Wrath (Heartlands Motorcyle Club Book 7)

by Dani Wyatt

  “What the hell?” I pull my robe closed because I didn’t bother with anything under it, because I am supposed to be alone in my home.

  “Don’t curse at me.” He jabs back. “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the day.” He looks like he just ate something that tasted really bad.

  “I’m eating ice cream and watching TV. What are you doing, walking into someone else's house without knocking?”

  He tightens his lips and his eyes narrow, dismissing my question. “The sheriff wants to talk to you again. Some of those motorcycle club people were here this morning, poking around before the work crew arrived. The sheriff says the fire is suspicious and with the tension we’ve had with that one member, well, I’m going to be staying with you until your father gets back.”

  It’s not a question, but truth is my opinion of Wrath has changed and I don’t think there is any way he was involved. “I don’t need you to stay. I’m not in any danger.”

  “You don’t know what you need. My things are in the car. I’m going back to check in with the crew and I want dinner ready at seven. And put the ice cream away. You don’t need to be eating junk. Make a salad for yourself if you’re hungry.”

  I roll my eyes and take a long slow spoonful of ice cream and let out an exaggerated moan that borders on orgasmic.

  He glares at me, but he’s ruined my moment, and I just want to be away from him so I throw off the blanket. “I’m going to my room. It’s a bit crowded in here.”

  I step by him and he grabs my arm, jerking me around to look at him. He always smells like old man, even though he’s maybe forty, his scent reminding me of my grandfather’s room at the nursing home the last few years he was still alive.

  “You know, it’s your job to honor thy father and mother. You know what your father wants. You know where a woman’s place is. Your father’s spoiled you, but it’s time to grow up.”

  I jerk my arm away just as he releases his grip and my half-eaten bowl of ice cream goes flying, smashing on the wood floor and spreading into a gloopy puddle of creamy wonder.

  “Really?” I snap, shaking my head at him as I march into the kitchen and grab some towels. Before I get back, his phone is ringing and he steps down the hall and into my father’s office like he has already taken over, closing the door behind him. “Such an asshole,” I mutter as I clean up the mess, making another trip back to the kitchen with the broken bowl and returning with a wet cloth to try to get the rest of the sticky mess.

  “I have to go. One of the parishioners has an emergency. I’ll be back for dinner.” He looks at his phone, then back to me. “And get dressed. Do your hair. I should be back by seven. I want a real, home cooked meal, hot when I get here.”

  6 | Wrath

  I slept at the bar because I wanted to watch her house. That fucktard’s car was there all night, making me homicidal thinking he was in the house with her.

  Slept isn’t quite accurate, either. I sat up most of the night looking through her windows with binoculars. The only thing that kept me from knocking the door down and beheading junior was the fact he wasn’t with her. She was in her bedroom. She closes the blinds at night, I know because this isn’t the first time I’ve done this shit.

  That fuck walked the house most of the night. What he was doing, I’m not sure, but he was never with her and I could see him lay down on the couch when he did sleep so that at least kept him alive.

  He’s been doing some shit at the church most of the day. Her friend picked her up a while ago and that gave me some relief that she was going to be away from him. He left about ten minutes ago and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I’d been up all night, so I needed a shower. I ran my ass home, jumped in and out, and groomed as best I could as fast as I could, because I have plans. All I could think of was her scent. The way my heart feels like it’s coming alive for the first time whenever I’m around her.

  Once I clean up, I’m back on my bike and make my way back to her place, parking in the driveway before I march my ass to the front door, still not sure what I’m going to say but I know I’m done waiting.

  I’m sure she’s heard my bike, but when I get to the door the house is practically vibrating with some industrial metal music and I look at the piece of white paper taped to the glass on the storm door.

  ‘Here’s your dinner. Don’t bother coming in.’ There’s an arrow below the words, pointing down, and I look down to see a white paper plate with a slice of what looks like baloney that makes me choke out a laugh.

