Oliver (Inked Menace Motorcycle Club #2): Shapeshifting Bikers

by Hawk, Ryanne

  “Let’s switch positions, yeah?”

  A moment later, Oliver stopped moving and eased her down to the soft mattress beneath her. Then he crawled up her body and kissed her. It wasn’t rough or hard, it was smooth, slow, and gentle. He nipped her jaw, scraped his teeth across her chin, and licked her bottom lip before he tugged it forward. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and explored as he eased his throbbing dick forward an inch, then back an inch, creating a languorous rhythm. Going from vigorous fucking to tenderness was making her insane.

  She lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, digging her heels in as she lifted her hips to urge him faster.

  He buried his face in the crook of her neck and chuckled. “In a hurry, darlin?”

  A barrage of thoughts and feelings invaded her brain, making it difficult to focus on any of them. “I’m…” she searched for the right word to make him understand, “unaccustomed to the reverent way you’re touching me.”

  A wet trail from his tongue made her shiver as he traced a vein on her neck and then bit her ear lobe. “Always so formal when you’re uncomfortable. I’ll remember that.”

  “I don’t do affection very well,” she whispered, admitting the truth out loud.

  He circled his hips and pressed up, the thickness of his cock stretching and touching every nerve in her core. Tingles started in her abdomen, stretching down through her pussy, and shot down her legs to her toes, then raced back up until her back bowed.

  “That’s it, my sweet kitty.” He circled faster and set an inhuman speed, turning his legs slightly so he hit another sensitive spot within her. “Explode all over me. I want to feel every inch of your honeyed cream coat my shaft. I want to feel your muscles clamp down so hard on my cock that you make me come.”

  She let out a harsh moan. “Fuck me, Oliver. Fuck me bloody harder.”

  “Have I told you I like it when you go all British on me?”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Pretty-Boy. Now move your arse.”

  In answer, Oliver pulled out, plucked her off the bed, and flipped her over. “Dog work for you?” he said just as he rammed his hard cock back into her tight hole, making her clutch the sheets with white knuckles and hiss through her teeth.

  The frantic pace he set had Amara holding on for dear life and enjoying the fuck out of every pant-worthy thrust. “I’m so close,” she said and pushed back hard against him, meeting him push for push in the frantic mating dance as old as time.

  “Do you know what’s going to happen as soon as I come inside you? Are you prepared for that, Amara? Do you need it, crave it, want me badly enough to accept all of me, even though we hardly know each other?”

  His words stilled her mind for a second, even though her body continued to move in time with his. Was she ready for a permanent mate? Was she tired of being alone? Did she trust fate and her animal’s judgment? But most importantly, did she trust the overwhelming feeling of rightness calming her heart and making her yearn for the connection of a lifetime?

  The hollow space in her heart burst open and Amara broke free from the constraints holding her emotions and passion hostage. “Yes. Yes, I’m ready.” She released the fear and accepted the truth.

  Oliver was hers.

  “You’re mine,” he growled and fell over her body, his arms on either side of her waist. His teeth scraped along her spine as he fucked her like a madman.

  A blinding white light eclipsed her vision. Sparks danced in front of her eyes as ribbons of lust wound through and around her limbs. She sensed Oliver’s aura, his animal, and without having to open her eyes, she knew the ribbon wrapped around him as well, binding them together.

  Oliver roared behind her, and she shuddered from the force just as a stinging pain seared her shoulder blades. Oliver’s canines pierced her skin and drew blood, marking her in the most dominant and primal way. He suckled the wound, and at once, Amara exploded in a haze of ecstasy.

  “Oh my fucking god,” she yelled. At least she thought she yelled; it might have only happened in her head. Not that it didn’t make it any less real. The aftershocks wove through her like tiny blades of bliss, and her heart fired so hard in her chest she was almost scared it might take a leap through her rib cage.

  Oliver stilled behind her amidst a torrent of primal noises. Grunts, groans, and a hissing through his teeth. Amara clenched her inner muscles to lock him in place.

