Wild & Free_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Burning Angels MC

by Claire St. Rose

  Dakota turned to look at him, eyebrow arched severely. “Well look who it is.”

  He leaned against the bar at her side, nodding at the other prospect. “You get out of here too. Dakota’s my girl. Got it?”

  Realization seared across the prospect’s face and he hurried away, drinking sloshing in his hand as he bolted. Dakota looked up at him with a sly little grin.

  “Your girl, huh?” Her lips looked so pretty he couldn’t focus on anything other than kissing them. “You never asked me about that.”

  “Thought you might not have a problem with it.” He grinned down at her, inching closer. “Seemed like it was pretty mutual at your apartment.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, looking like she fought a grin. “Not sure I can be with a biker who crashes his hog.”

  He squared his jaw, both irritation and amusement streaking through him. She slurred her words a little, so maybe whatever was in her glass had given her the extra edge.

  “You act like I wasn’t shot by a rifle earlier today.”

  She held his gaze, something dark and mischievous coming over her. “You think that’s an excuse?”

  He cleared his throat, reaching for her glass. “What’s in here? Gasoline? You’re talking crazy.”

  “I’m talking perfectly fine.” She jabbed a finger into the center of his chest, sitting up defiantly. “And what I’m saying is, maybe you aren’t the tough guy you try to act like you are.”

  He ran a tongue over his teeth, her words flip-flopping in his head a few times, like browning both sides of a pancake. If this was Dakota when she was drunk—provocative, mischievous, a little bit mean—then he could handle it. And maybe he liked it a little, too.

  “You want me to prove to you I’m a tough guy?” He leaned closer, bringing his lips to her ear. “Is that what you want, Dakota?”

  Her fingers knotted in his t-shirt at the chest, making a black bunch of the fabric. “Maybe I do.”

  Cupping her cheek in his hand, he lowered his mouth to hers while he talked, lips grazing hers. “You’re drunk.”

  When he pulled away from her, his body protested the distance, but if she wanted to play this game, he could play it too.

  “I might be drunk, but I’m at least honest.” She took a sip at the amber liquid in her tumbler again, eyeing him like she might jump his bones. “Why don’t you be honest with me?”

  He fought a grin, looking her up and down. “Oh, I’ll be honest with you.”

  She stuck out her chin, like inviting him to go on.

  “I’m about two seconds away from throwing you over my shoulder and taking your ass back to my bedroom,” he said, his voice hot in her ear. She straightened. “Is that the honesty you want to hear?”

  She tossed back the rest of her drink, her eyes like fiery whips on him. She slammed the tumbler on the bar top, lifting a brow at him. “What are you waiting for?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dakota’s vision went blurry once Bo scooped her up off the stool, tossing her easily over his shoulder. He was still strong as hell for an injured guy, which meant that at full capacity he was lethal. She’d seen it with her own eyes—there was no doubting this guy. Which made the challenges flying out of her mouth even more absurd.

  She giggled and squealed once she was over his shoulder, kicking her legs but not too hard, not really wanting to protest at all. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”

  Bo headed through the crowd of people; all she caught were turning heads and surprised laughs as he parted the sea with her ass as the guiding light.

  These past few hours had been the longest of her life: waiting for news about the bullet removal, waiting for Bo to wake up, waiting to lock eyes with him and see if that addictive jolt was real, or if she’d just imagined it after the stir-crazy days at her apartment.

  But no—it was real, all right. Realer than she even imagined it could be after tense hours spent waiting to see if he’d come out okay.

  “You know exactly where you’re going.” Bo slapped her ass and she giggled again, blood rushing to her face.

  “Fine, but at least be gentle with me!” Man, just two shots of bourbon and it was like someone had written her a permission slip to say whatever the hell she wanted. It had to be the adrenaline—the crash, the worrying, and then the immense relief, which had swept over her like a tsunami, completely unexpected.

  Do you love Bo?

  Whatever it was, it had her acting way drunker than she was. Saying things that were ludicrous, just to see the fire in Bo’s dark eyes. Hanging out at the clubhouse had been a fascinating lesson in biker culture. And from what she’d overheard, Bo had plenty of fans, both men and women alike. But it was the women fans that made her feel just a little bit proud that she was the one slung over his shoulder.

  He pushed through a door in the back hallway, bringing her into a bedroom which smelled like his cologne. Bo tossed her onto the bed and she bounced lightly, flipping onto her back to look up at him.

  “Finally.” She giggled, pushing up on her hands. “We’re alone and you’re awake. I’ve only ever had half of the combination for the majority of today.”

  Bo shook his head, shutting the door with a slow reverence. “I like it when you talk shit to me.”

  She arched a brow. “Yeah?”

  “Because I know you mean the opposite.” He came over to her, catching her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I can see it all over your face. You’re a bad shit talker.”

