Her Secret Pleasure: A Death Lords MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 4)

by Goode, Ella

  “Speaking from experience?”

  Her head falls back and she succumbs to the relentless rhythm of my hand.

  “Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful right now. Your eyes are this deep pine green and you’re flushed pink everywhere. I can’t wait until I see what you look like with all your clothes off. I can’t wait until I can bury my head between those ripe thighs of yours. Now you shut those pretty green eyes and concentrate on my hand fucking you hard.”

  Her eyes flutter shut as I commanded and I nearly come in my pants. That reaction, that blind obedience in the bedroom, is something that always turns me on.

  Her head thrashes back and forth and my cock is trying to bash its way out of my jeans. I’m going to have a zipper burn but it’s all worth it. I keep talking, telling her how fine she is and how I can’t wait until she comes all over my hand. Her fingers dig into the shelves and my mouth doesn’t move from beside her ear where I keep whispering filthy things until her panting breaths get shorter and harsher. I feel her cunt tightening around me and I give her the permission I’m suspecting she needs. “Come, baby girl. Come hard.”

  As if I’ve pressed a button, she gasps, her cunt clenches to the point of pain around my fingers and then orgasms all over my hand.

  “Baby, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my forty-two years on this earth.” I keep my hand against her as she continues to convulse and kiss her again. As much as my cock is saying to ruck up her skirt and bend her over, I grapple for control but in the short space we’ve spent together I know two things. Our sexual compatibility is on the high end of the matching chart and we’re going to burn up the sheets.

  “You need to stay away from me,” she says weakly.

  That’s not happening. “I like to play in bed and out of it. Sex is fun, baby. It’s serious fun. Since I know you’re interested, it’s going to be damned hard to keep me away.”

  I pull out my hand and suck her juices clean off.

  Her eyes widen; her chest heaves but she remains damnably silent. The invitation I’m waiting for doesn’t come. Hiding my frustration, I muscle my form flush against her.

  “When you’re at home tonight with your cold vibrator, think about this being shoved inside you. Might make it harder to come.”

  “I’ve got a good imagination,” she says, her voice gaining power. “I’ve read a lot.”

  It takes every ounce of self-control I’ve got not to flip her over the nearest horizontal surface and slam into her still-wet pussy. Yeah, I’m not leaving Pippa Lang alone. Not by a long shot and by her wary glance, she knows it.

  Chapter Two

  Pippa

  Hank “Judge” Harrison should have a red stamp on his driver’s license. Warning, it should read, hazardous to your health. Stay at least ten feet away at all times. I’ve never made good decisions about men. My mom says that’s because I have daddy issues. She’s probably right.

  Chuck Lang only parented me when he felt like it, which was usually my birthday and the rare holidays.

  I thought I’d come to accept his laissez-faire attention but it’s easier said than done. I knew I wasn’t going to find a dad on the end of some random guy’s dick but that didn’t stop me from pursuing every hot piece of male ass in Eau Claire. By the time I left for college, my reputation wasn’t pretty.

  In college, I remade myself, as most people do. I shut my legs and turned on my brain. I still didn’t make good decisions about guys but I made fewer mistakes simply by not dating much and not sleeping around.

  But my body has a hard time listening to my head, particularly when I’ve gone through a dry spell. Currently my body is screaming for me to run out after Judge, strip off my clothes and climb on top of him. I’m not sure what I want to do first, either.

  His promise to spend time between my legs wars with the hot images of him thrusting on top of me. Even better would be if he gave me a few instructions as he had in the office. God, his gravelly voice telling me to come…one thing the vibe can’t do is talk to me. Maybe I’ll surreptitiously record him and then play it in the background on repeat while I’m in the privacy of my home.

  “You okay, Ms. Lang?” asks five-year-old Bethenny. “You look like you have a fever.”

  “I think it’s my pink shirt, honey. Redheads shouldn’t wear pink,” I say easily despite being embarrassed at having been caught by one of my kindergarten reading group members fantasizing about the local MC’s president.

