Love by Design

by Wynne Roman

  “Not for long.”

  I’m off the bed, undressed, and blessing the relief my cock feels at being free from the restriction of my jeans. The only thing I’m careful with is my cut. I hang it over the back of the chair while merely kicking the rest of my clothes out of the way.

  Turning back, I see Ainsley staring at my cock. “Sweet thing?”

  “You’re . . . ah, huge.”

  I can’t help laughing. “Not that big.”

  “Yes. That big.”

  “Good thing I know how to make it fit.”

  She doesn’t look convinced, and I don’t waste time letting her wonder about it. I lower myself over her and take her mouth in a deep, probing kiss that ought to chase away thoughts about my size. Her breasts pillow softly against my chest. If I prayed, I’d thank God for her curves.

  “So much I wanna do to you, sweet thing.”

  “Yeah?” Her voice is a sultry tease. “Like what?”

  “Taste you all over. Fuck you with my fingers, my tongue. My cock doesn’t wanna wait, though. It wants inside you. Now.”

  “What’re you gonna do about it?”

  “Been a long time since I let my dick be in charge.” I drop a quick kiss on her mouth, her throat, start working my way down until I have one nipple in my mouth. “Right now, I’m gonna taste you.”

  I take her other nipple, nip it lightly, suck it sweetly, and then move on down to her bellybutton. A cute little piercing dangles there, teasing me to swirl my tongue around it. Ainsley rewards me with a breathy sigh. I grin to myself and move lower.

  The musky scent of her draws me forward until I place a lingering open-mouthed kiss on her shaved mound. It’s amazing, elemental, and I can’t resist the need to taste her.

  I shoulder her legs apart. She doesn’t resist, and then my mouth is there. I stroke my tongue over her damp folds, bottom to top, separating them to reveal her clit. I latch onto the tiny bud with gentle teeth, tug, and earn a thrusting moan as my reward. Grinning, I do it again.

  “Talon.” My name is a breathy moan that tells me just how much she likes my mouth.

  I slip a finger into her channel, then two, and she flexes against my hand. I fuck my fingers in and out of her at an almost leisurely pace. She follows my rhythm perfectly, giving me the chance to appreciate how tight and wet she is.

  And on the edge. I know it when she shoves her hands into my tangled hair. I keep working her clit while curling my fingers upward to find that perfect fleshy area that I know will send her over the edge. I stroke it once, twice, three more times, and then she’s there.

  “Oh, God, Talon, I’m coming!”

  Her cream coats my tongue, and I lick her through her orgasm. Jesus, she’s responsive. She went off quicker, harder, than any woman I’ve known. I fucking love knowing that I did that to her.

  I crawl up her body feeling almost like I’m stalking her. Ainsley shivers but watches through heavy-lidded eyes. I give her a look meant to warn her we aren’t through, and she rewards me with a throaty laugh.

  “You really going to fuck me all night long?”

  I laugh, a harsh scrape of amusement that leaves no doubt about my plans. I reach over to the bedside table, pull out a handful of condoms, and toss them on the bed.

  “That answer your question?”

  She tears open a foil packet and holds up the latex circle. “That answer yours?”

  “Put it on me.”

  Ainsley smiles, like I just gave her a damn present or something. I grin back, losing it to a grunt of satisfaction when her hands stroke the condom over my dick. My hips flex forward in a demand all their own.

  “You ready for me, sweet thing?” I know she is. I smell it, feel it, tasted it moments ago. I slip my fingers through her wetness again just to be sure.

  “God, yes.”

  I grunt in approval and give her clit a quick pinch before I position myself against her opening. “Lift your legs, baby. I’ll fit better.”

  Slowly, I push forward. An inch, two, three. Pulling back, I flex forward again until I’m in her all the way.

  “Damn, you’re tight, baby.”

  “No.” She moans and flexes her hips, tightens around me. “You’re just that big.”

  I move because I have to, stroke my cock in and out of her, and she thrusts her hips to keep pace with me. The rhythm is fucking perfect, slow at first and then faster. The glide of my cock in and out of her feels so fucking good!