  He didn’t use words. His tiger extended its claws into her back and he roared, his dick throbbing as jets of cream filled her womb. A series of grunts ensued as Oliver moved his hips faster.

  His orgasm lasted about ten seconds, and during that time, Amara twisted her neck to watch him bask in his glory as king of her jungle. He’d taking a kneeling position, his back straight and face lifted toward the ceiling, tilted back, elongating his throat.

  Tiny water drops littered her back and Oliver’s sweaty palms caressed her abdomen.

  “That…that was incredible,” he said.

  “Aye,” she said and eased her body to lay on her back beneath him, surrounding him with her strong thighs. “Is it true about tigers?”

  He arched a brow in that sexy, satisfied way most men are capable of. “What truth?”

  “In the wild you mate every ten minutes, fifty times per day?”

  A slow grin was his only answer as he brought his hands down to cup her breasts. Eyes on hers, he leaned forward and sucked one of her nipples into the warm heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the stiff peak. She clutched the tangled sheet beneath her.

  “Because, just so you know, that would be very okay with me, mate.”

  “Challenge accepted,” he said after he released one nipple in favor of the other, doing the same careful ministrations that were making her crazy.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  He nodded, and Amara did what she’d wanted to do for days. She reached for his head, undid the elastic, and massaged her fingers through his beautiful hair. “I’m so jealous of your hair,” she said causing him to lift his face, his eyes twinkling in the low lighting.

  “I’ve tried blending in. I dyed my hair for a long time so it would be one color.”

  Rather than mock his reasons, she shrugged. “Well, it’s amazing and so unique, just like you.”

  His body trembled against hers. He shifted so he lay next to her, one leg over her abdomen, his arm over her breasts, and his face occupied the space by her neck. “What was your question again?”

  Amara bit the inside of her cheek. Was there a way to say what she wanted with some tact? Probably not. “When did your club stop being so badass?”

  Tension, like a live wire, thrummed through her wherever their skin touched, which was pretty much everywhere.

  She amended. “I mean no disrespect. I’m genuinely curious, and I didn’t know how else to ask. I shoot rather straight from the mouth.”

  “I’m going to have to get used to your frank way, Amara,” he said, but settled once more next to her. She no longer felt like he might maul her. “What exactly are you asking, so we’re clear?”

  “My, what big teeth you have, tiger. I meant, when did you guys stop with gun running and dealing? No offense, mate, but you all seem rather tame for a biker club.”

  “Oh. That.” He began stroking the side of her ribs and licked a wet trail up her neck as he inhaled her scent. “When we first started here, we had to make a name for ourselves. We dealt with the heavy shit, made friends, made enemies, you know how it is. After ten years of turf wars, gang fights, and bloodshed, we gracefully got out by handing over the guns and drugs to friends of the club. We’re still feared, and with good reason, but we didn’t want the government looking too closely at us. So we keep our noses clean.”

  “Is that for the sake of the shifting community?”

  “Yes. As the first Ruling Council, we felt like we needed to set an example. Why, is Luther still running things in the old way overseas?”

  Amara thought
about some of the things she’d had to do in the name of Clawed Menace. Humans she’d been forced to kill, deals she’d been forced to be a part of even though she’d strongly counseled against them. She’d been overruled by votes, and some of her brothers thought her weak. Her fists clenched by her sides. “Yes, he still subscribes to the old ways.”

  “You don’t agree?” Oliver used one long nail to trace the line of her breast without breaking the skin.

  “I don't mind killing when it’s warranted. But it has to make sense, and not just for one. But for the good of the club, and the shifters. Not just because someone pissed you off and you think they deserve to die.”

  “I’ll talk to Hammer.”

  The air in Amara’s lungs stalled in her chest. She tried to swallow, but something was lodged in her throat. Panic seized her and for a few heartbeats, her skin itched, followed by stinging. Her tongue thickened in her mouth as her brain fired back to all cylinders and she wheezed, “Please don’t,” and moistened her lips with the last of her spit.

