Bomb (Ruin Outlaws MC #1)

by Amy Isan

  “You were scheduled to come in at nine.”

  I shut my eyes and try to imagine the schedule I looked at. “I swear...”

  Becky slams my locker shut, nearly catching my fingers. “Me too. I can’t keep coming here to clean up your messes. We had three clients waiting at the door this morning and wondering why they were locked.”

  “I-I’m sorry,” I begin, and she does a silencing motion with her hand.

  “I don’t want to hear it, but I do want you to stay tonight and help get a couple of the dogs home.”

  I’m livid, but I try to hide it. I squeeze my eyes shut and open my locker again to put away my bag. While I’m procrastinating, Becky leaves the break room. After she’s well out of ear shot, I slam the locker closed, wanting a little bit of that satisfaction. The gesture feels empty.

  Clutching my eye, I go back out into the main room, and put a fake smile on my face.

  . . .

  I come back home in somewhat of a daze. It’s too close to sunset. The orange light filtering through the drapes makes the living room look frozen in the seventies, with the thin carpet being the only thing keeping it firmly locked in the present.

  I call out into the apartment after I drop my purse near the door. “Sara? You here?”

  Not a sound stirs the air. The sunlight catches on some dust in the living room, and I stick my tongue out in disgust at how messy it makes the house look. I move to the couch and collapse on it, the smooth fabric sinking enough to make me feel like I’m in quicksand. It’s just cheap.

  I kick my feet up onto the coffee table and peel my shoes off, before kneading my sore arches.

  Becky worked me hard, and having me corral three dogs up and take them to some 'client’s' house fifteen minutes away was just the perfect topper on it all. It wasn’t that far, but he did try to invite me inside, ugh.Also, the little detour set my drive home back by an hour and a half thanks to all the idiots on the highway.

  Thankfully, Sara isn’t here to pity or ignore me. I lean my head back on the couch and close my eyes. The sunlight warms my cheeks, and even though I was whining about how hot it was in the car, it’s somewhat soothing now. A wind kicks up and shakes the trees against the windows again, and the rattling is almost hypnotic.

  I’m just about to doze off when someone knocks on the front door. My eyes go wide and I throw myself to my aching feet, padding over to the peephole to take a look. Tall, dark and tattooed is outside, his posture aloof but cocky.

  My mind races as my heart does, and my vestige of sleepiness vanishes without a trace. I unlatch the door and open it wide. He throws me a dark grin and steps inside, sidling next to me closer than he needs to. I breath in his scent as I close the door. I feel my insides burn.

  He has a familiar look, too. That hungry, yearning look I saw on my face last night. I don’t want to say a word and break the moment, and he doesn’t look like he has any intention to either. He steps forward and scoops me up in his arms, and his lips embrace mine. I feel a shocking electricity vibrate through me, and without a second thought, I close my eyes and curl my arms around his neck. The kiss lengthens, and with time, deepens until my mind is filled with nothing but a black canvas ready to be painted on with colors of pleasure. His tongue explores my lips, and his subtle beard scratches my face. I don’t care. For once, I just want to be swept up. I can’t even consider this isn’t real, that it might be a dream.

  He slides his arm behind my back and pulls me closer to him, his bulge digging against my legs. I let a gasp slip out and my jaw drops open as our eyes meet. His fiery blues look almost menacing in the orange, aggressive light of the sunset. With a pull of his hand, he drags me toward the couch, and collapses on it. I don’t even hesitate to throw my legs around his waist and clutch him.

  What am I doing? The only one-night stand I’ve had was with a guy in college, but it was unremarkable enough to turn me off to the whole idea. What was the point? A quick burst of sex and then nothing afterward? Sitting on top of Logan though, with his hands exploring my body and our lips locked, I’m starting to see the appeal.

  His hand cups my breast through my shirt, and I suddenly remember the fantasy I had last night. His hands are stronger than I thought they would be. I throw my head back and twist my hair, and he looks at me. We stop to catch our breath for a few minutes, and I grow more self conscious of what I’m doing. Why is he here? Is this just a game to him?

  “We shouldn’t...” I start to say. His finger quickly goes to my lips, and I almost feel like laughing at the absurdity of what I just said. 'We shouldn’t' isn’t quite the same as what I’m thinking, ‘I really want it, please fuck me now, Logan.’