  She laughed throatily, loving the way his gaze darted over her face, like he was gobbling her up. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Bo brought his free hand to the belt of his pants, pushing his palm down over the bulge between his legs. “I’ve got something else you can take as a compliment.”

  She burst into laughter. “Oh, come on. That was too good. I bet you’ve waiting for so long to say that to someone, right?”

  Bo’s sexy façade broke and he shook with laughter. “Maybe.”

  She hooked her fingers into his belt loops, yanking him closer. He winced and she gasped. “Oh, my God. Bo, I’m so sorry.”

  He eased to sitting beside her, tugging her at the hips, urging her to get on top of him. She pushed herself up and over him, straddling him on the bed, her breasts dangerously close to his face.

  “Take it easy on me,” he murmured, squeezing big handfuls of the flesh above her hips. His gaze sizzled over her cleavage, licking his lips like he was about to take a big bite of juicy steak. He tilted his head to look at her. “And take off your shirt.”

  She bit her bottom lip, excitement thrilling through her. Finally they could pick up where they left off in her apartment, and now without any unsavory or traumatizing interruptions. She tugged her shirt over her head, her nipples two tight buds straining through the fabric of her bra. She settled back into his lap, smirking at him. “Now what?”

  Bo cocked a grin. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

  “Me too.” She rolled her hips in a slow circle on his lap, pussy pulsing with desperation. “I want to feel you,” she murmured, rubbing her hands over the ride of his shoulders. He moaned low, cinching her tight against him, burying his face in the valley of her breasts.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this since I saw you at Tony’s,” he growled. With a smooth motion he tugged the cups of her bra down. Her breasts spilled out and he captured a nipple between his teeth, sucking at the tight bud, eliciting a squeal from her.

  “That’s my—“ Her breath hitched and she gasped, struggling to find the words she needed. “Sensitive spot.”

  He laughed like a boy who knew just how to get into trouble when his parents weren’t looking. He dragged his tongue over her rosy nipple and then switched to the other one, his hands pressed against the small of her back. She gasped, arching toward him, a dense coil of pleasure squeezing tight in her core.

  “You-you don’t…” She couldn’t even finish the thought, not with the way he lavishe
d attention on those two hot buttons like he knew how fast she could come like this.

  “What’s that, darlin’?” He grinned up at her, skipping kisses along the lush roundness of her breast. He nipped at her left nipple then, pleasure streaking through her. She shuddered in his arms and he laughed so low it turned into a moan.

  Bo’s hand drifted between her legs, his thumb exploring the crease of her pussy though the thin fabric of her pants. He knocked up against her clit and she bucked again, pinching her eyes shut, the coil of pleasure blossoming into a cyclone. She gasped again, hooking an arm around his neck, rocking her hips back and forth as he rubbed at her pussy, his teeth knocking each nipple in turn as she rode Bo into the heights of pleasure.

  Her mind swirled as she moved against him; who knew he’d be the type of guy who encouraged ladies to come first. Made him even hotter, like that was even possible. She threw her head back and he sucked hard at her right nipple.

  “Come for me, darlin’,” he said, his voice a low growl. “Come for me.”

  She tensed, arching against him, the friction of his thumb colliding with the burst of pleasure at her nipple and she fell over the edge, her orgasm bursting up from her core and shuddering through her body in waves. She squealed and then laughed, head cocked to the side as her body quivered with the waves of pleasure, Bo sucking one last time at her right nipple before he buried his face between both breasts.

  “Damn, girl.” Bo took a gentle bite of a breast, looking up at her with soft eyes. She drew a shaky breath, relaxing on top of him.

  “You found the sweet spot,” she whispered, voice sticking to her throat.

  “Looks like I did.” He grabbed her hips, bringing her down hard on top of him. The thick ridge of his cock met the damp crotch of her leggings and she gasped, vision going blurry for a moment.

  “And I know where the other sweet spot is.” He took a soft bite of her shoulder, pushing her at the hips a bit. She pushed off of him, wobbling to standing, watching as he unbuckled his belt with the slyest of grins.

  “I bet you do,” she said, shimmying out of her leggings and panties. She tossed them aside, then undid her bra. Fully nude in front of him, his gaze scorching over her felt like a prize.

  Bo dropped his pants down to the ground and then tore his shirt off, clad only in black boxer briefs. Smooth brown abs greeted her, the white square of a bandage poking out from under the waistband of his underwear.

  “I want to see you,” she murmured, falling to her knees. He spread his tanned, toned legs, covered in a fine dusting of dark leg hair, and she ran her hands up the sides of his thighs, tugging at the waistband of his underwear.

  He shifted, being careful with the bandage, and helped her push the boxer briefs down. His cock sprang free, bobbing heavily in front of her, longer and fatter than she’d pegged him for. She inhaled sharply, loving the sinuous veins lining the head, the bulbous purply-red cockhead. Her pussy clenched in desperation; she needed to feel him inside of her. All of him.