  She smiles. “My mommy says I should wear whatever makes me feel happy so if pink makes you happy, you oughta wear it.”

  “Your mommy is a smart woman,” I say and wink at her mother.

  I get my act together and manage to stop thinking about Judge, the office and sex for at least fifty minutes out of each hour. The busier I am, the easier it is and I’m so grateful when Stephanie from the movie theater side asks me to help her restock concessions when the library closes.

  When I exit the library, I’m unsurprised to see the fit, tall police chief lounging against his Jeep.

  “Chief Schmidt,” I say in mock surprise. “How are you today?”

  “You hadn’t returned my calls,” he says. “I was getting worried.”

  “Summer is a busy time for libraries. I’m trying to get all my programs set up for the kids of Fortune.” I give him a wide smile. It’s a prevarication and we both know it. If I wanted to see Eric, I’d have no problem carving out time for him.

  “I worry about you living so far out of town and by yourself.” He steps onto the curb and even though he’s still several feet away I have this urge to step back.

  “Not to worry. I’ve got my dog. He’s a fierce protector.” My Doberman, Morgen, almost took a piece out of Eric when he’d come to pick me up for dinner the other night. I needed to trust my dog’s instincts more. They were clearly better than mine.

  “I’m glad I caught you.” He takes two steps and closes the distance between us. It’s silly to feel imperiled standing in the middle of the town square at dusk, but I can’t shake the slight tremble.

  Eric catches it and a gleam appears in his eyes. I think…I think he likes that I’m scared. I turn away under the pretense of trying to find my car keys.

  “Oh yeah? Why?”

  “I wanted to clear up the misunderstanding we had the other night.”

  When I’d come to town to interview with the mayor and council members, Eric Schmidt had driven me around. He appeared well liked wherever we went but as time went on I had a sneaking suspicion that they only treated him kindly because he was the chief, not because he was a decent guy.

  When I got hired, I was pleased he invited me to go on a ride along so I could get to know Fortune better. And when that turned into a dinner at the local sit-down restaurant, I said yes again. Eric’s a handsome guy with what I presume is a good body. He’s got a respectable job and he opens car doors and pulls out chairs. On the surface, he seemed like a good choice.

  But something’s off about him. The wait staff at the Hilltop Cafe danced around the table as if they were afraid he was going to start issuing citations. And the way he looks at women, as if he has some ownership over their bodies, sets off alarms. But the kicker was the looks of reproof in his eyes the other night when I wore a black pencil skirt that hugged my ass and a tight-fitting knit top. All my bits were covered but I wore something that showcased my figure. Eric’s comment about my clothes made me wonder if he’d complimented me or given me the worst type of insult.

  “You’re looking real showy tonight,” he’d said. “You’re so pretty you don’t really need to dress like that.”

  “Thanks,” I’d answered because at the time I hadn’t processed the insult. I wasn’t even sure it was one until later when I replayed the comment in my head.

  When he’d dropped me off at the house, he’d wanted a kiss good-night but I’d spent the entire dinner stewing over the comment and wasn’t in the mood.

  “You didn’t like the dinner?
” he’d asked, surprised.

  “Yes, the food was very good,” I’d said.

  He’d leaned an arm against the door, kind of trapping me—not unlike Judge’s position in the closet, but I hadn’t been afraid of Judge, only wildly turned on. Eric made me nervous the other night and he is making me nervous now.

  “Did I offend you by asking for a kiss?” Eric asks.

  “No, but it did seem like you expected one. After all, you thought I hadn’t liked the dinner because I wasn’t up for inviting you in.”

  He stalks closer to me and I shift again. My car is parked in the alley behind the library so I’m staying out front here until he leaves. “I must’ve misread the signs. Your clothes were saying one thing but I guess your lips were saying another. Hard for a guy to tell these days.”

  That sets my back up. “Not sure what a skirt and knit top say other than they’re two well-fitting pieces of clothes that match.”

