. Who the fuck would be interrupting them at this moment? He was sure the noises coming from the room would have been loud enough to make it clear to anyone that they’d been busy and wouldn’t want to be disturbed.
“Brother, got your girls,” a gruff, loud voice, followed by a chuckle seeped through the door.
Dawg.
Zak’s eyes slid from the door back to the woman underneath him. Her eyes were wide, and she looked a bit angry. Yeah, more than a bit.
Hell, it wasn’t like he enjoyed being interrupted either.
He reluctantly slipped from her warm, wet, tight body.
“Don’t move an inch,” he warned her in a low growl as he rolled off her, yanked on his boxers and moved to the door, glancing back to make sure she had the sheet pulled over her.
He slid the bolt lock open and cracked the door. Dawg had three women hanging off him and wore an enormous grin.
Three.
Dawg’s eyes shot to the bed as the man pushed the door open wider and his grin turned into a knowing smile. “Fuck. Looks like you found your own.”
The women with Dawg were obviously strippers. The hair, the make-up, slutty clothing. Ridiculously high, ankle-breaking platform heels.
And those fucking fake breasts. Something Zak despised.
He didn’t have to look back at the bed to know he might have… could have… possibly made a mistake.
A big one. One he had a feeling he was going to pay for.
“Yeah, brother, I’m good for now,” he finally said.
One of the strippers, the blonde, pouted and the other two, a redhead and a brunette, frowned and made noises of complaint.
With a snort, Dawg shrugged. “No sweat off my balls, more for the rest of us. Let’s go, ladies.” He steered his mini-harem around, leading them down the hallway. “Give her a good one for me, too. She looks sweet,” Dawg shot over his shoulder.
Zak didn’t answer, instead slowly shut the door, carefully slid the bolt home again, then stared at the door for a heartbeat, then two. Then another one for good measure.
Sucking in a breath, he turned. She now sat up in bed, the sheet clutched to her chest. And if looks could kill, he’d be not only six feet under, but so far under he’d be incinerated at the Earth’s core.
“You’re not one of Dawg’s girls,” he mentioned, feeling like Captain Obvious.
“No.”
“Who are you?”
“I tried to tell you.”
Zak took two steps toward the bed, repeating, “Who are you?” The tone in his voice left no doubt he wanted an answer, and he wanted it now.
Her eyes narrowed at his tone. “I baked your cake.”
No shit. He shook his head and dragged fingers through his hair. “You already said that.”
“I own a bakery. I was asked to deliver a cake. Sorry I was late. I had car trouble.” She pushed herself out of bed and snagged her bra that had landed on the bedside lamp when she tossed it earlier, yanking it on and fastening it with jerky movements. “I figured I’d get a tip, but I wasn’t expecting one like this.” Her words came slightly muffled as she tugged her sweater over her head.
“Got more than the tip.” Then Zak grimaced at his own unfiltered response. Fuck. He wouldn’t blame her if she shanked him for that.
Her pointed gaze bounced off him to search the room and when she spotted her panties, she moved to yank them on. “Yes, and now I’m going to get dressed and leave. I’ll send a bill for the balance owed. Just so you know, I’ll be tacking on a nice generous tip.”
Fuck.
Zak pinched the bridge of his nose as a thought began to claw at him. “It’s important you don’t tell anyone ‘bout this.”
The last thing he needed was to be falsely accused of rape. Though, he now admitted he hadn’t paid attention to the signs she had displayed of her reluctance to his charms. But he had been so worked up for his first taste of pussy in ten years, he hadn’t been thinking straight.
And sweet pussy it was. Not only that, she ended up coming three times, so she had to enjoy it, right?
He frowned.
If she got a hair up her ass about what happened enough to bitch about it to anyone listening, he might end up in cuffs and then stuffed back in that fucking concrete box. The one he vowed never to go back to.
He wouldn’t survive this time.
His relief at her next words overwhelmed him. “I won’t be shouting it from the rooftops, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Zak paused, his mind suddenly doing a total one-eighty. Was she saying he sucked? Well, he might have been a bit rusty, but... No, she had more than one orgasm in an admittedly very short amount of time. “Why? Wasn’t good enough for you?”
After tugging on her jeans and slipping on her shoes, she straightened, but didn’t answer.
And suddenly he worried about his technique. Maybe he had been rusty. Damn.
“Answer me. A biker like me isn’t good enough for you? Or was it just me in general?”
She dropped her hands to her hips and squared off. “I prefer my men a little more...” Her voice drifted away. On purpose. She was trying to plant doubts in his mind about his performance.
