by V. Theia
She was the lucky one.
“Hurry.” Panting, she bit his bottom lip. “Before I fall asleep.”
“No sleeping on my watch, wife.” A hand sneaked into her shorts, he’d palm her, she knew, and stroke her sex until she was begging.
Just as his fingers moved over her mound, her breath held, prepared for her world to explode they both heard. “Aun’ Ruby!”
“Oh, god.” Preacher groaned, head dropping. “Let’s pretend we don’t hear him.” Starved kisses dragged over the column of her throat.
“Aun’ Ruby, I waked up!”
“Oh, god.” Preacher thought it deserved repeating. Ruby giggled and hugged him close as he sighed and rested all his weight on her, dry fucking her. “I just knew it, that little cockblocker, he’s doing it on purpose, Ruby.”
“Of course, he is, Preacher man.” Grinning, she cupped his face, kissing him soundly before she slipped out from under him, yelling loud enough for Sebastian to hear her before he began hollering for her again “I’m coming, sweetie.”
“I’m glad someone is.” Grouched her big tough man, both arms flung over his face. The size of his erection in his jeans must be painful she thought, empathy made her want to giggle. Poor baby. The wait would make it sweeter. She kissed him again, stroked light fingers down his zipper. “Don’t start without me, I won’t be long. Remember I love you, Preacher man, and don’t go to sleep.”
She was almost at the stairs when she heard “Hey, Rubes?”
“Yeah?”
“Love you, too. Make it only two stories.” A smile in his voice.
An hour later right before both fell into a drained sleep Preacher did make love to her, very fast. As he had declared before pinning her fast and ripping off her shorts I gotta fuck you quickly before that little cockblocker wakes up for water this time.
God, she loved him.
******
Several Weeks Ago
Footsteps approached. Luxe knew it was different than all the foot traffic she'd heard for the last however long it had been, it felt like hours, could be longer still. She knew it was him coming back. The hard-heavy shuffle grew closer to the door and then stopped. Her hearing strained.
The way her heart rate increased had nothing to do with fear and all to do with wanting to murder, maybe not murder, she'd seen a season of Orange is the New Black and she didn't figure she could make it in prison, even if she did have connections with Jamie Steele who would more than likely help her dispose of an asshole body, for a hefty price. Too much like hard work. But assault and battery with a motel bedside table? now that she could get with.
The key turned in the lock, behind the blindfold she saw the light enter the room before a shadow stepped in.
Smelling food, she stayed perfectly still, not a hair moved, nor a muscle flickered, though her pulse increased steadily catching a masculine scent in the air that hadn't been there a minute ago, she evened out her breathing, let him think she was asleep, like she didn't care what was going on.
"I know you're awake." The deep voice went right through her like burning ice. Rich baritone, the kind of voice smokers had at the end of the night.
Fuck you.
And fuck you, asshole.
With her sight blinded and her tongue held by the tape, all her other senses rose to the forefront, listening to the rustling of a bag landing on the bedside table closest to her, and the creaking of leather. Was he taking off his jacket? Something heavy landed on the chair across the room. You better stop with the jacket, fucker.
Ay Dios mio, this was a state of affairs of monumental irritation.
Luxe didn't need to memorize the room since it was her room she was being held in. A bed, table, chair, a compact bathroom with a rust-stained tub with a shower head that barely dribbled water. Her backpack was still over by the TV if the asshole hadn't rifled through it already. He wouldn't find much, she never traveled with a lot of cash.
When he didn't say anything more, nervous sweat popped out on her brow.
Keep calm.
She hadn't been in worse situations, but close enough. Panicking wouldn't help.
He wants something, or why go to the trouble of ambushing her at the Apollo Kingsmen party as he had? One random walk outside to grab fresh air that wasn’t stained with pot, sex and biker bragging, he couldn’t have known she was tired of the people inside, or holding boring conversations, she'd only come because of Jamie, she hadn't wanted to be anywhere near Armado Springs for a reason, not even several towns away in Fort Springs.
