Risky and Wild: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Bad Boys MC Trilogy Book 2)

by Violet Blaze

  “Are you going to kiss me or not?” I'm completely breathless, my words almost lost in the spray of water as it splashes against the gray-green tiles and the glass. My arms settle around Royal's neck, but I don't have to put any real effort into keeping myself propped up; he's got it covered. I trace the corded muscles in his back, his shoulders, down his arms and over the rounded curves of his biceps.

  “Not until you apologize,” he says, clearly enjoying the advantage he has over me.

  “In your dreams. You're the one that should apologize for giving me blue balls.”

  Royal laughs, pressing his body even harder into mine, making me gasp, my legs squeezing tight around his waist as I wait desperately for him to fuck me.

  “Look at that, the right proper little mayor's daughter talking like a fucking outlaw. Don't tell me I've managed to corrupt you already.”

  “The only thing you've managed to do is irritate me,” I say as my fingers come up and play in Royal's wet hair, slide along the sides of his jaw, the pads of my thumbs scraping over his lower lip. When he leans in towards me, brushing his stubbled cheek against mine, I groan.

  “Hmm,” he purrs, clearly relishing his position, his cock pressed tight against me, his hands kneading the soft flesh of my ass. “I like seeing you flustered, Pint-Size. It's sexy as hell. Throw that cage off, let go a little. I want to see you get wild.”

  “And you absolutely will if you make me late for work,” I tell him, arching my back and pressing my breasts into Royal's body. Seemingly of its own accord, his body starts to move back, sliding against mine, the rigid length of his shaft teasing my folds, pushing against my clit.

  “Who says you're allowed to go to work today?” he asks, finally, finally dropping his mouth to mine, searing me through with heat and dominating the conversation between us with his tongue. I wiggle my hips against him, eating up the sounds he makes in his throat, little growls and grunts that are too animalistic to be forced.

  I coerce Royal with my hips, my breasts, try to get him to move where I want him to, fill me up and take me hard against the wall of the shower, but he doesn't take the bait. He kisses the hell out of me and then pulls back again, making me want to scream.

  “Call in sick,” Royal tells me, “or it's no deal.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, but even though he's smiling, I think he really is. “I can't call in.”

  “When's the last time you skipped out on work, Pint-Size?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” I shoot back, his dick still pushed painfully up against me, my body wet and ready and desperate. I dig my nails into Royal's shoulders. “Either … do me or put me down.”

  “Do you?” he asks with another laugh, but he doesn't let go. He adjusts his grip, holding me with one hand and guiding himself to my opening with the other. “We need to work on your sexual vocabulary, love.” I gasp as the head of his cock finds the molten heat between my thighs, pushing in just enough to tease.

  “Shag me then,” I say, and that does it. Royal laughs at me at the same time he fills me up, sliding in inch by painful inch. “Jesus Christ, fuck me,” I whimper, and he grins.

  “There's my girl.” Royal jerks me into him, his hands back on my ass, squeezing me tight as he moves inside of me. I'm so wet, even the shower can't wash away all the lubrication, giving us this easy slide of bodies, our eyes locked, wet hair falling into our faces.

  Instead of our usual wild coupling, this happens slowly, my hands clasped behind Royal's neck, my breasts heavy and aching between us, the tips of my nipples scraping against his hard muscles. His shaft fills me completely, stretching me to the edge of what I can take, pleasure rippling through my body with each simple movement. We're at just right the angle that both my clit and my G-spot are being stimulated simultaneously, sounds slipping from my lips of their own accord.

  When the water starts to go cold, Royal pauses, still looking down at me.

  “Still want to go to work?” he asks me, but he's done that brain scramble thing to me again, and I'm finding it really hard to think. Royal smiles like he already knows the answer to that question, pulling out of me and setting me on my feet before he flicks off the water and grabs a towel, tossing it over my head and drying me off with his big hands. “Call in,” he says, producing his cell from the counter when I'm reasonably dry, the fluffy black towel wrapped around my shoulders. “Spend the day with me.”