“What?” he prodded.
She raised a hand and drew a line in the air from the top of his head all the way down to his toes. “Not this.”
Not this.
“More sophisticated?”
“Right.”
“No tattoos?”
“Uh huh.”
“Not a felon,” he continued.
Her eyes widened, but she schooled her face quickly. “Definitely not.”
“Bet your preferred type of man doesn’t get you off as many times as I did.”
She lifted a shoulder, then went to push past him. “Sometimes you have to take the bad with the good.”
He snagged her arm and pulled her close, dropping his face close to hers. “Sometimes you gotta take the good with bad.”
He didn’t miss her flinch. Then, her face turned to stone again, only her green eyes flashing. “Well, I have to go. Thank you for the orgasms—”
“Zak.”
“That’s right, the name on the cake. Welcome home from prison, Zak. The bill will be in the mail.” She yanked on her arm, but he refused to release her.
“I’ll walk you out,” he gritted from between clenched teeth.
“I’ll be fine,” she said tightly.
“Sure, if you don’t mind endin’ up in another one of these rooms with another dirty biker.” He smiled. “Or maybe you do want that, babe. Or… maybe you wanna hit me up for the second round I promised you.”
She stiffened. “You may escort me out.”
“Thought so.” Though, he was a bit disappointed she wasn’t eager to jump back in bed and let him hit that sweet, succulent pussy again.
And after being with her, he had no desire to hit up one of the girls that had been hanging off Dawg.
After shoving the sheet cake at him, she had climbed into her car and sat there, watching the man swagger back to the building.
Swagger.
The man actually swaggered. He had a roll to his hips that made him even better in bed than a man had a right to be. Even if he had been out of practice from being locked up for the past ten years.
Fuck me.
Her hand went to her breast where it still stung from his bite. His mark. She smiled.
Fuck him.
She made some big mistakes in her life, but tonight...
Fuck.
Tonight might have been her biggest.
And best.
But as long as nobody found out about it she was golden. He got what he wanted. She got a couple—okay, three—orgasms that weren’t self-induced. And she made money on a cake. And you bet she was adding one healthy tip onto the balance.
For almost a whole second she regretted not going for the second round.
Chapter Three
Ace held out the keys to the clubhouse. “Keys to the kingdom.”
Zak ignored them, shaking his head. “Don’t deserve them.”
Ace tossed them his way and Zak had no choice but to catch the heavy responsibility that wa
s disguised as a set of keys.
“The hell you don’t. Soon as the officers meet, you’ll be wearin’ the prez patch again.”
Zak dropped his gaze to the toes of his heavy black boots and shook his head once more. Though after tying on a big one last night after the baker lady left, it hurt every time he did so. “Can’t upset the order.”
Baker lady. He didn’t even know her fucking name. And she only knew his because she had decorated his cake for the pig roast. Damn.
“It’s already expected. Won’t be a surprise to anyone.”
Zak leveled his gaze at Ace, who had stepped in as a father figure for him when his own blood had disowned him for following in his grandfather’s footsteps. “Again, I don’t deserve it. Been away too long.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. This club’s in your blood. Your grandfather was a founding member. Hell, he was ground zero.”
“Pierce—” Zak started.
“Pierce is doing an okay job, but he ain’t you. You had a vision for this club even though you were young. Progressive. You knew what was needed, what needs done.”
Zak looked around, glad that church was empty and quiet this morning. The rooms upstairs were full, naked bodies sprawled over beds. Some of the brothers with more than one woman draped over them like blankets.
They’d have worse hangovers than Zak. Guaranteed. Ace wasn’t a big drinker, so he had clear eyes and a clear head this morning versus Zak’s slightly fuzzy one.
Zak cocked an eyebrow and headed over to the commercial sized coffeemaker in the corner of the room. “Why didn’t they vote you in as president?”
The large man, who now had to be in his early to mid-fifties, pushed past him to yank coffee filters and a huge bag of ground coffee from the overhead cabinet. He turned and shrugged. “Didn’t want it. Need young blood to run this club right. To take it out of the old ways, the outlaw ways. Make it respectable, like you—and some of the rest of us—wanted. Anyhow, between takin’ care of the farm, my mother, my kids, the brothers, running the pawn shop, and, not to mention, handlin’ the funds of this club, I have enough responsibility hangin’ ‘round my fucking neck. Plus, Janice would’ve probably divorced my ass if I had.”
Down & Dirty: Zak (Dirty Angels MC Book 1) Page 3