  The walls of her pussy tighten around me. She’s sensitive from her orgasm; I know it just like I know how to throw her over the edge again.

  I find her clit with one hand, pinch one nipple with the other, and slam my hips against her. She makes a groaning sound that is as much about need as it is pleasure. I do it again, and she makes the same damn noise.

  “God, Talon. You feel so good.”

  “Like that, baby?” I demand as I do it a third time.

  “Yes! You’re so deep. You . . . fill me up.”

  “And you’re so goddamn tight.” I pump harder and faster, thrust deeper, and the first flutterings of Ainsley’s orgasm clench around me. She squeals a sound, maybe my name, and then I’m there with her. Another long, hard thrust, and we’re coming together.

  A pounding on the door wakes me from a sound sleep. Ainsley and I did as I promised and fucked all night long. I need more than a couple hours to recover after that.

  I lift my head and shout, “Go away,” then turn to pull Ainsley closer.

  “Fuck you, Talon.” It’s Nyet, club V.P. “Get your ass downstairs. Joker wants to see you.”

  I grunt. Fuck. I haven’t talked to Joker since I got back yesterday. He probably wants to debrief about the run.

  “Fuck.” I say it out loud. “Yeah. Okay. Give me five.”

  “You got two.” Of Russian descent, we named him Nyet because he never agrees to anything.

  I don’t answer, just climb carefully from the bed. Ainsley groans and rolls toward me, looking all soft and sweet and so goddamn fuckable I want to crawl back under the covers with her.

  Jesus, what a night.

  “You coming, dickhead?”

  “Fuck!” I shout back. “Yeah, coming! Jesus!”

  Ainsley drags her eyes open a crack. One breast peeks out from under the sheet, and her hair is a mass of tangles. Damn, she looks desirable, all sleepy and well-fucked. My cock stirs.

  “Talon?” she whispers. Her voice is slightly hoarse, and she sounds confused.

  I grin, wondering if her throat is sore from all that screaming last night.

  “Go back to sleep.” I pull on my jeans and snag yesterday’s T-shirt from the floor. “Gotta check in with Joker.”

  “What?” She blinks owlishly.

  I drop a quick kiss on her mouth. “Joker. Club prez. He’s got a hard-on about something this morning. I’ll take care of him and be back.”

  “Okay.” She sighs, gives me a sleepy smile, and snuggles back in under the covers.

  I grin. That didn’t take too much convincing. Did my best to wear her out last night.

  I head downstairs and straight for Joker’s office. The door is open, so I walk in without knocking. He’s behind his desk, big and brawny and with a do-rag tied over his balding head.

  “You looking for me?”

  “What the fuck, Talon?”

  I blink. What bug crawled up his ass? Even if he already talked to Shiner, the collection run couldn’t have gone smoother.

  “What?”

  “Burton Construction?”

  “What?” I say again, because . . . what the fuck? We collected money from Benny Campo. Had nothing to do with that pain-in-the-ass Burton Construction.

  “Burton. Construction,” he repeats, like I am a complete dumbass. “What the fuck are you doing with the girl from Burton Construction?”

  “Joker. Seriously, you’re gonna have to clear things up for me, bro.”

  “The chick you fucked. Keg said you sent him to Creed’s fo
r her truck.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He did it. It’s here. Sides plastered with signs that say, ‘Burton Construction’.”

  Burton Construction.

  Well . . . fuck.

  “How’d you meet her?”

  I shrug. “She was at Creed’s. We started talking and —”

  “You brought her back here.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “Fuck me,” Joker grunts. “Then we better talk.”

  Four

  AINSLEY

  Talon has a really comfortable bed, even being there alone. I alternate between snuggling under the covers and stretching as I wake up. I rarely get the chance to indulge myself that way in the mornings, so I take advantage of these moments out of time.

  The minute I leave the Hell’s Creed clubhouse, it’s back to the real world.

  With a contented sigh, I open my eyes — and find Talon seated in a comfortable-looking chair I hadn’t noticed last night. It’s angled in one corner, and he looks like he’s been sitting there for a while.