  “Not now, don’t say a word,” Logan says. I nod in agreement, and something about the gravel in his voice gets me even hotter. I run my hand from his shoulder to the back of his hair, dragging my fingers through his scalp and making him growl. I feel like exploding, and he’s still wearing his jacket and his pants. A tempestuous heat rises from him, engulfing my senses with his smell, his look, and his touch.

  I work at undoing the buckle and zipper holding his leather on, and I feel myself blush from his attention. His eyes are on me, and I’m too embarrassed to look back. It’s almost like I don’t feel worthy of him, which is ridiculous because I’m straddling his lap. He helps me take his jacket off by pulling his arms through the sleeves, and I throw it on the ground. His tattoos are visible now, and that fuel and leather smell is that much more potent. I moan quietly as I kiss his cheek, his neck, and move my lips down to his chest. His grunts of pleasure only encourage me more. My eyes open for a brief second and pass over his vest, finally reading the patch blazed across the back.

  BOMB. RUIN RIDERS MC.

  “Bomb, huh?” I whisper. He cracks a grin and undoes my bra, the warm air tickling my exposed nipples. In a second, I’m topless and my naked skin is touching his tattooed chest. I really shouldn’t be doing this, especially in the living room... Sara could come home at any minute, right? I can’t think. Logan’s hands squeeze my breasts, and a gasp slips from my lips. I bite my lip to keep from screaming. I rake my finger through his hair and nibbles on me.

  I seize back and clasp my hands across his strong shoulders. He skin is hot to the touch, and his tattoos look like they’re twitching with life whenever he moves. Ropes of coiled snakes squirm under his tattoos, and I feel dizzy and lightheaded. His eyes lock on mine, and I feel my breath catch in my throat.

  I want to tell him to take me into the bedroom, to throw me onto my sheets and ravage me there. But I can’t. I feel transfixed, almost hypnotized. I don’t want anything to shatter the mood or break the illusion. Our hands explore each other, and I laugh a little as a grin stretches across his face. His eyes meet mine again, and he lets out a low growl. My body can’t take much more teasing, but something tells me he isn’t breaking a dry spell like I am.

  He plants his hand on my ass and picks me up, only turning to set me down on the couch. With my head wedged between the worn cushions, he kneels down between my legs, planting firm and warm kisses on my skin. Usually I’d close my eyes at this point, to try and fixate on the pleasure, but watching him work his magic on me is the pleasure. He dips down between my thighs and slips my panties off, before going back down and savoring a taste. I can’t believe it’s happening. Without a thought, my hand stretches down to urge him in the right direction, and he obeys without an inch of protest. Soon, I’m swimming in euphoria, the entire apartment falling away around me and nothing but his touch and the firm cushions under my shoulder blades.

  I must have fallen asleep, I tell myself. There’s no way he showed up out of the blue to break this tension. He stands up, and I shake myself to my senses. His bulge looks eager to burst from his jeans, and a part of me wants it to, but I know I shouldn’t let him go so far.

  “Logan,” I break the silent staccato of skin and breathing once more. “We shouldn’t...”

  He grins, and despite myself, I
do too. Even I know the words are hollow tokens at this point, but a part of me wants to resist. I never fall for men of his type... He squeezes his erection through his jeans and a pained but hungry look crosses his face. I bite my lip and eye him. Who says I’m falling for anyone? This is just a little taste...

  “How long has it been?” he asks. I stare at him, confused by the question. I don’t want to believe he’s asking what I think he is.

  “Since...” I meander around the question, but his eyes narrow. “I’ve had sex?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  I pretend to think about it, but I know the answer. Four months. “Too long.” He gives me a roguish grin, and he starts to unzip his pants. I stare at his waist with a mixture of fear and excitement.

  “Don’t get attached.” It really has been a long time, but does that mean I should be hooking up with someone who might as well be a stranger?

  He pulls his jeans down and his boxers barely hide his cock. My legs feel tight, and my insides burn for some kind of release. I know my cheeks are red, from how much they sting to the touch. My heart races, and his look isn’t making it slow down at all.

  “I don’t even know you,” I protest. I want to smack myself, what am I doing?

  “Cassie,” he says. My name rolls off his tongue with a fire that I am scarcely aware of. “Just relax.”

  He slides his cock out of his boxers and I stare at it. I try to imagine it fitting inside me, and the thought just makes me hotter. His eyes narrow and he teases me with the head, before easing himself into me. I brace my legs around his back, catching my ankles on his hips and pulling myself closer to him. He grunts as he goes deeper, and I let out a loud moan. We really shouldn’t be doing this in the living room, but that almost makes it more exciting.