  He chuckles. “I can’t tell if you’re innocent or playing me—” Whatever he was going to say next is cut off by the arrival of a third party. His head jerks up and his eyes narrow. “Harrison, what’re you doing in town this time of night? Everything’s closing down. You don’t belong here. Stay out on the edges at your bar or your sordid clubhouse and leave the good people of Fortune alone.”

  “You still mad you didn’t get your patch all those years ago, Eric?” Judge needles him.

  “I’m mad that murderers are walking our streets and that Fortune lives under the specter of terror.”

  This isn’t a good scene and I want to get out as soon as possible. There’s bad blood between the two that pre-date me by a long time.

  Surprising me, Judge doesn’t needle Eric again. Instead he turns to me. “You parked in back or need a ride home?”

  “In the back,” I answer with some relief.

  “Come on then.” He waves his hand down the sidewalk.

  “Where are you going?” Eric asks sharply.

  “To my car.” His animosity has me edging closer to Judge. My maneuvers escape neither man. Judge’s hand comes to rest at the base of my neck. Eric’s eyes narrow.

  “So you’re a club bitch,” he says. Snorting, he continues, “Should’ve told me you wanted it rough the other night. Acting the gentleman didn’t get me anywhere but I’d have been happy to slap you around a few times. All you had to do was let me know.”

  I lunge toward him but Judge holds me back. “Main Street,” he mutters under his breath.

  Curling my fingers into my palms, I struggle for control. “I wasn’t interested. That’s why I turned you down. It has nothing to do with anything else.”

  He waves his hand at me like I’m garbage. “As if I would want to stick my dick in you. Any pussy of the club is destroyed and diseased.”

  The hand around my neck is tight. Judge leans forward and I’m pleased to see Schmidt move backward even if it’s only a bit. “The only one getting destroyed is you. One of these days you’ll fuck up and then we’ll take turns punching you out until it’ll be hard for the coroner to decipher if you’re a man or an animal.”

  “You threatening an officer of the law?” Schmidt places his hand on the top of his holster.

  “No threat.” Judge rocks back on his heels, but his hand at the back of my neck never moves. “Just a promise.” He turns to me. “You ready?”

  My answer is to start walking. I don’t say goodbye to Chief Schmidt, which is probably a mistake, and I don’t say another word to Judge. I’m not sure if I’m mad at his intrusion or appreciative.

  By the sound of his heavy boots on the sidewalk, he’s following me.

  “What are you doing?” I hiss beneath my breath.

  “I promised your dad I’d keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh, my God. That’s rich. He’s trying to pull the protective dad act about ten years too late.” I start walking faster. The sooner I’m in my car, the sooner I’m home and away from this mess of testosterone.

  “From the way you were trying to two-step away from him, you’ve got him pegged, but everyone can use a helping hand now and then.”

  I round the corner and march down the alley to my car. “I’m here at my car. Thank you very much. You can leave now.” I give him a tight smile.

  “Can’t actually.” Judge moves around to the passenger side. “Someone dropped me off. I need a ride.”

  “What?”

  “You wouldn’t leave me here at the mercy of the law, would you?” He tips his head toward where Chief Schmidt is still standing. He’s at the end of the alley staring at us.

  “Fine,” I capitulate. “Get in.”

  Judge climbs in, buckles his seat belt and doesn’t say another word about my dad or Schmidt or even this morning. He’s good at reading people because if he had opened his mouth, I would’ve laid into him. Quietly he gives me directions to the edge of town where an old granary sits. It’s shaped like a milk carton in the middle with two wings jutting out from the side. There’s one squat silver silo to the left of the building and several bikes parked at the front.

  “Here you are,” I say.

  He doesn’t get out. “Schmidt’s wrapped up in a lot of dirty things. I'm not comfortable sending you home by yourself. Why don’t you drive on home and I’ll have one of my boys pick me up. I won’t even ask to come in.”

  “I have a big dog,” I reply stiffly. I’m not ready to see Judge on my property.

  “Right, a Doberman.” At my glare, he raises his hands. “We follow Schmidt everywhere. You were caught in the cross fire. And your dog? He looks fierce but we both know looks are deceiving.”