  Watching me sleep?

  “Good morning,” I murmur softly, blinking as I appreciate his fine form. He dwarfs the chair, and his jeans and T-shirt fit him like they were custom made. He’s wearing his cut, which makes him look very badass.

  Just like in bed. I smile wickedly, remembering his forceful moves. Once we got past the white-hot passion of that first time, he took charge and maintained a firm hand of control all night long. I have never been so satisfied in all my life.

  Now, though, he doesn’t smile back.

  “Talon?”

  He continues to stare, his expression remote and distant. My disadvantage, sprawled naked in his bed, urges me to clutch the sheet to my breasts and angle myself up on one elbow. What the hell happened between him kissing me good morning and now?

  “Talon?” I say his name again, wishing I hadn’t when it comes out sounding so uneasy. Awkward.

  Shit. Instinct tells me showing weakness in front of this guy — any of the Hell’s Creed members — is a lousy idea.

  “What are you doing here, Ainsley Burton?”

  I blink again as my brain scrambles to understand his intention. Nothing about it as simple as him asking the question; his crisp tone tells me that. There’s something else, though.

  “How do you know my last name?”

  His expression hardens. “Is it a secret?”

  “No,” I say slowly, shaking my head. “It’s just that we didn’t exchange last names. I don’t know yours.”

  Talon stares long enough that I don’t think he’s going to answer. Finally he says simply, “Your truck,” as though that explains it.

  “My . . . oh!” Understanding dawns. My truck. It wouldn’t have to mean my last name is Burton — it could be just a work vehicle — but the point doesn’t seem worth arguing, considering that I am actually Ainsley Burton. Talon’s less-than friendly attitude doesn’t help. “Yes. The signs on my truck. Burton Construction.”

  “So I’ll ask again.” His voice carries a bit of an edge this time. “What are you doing here?”

  His arrogant tone sounds surprisingly accusatory. I set my jaw as I wrestle with my temper. Who the hell does this guy think he is, acting like he thinks I have something to apologize for? Over my name?

  I lift a shoulder, probably a little insolently, but I don’t care. “You were there. Figure half the clubhouse heard us last night, but in case you missed it, we were fucking.”

  His glare hardens. “And you just happened to pick Creed’s as the place to find your fuck buddy?”

  “My fuck buddy?” I narrow my gaze. “I have no clue what the hell you’re trying to get at, Talon.” I shake my head. “I told you why I was there.”

  “And you have no interest in H.C. Enterprises?”

  “H.C. Enterprises?” I blink, shake my head, wish I could fling my hands wide in irritation as I search for understanding. That would leave my breasts exposed, though, and I suddenly don’t want him to see me naked. “What about them? How do you even know about them? Yes, I’m trying to get them to let me bid a job, but what —”

  The words die a sudden death as I stare at an impassive, unrelenting face. Had I really been thinking he was good looking?

  Well, yeah, he is, but something very hard and unattractive has overtaken him and his attitude.

  H.C. Enterprises. Sad, sick suspicion slowly begins to snake through me.

  “H.C. Enterprises?” I blink again. “H.C. Hell’s Creed.”

  “Hell’s Creed,” Talon agrees coolly.

  “Fuck.” It’s the best word for the moment. “H.C. Enterprises,” I repeat again, this time for emphasis. “You’re the assholes who won’t even schedule a meeting with me?”

  Talon’s expression tightens. “Assholes?” he repeats slowly. “You sure that’s what you want to say, honey?”

  “Don’t call me honey,” I snap, furious suddenly. Last night I was sweet thing. Now I’m honey?

  It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

  “Let’s try this again. You wanna tell me what you were doing in Creed’s last night?”

  “I told you!” I practically shout. “It was my dad’s birthday, and I wanted to have a drink to honor him.”

  “So you weren’t looking to hook up with a club member to —” he pauses to give me a sharp look “— find a back door into the club?”

  Find a back door into the club?

  The words echo, and I have to think about them for a second before their meaning sinks in.

