Jerry's Passion: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 6)

Home > Other > Jerry's Passion: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 6) > Page 2
Jerry's Passion: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 6) Page 2

by Chiah Wilder


  Shaking her head, she said, “A beer.”

  “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

  She groaned. “Please don’t act like my dad. Just be a friend, okay?”

  He definitely had no intention of treating her like a daughter, so he just smiled. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  When he returned to the table, a medium-sized guy sat next to Kylie, saying something to her, close to her ear. Jerry’s jaw tightened. “Here you are.” He placed the red cup in front of her, his steely eyes boring into the young man. The guy immediately jumped up and scurried away. “Who was that? Another admirer?”

  “I don’t have a clue who he is. He didn’t tell me his name. He wanted to hang with me. I’ve never seen him before, but the school is really big, so that’s not a surprise.” She took a bite of her hamburger. “Yum.” She wiggled in her seat.

  Jerry loved the way she munched on her food—so delicately—and told him all about her classes. As she shared the funny stories about her friends and professors, he had a hard time staying focused on anything else but having her wrapped in his arms, kissing her deeply.

  “There you are, Kylie. I’ve been looking all around for you. Where’re Taylor and Mary?” A young woman with purple and pink streaks in her hair stood behind Kylie, her gaze lingering on Jerry’s ink across his hard biceps.

  Kylie turned away from Jerry. “Hey, Ari. Taylor and Mary are with Ricky in the beer tent. Did you just get here?”

  “Not too long ago.” She smiled. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Oh, sorry.” Kylie placed her hand on his forearm, her touch soft and warm. “This is Jerry, and Jerry, this is Ari.”

  “Hi,” Ari said thickly. “What year are you?”

  Jerry tilted his head. “Year?”

  Kylie giggled. “He doesn’t go to school here. He’s a friend of mine from home. He stopped by to say hi to me. Isn’t that sweet?” She leaned her head against his shoulder, his jeans grew tighter, and Ari’s gaze never left his face.

  “Wow, I didn’t know you had such a good-looking friend. Are all the guys this gorgeous in Pinewood Springs?”

  Kylie nodded. “A lot of them are in the Insurgents.” The simple comment pissed Jerry the hell off. Who else is she looking at?

  “Insurgents? What’s that?”

  Another giggle. “My dad’s motorcycle club. Remember, I told you he’s the president?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Ari’s leg rubbed against his knee. “So, you’re a biker. Cool. Do you ride a Harley?”

  Jerry jutted his chin out. “Of course.”

  “Only Harleys are worth riding, right?” Kylie poked his side in a teasing way, and a low growl vibrated in his throat. Damn, she was fucking turning him on, and she didn’t even know it. “Jerry has a real badass Harley that’s electric blue. I love it.”

  “Sounds cool. I’ve never been on a motorcycle. I’d love to take a spin,” Ari hinted.

  “It’s the color of your eyes,” Jerry whispered, his lips brushing against Kylie’s ear as he breathed her scent in deeply, felt her hair against his forehead. She turned toward him, his lips skimming across her cheek, and smiled. For one long moment, it was just him and Kylie, and the urge to capture her mouth overwhelmed him. He was so close. All he had to do was move his head a tiny bit and he’d be on—

  “So, will you take me for a ride on your Harley?” Ari’s nasally voice cut into his thoughts.

  Jerry shook his head, his lips pressed together. “I don’t take bitches on my bike.”

  Ari’s gasp mingled with Kylie’s peals of laughter. As Ari opened her mouth, Kylie said, “No, don’t rip his ass. He’s not calling you a bitch in the way you think. In the biker world, all women are ‘bitches.’ It’s their word for ‘women.’ Don’t take offense.”

  Throwing him a dirty look, she said, “That’s fucked up.”

  He shrugged then turned away. He was done with this woman’s idle chatter; he wanted to have Kylie all to himself. Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he said, “You wanna get another drink?”

  “Earlier, Ricky said he’d bring me a beer.”

  Jerry grunted. “I can get you a beer. You don’t need any prick doing that when I’m here.”

  “Stop.” She scrunched her face, trying to appear angry, but then she laughed. “He’s not a prick. We’re good friends, and he’s always helping me out.”