  She scrambled up and fumbled for the pitcher of water resting on the nightstand, throwing Oliver off in her mad dash for precious liquid to ease her parched interior. She poured with shaking hands then gulped large sips, spilling a little on the carpet in her haste. Once an entire glass sat empty, she carefully stretched her legs back out and leaned against the headboard, needing something solid to lean on.

  Her brained spun too many thoughts at once. Amongst a host of other reasons, like his child-like wonder, his infectious amusement, the quirky way only one side of his cheeks dimpled when he smiled, Amara adored the fact he didn’t get irritated at her erratic behavior. He sat quietly next to her and waited for her to get herself together.

  Then he said, “What was that about?” and gave her a chance to explain rather than make assumptions.

  Amara’s stomach dropped and a rolling hill full of nerves somersaulted down. As she drew in a deep breath, Oliver slid his hand on top of hers and then turned them so their fingers laced together. A warm, floating sensation danced down her spine and a calmness settled between shoulder blades. She exhaled.

  “Luther…he’s made some questionable decisions.”

  “I admire your loyalty, Amara. I really do. But if he’s doing something that we should know about, you need to tell us.”

  Trust wasn’t something she easily gave. As she stared into Oliver’s serious face, feeling the soft flesh of his skin against hers, her heart whispered that he was the one.

  “I will, Oliver. Just not right now, okay?”

  He balked and opened his mouth to speak, but a loud banging on the door interrupted whatever diatribe coated his tongue.

  “What!” he said instead.

  A leashed violence carried on Hammer’s words. “Now that you’ve both gotten that out of your systems, we have news. Put on some clothes and get your asses out here.”

  12 Chapter Twelve

  Clothes on, hot beverages in hand, Amara and Oliver sat across from Maura and Hammer on a small loveseat with hard cushions. Amara crossed her legs and sipped tea. Oliver leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and glared at the alpha pair.

  “What’s the good word?”

  Hammer didn’t usually mince words and his golden stare bore into him. A whoosh of air left Oliver’s lungs. “Brick contacted one of his old service men who still has ties to classified information.” Hammer skimmed his gaze over Amara and then fixed on a spot over their heads on the wall behind them. “LexCorp has a,” he paused for a moment, seeming to search for the right word. “…facility, in upstate New York. The crew is on their way here to meet us, then we’ll head up there.”

  Inside his chest, his heart beat in a haywire pattern, and when he turned to take in Amara’s reaction to the news, he understood the wildness came from her.

  “They should be here any minute,” Maura said, more to Amara than him. Despite their bickering like an old couple, he liked seeing how the sisters interacted. There was tremendous love and respect between them, and just by looking into their eyes he could see some of the shit they’d gone through, both together and separate, had bound them tighter than the very blood that ran through their veins. Some shifters who mated with another species left their old life behind in favor of their new one. It was nice to see Amara’s family maintained a close relationship and had blended.

  The president of Inked Menace stared at Amara without blinking. “Before the club gets here, is there anything else we should know?” The question was asked without malice, but there was an unspoken ‘don’t lie to me’ tone.

  Oliver reached over and squeezed her thigh then nodded once when she lifted her face. She blew out a breath and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Luther wants information on Cecelia. He sent me here to spy on her and report back.”

  “Do you know what he’s looking for?”

  Amara shook her head and turned her face to stare out the window into the lightening skyline. “He said something about magic. How she was dangerous to shifters. That’s all I know.” She arched a brow and righted her face. “Is that true?”

  Maura opened her mouth to speak and twirled a lock of hair between her fingers. “Sort of. Have you ever heard of Gatekeepers?”

  “No. Should I have?”

  Oliver spoke next to her. “Probably not, they’re old magic, back from a time when humans weren’t so evolved and the shifters had to hide better. Gatekeepers acted as supernatural watchers. In short, they protected shifters, but in order to do that, they had to have a way to protect themselves – a magic of their own.”