  “You think I went there to fuck for a chance to work with you assholes?” There’s that word again. Assholes. It fits this time, too.

  Talon’s mouth tightens. “Did you?”

  I suddenly don’t care if he sees me naked again. I jump out of bed and grab for my clothes. I don’t even care when I can’t find my bra or panties. Fine. I’ll go commando. Right now, I just want to get the fuck out of there!

  “I can’t believe the ego on you,” I mutter as I button my shirt with jerky fingers. Tucking it into my jeans, I shoot him a furious glare. “You are the one who approached me.”

  “Didn’t have to be me. You were the one sitting there looking all sad and lonely. Ripe for the picking.”

  His description shocks me to stillness. Sad and lonely? Ripe for the picking?

  Did I really look like that?

  That just pissed me off even more.

  “So you think I went to Creed’s looking all pitiful as some kind of plot to get the H.C. Enterprises contract?”

  “Did you?”

  “Jesus.” I flop down on the bed, grab my boots, and pull them on. “If I’d known H.C. stood for Hell’s Creed, I wouldn’t even have considered bidding the project.”

  That’s a lie. Burton Construction needs the work, and I’m no more than days away from being desperate. After my father’s death, projects have all but dried up and, from what I can tell, it’s mostly because of me.

  Nobody wants to work with — or for — a woman.

  Hell, I’ve even had trouble putting together a crew. Men who worked for my father won’t take orders from his daughter. The ones who will? It’s for a paycheck, as long as I’m willing to overlook their disrespectful laziness.

  That is one of the reasons the H.C. contract looked so appealing. While I didn’t understand their reasoning, I was grateful they wanted to staff the crew with some of their own workers. It was win-win, I’d thought naively.

  My innocence died a pretty serious death when H.C. Enterprises wouldn’t even schedule a meeting with me. Call me overly sensitive, but my instincts screamed that registering Burton Construction as a woman-owned business had worked against me in this case. I did everything I could to find a way past H.C. Enterprises’ stubborn resistance.

  Clearly, all I had done was piss them off.

  “You don’t want to work for a biker gang?” Talon asks with a smirk.

  “I don’t want to work for a group of men
—” I make it clear that the word isn’t a compliment “— who are too stupid to give a girl a chance. Burton Construction and I could be the best choice for you, but you’ll never know because I have a pussy. Nothing smart about that.”

  “You think that gives you some special advantage?”

  “No. It doesn’t give me a goddamn thing. It doesn’t take anything away, either.”

  With that, I’m done. I stand and turn toward the door. Talon moves faster than a man his size should be able to, and then he’s standing in front of me.

  “You expect me to just let you walk out of here?”

  I snort. “Why not? What do you care? You don’t believe or trust me, and I really don’t give a damn. H.C. Enterprises isn’t going to give me the chance to bid your project, you’re done fucking me, so it doesn’t seem like we have anything more to say.” I force myself to look him in the eyes. “Oh, except maybe —” I pause for the drama of it “— thanks for the orgasms.”

  I step around him and get as far as wrapping my fingers around the doorknob when he says, “That’s it?” His voice is an insolent dare, followed by a splayed palm that he plasters against the door to hold it closed.

  “What?” I stare straight ahead and pretend I don’t smell that faint lingering scent that is only his. I damn myself for noticing, my pussy for softening and going wet, and my nipples for tightening.

  If Talon notices, he doesn’t show it. “The woman who was a major pain in our ass, who went after every contact to find a way past our gatekeeper, is just gonna walk away?”

  “Why not? You know what I found.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “No public funds. H.C. Enterprises is a private company whose money is from inside sources. It’s nobody’s business who you hire, and you can reject any and all bids or bidders for any and all reasons.”

  “You knew that.”

  “I did.” I take a breath deep enough to expand my chest. It abrades my hard nipples against the fabric of my shirt. Damn.

  “So why —”

  “I. Told. You.” Are my teeth clenched because I’m that pissed at him or because my body is betraying me? “Going to Creed’s had nothing to do with that fucking project.”