  “I bet he is,” he muttered under his breath. “You just watch yourself with him. He looks like he wants more than friendship. He’s not for you.”

  “Why do you say that? Who is for me?”

  Jerry could swear he saw a shimmer of lust in her blue gaze. “I just know he isn’t.” How could he tell her he was the best one for her, that he’d treat her real good in and out of bed? I have it bad for her. Fuck!

  “Here you go, Kylie.” A smiling Ricky placed a plastic glass of beer next to the one Jerry had brought. Taylor and Mary, smashed off their asses, laughed behind him.

  “Thanks.” Kylie’s lips curled into a flirty smile, which made Jerry’s insides boil. He leapt up, pulling her with him. “What the fuck?” she said as beer spilled over the table.

  “Let’s go dance. I’ll get you another one.”

  Before she could say anything, he was tugging her behind him, marching over to the area in front of the band. The music was not the hard rock beats he preferred—it was alternative music in the vein of Imagine Dragons—but he didn’t give a shit. As long as it placed Kylie in his arms, he’d dance to beating conga drums. Whirling her into his embrace, he moved to the music, loving the easy swing of her hips. His fingers inched down until they landed just under her rounded ass and he pulled her closer to him, chuckling when he saw her gaze widen as his hardness pressed against her.

  “Uh… I think this song is more for freestyle dancing instead of couple,” she said, pushing him back with her hands on his chest.

  “You don’t like dancing with me?” Jerry cupped her chin in his hand. “That’s too bad, because I’m enjoying dancing with you,” he said in a low voice, smiling at her discomfort. He liked the way she darted her eyes everywhere but on him and licked her lips repeatedly. He fucking loved that he was getting to her. Oh, yeah.

  “I do, but I think we should dance freestyle.” Her voice was breathless, and he bet if he placed his hand on her chest, he’d feel her heart pounding away.

  He squeezed her tightly, loving the feel of her. “Okay, whatever you want.” She pulled away quickly, her gaze still everywhere but on him.

  They danced apart for a few songs, and then she and her friends made several trips to the beer tent. Jerry chugged the red cups of beer she brought him, even though they tasted like piss. He couldn’t believe how everyone was guzzling it down like it was premium shit. He guessed that’s what they thought beer tasted like. After the third cup, he was done with it, and he watched in amusement as Kylie and her friends became even more smashed than they already were.

  After she almost fell for the fourth time, Jerry decided it was time to take her to her dorm. Pulling a protesting Kylie away from her friends, he wrapped his arm around her and headed back. Stumbling and stopping along the way provided many opportunities for his hand to skim across the side of her breast and brush against her ass, lighting a fire within him.

  Finally managing to find her key on the ring of over two dozen—why the hell she had so many, he couldn’t figure out—he opened her door and lay a giggling Kylie on her bed. “Babe, I can’t believe how drunk you are. I hope you don’t do this every weekend.”

  “No, just every night,” she slurred, bursting out in uncontrollable laughter.

  “Fuck, I hope you’re joking.” He took off her biker boots and tugged the sheet and comforter down from under her. Tucking her in still clothed—he didn’t trust himself to take off her jeans and tight knit top—he stared down at her, mesmerized by the way her hair spread around her head on the pillow, like a halo. Her breasts heaved gently, and he wanted to feel their sof
tness in his hands. He was sporting a major hard-on, and he knew he could have her, but he didn’t want to take advantage in her drunkenness. It wasn’t that he was a gentleman—if it were any other girl, he’d already have his dick inside her, licking and sucking her tits—but this beautiful, vulnerable girl was Kylie. If and when he fucked her, he wanted it to be her decision as well as his. He wanted her to know every single dirty thing he’d be doing to her. Right then wasn’t the correct time.

  Jerry sighed and pushed up to leave when a gentle touch held him back. As he bent his head, Kylie put her hand on the back of his neck and drew him to her. With their lips inches from one another’s, she strained forward, hers catching his. Her kiss was soft and warm, and the barriers he’d erected collapsed with that one, solitary kiss.

