by Amber Morgan
“That was just a front for Alessi,” Slater said. Nash had already told him that, whatever came of today's disaster, he wouldn't throw Freya and Kayden to the wolves. “Just get used to having me shadowing you while the dust settles.”
She kissed his bruised cheek tenderly. “Sounds fair.”
“And you are not going back to dancing,” he added. “It's not going to be safe.”
He expected her to argue, but instead she slipped off the hood and struck a pose in front of him. The yard was dark, but lights from the clubhouse cast her in a striking silhouette, sexy, enticing, and his. His dick sprang to life, rock hard and ready to go.
“Are you sure?” she asked, running her hand over her hip. “With you on the case, I think I'd feel very safe.”
Slater groaned. “You're going to kill me, Freya.”
“I hope not,” she said, sliding her fingers into the waistband of her sweatpants. “You owe me at least two orgasms by my count.”
Goddamn. He was ready to give her them, but he still had no fucking rubbers. Still, if he couldn't get the job done with hands and tongue, maybe he didn't deserve her in the first place.
“Come here,” he said, standing.
She came eagerly to his arms, laughing when he scooped her up and set her back on the hood of the truck. He quickly stripped her of the sweatpants and panties, wishing the light was better so he could properly admire the sight of her, legs parted and pussy bared.
He crouched low and pulled her right to the edge of the hood. She gave a husky murmur of encouragement, and Slater ran his hands up her thighs, relishing her shivers. But he still hesitated before going further. He'd promised that next time, they'd do things properly, slowly.
Freya knotted her hand in his hair, tugging lightly. “Come on, now,” she said. “I think I've waited long enough.”
Well, who was he to deny her then? Grinning, he slipped his fingers inside her, his cock painfully hard as her inner walls clenched around him. She was wet and welcoming, her pussy perfect and her body yielding. He flicked his thumb over her clit and she gasped, tightening her hold on his hair. She wriggled her hips, trying to close the scant distance between them. Slater sank his teeth into her thigh, then dragged his tongue up over the sensitive patch of skin.
She gasped again and froze.
“I want you inside me,” she said, her voice bubbling with need.
“Next time,” he promised her, withdrawing his fingers. “This time, you just sit back and relax.”
He'd been fantasizing about going down on Freya since he first saw her. The first brush of his tongue across her delicate flesh drew moans from them both. She tasted sweet and divine. He could live off that taste, thrive on her pleasure. He gripped her legs and drove his tongue deeper inside her, seeking out ways to make her writhe and melt.
Her soft, frantic cries and lush juices told him he was succeeding, and he ignored his own throbbing cock's demands. Out here in the dark, with cool night air caressing her bare skin and his mouth coaxing her ever closer to breaking point, his own needs didn't matter. All he cared about was making Freya lose her mind.
When she came, he almost did too, swept up in her ecstasy. Her head fell back and his name was on her lips, her body bucking and twisting as he lapped up her orgasm, gliding his tongue over her clit and through her folds, desperate to get every last drop, until she was begging him to stop, then begging him for more. His own stresses and fears were burned away by the fierce joy he experienced at finally making her come, finally making her his.
“Oh God ... oh God,” she panted, running her fingers through her hair. “Slater, I think I love you.”
Triumph soared through him at her words. He rose, knees stiff, and pulled her into his arms to kiss her, loving that she'd taste herself on his lips. All he had to do now was remove any remaining doubts she had.
He was looking forward to that.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
A week later, Freya was dancing again. Not at the Hot House, of course. Both Wild Blood and ArcLight had cut all ties with the club. It was a blow to ArcLight's bank balance, but not a big enough one that Shane had argued about it too much. Especially not once Slater explained why he wanted to drop the security contract.
Sefina had pulled out too, once Freya told her what had happened, as had a handful of other girls. Sefina had quickly found herself a job at a small, but popular burlesque club in Wakefield called Velvet Moon. It hadn't taken her long to get Freya in.