  “Don't you have club business?” I ask, my voice a breathy whisper. We're not done yet, not even close. I glance at the time on his phone. Holy crap. It's nearly seven-thirty, and I don't even know what I'm going to wear today. Fauna's teenage daughter's clothes aren't going to cut it anymore than my bloodstained skirt from yesterday.

  “Sure, but it won't take up the entire day. You wanted to know what being in an MC was all about, so come with me. I guarantee hanging out at the compound will teach you more in an hour than Google can teach you in a lifetime.”

  Royal grabs a towel and wraps it around his hips, hiding his erect cock from me but leaving the rest of his tattooed body on display. The wolves on his arm ripple as he gestures at the phone.

  “Well? What the hell are you waiting for? Now I'm the one with the blue balls.”

  I dial up the office with my thumb and wait for Kailey to answer, relieved when I hear her voice on the other end of the line.

  “Thank you for calling the Trinidad Mayor's office, this is Kailey.”

  “Hey, it's me,” I say, forcing the rest of my words out before she can cut me off. When Kailey starts talking, she doesn't often stop. “I'm not feeling well, so I won't be coming in today. Just forward all my calls to voice mail, and I'll check them later.”

  “Lyric, is that you?” she asks, even though she knows it is. “I stayed at Dillon's last night. He didn't mind. You know he'd ask me to move in if he could.”

  “I have to go, Kailey,” I say as Royal moves out the door of the bathroom and climbs onto the bed, leaning back against the headboard and sliding his hand under the towel. His eyes are half-shuttered as he starts to pleasure himself, the movement of his strokes rumpling the black fabric. I swallow hard and hang up the phone as Kailey starts to ask about the robbery and the police.

  I'm pretty sure I fed her a good enough story to keep her occupied for today, some bull about driving by with Royal and catching a guy trying to break in. I know she won't tell our parents; they already worry about us both living alone. Whatever holes there are in my story, I'll worry about them later.

  I set the phone on Royal's dresser and move around to his side of the bed, climbing up and straddling him, forcing him to take his hand away so I'm sitting right on his lap.

  “Stop smiling so smugly; it's annoying,” I tell him, but he doesn't stop, just rolls us over so he's on top, sliding his right hand up my body and cupping my breast in tight, strong fingers. Roses and vines tumble down to his nails, decorating every part of his hand with color. I close my eyes against the rush of sensations, feeling the warm heat of his palm as he keeps moving down and settles himself between my thighs.

  “I can't get enough of you, Pint-Size. You taste so fucking good.” Royal puts his stubbled face up close and personal with the slick wetness between my legs, teasing my already swollen clit until my hips buck up off the bed, my fingers burying themselves in his hair. He kisses and licks his way down to my opening, swirling his tongue around flesh already swollen and tender from his cock. By the time he slips a pair of fingers in, I'm already at the edge of an orgasm, that wild pleasure curling in my spine and unfurling as he teases me with his hand, breaks me wide open until I'm screaming into a pillow.

  As I lay there panting and trembling, Royal climbs back on top of me, entering my tender pussy with a rough, hard thrust, his body taut and wired, muscles sharp beneath his skin, one hand on my hip and the other against the headboard.

  I come alive again as he moves inside of me, his abs tightening and releasing with each movement of his hips, my bo
dy seeking the hills and valleys of his midsection as I trace my way up, spreading my legs wide and welcoming him deep. The hot scorch of his bare cock inside me makes me tear up from the rush of pleasure, little pricks of moisture at the edges of my eyes. Royal rubs them away with a single fingertip, his breath coming harsh and quick as he pumps himself into me and comes with a relieved, wild sound that does nothing to help calm me down.

  We kiss again as Royal pulls out of me, driving three fingers in this time, fucking me with his hand and his tongue, the taste of my own body on his lips. When I come again, it's almost violent, leaving me a desperate, panting, angry mess.

  “You really are a prick,” I say as he slides his fingers out, puts the wetness against my hip before sliding his hand back up to cup my breast, thumb grazing over the painfully hardened points of my nipples. My hands go back around Royal's neck and we start making out like teenagers, kissing and rubbing our bodies together, dry humping that isn't really dry at all. My skin tingles where he touches me, my lips sore and bruised from our kisses, my mind completely blown. I've never been this into a man before. Ever. I feel consumed, burnt up, like I'm seconds away from becoming ash.