  She drew back a little and Jerry crushed her to him, his mouth seizing hers, knowing he was going to regret it—and not giving a damn. He tangled one hand in her hair, the other one cupping her jaw. It was like he’d never kissed before; it was wild and desperate, and he didn’t know if he’d ever stop. Her tender lips moved in rhythm with his, parting slightly. He slipped his tongue into her welcoming mouth, eager to consume her. She tasted like beer and honey, and the hesitant stroke of her tongue on his sent him reeling. He plunged his tongue harder and deeper, losing himself in her sweet scent and panting breaths. He closed his eyes and the world faded around him.

  Then she rubbed her soft tits against him, and it was as if a hot poker jabbed him. His cock strained against his jeans. “You’re killing me, Kylie,” he muttered against her mouth.

  “Am I?” she whispered back, her breath scorching his skin.

  He was ready to slam her onto the bed, peel off her clothes, and lavish kisses all over her ripe and tempting body. Remembering she was his president’s daughter, who was very drunk, he reluctantly broke away. Jerry’s eyes locked with hers as he rose to his feet. “You don’t know how fucking hard this is, but I gotta leave. Now.” His gaze rested on her lips, swollen from their kiss, and he ached to return to her arms. “You gonna be okay?”

  She nodded, and in the moonlight he spotted the heated flush from her arousal. Swallowing hard, he rasped, “See you next time you come to Pinewood Springs. Take care of yourself.” He grabbed the jacket he’d thrown on her desk chair and dashed out of her room, making sure the door was locked. His hard-as-shit dick punched against his zipper, and he knew it’d be a fucking long four hours before he’d be back home. Slipping his hands into his leather gloves, he revved up his Harley and zoomed out of the university’s parking lot.

  Chapter Two

  Kylie woke up the following morning and groaned when she moved her head. The pain was like a jackhammer plunging through concrete, and it was relentless. When she opened her eyes, another wave of piercing pain like shards of glass poking the backs of her eyeballs assaulted her, and she licked her dry lips, hating the way the desert had overtaken her mouth. Why the fuck did I drink so much of that cheap, shitty beer? She laid her arm over her throbbing eyelids, trying to block out the light in her dorm room.

  The previous night, she’d drunk more than she ever had since coming to the university. Whatever had possessed her to have had so much beer? She groped the nightstand next to her bed, searching for the bottled water she always kept on it. Finding it, she sat up, her body screaming, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed a long gulp. Relief coated her parched mouth and throat. Setting the water back down, she glanced at Taylor’s bed. Small snores filled the room as her roommate slept.

  Easing back down, Kylie covered her eyes again, the pressure making them feel a tad better. She replayed the previous night’s events in her mind, and she knew the reason she’d drunk so much—Jerry. She’d been shocked when she’d seen him in her space, and at first she’d thought he’d come up just to see her, but when he’d told her he had friends in the area he was visiting, a tinge of disappointment had weaved through her. She’d chided herself on her silliness. After all, they’d known each other for many years, and he was used to older, more experienced women. But during the night, she’d caught him looking at her as more than a friend, and when he’d danced close to her, his hardness pressed against her, pleasure had battled with the urge to flee far away from him.

  Then he’d helped her back to her dorm, patiently putting up with her nonsensical chatter and giggles she hadn’t been able to control. When he’d tucked her in bed, she’d been so overcome with tenderness that she’d kissed him gratefully, never expecting his response. It was like she’d unleashed a powerful caged beast, and she’d loved it. The way he kissed her still made her flush heatedly and her toes curl. And just when she’d thought her heart was going to burst, he’d broken away and left her. She winced as she recalled the punch to her pride. He’d probably been drunk the previous night as well, and when he realized he’d been kissing her instead of one of his slutty women who knew how to fuck, he’d recognized his mistake and freaked out. Her chest hitched and she rubbed her temples in a vain effort to banish those thoughts.

  With a sigh, Kylie forced herself up and into the bathroom. She jumped into the shower, resting her forehead against the cold fiberglass wall. As the cool water washed over her, she began to feel better, gripping her stomach as it growled. Thinking a donut and a cup of strong black coffee would hit the spot, she finished getting ready then headed to the snack bar at the Student Center.