Freya fell in love with the place immediately. Classy and intimate, with Art Deco stylings and a selection of champagne cocktails, it was antithesis of the Hot House. She still got the buzz of dancing for an audience, and she didn't miss the private dances one bit. Not now she was dancing privately for—and with—Slater.
She lounged on the sofa in Velvet Moon's plush dressing room, watching the show on stage through the TV in the corner. Sefina prowled the stage with peacock feather fans, her sparkling teal heels the only part of her costume left. The audience was rapt. Freya knew that without seeing them. And who could blame them? Sefina was magnificent.
Freya's own outfit was a snowy-white corset and tulle skirt, complete with pink shoes that matched her hair almost perfectly. Her routine was a lot more basic than Sefina's, but she was picking up the tricks fast enough to keep the manager happy.
She wasn't really focused on her routine though, or Sefina's. After she finished her set, Slater would be taking her home. Her heart skipped. A hell of a lot had happened in the past week, but one thing that hadn't was the two of them getting any time alone. The fallout from Wild Blood's abortive deal with Alessi hadn't left them much privacy. Nash was insistent on both Freya and Kayden having a tail if they weren't at the mill. In Kayden's case, it was both to keep him safe and keep him clean, and so far it was working.
Of course, it had only been a week. Her brother had confessed to her he wasn't ready to give up heroin, and that thought haunted her more than she dared let on.
Her own tail had been Punk. Allegedly it was a punishment for shooting Bello, but Punk wasn't acting punished, and Freya thought he was a goddamn hero. Certainly Punk was taking advantage of her job at Velvet Moon, sitting through her first shift two nights ago, trying every cocktail on the menu and watching every performance with loud enthusiasm.
But Punk wasn't out there tonight. Slater was, and the knowledge had Freya's toes curled with excitement. She couldn't wait for him to see her out there. And she couldn't wait to be alone with him afterward.
The future was uncertain. The true consequences of the Alessi meeting were yet to be felt. She knew that, and she knew both she and Kayden had a long road ahead before their lives were remotely normal again. For now, and maybe for a long time to come, her fate was tied to Wild Blood MC.
But if that meant her fate was also tied to Slater, Freya had no doubts it was exactly what she wanted.
****
As the last notes of Muse's cover of Feeling Good was lost in the applause of the audience, Freya almost floated off-stage and back to the dressing room. Slater had been close enough to the stage that she could have reached out and touched him, and the look on his face sent hot shivers through her. The rest of the room had vanished. All that existed was him, and the promise of unfinished business.
“I take it you're not sticking around tonight?” Sefina asked, clearly amused as Freya hurriedly began changing.
Freya shook her head, shucking off her outfit as quick as she dared. The corset was tricky to peel off, though, and Sefina came to help her. “Sorry. Bigger fish to fry tonight.”
Sefina laughed. “Young love. There's nothing like it.” She stepped in front of Freya to hand her the corset, her expression sobering. “You be careful, okay? Men like Alessi and Bello don't go quietly.”
Freya's mood dimmed. “I know. But I can't hide. I won't. And Slater's a good guy, Sefina. He's not going to take any chances.”
“He'd better not.” Sefina poked her shoulder, mock-
stern now. “Or he'll be answering to me.”
Freya grinned and kissed her friend on the cheek, ending the conversation. She threw on a far more casual outfit, keeping only the pink heels. They'd drive Slater crazy.
He was waiting for her at the front of the club, and sure enough, he licked his lips at the sight of her, his gaze lingering on the heels.
“You're keeping those on tonight,” he said.
She gave him a little spin, shaking her ass for him. “You're the boss. What's the plan?”
“First things first.” He pulled her into his arms, treating her to a rough, knee-melting kiss.
Dizzy with lust, she clung to him, soaking up every scrap of his attention. He bit her throat, so gently it made her whimper, then nipped at her ear before whispering, “I wanted to drag you off the stage tonight. Right into my lap and onto my cock.”