  I don't feel like Lyric Lenore Rentz at all right now, but someone else entirely, someone who's risky and wild and feral. I run my nails over Royal's flesh, groaning into his mouth as he kneads my breasts, grinds his pelvis into me until he's hard and ready again, cock gliding between my folds. He teases my clit with powerful thrusts, the slickness between our bodies making the movements effortless. When Royal guides himself into me again, it's seamless, the two of us working the friction between us until I'm coming again, my back arcing up into him as he takes my hips in his hands and empties his body into mine.

  It's violent and messy and not at all romantic, but it feels so goddamn good.

  Royal rolls off of me, collapsing into the navy blue sheets as I pant and shake, throwing an arm across my eyes as my body trembles and my thighs clench tight against the pulsing throb between them.

  “You're a horrible prick,” I whisper as he rolls towards me and pulls me in close against his body, his breath just as rugged and frantic as my own. I can feel Royal's heartbeat as he tucks me against him in a possessive maneuver, his voice oozing male satisfaction.

  “Bloody awful, aren't I?” he replies, as lazy and sated as a cat. The scent of sex and sweat mixes with the spicy flavor of Royal's shampoo as he tousles my hair. “I bet you're just dying to get back to the office, so you can fanny about with paperwork. So much more exciting than spending the day with me. Question is, do you usually come three times in an hour of office work?”

  I slap at Royal's muscular arm, but I'm smiling, letting his heat, his scent, envelop me. It might sound stupid, but I feel safe here like this, wrapped in his arms. Funny, considering dating him is probably the most dangerous thing I've ever done.

  “Can't say that I ever have,” I tell him as he chuckles behind me and basks in the after-sex glow. “Although there was this one time I came close; I was working on the most riveting press release …”

  “Cheeky little shit,” Royal says, but it's affectionate, and warm, and nothing at all like I'd ever expected from this man. “You start talking like that, and I'm bound to get jealous. And when I get jealous …” He trails off, running the fingers of his right hand down my bare side, sliding his warm skin over my curves and making me bite my lip. “Well, let's just say you really don't want me to finish that sentence.”

  “Don't be so sure about that,” I say and then blush. Thank God I'm facing the opposite direction.

  “Oh, is that so?” Royal purrs, leaning over me so he can get a good look at my face. “You foxy little minx.” That beautifully inked right hand of his sneaks between my legs and makes me gasp. “You really aren't finished yet, are you?” Royal teases my opening with his fingers and then pulls away abruptly with a laugh, rolling over and standing up, leaving his gloriously muscular backside in view. I could bounce a quarter off that ass, I think, and then I'm blushing even harder.

  I glare at Royal over my shoulder as he grabs a pair of crumpled jeans from the floor and tugs them up his naked hips.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as I turn over and pull the sheets up to my throat. I can't handle his eyes on my breasts, my nipples, my anything. My entire body feels like a lightning rod in a storm, ready to be electrified at any moment. I'm still wet, still ready, still wanting, and there he is pulling on a shirt and slugging on a leather vest.

  “Same thing you are, Pint-Size,” Royal tells me, tossing my bra and shirt onto the bed. “Getting dressed.” When he grins, it's nice and big and white, totally full of shit. And I like it. A lot. Way too much maybe. “As much as I'd love to stay in bed with you all day,” Royal says, giving me a look that really makes me believe that, “there's a lot to deal with right now.” A pause. That grin getting a little bigger, a little wider. “Besides, I like knowing you're wet and ready for me. Randy as hell and pissed the fuck off.” He laughs when I raise my eyebrows and tosses my skirt in front of me. “Come on, love. It's time for a little field trip.”

  I feel my heart start to pound as I consider going back to the Alpha Wolves Compound. After last night, everyone will know. Everyone. Like that girl, Mia. Just thinking about her makes me feel sick. I can still hear her words in my head, although now they seem to have grown a whole other meaning.

  “You don't know anything about this club and you sure as shit don't know anything about its president.”

  She was right; she still is right.