  “Jesus, Bo.” She kissed the tip of his cock, dragging her tongue over the slit. He tensed and then she wrapped her mouth around his cock and took him inside her mouth, a surprise attack, burying as much of him as she could before she wanted to gag. She hummed low as she sucked him, taking long glorious slurps of his cock, loving his little groans as gasps as proof of her success.

  “God, that feels good,” he said, voice raw.

  “Mmmm.” She tried to talk around his cock but couldn’t; she drew back, mouth disconnecting from his dick with a loud ‘pop’ and grinned up at him. “Delicious.”

  He tugged at her arms. “Come up here, darlin’. I need you on top of me.”

  She complied, excitement pulsing through her, straddling him again like this was the most natural position she’d ever found in life. He groaned, gripping her hips, steadying her so he could feel the heat of him.

  “Hang on.” Bo twisted a bit, reaching back toward the bedside stand. He ripped open the drawer and grabbed for what had to be a condom. She pressed her boobs into his face when he turned back to her, giggling as he motorboated her.

  He tore the foil wrapper open with his teeth and fidgeted with it beneath her body while she grazed her nipples against his chin.

  “This is too damn hard to concentrate with you on top of me like this,” he said.

  She laughed, rocking in a slow circle. “Get that damn condom on.”

  He grunted and then grabbed her hips again. “Ready.”

  She inhaled sharply as she lowered, waiting for the hot tip of his cockhead to announce itself. He slipped along the folds of her pussy, knocking against the needy nub of her clit and her breath hitched.

  “You are so wet, Dakota.” His voice sounded incredulous. She grinned; she’d known she was wet, but maybe it was more like sopping.

  “You already got me off once, what do you expect?” She kissed his forehead. “You big bad guy.”

  He circled his arms around his waist and eased her down, slow and steady onto his cock. He slipped inside easily but the girth of him needed time. Her mouth parted as she took him inside her, bit by bit, each new inch more glorious than the last.

  Once he was buried to the hilt she stilled, chest heaving simply from sinking downward.

  “Damn,” Bo said, his face raw. He flexed his hips beneath her, and they found the last millimeter of space. She moaned low, resting her forehead against his, palms pressed to the flat planes of his chest.

  “I never want to get off you,” she whispered, something denser and more fulfilling than pleasure circling through her, with aching fingers and furtive steps. It felt like he was made for her: this heat couldn’t be a mistake, or a one-off, or anything less than divine.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, thick fingers circling her waist, “You don’t have to.”

  Bo flexed and rocked beneath her, wincing a little from what maybe was the pain of his wound mixed with pleasure, and she bucked against him, finding a fast rhythm on top of him, the length of him driving her to fast peak.

  Her breasts jiggled as she rode him and Bo watched with mouth parted, sweat trickling at his temples. He caught a nipple in his mouth again and electricity sparked; she was close. She rode him harder, loving the way he rocked with her, drawing back when she did, slamming deep when she came down. He felt so good inside her, felt so good that she might never be able to get on top of anyone else again.

  Her head lolled to the side and he bit at her nipple. Sparks flew. She moaned low, rocking wildly against him, feeling unhinged and free and wild and beautiful in his arms.

  “Come for me, Dakota,” he whispered, like urging her to fall over the edge. “I’m so close, darlin’.”

  A whimper emerged, the signal of her second orgasm. She hooked her arms around his neck and slammed against him, burying him to the hilt and then rocking up until he almost slipped out and then slammed back down again. Bo groaned low and his arms tightened around her, cementing their bodies together. He pressed his face into her shoulder and his body jerked against her, matching her own shuddering waves of climax.

  Dakota sank back down, pussy pulsing around his cock as the orgasm receded, breathing heavily into the side of his head. “Holy shit.”

  Bo stirred beneath her, tightening his grip around her. “Mmm.”

  She laughed a little, dragging her fingernails up and down the sides of his arms.

  After a moment, Bo tilted his head back to look at her, his umber eyes more tender than she’d ever seen before. “Stay with me for a while.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Bo awoke slowly, stretching out in the soft comfort of his bed, the familiar sting of the bullet wound greeting him. He yawned and turned, reaching out across the empty bed. Dakota should be here…but where was she? Panic slunk through him, mind leaping to the worst conclusions. She’s bolted. She decided she can’t stick around anymore. She never planned to stay.

  The toilet flushed from his bathroom and he relaxed, burying his face
in her pillow. This marked the third day they’d been holed up in the clubhouse, and it felt more like a honeymoon than anything else. They spent every moment together like teenagers, caressing hands as the other walked by, making sure she sat in his lap whenever he could.

  And the sex.

  Oh, Lord, the sex.

  The scent of her calmed him, and he grunted when she returned to the bed, poking at his side.

  “Okay, move it buddy.” She slipped into bed, back under the covers. “This is my pillow and I’m here to use it.”