The idea was unbearable. Freya squeezed her thighs together, wet warmth pooling in her panties. “I would have let you.”
“I know.” He released her, much to her disappointment. “But I don't want an audience tonight. Just you.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, giving her a smug smile. “And that.”
Freya peered past him, her eyes widening at the sight of the car parked at the side of the road. The burnt orange paint had a fiery sheen under the street lights, and the chrome work gleamed. It was picture-perfect and she couldn't contain her squeal of surprise.
“Slater! Is this yours?”
He posed by the Oldsmobile, grinning proudly. “For tonight it is.”
Her stomach filled with butterflies at the sight of him next to the car. He wore his biking leathers, and his dark hair was mussed from the night wind, his jaw stubbled just the way she liked it. He was fucking gorgeous, and he was hers, and he had an Oldsmobile. Because he'd remembered, among all the shit that had gone on, that she'd always wanted one.
“I love you,” she said, stepping forward to run her hands over the car.
“Was that for me or the Oldsmobile?”
“Shut up, Nathan Slater,” she said, spinning around to kiss him again, “and take me for a ride.”
****
It was almost midnight when he reached the planned destination. Freya hadn't been content with being a passenger, and they'd taken the Oldsmobile out for a real spin down the highway, pushing the engine hard. Her pure delight at the car's roar had been more than worth the cost of renting the old machine, but he had plans beyond just the car.
“Is this your place?” she asked as he parked up.
Slater nodded. “Sorry—no silk sheets or rose petals.”
She ran her hands lovingly over the car's leather seats. “I think I can overlook that tonight.”
He wasted no time getting her up to his bedroom. He'd give her the grand tour in the morning, after they'd shared a long, hot shower. Tonight, all he cared about was finally getting her into a bed.
And Freya was so willing. She bounced up the stairs, those impossibly sexy heels making her legs look endless, her skin-tight jeans showing off her perfectly fuckable ass. Tomorrow, he told himself, wetting his lips, he'd see how she felt about that.
His bedroom was functional at best, Slater had to admit. The décor was neutral, the furniture boring and solid. He'd always viewed it simply as a place to sleep. His life was lived elsewhere. The bed was big, but suddenly, in the presence of Freya, it didn't look anywhere near inviting enough. Maybe he should have gone for silk sheets and roses after all.
She stood in the middle of the room, hips cocked in that provocative pose he adored, and tapped her lips. “It could do with a little color.”
Slater caught her around the waist and deposited her on the bed. “You can redecorate later.”
Her eyes lit up and she pulled him down on top of her, arching her back so her hips were pressed tauntingly against him. He felt like he'd had a hard-on for her all his life, and the motion sent shockwaves of need through him. He pinned her hands over her head, using his weight to press her to the mattress. He kissed her slow and deep, loving the way she gasped into his mouth as he slid her legs apart with his knee.
“I've waited so fucking long to have you underneath me like this,” he said, releasing her hands to cup her breasts through the t-shirt she wore.
“Make it count then,” she said, her eyes falling shut in bliss at his touch.
He curbed the temptation to rush, stripping her slowly of everything but the heels. Once she was splayed naked before him, her pink hair and glistening pussy was all the color the room would ever need. He knelt over her for a second, drinking in the sight, until she slid her hand down her stomach, her fingers skimming over her clit.
“You've been looking at me for weeks,” she said, slipping two fingers into her pussy with a wicked grin. “Is that all you're going to do now?”
Hell no. He took her hand, bringing her wet fingers to his mouth. She moaned as he sucked them clean, and her moans soon turned to cries as he turned his attention to the rest of her. He intended to explore Freya so thoroughly, she'd be begging him to fuck her, and then he intended to start all over again.
He started at her killer heels, kissing and licking his way up her legs to her pussy. He lingered there, drawing desperate pleas from Freya as he laved her clit and plundered her with his tongue. Her whispers of encouragement drove him to roll her onto her front, so he could run his tongue down the valley of her ass and leave small, red bite marks all over her plump rear.