  Not sure what that’s all about, but girl’s got a backbone and no fear, and that only makes me want her more.

  I rap my knuckles on the wooden front door and wait, but the music changes tracks to something even more violent sounding and there’s no way she can hear me over the music. It’s a risk, but I try the knob and the door opens, making me relieved but also pissed that anyone could fucking walk in, so that’s something that will need to be dealt with at some point. She needs to learn to lock the fucking door.

  I reach down and adjust my growing erection, because the fucker has a mind of its own whenever I think of her or get close to her. The music is blaring inside the house and the desire she brings out of me is more than lust.

  The instant attraction I had for her was one thing, but it was more. I just have this insane need to be with her. To look into her eyes. And there’s this pulling that feels like my heart is in a lasso and she’s tugging on the other end. She’s innocent, but smart and sarcastic and vulnerable all at the same time.

  Add to that the music, the baloney, and I’m done for. For the first time in my life I want to be a gentleman. I want to walk down the street with her, making sure I’m always on the street side with my hand on that perfect sway of her back, just above her ripe ass cheeks. I know I’m crazy, I know it doesn’t make sense and it has disaster written all over it, but I don’t care.

  No risk. No reward.

  I turn the knob and push open the door, which opens into a nice living room. There’s a woman’s touch here even, though in the last year I’ve been watching I haven’t seen anyone that looks like a mother coming or going.

  I assess the kitchen, neat, not overly extravagant but well put together and I guess I never considered a man of the cloth could lives so well. I guess I had it in my head the whole celibate and poor deal, but guess that’s not for the Baptists.

  As I work my way down the hall, the memory of her sweet perfume makes my pulse race and the muscles in my back tighten.

  I follow the music, which leads to a closed door toward the end of a hall with a bathroom, another bedroom and two more closed doors, one of which has music blaring behind it.

  I stand outside, my hands on the door frame, and I squeeze until my knuckles pop. With my chin nearly to my chest, I consider walking back out the front door. This is crazy.

  She’s making me crazy.

  Instead, I straighten up, open my eyes and start to knock, but fuck it. Go big or go home.

  So, instead, I grab the door handle and swing it open, stepping inside.

  There she is. Sitting in front of a canvas on an easel, painting something that looks like the Ride or Die bar in some abstract impressionistic style.

  As I enter, she spins in her seat and when she sees me she’s on her feet, backing up and throwing her paint brush down on a side table covered with tubes of paint, a glass jar full of milky gray water with the ends of ten other brushes standing up in it.

  “What the hell!” She half screams. “You’re a fucking stalker. Get out of here.” She points to the bedroom door and I stop my forward motion, but I’m not leaving.

  She’s wearing this sleeveless blue sweater, the color of a Robin’s egg, with black shorts that come down just below her knees. Her wardrobe reminds me of that sister from Happy Days. Joanie, I think? Only, on her, it’s fucking sexy as hell.

  Her mouth hangs open a little, but her protest is silent and I don’t miss the way a blush covers her ch
est and her breathing grows harder. She’s telling me to leave but other parts of her are saying something else.

  “Do you normally break into women’s houses and barge into their bedrooms?” She’s giving me the tough act, but there’s a hitch in her voice that tells me she’s not quite sure what’s going on.

  Neither am I, I want to tell her.

  “Nope. Never done it before.” I answer, moving forward again now that the fear is gone from her eyes. “But, then, no woman ever made me want to before.”

  She lets out a sarcastic chuckle. “Wow. Is that supposed to make me feel special?”

  I shrug, raising my eyebrows. “You are special. If you don’t feel that way, that’s something I’ll have to change.”

  She squints and shakes her head. “Are you affected in the head? You know, if my father comes back—”

  I hold my hands up, stopping her right there. “I know, he’ll kill me. Right?”

  She crosses her arms over her magnificent chest and my mouth is watering. I can almost feel the softness of her tits on the sides of my cock as I fuck between them, my dick slick with her spit from sucking me off.