  I turn away and stare at the granary doors. He’s right. My dobie is a sweet thing who loves people. He looks scary but he’s really a marshmallow. Capitulating with a sigh, I restart the engine.

  “What else do you know about me from keeping tabs on Schmidt?”

  “You drive your Mini Cooper like you’re part of the team pulling the ‘Italian Job’, you didn’t kiss Schmidt good-night and you taste like fucking heaven.”

  I roll my eyes. “You had to add that, didn’t you?”

  With a broad smile, he covers his eyes with a pair of aviators and rests his head back against the seat. He doesn’t seem too concerned with my driving. In fact, with one arm stretched nearly across the back of my seat and the other across the door, he looks as if he belongs in my car.

  I remind myself I don’t need a man. I have toys and if I’m really desperate for companionship, I can seek out some anonymous fella in Minneapolis. Fortune’s only about an hour and a half drive away.

  The drive out to the mobile home I’m renting takes only about fifteen minutes. Morgen runs down the lane as I pull in.

  “How come you live so far out of town? There are apartments in the town square.” Judge takes a long look around the two acres I’m renting along with the small trailer.

  I finish giving Morgen his hugs and stand up. Judge’s question gives me the perfect opportunity to get him out of my life but I hesitate to unroll my sordid laundry for this guy. Although—who am I kidding. He’s an MC. They probably have more dirty secrets than most.

  “I used to work at the Eau Claire County Library after I had gotten my Masters in Library Science at the U of Minnesota. Library jobs were hard to come by and I figured five years was long enough for folks to forget the foolish behavior of a teenager. But you can’t go home; not really because, shoot, people’s memories were long. I was still that girl who gave her favors around a bit too freely.”

  Judge leans against the front of the car, his ankles and arms crossed. I wish he wasn’t wearing his aviators because I can’t read his expression at all. I plunge forward.

  “I endured three years there with the whispers of notoriety following me everywhere. The other librarians totally supported me and I loved my coworkers. It was the patrons that drove me nutty. Some of the moms looked askance at my clothes or my red hair, as if I could do anything about that, and thought
I’d haul their husbands into the reference books and start doing demonstrations from The Joy of Sex. Part of me wanted to take the mayor and have sex on the circulation desk so I could at least say that I deserved to be the subject of scorn. When Chuck had come around with the offer of a directorship of a small town library a couple hundred miles from Eau Claire, it seemed like the best gift he’d given me. I figure this is going to be my home and I want to start off on the right foot. I already made a mistake and I’m not looking to compound my early error.” I fiddle with the bow tie around my neck, and the memory of Judge’s words about my clothes makes me extra warm. I should’ve taken him for a spin in my bed before kicking him to the curb.

  Judge rubs a finger across his full lower lip and I can’t help but remember the decadent touch of it against my lips and then moving erotically against my ear. Later, after he’s gone, I’m going to think about his growly voice and those plush lips and big hands and go off like a rocket. I shift as my lower bits start throbbing.

  “That’s a sad story, baby, and I’m sorry you were run off but I’m glad you landed here.” He straightens. “I hear you saying a bunch of things so let me address them individually.” He holds up one finger and takes a step toward me. “I don’t give a shit who you fucked before, how many, and in what positions. That past don’t exist for me.” The second finger goes up. “Schmidt’s part of that past.” The third finger rises. “The townspeople of Fortune are gossipy but they don’t care much for Schmidt either and they like me.” With the fourth finger, we are toe to toe. “Finally, I think your real objection is that I ride a bike like your daddy.”

  He runs his big hand across my jaw and then cups my face. “I’ve got plenty of staying power, both in bed and out of it.”

  There’s a sting in my eyes and I start blinking to ease the sharpness. “Chuck’s a motorcycle guy through and through. He lives and breathes on his bike—literally. He can’t stand to be in a house and not on the road for more than a couple of days at a time. I have no idea what he does on the road. I assume it involves sleeping with women not my mother but I’ve never confirmed that with either of them. All I know is that these clubs took the place of his real family. He spent more time visiting them than he ever did us.”