  The world fades out and it’s just me and him there. Our eyes are locked on each other, and he slowly starts to rock back and forth. Each inch slips further in me, sending me closer to the edge. Sweat beads on our foreheads, and my feet lock together behind his back. He grunts and growls with each pump, and I throw my back up and try to cool myself. I’m hyperventilating, but the urge is too much to stop. He leans over and cups my breasts, tweaking each of my nipples in cadence with his thrusts. I moan a little louder, but bite my lip and hold it in. A little self-conscious shame slips through, but I manage to push it away.

  He’s filling me, not just with his body, but I can taste his soul. He looks larger than life, his muscled arms and tattoos dancing across his skin, every movement making his stomach and eyes twitch with prolonged pleasure.

  What’s going on? He’s just some grungy biker guy, but he doesn’t act like one. Something about him has me swept up, and I don’t know if it’s totally healthy.

  A rising wave of pleasure overflows through me, and I scream out his name. His grip on me grows tighter, and he pumps faster until I’m nearly yowling. He pushes my legs off him and pulls out, just to finish on my stomach. I sigh, not as annoyed as I thought I would be, and close my eyes. He grunts a few more times as his climax fades, and he pulls his pants back on quickly. I push myself to my feet and step past him to clean up in the bathroom.

  After a few minutes of cleaning myself and drying off, the front door clicks open. I drop the towel I’m drying my hands with, and dash out into the living room to see the door latch shut behind him. My eye twitches and I gather up my clothes in a flash, before dressing sloppily. I notice his jacket laying on the couch still, and I snatch it up before running out the front door.

  I catch him at the bottom of the stairwell, and he ducks his head when I call after him. “Logan!”

  He turns and his eyes meet mine. My heart flutters a little, but my eye twitch is more distracting. “What are you doing?”

  “Leaving?”

  I shove the vest into his hands and he clutches it, surprised. “You forgot your vest... Bomb.”

  He grins a little and slips it on. A twinkle in his eye makes me suspicious, but I ignore it and shake my head. “Just leaving me like that, what kind of man are you?”

  “One who isn’t good with goodbyes.” He nods. He reaches for his bike and throws himself on it, hugging the fuel tank. His arms flex as he pulls it upright, and starts the engine. The roar is deafening, and I’m sure my neighbors appreciate the sound. The sunset behind him has faded to a dull, washed out blue, and the complex lights haven’t yet turned on. The air is eerie, but maybe it’s just me. I feel relieved that he’s leaving, but kind of confused too.

  I open my mouth, but hesitate to ask if I’ll see him again. He smirks, and with a knowing nod, opens the throttle and dives out of the apartment complex.

  I gawk at him as he disappears out onto the main road, the only sound following his departure is the roar of the engine echoing off the eaves. I touch my face, and it's warm to the touch. I'm not mad, but I do feel a bit put off.

  Back upstairs, I tidy up the living room and try to make it not smell like a whorehouse. I feel tingly, and relaxed for the first time in a while. At that moment, he was exactly what I needed. I don’t even consider that I might have been exactly what he needed too.

  Considering his abrupt departure, I can only compare it to the needy men I dated in college. No awkward and drawn out good-byes or begging to stay. Just a muscle-bound biker, tearing in and out of my life like a whirlwind.

  . . .

  A one night stand is okay though, and expected of someone my age. But since I last saw him, I can’t stop thinking about him. I wake up in a cold sweat, wondering if he’s outside my front door, waiting for me to let him in again. I hear Mark laugh in Sara’s room, and I only hear Logan, hiding from me with her. I walk through the grocery store, and swear I see a hint of black leather between the aisles. Since he slept with me, I feel like a ticking bomb is about to go off, and my mixture of anxiety and fear are overwhelming. Does his gang know about me? Is it a game to them...? To him?

  I have to see him again. Logan isn’t like the other men I’ve been with, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. Don’t get attached? How couldn’t I?

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  Also by Amy Isan

  Misty Highlands

  Highlander's Embrace

  Highlander's Kiss

  Ruin Outlaws MC

  Bomb

  Standalone

  Catching Caitlin

  Watch for more at Amy Isan’s site.

  About the Author

  Thank you for your support!

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  Read more at Amy Isan’s site.

 

 

 
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