  With two more steps, the space between us is mere inches, and I can see the way her pulse is moving the flesh of her neck just below her jaw. I want to kiss her there and feel it under my tongue.

  She inhales as I look down, and seeing her pink tongue graze along her bottom lip my own heart starts hammering into my rib cage, and the vision of her naked and on all fours, taking me hard with my name on her lips has my balls drawn tight and ready to stand and deliver.

  “Tell me one thing.” I ask, taking a loose strand of her hair between my fingers and letting the silky softness run through my hand. “When you see me...when I get close to you...” I close the last bit of space between our bodies, my chest now grazing hers. “You feel something.”

  “Yeah, I feel like I should call the police.”

  I bite back my laugh. “Maybe. But there’s something else. If you tell the truth, you feel it too. I’ve never felt anything like I feel when I look at you, Kristina.”

  Her name on my lips felt right and there was a flicker behind her blue eyes.

  “I thought it was just bad tacos.” She’s keeping the tough act going, but the outer shell is cracking.

  “Even bad tacos taste good.”

  She fights the smile but loses, and I can’t hold back the groan, or the need to know what she tastes like.

  I press my lips to hers, greedy and entitled as fuck but the feral animal I’ve been holding back has breached its cage and civility falls away.

  I hear her inhale as my tongue sweeps between her perfect lips, and her flavor is better than any candy or taste that my mouth has ever experienced.

  When I feel her body soften, I pull back. I want to see her eyes but what I get is something else.

  A sharp slap hits my left cheek and she’s glaring at me.

  “You think you can just kiss me like that?”

  “You kissed me back.”

  She’s fighting with herself, but the battle is short and with the sting of her slap still on my cheek, her hands fly up, grabbing the back of my neck and her lips are on mine again.

  From there, it’s on. I flip her up and onto her bed, my body over hers, and I’ve got her sweater up and off in a second.

  “Fucking hell.” Her tits are pushed up in a black bra, the swells of flesh milky and womanly as I pull the fabric down until they spring loose, her nipples dark purple and big, and my mouth is on her.

  I suck and nibble until her hips are twisting and I bring myself down. Before long, our tongues are in each other’s mouths and we’re dry humping like a couple of teenagers.

  An insane jealously rushes through me. The very sight of her face on the verge of an orgasm has my dick already addicted her her. She’s got my cock on a leash and she hasn’t even touched it yet.

  Her fingers tighten around my neck, and she’s grinding against me, harder and harder. My erection finds where her clit should be and I go manic on her. Thrusting and rubbing until she bows off the bed and screams into my shoulder.

  The sound of her orgasm has me jerking in my fucking pants, something I haven’t done since I was twelve. The sticky mess spreads hot under my jeans and I’m thanking Christ himself, because I know once I’m inside her sweet cunt, I’m going to know what heaven feels like.

  7 | Kristina

  “Wow.” I murmur. His body is still on top of me, and with the orgasm still tingling through me, I want more.

  But not here.

  We’re both panting and my eyes are unfocused as Wrath kisses my forehead.

  “I agree.” He grunts, and I still feel his hard cock against my clit.

  Even through the layers of our clothing, I’ve never cum like that in my life.

  “You still want to call the police?” He teases, pushing up and off the bed, looking down at me with a dark look that tells me he’s got much more than a great dry hump to give me.

  I shake my head. “No. I want you to take me.” His eyes widen and I realize the innuendo. “Out of here. Take me for a ride on your bike. Show me where you live. I want to see things about you. You’ve been watching me, you know so much about me, I know almost nothing about you.”

  “You sure?” He asks, a gritty tone to his voice that says to me that once he gets me to his place, all this dry humping is going to turn very wet.

  I nod. “I’m sure. Let’s go.”

  With that, I’ve got my bag, my phone and he settles me on the back of his bike, securing a heavy black helmet on my head before we are off down the road without another word.