  And yet, here I am, diving into this thing headfirst.

  That's either a really brave … or a really stupid thing to do.

  Lyric is nervous as hell—but she's damn good at hiding it.

  “You alright there, Pint-Size?” I ask as we pull through the front gate and park in front of the clubhouse next to a row of motorcycles, mine included. I cannot fucking wait to get out of this truck and get Lyric back on my bike. I put us in park and shut off the ignition, glancing over at her stoic face. She hasn't so much as batted a bloody eyelash since we stopped by her place so she could change. She didn't want to come in here wearing a suit again, and I didn't blame her. If she waltzed in with her hair in a stark, ugly bun, a brown suit shrugged over her small shoulders, it'd be a bad day for both of us.

  “I'm fine,” she says, tossing a bland smile my direction, her green eyes dulled, emotions shut off. She's fucking dreading this, I think as we stare at each other for a long moment, memories of this morning flickering across my sex addled brain. I can't get enough of this girl and it's driving me fucking mad. “Just a little nervous is all.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “A little nervous?” I ask as I glance down at the quivering hands on the thighs of her jeans, and then back up at her face, the full swell of her lips, bruised from our violent kisses. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, enjoying the perplexed expression on her face when I open them up. “Rubbish. You don't look a little nervous, Pint-Size. Quite frankly, you look like you're about to have kittens.”

  “Kittens, huh? My grandma used to say that,” she says, but at least it looks like she's smiling now.

  “So did mine. Must be fate, eh Pint-Size?” I toss her a wink. “Now get out of the fucking truck and let's face the wolves together.” I swing open my door and step out, the soles of my boots hitting the wet pavement at the same moment two pairs of paws come flying at my chest. Alloy and Lake greet me with all the enthusiasm of pups, just tails and tongues and wet noses.

  “I see you've brought a friend,” Smoky says as he pauses and speaks just loudly enough that Lyric shouldn't be able to hear him on the opposite side of the truck. He nods his chin at her. “Is this a political maneuver I should know about? Are you trying to make a point?”

  “I'm just spending the day with my new girl,” I say with a shrug, digging out a cigarette and waiting while Lyric comes around the crumpled hood of the truck to stand next to me. She makes
direct eye contact with Smoky which I like, and they hold each other's gazes for several long moments.

  “I don't think we've been properly introduced,” she says, all smiles now. I can see the strain in her forehead, a little crinkle between her brows that she's trying desperately to smooth out. Lyric presents her hand and for several long seconds, Smoky just looks at it. When he finally reaches up to shake it, I light my smoke. “Lyric Rentz.”

  “Dale Brennard,” he says. “But everyone here calls me Smoky.” I watch their fingers grip tightly and slide apart, a sense of respect in the simple motion. Thank Jesus for small miracles, I think as the front door of the clubhouse opens and Dober appears. He spots Lyric immediately and sets his face into a tight frown before coming down the steps, his big hand gripping the redwood banister on the deck steps like it owes him money.

  “You're late,” is all he says as he moves past us to intercept his wife on her way out of the office. Doesn't work. Janae is just as stubborn and bullheaded as he is. Probably more so. With a sweet smile that's complete bollocks, she saunters over, tossing her dark hair over one shoulder as she hones in on Lyric like an eagle swooping down on its prey. It's bloody terrifying.

  “Miss Rentz, it's so good to see you again,” she says in that syrupy sweet voice of hers. In all the areas that Dober's gruff and ragged around the edges, Janae is bubbly and perky and smooth. I always thought they made an interesting couple. He's standing behind her now, looking like he's about to puke. I love the bloke, but he needs to bring it down a notch. I know he's worried about the club, but Lyric isn't a threat; I'm sure of it. Even if she did try to bring the FBI down on you. I banish that thought from my brain with an exhale.

  “It's nice to see you, too,” Lyric says cautiously, the air thick with confusion and distrust from both sides. I watch as the two women eye each other, both barely above five feet tall but filled with passion and purpose. Janae's always been the perfect old lady, there for Dober when he needs it, involved in the club just enough to keep things smooth but not enough that she's ever stepping on Dober's toes.