  The snack bar was quiet, with only a few students scattered at the different tables. Sundays were usually like a ghost town during the morning and afternoon hours, only coming to life in the evenings after a night of partying had worn off. Kylie sat at a table for two, a few feet away from the window and the bright sunlight. Sipping her coffee, she leaned back, feeling much better. She took out her phone and noticed a text. Opening it, her stomach lurched when she saw it was from Jerry. She’d plugged in his phone number a couple years back when he’d called on her dad’s phone about club business. For a split second, she racked her brain trying to remember if she’d given him her number the previous night. It was such a jumbled puzzle, bits and pieces fitting in different spaces of her memory; it was very possible she’d given it to him. Looking back down, she read his text.

  Jerry: How’re u feeling?

  Kylie: Like shit. Drank 2 much!

  Jerry: U think???

  Kylie: Cute. Don’t tell my dad. K?

  Jerry: Now I have something to blackmail u with.

  Kylie bit into her donut, loving the burst of deliciousness from the icing. She licked the small flakes off her lips, took another sip of coffee, and returned to texting.

  Kylie: Blackmail? What do u want from me?

  A very long pause ensued. She laid her phone on the table and promptly finished her donut and coffee. A ping drew her attention back to her phone.

  Jerry: Sorry bout last night. I drank too much too. I didn’t mean anything by it.

  Kylie sucked in her breath as fluttering butterflies made her stomach queasy. I knew he probably thought I was someone else. Her skin crawled and bitterness invaded her thoughts.

  Kylie: What did u do? I was so drunk. I remember u helping me to my dorm, but nothing past that. Am I missing something?

  Another long pause. Her insides quivered.

  Jerry: Nah.

  Kylie: Thx for helping me. :)

  Jerry: Ya. So u don’t remember anything after getting to your room?

  She pressed her lips together and reread his text a few times before replying.

  Kylie: No. Did I do something embarrassing?

  Jerry: Not at all. No worries.

  Kylie: I gotta go. It was fun hanging with u. See ya.

  Jerry: Later.

  Kylie let out a long breath, having held it in since he’d alluded to their kiss. Oh, that wonderful, sexy, panty-melting kiss. No boy had ever kissed her like that, not that she’d had many guys around. With her dad being so protective, she was surprised she’d even been allowed to date in high school. She had Cara to thank for that. H
er dad had a soft spot for the woman because she was such a good cook, and she’d been the one to catch Hawk, so he’d listened to her when she told him to let Kylie go to the school dances. If it hadn’t been for Cara, she never would’ve been able to convince her dad to let her come to Red Rocks University.

  She smiled when she thought of her dad. They’d been through a lot after her mother’s death, and during her teenage years, but they were super close and she loved him dearly. Now that he was married to Belle, she hoped he’d ease off on being her guard dog when it came to men, especially the Insurgents brothers. Belle had already stood up for her twice when Kylie came up during President’s Day weekend and had been at the club, flirting with Jerry and Rock. Banger had been livid, but Belle had convinced him it was only natural for Kylie to feel comfortable with the brothers since she’d grown up with the majority of them. He’d softened under Belle’s soothing voice, but Kylie knew her dad still had his eyes on her and Jerry.

  And Jerry had always made her insides melt, ever since she’d first laid eyes on him when he came to the MC as a prospect. How could she not notice him? He was a powerfully built man of over six feet, with sandy hair, large brown eyes, muscles that could rival any Greek Adonis, and enticing tattoos curling around his biceps, forearms, and ripped chest. Looking at him made her drool, and with the way the club and party girls checked him out, she knew they were drooling as well. Jerry had been a patched member for a little over two years, and he’d told her during one of their talks at the clubhouse that he was saving his back for the Insurgents logo—the one a member earned after being with the brotherhood for ten years.

  If Kylie were honest, she’d had a major crush on Jerry since he’d first walked through the doors of the Insurgents’ clubhouse. It became worse when she entered high school, and when she’d hit sixteen, she’d noticed him noticing her. Fantasizing about him had filled up many teenage nights. When she’d turned eighteen, his flirting and roaming eyes had gone into full gear, and she’d find as many excuses as her dad would believe to go to the clubhouse.

 

‹ Prev