Now look where she was, tied to her own motel headboard.
Still dressed in her party/casual-didn't-want-to-dress-up clothes, she was boiling hot under the soft worn denim jacket, she moved her bare legs, the way he'd positioned her on the bed, the cut-off jean shorts were probably doing some internal damage to her vagina, just as well she had no plans for kids or she'd sue this asshole for strangling her ovaries, after she got done bludgeoning his head with a lamp. The cloying air stung her nose.
Abruptly the blindfold was pulled down, left hanging around her neck. Blinking against the fluorescent lighting above, her vision refocused and then she looked at her captor.
Him. Ay Dios mio. My god.
He was a tall man, a broad-shouldered man, long, lean, tapered waist, ropey arms and a stance that was all menace, she recognized him instantly. He sucked the air out of the small space like he had the right to it. Space he'd invaded with those fucking shoulders and that face. His scent seemed to push itself ahead of everything else assaulting her nose with the tickling of a hot memory, even as she glared at him.
She should have fucking known this would have the mark of that MC all over it.
For a man who had just committed a crime, he seemed confident and at ease in his own skin.
Muffled she told him in two languages just how dead he was going to be.
And the asshole had the unmitigated beard-faced gall to laugh. "Can you be trusted to shut up if I take that off you? It will go straight back on if you can't, no biggy to me."
About as much as I can trust you, ass-face. After a minute, she nodded and he ripped the gag off her mouth in one straight pull.
“Gee, thanks for the lip wax, I forgot to book an appointment.” Her scowl was black.
Keep calm. Assess the situation. Find out what he wants.
"I brought you food." Food implied she was going to be here longer than she already had been. Fuck. At least he hadn't started placing a plastic tarp on the floor, that was something positive for now.
She glanced at the food bag from a fast food place not far from here known for their meat products. "I'm a fucking vegetarian, pendejo." Idiot.
The smiled transformed his face from dangerous to handsome and dangerous. Luxe didn't need to imprint his features to memory to describe to a police sketch artist, his face was already in her memory bank. He was so damn good-looking she wanted to throat-punch him. "I remember. It's why you have an egg and cheese biscuit," he told her calmly.
Hmph. Now she could see it was someone she recognized, adding in that this didn't feel like her potential homicide, the tightness in her stomach lessened a notch, not much, she was still pissed off. Whatever his game, she wasn’t playing.
Her gaze watched him walk around the bed, long legs, and a purposeful stride, never once looking at her sprawled in the middle of the double divan bed with its scratchy white blankets.
He was obviously insane, oh, not for not ogling her, she was no masochist and this was not a fantasy of hers, she'd read online once how rich bitches paid to be 'kidnapped' Luxe had better things to spend her money on. But to take her from a well-known party and a renowned outlaw motorcycle club she was associated with via a friend or two, now that was an insane move on this man's part. She'd be missed sooner rather than later and then he'd be in for a whole heap of hurt.
Her eyes did some of their own skimming.
She hated that she noticed he had something pretty-fucking-hef
ty behind his zipper, the black jeans melded to his long legs. The hottest biker she'd seen in a long while. She had memories of him that just wouldn't quit. She knew his taste and his sounds when he was aroused and how he’d begged to let him make her come, the bossy notes in his tone commanding she open her legs for him. And she had.
None of that mattered. Her stare turned steely. Hateful. Angry.
Eyes strayed down again.
She loved a thick cock.
She wouldn't look.
She did, just once. Fuck. Idiota. Mimi would tell her to stop thinking with her lady bits. Hormones get you in trouble, Cielito Lindo.
Still, she loathed him now and would hate him until the end of time, or until he died.
"This is fucking crazy. I know who you are. I don't know why you've done this. Untie these and we can put this behind us, no harm no foul."