  “They’re also the librarians of our world,” Hammer said.

  “I haven’t heard anything scary yet,” Amara offered. Oliver smiled when her eyebrows drew together, as if what she’d heard was a giant puzzle needing solving.

  Oliver used the pads of his fingers to create gooseflesh on her arms. “You’d have to feel it and see it, in order to understand.”

  Her face whipped around and her eyes were wide when she said, “You’ve witnessed it?”

  Oliver remembered the weirdness. The way his limbs felt like they were locked in quicksand and sound was amplified while the world seemed to move at a slower place. He shuddered and wiped the corners of his lips with his hands. “Yeah. Never seen anything like it.”

  “So what happened?” She paused and her face scrunched. “Why would Luther want this information?”

  “She can control shifters,” Maura said slowly, enunciating every word.

  “Oh. Right. Well…” His mate chuckled and smoothed a hand down her leg. “I guess I can see where that would be useful.”

  “She’s not the only Gatekeeper in the world, but she’s one of us, and she’s not going anywhere.”

  Amara raised her hands and showed her palms to Hammer. “I don't plan on adding kidnapping to my list of wrongdoings.”

  “Didn’t think ya would, just throwing it out there. She’s Lucky’s mate. We protect our own.”

  Something kept nagging at Oliver. “Did we find out who planted the bomb?” In his sex haze, he’d nearly forgotten about the van blowing up. Goes to show just how powerful pheromones and mating were.

  A knock at the front door made Hammer hesitate, stand up, and walk to the peephole. His shoulders relaxed and he opened the door, admitting the rest of their motley crew.

  Oliver stood and shook his brothers’ hands and got a knowing look from Lucky.

  “Good to see you guys alive, man,” Lucky said. “When Flip told us what happened…” He let the sentence trail off and shook his head. “Got any beer?”

  “In the fridge.” Hammer pointed behind him through a doorway.

  “Where’s Cecelia?” Oliver asked once Lucky sat down on the arm of the sofa next to him.

  “Locked at the clubhouse with Brick.”

  Oliver arched a brow and snagged the cold beer Flip handed him. “Smart. The less distractions the better.”

  Lucky dru
mmed his fingers on his thigh. “She handles herself pretty well around us, but I don’t trust the humans.”

  “Don’t blame ya there, bro.”

  “How about you?” He waited until Amara left the room. He nodded in her direction. “Get anywhere yet?” In case his meaning was lost in translation, Lucky wagged his brows, making Oliver laugh.

  “Yeah, we…” He made sex motions with his fingers. “Still working on the rest.”

  “It will come. Don’t force it.”

  “Is that what you say to Cecelia when your dick won’t stay hard?”

  “Fuck off, bro. I get more pussy daily than you.”

  Oliver opened his mouth to fire back but Amara plopped down next to them and said, “Am I missing something, love?”

  “Naw, baby, just bustin’ each other.”

  “Right. I ain’t buying that bloody story.”

  Lucky chuckled and rose to his feet. “Your work is cut out for you, Oliver.” He turned toward Hammer. “All right. What’s the plan?”

  All eyes set upon their fearless leader and waited with baited breath. Amara leaned forward and rammed one of her knuckles into her mouth then latched onto it with her teeth.

  13 Chapter Thirteen

  Another knock sounded at the door and Lucky jumped first, calling out, “That would be Buzz, I’m sure.” He hopped over the coffee table and vaulted over a small club chair to get to the door. He checked the peephole just to be sure, then flashed them all a smile as he opened the door to a male Amara had never seen before.

  The man who entered carried an innate grace similar to a shifter, but she knew, just from his aura, he wasn’t an animal. At least not one who ran on four paws. His chestnut brown eyes met hers for a brief moment, and then they flickered to a deep emerald green and the air was sucked from Amara’s lungs like he’d just drank from a straw to pull her life force.

  Warlock.

  Amara had seen her fair share of wizards, warlocks, witches, and fae, but they didn’t quite have the leashed power this man exuded.