Freya's responses were everything he'd imagined, wanton and wild, and he rolled her over again, his own lust reaching boiling point. He moved on to her perfect tits, to pinch and tease her nipples until she was imploring him to give her more.
“Get inside me,” she said, clutching at his hair and jerking her hips feverishly. “Please get inside me, Slater.”
When he broke away to grab a condom, she rolled onto her side, sliding her hands over his ass and wrapping one around his shaft. He was painfully hard, and her touch was like an electric shock, threatening to break what little control he had left.
“You really are going to kill me,” he told her, giving her a gentle shove back down. He grabbed her by the ankles, bringing her legs up over his shoulders.
“I hope not. I figured you had more stamina than that...” She cut herself off with a cry as he plunged inside her, her hands flying to cover her mouth.
Slater leaned over her, sinking his cock in as deep as he could, savoring the way her pussy welcomed him. So perfect. So fucking right. He began to rock, as slowly as he could, knowing he was at the very edge of his restraint. Freya matched his rhythm, the rapture on her face the most arousing sight he'd ever seen.
He was determined to hold on until she came, but the sight of her, the feel of her, was bringing him to the edge too damn fast. Fuck it. He'd just bring her climax on faster, then. He reached down to roll her nipple between his fingers, twisting until she cried his name. She pushed herself onto her elbows, thrusting her hips hard against him, chanting his name all the time.
The sound of his name on her lips, with all that passion, all that need, snapped something in Slater. “Come for me,” he gasped, driving himself into her as deep and hard as he could, desperate to feel her explode around him. “Give me every last bit of you, Freya.”
Like magic, she did, her orgasm as sweet and pure and overwhelming as a summer storm. She let herself go completely, and the sight of her lost in release was the last push Slater needed. His own climax powered through him, leaving him rocked to the core and utterly, utterly sure that this woman would kill him, and that he'd go with a smile on his face.
****
Some time later, they lay curled together in a mess of sheets. Freya's fingers drew lazy patterns on his chest, her lips trailing in their wake. The room was bathed in the soft, pale light of his bedside lamp, and it painted Freya silver, gleaming off her curves. So fucking perfect.
“I'm so fucking in love with you, Freya,” he said, closing his eyes.
She raised her head to press a kiss to his lips. “Does that make me your Old Lady?”
“Do you want to be?” He hardly dared ask. There were no questions in his mind. He wanted her. He wanted her to meet his family. He wanted to build a life with her. Have her clothes in his wardrobe, the scent of her spicy perfume on his cut. He wanted to watch her dance, knowing he was the only man who got to touch her. He wanted to see her go to college and fulfill her dreams. He wanted to be part of those dreams.
But he'd understand if Freya was reluctant to tie herself further to Wild Blood. He'd hate it, sure, but he'd understand it. And he had to steel himself for that possibility, even if it would crack his heart clean in two.
She was silent for long enough that he started to panic. Then she sat up, slinging her leg over his waist so she straddled him. She leaned down and kissed him again, deeper this time, with a slow, burning passion that stole his fears away.
“Yes,” she whispered when their lips parted. “I want to be yours. And I want you to be mine. I love you, Nathan.”
That was the last time either of them spoke that night. Slater found there were plenty of better things they could do with their mouths.
****
The day after the Alessi Clusterfuck, Nash locked himself in his office. He poured himself a large whiskey, rolled himself a large joint, and he made a list of names. A list of people he had to deal with.
Alessi was on there. So were Tanner, Zeke, Punk, Roxy, and Elena. So were Wolf and Norse. And so was Liviana Mancuso.
Once the list was finished, he lit his joint and settled back in his chair, letting the sweet, mellow smoke fill the room. He pinned the list up on the wall, underneath the photo of him with Judge and Roxy. Soon enough, he'd have to decide which person on the list to deal with first, knowing that whoever he picked, there was a fight coming.
It had been a long time since he'd had that feeling, like there was a storm on the horizon, like he was about to step into the unknown.