His smile when it flashed was wicked. Darkness. And then she felt fear for a second. "You're not in a position to issue threats. But I'm not unreasonable. I'm open to negotiations. You know what I want and I'll happily let you go and never see you again."
"I don't negotiate with terrorists!" She hissed like she held all the cards. She held exactly zero cards so why was she getting so goddamn mouthy? Her Abuela always said her mouth would get her into deep trouble one of these days. Hey, Mimi, one day is right now. "Just let me go." Luxe was proud of the calm in her voice.
"When I get what I want." There was a slight edge of something in his tone. Regret maybe? Bitterness? The way he looked deeply in her eyes unnerved her. He was unwrapping the bag of food, laying the packages out neatly on the bedside table, full butler service, despite the situation her belly growled at the smells, she hadn't eaten anything at the party, and from the looks of the shutters covering the windows, it was already the next day. She got hangry when she didn't eat.
"How about fuck you."
His dark head came up, caught in his intense gray-eyed attention, it settled on her like a physical touch, freezing her to the spot. Remembering every dirty word, he’d growled into her mouth the last time she’d seen her kidnapper.
She'd gone too far, remember those cards you don't hold, Luxe? But then his mouth framed by the thick black beard quirked at one side, she hated his stupid wind swept spikey gorgeous hair on his stupid head.
"That’s some offer, you do owe me a good load. Maybe later if you ask nicely." When heat flashed through his eyes she was punched by it. Which really threw a wrench into her plan of trying to bludgeon this fool the moment she got her arms free.
"But first, you can eat your food." He untied one arm, he hadn't tightened them too much so she hadn't lost feeling. Considerate asshole. His smell was fucking amazing as he leaned over her. "Now, you wanna get started on these negotiations, dirty rotten thief?" Smiled Grinder and began folding up the sleeves of his shirt.
The air turned to syrup. The room smaller.
Veiny forearms exposed.
A dark imposing stare held her eyes.
She was transfixed, unable to look away.
Grinder was a problem. And not only because he'd kidnapped her.
How the hell was she getting out of this one?
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
“Where else would I go but where she is..." – Hawk
"I might just get on my knees and thank Him now for what I am about to receive." He might be Priest by name, but there was nothing holy in Preacher's diabolical naughty smile.
Ruby's insides turned to jelly.
Before she pounced on him.
Entertaining a bunch of Priests for the whole day was tiring yet so much fun, Ruby had never been around family that genuinely loved and enjoyed each other's company before, the weather was scorching in the high nineties with just a fast rain shower mid-afternoon, they’d stayed outside most of the time and grilled mass amounts of marinade meat, played games, the Rookies game turned on the TV for the boys, Birdie, and Maxwell had brought Sebastian one of those inflatable pools he’d loved and while Ruby had basked in the newness of a family day, luxuriating in the small touches Preacher had laid on her lower back, her nape, the side of her face whenever they were in touching distance, it was the cause of her arousal most of the damn day, and that colossal former lothario knew just what he’d done to her, what with his saucy smirks he flashed her way and that evil wink of his. Beloved bastard.
If she didn’t love his cock so much she’d abstain as punishment.
Naturally, the minute everyone had piled into the car and driven off, a very sleepy Seb, exhausted from his exciting day, was bathed and tucked into bed, falling fast asleep mid Dr Seuss, she’d attacked Preacher in the kitchen, the door closed, she could be as loud as she wanted to be.
Holding her around the waist, both hands on her butt, grinding her to his erection, their kiss was feral, deep and savage as they tore into each other, shredding clothes. She was going to have the indentation of the kitchen island in her spine for a while, but she didn’t care, she needed him like a fucking gust of air through her lungs. She loved when he turned her inside out, made her crazy to climb him and impale herself. The position didn’t give her much room to move, but Christ, she worked with what she had. We’re newlyweds, Ruby, attack me whenever you want to, I'm ready. He’d told her when she’d confessed just how frantic he made her, there was too much desire, too much heat, what else could she do but pour it into him.