  I never thought much about what it would feel like to ride on a motorcycle. But, God, it’s so freeing.

  I feel powerful. The wind, the way I see things so differently as the scenery goes by. Nothing like riding in a car. I appreciate it all so much more. I can’t explain it, but I feel it and I think I understand this lifestyle just a little bit more.

  Hanging onto Wrath is also a huge turn on. He’s got the power, the control of the bike and his hand reaches back and caresses my leg as we drive. When we stop at a stop sign or light, he turns and asks me each time if I’m okay and I am so okay.

  More okay than I’ve been in a long time.

  When we pull down a dirty road, he slows. The dust and rocks are spitting up from the tires, and I cling to him tighter, burying my face into his shoulder with my eyes closed until he brings the bike to a stop and I feel it tip to the side.

  He takes my hand and I open my eyes.

  In front of me is a neat, small cabin sort of house. Not overly tiny but not large either. It’s surrounded by pines and trees, and beyond the side I look back to see a small lake in the distance.

  “Come on.” He pulls me by the hand and takes me inside and shows me around.

  It’s warm, if sparsely decorated, and he grabs a coke for each of us out of the vintage refrigerator before we walk out the back porch.

  “This is beautiful.”

  “Was my mom and dad’s weekend place. Spent lots of time here when I was growing up.”

  I look over to see fishing poles leaning against the porch wall. “You fish?”

  “Yeah.” He answers.

  “I love to fish.”

  “Then let’s fish.” He grabs two poles and we head down a stone path to the lake where there’s a long dock and a couple old folding outdoor type chairs.

  I love that he didn’t just take me here for a quick fuck. Instead, we spend an hour on the dock, talking and fishing, catching nothing big enough to keep but still, it feels comfortable, almost intimate, the way he helps me while still letting me do things my way.

  When the sun starts to go down we pack up and head back to the cabin.

  “You hungry?”

  I shrug, “A little.”

  He runs his tongue across his teeth and I realize I am hungry, but not for food.

  “What do you want?” He asks, leadi
ng me through the door and a wave of lust overwhelms me as he moves into the kitchen, then turns around. His dark eyes, the beard, the way he moves. I want him. Now.

  “I want you.” I manage, and as if he was thinking the same thing, he’s got me scooped up off the floor and he’s carrying me down the short hallway to a bedroom.

  WRATH

  I lay her down on my bed and think to myself that she’s the one thing that’s been missing in my house.

  Our home.

  I slowly strip her, admiring every luscious inch as I do. I strip myself then, enjoying watching her as she watches me.

  My cock is stone, and is demanding what it’s wanted for a year. To feel that pussy wrap around and give it a welcome home hug.

  I lay down next to her, wanting to feel her against me, and I roll her onto her side, her softness against my hardness and her ass is a fucking masterpiece.

  I can’t help but reach down and give it a slap, listening to Kristina’s yelp as I dig my fingers into the flesh and growl into her ear.

  “All mine.”

  “All? You sure you can handle all of me?” She wiggles her ass backwards and I bite into her neck, making her moan.

  “I’m going to fuck you, angel. Hope you’re ready.”

  She lifts her top leg, bending it and wrapping her foot around the back of my leg, pulling my cock into her slick heat from behind.

  “Do I feel ready to you?”

  I’ve got her on her back and my cock is lined up with her wet lips in a split second.

  “I don’t know, do I feel ready?” I grit out, pushing the head of my cock inside her.

  “Very ready.” She arches up as I thrust forward, the head of my dick now inside heaven.

  I grip her ass, holding her steady as I enter her slow and steady, wanting to remember every second of this first time.

  “God, you’re so big.” She closes her eyes and clenches her teeth.

  She’s fucking tight and I realize I didn’t even think about a fucking condom. I didn’t even hesitate when she kissed me earlier. She is changing everything, and I can’t wait to see what’s next.