So, she did. Right there in the kitchen among the debris of the BBQ, plates everywhere, empty beer bottles scattered on the table top, the sink piled high with dirty dishes, the details around them didn't matter, she was obsessed with his body, each glance during the day had added into her prolonged arousal, addicted to the feel of his piercing going in and out of her, and she was going to have all of him right now.
“Fucking hell.” He groaned when she reached into his jeans and pulled his thick cock free, rolling him in her palm, paying attention to the row of metal on the underside, making Preacher’s eyes roll into the back of his head. She laughed like a champion, she was doing that to him, that erotic groan was all hers.
She did it again, making the tip leak over her fingertips and he cursed the air blue.
******
Zara was downstairs in the kitchen with the door closed while Rider was in their bedroom upstairs recklessly packing for them. Ordinarily, she would have done it, her eyebrow was twitching imagining him throwing in mismatched underwear and shirts that wouldn't go with any of her pants, but she'd needed him out of the way for five minutes so she’d played on feeling nauseous for her biker-man to jump into action and insist he did the packing while she rested. He was so sweet and so easy to play on his doting daddy-to-be fraught nerves.
They didn't have secrets as per their own agreement plus advice from her therapist, so this was serious, a necessary omission of the truth because she'd decided she wouldn't tell him anything that was about to occur in their kitchen. Mainly because she wasn't altogether certain what she was doing meant anything, only that she had a crazy female intuition feeling. She’d want to know, was her way of justifying her subterfuge. She'd have a lot to confide at her next therapy session.
"He won't be interested, Icy. Why would he?" Rider had scowled when she'd asked him casually if he was going to call and let Hawk know, his brow more furrowed than usual with worry. Because he was the VP and Rider would be away from the club for a couple of days, she'd used as an explanation.
What could she say; I really think you should tell Hawk, and not because of the club. Because I think he'd be really interested on a personal level because I saw something on his face one time months ago for a split second and I'm jumping to huge conclusions. Yeahhhh, that wouldn't look absurd at all and it would only cause Rider to hiss and spit.
She paced from stove to counter, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth, absently listening to the heavy footsteps up above.
Her concerned biker-man was troubled. She was worried, the sooner they got to the airport the better
they'd both feel.
"Oh, just get it over with." She huffed in a self-chastising whisper, taking a seat at the kitchen table decorated in a posy of spring flowers of pinks and yellows. Throughout every room now was her own personal stamp on their house, her biker-man was so laid back he didn't give a damn what she did to the house as long as she was in it. As he'd told her; Do whatever the fuck you want, Icy. It's you I want here, don't care what pillows you throw on the couch. God, she loved that man so much.
And it was because she loved the man, and his sister, she pressed a few buttons on her phone and listened to the ringing tone in her ear. Her heart a steady beat hoping to get this over with before Rider stomped down the stairs.
She'd blame it on pregnancy hormones.
God, she still couldn't quite believe it, she was having a baby. A biker-man baby at that. She smiled to herself, the baby would probably be pushed out cursing the air just like his daddy.
Putting her hand over the flat of her abdomen, already protecting what was nestled inside. They hadn’t been trying … actively … but hadn’t prevented it either, what with a bout of flu weeks ago, she’d been down for a few days in misery and sleep and forgot to take her pill. Rider said it was meant to be that way, that and his super sperm. What an ego her biker-man had.
Happiness came in many forms, it began by being brought into the light by a group of men not known for their kindness, but had been nothing but sweet to Zara from day one, she adored those Renegade Souls boys like they were her blood family, and the happiness hadn’t stopped there, second with Rider, he had given her everything, and it continued to grow bigger, better, brighter now with the promise of their new baby. It was because of her unwavering loyalty to the Renegade Souls she was making this call at all.
The ringing went on and on, fully prepared to leave a message if it sent her to voicemail, Zara was startled by the gruff voice on the other end. She hadn't heard that voice in more than eight months, the last time being the same night he'd killed a man to save her.