by KB Winters
Cross teased and tortured me with his thumb and his mouth while he unzipped in one quick move and freed his long, hot prick from its restraints. He was so thick and so long, so magnificent. I licked my lips and he chuckled.
“Like what you see?”
“Maybe. You have something to show me I might like better?” I couldn’t look away from the erotic sight he made, sitting at my kitchen table stroking his cock in invitation.
“Damn straight.” He pulled me closer until I straddled his lap and sank slowly down onto him.
“You’re big,” I grunted as I willed my body to relax and take him deeper. “So big.” I began to move, not looking away from him for one second, afraid I might miss something.
“You’re good for my ego,” he bit out and I just smiled.
Cross wanted to rush through it but I couldn’t. Not now, not when he felt so good, so amazingly incredible that my body was ready to burst from pleasure. His blue gaze was so dark it almost turned black, but he seemed as unable as I was to look away while I slowly rocked against him, ratcheting up our pleasure by degrees. “Yes, yes!” I urged hungrily.
He gripped me tighter, thrusting up into me for all he was worth until my body trembled with my impending orgasm. Grabbing my hair and tugging it just hard enough to send another frisson of awareness through me, Cross licked up the column of my neck. “Oh fuck, Moon. I’m close.”
“Me, too,” I told him, forcing his gaze back to mine. My hips moved faster, eager to feel Cross even deeper. He filled me up perfectly, thrusting harder until he felt the small quivers start deep within me and begin to work their way out. “Really close.”
His thumb settled right on my clit and that was it for me. I was falling apart all around him while Cross continued to pound into me until his own orgasm burst out of him. His face twisted in a beautiful kind of agony that called to me. Like the pleasure was too much to handle, so much that it caused him pain.
“Moon, fuck!” He grunted and jerked up into me a few more times before we collapsed onto the weight of the chair.
My body, slick with sweat, stuck to his and I was too sated to care. I couldn’t remember the last time my body felt this good. “That was incredible.”
“Maybe I should get beat up more often?”
“Definitely not,” I told him and swiped a drop of sweat from his neck. “But maybe you wouldn’t mind a shower?”
“With you?”
I shrugged against him. “You could just watch if you like.” I slid off his lap and gathered my clothes before turning to walk up to the master bathroom. By the time I reached the third step, Cross was right behind me.
Then I was in his arms and we were headed to the shower for round number two, which was even hotter than round one. And round three was shaping up to be the best of all. Until the school called.
Beau had had another asthma attack.
Chapter Eleven
Cross
My dark office inside the clubhouse was exactly where I needed to be. It fit my mood perfectly, dark and sparse. The Reckless Bitches nagged my ass to let them fix it up a bit, but the small room suited me just as it was. Nothing wrong with the wood paneled walls and dark gray carpeting. The big oak desk was new, and the leather chair matched the one I had in the Merry Mayhem room, only a shade less fancy. I did a lot of Reckless Bastards business in here, but I didn’t give a damn about how it looked.
The room did what it was meant to and I didn’t need shit else, no matter what anyone else thought.
“Yeah?” I was a little gruff when the knock sounded on the door because I’d made it clear I didn’t want to be disturbed.
Jag walked in, expression as stoic as always these days. Not that before Vivi, Jag was an effusive type of guy, but at least he used to flash a smile once in a while. Now it was like the guy didn’t give a damn. About anything. “I got some of that info you requested.” He walked in and sat down, all business.
“Anything good?”
Jag shrugged. “It’s not what you want but after all the shit that just went down with Vivi, I can’t be digging around in government systems the way I used to. But, what I did find is useful.”
Staring at Jag looking lifeless and without energy, I could only feel like this was another area where I was failing my club. Part of me wanted to help him, the other part didn’t give a shit. “What did you find?”
He pulled out a flash drive and he handed to me. I put it in the computer and nodded to Jag to come around and do his thing.
“Bill Pacheco, the city manager,” he said over my shoulder, “has a twenty-one-year-old enrolled at UNLV, but according to her professors she rarely attends class. It’s because she’s spending all day with her new boyfriend, Lu.”
Lu? My eyebrows rose and Jag nodded. “Roadkill’s treasurer?”
“Yep.”
Shit. That was a connection I hadn’t seen coming. “You think Pacheco would shit on us just to help some dude who’s banging his kid?” We were getting into tinfoil hats conspiracy theory territory, but we had to consider it.
“No.” He shook his head with more emphasis than he usually showed. “But I also don’t think it’s just a coincidence. Either she was put there by Pacheco to urge them on or Lu sought her out for some reason. Either way, it’s pretty damn certain it has to do with us.”
“Shit.” He was right. Jag was the best damn analytical mind we had. He was quiet and good-natured, but we’d gotten a lot of good intel and planning from him. For all those reasons and more, I hated that he was hurting because it was, in a way, my fault. “Thanks, Jag.”
“No problem,” he answered quietly and stood, turning to leave.
“Jag, you good?”
He turned. “No, I’m not good man. My woman took a hit. For us. It fucking sucks, a lot. But I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about me or my loyalty. My head is in the game.” This time he left without waiting for my response.
Left alone with my thoughts, which should have been centered on the club and all the threats coming our way, I could only think of one thing. Moon. My God she had been a surprise, a revelation really. She was sensual as hell, taking to fucking the way she did everything else, full of passion and heat. And her sexual appetite was bigger than I would’ve ever imagined, giving as good as she got. Moon wasn’t shy about chasing after her pleasure.
And when she was in charge? Fuck, I’d gotten hard three times over the past couple days just thinking about how hot she was when she took charge. In control of her pleasure and mine was a role Moon had been born to play, but next time, and there would sure as shit would be a next time, I was taking the lead. I’d show her a thing or two about how good it felt to succumb.
To pleasure.
To me.
Music started blaring in the main hub of the clubhouse, which meant the Bastards and Bitches had started to congregate there. It should’ve made me feel good, knowing that my brothers and the Bitches, felt safe enough to come here and get loose. No matter how dicey shit got.
But listening to the music and the increasingly louder sounds of people having a good time, drinking and smoking, and soon there would be fuckin’ too, it all just made me feel old. Old as fuck, really. Like a lonely old man.
And that was exactly what I was, a lonely-assed grumpy old man with nothing to lose, leading a bunch of men who had everything to lose. What a fucking joke that felt like. My eyes closed as feminine laughter rang out and I tried to practice those breathing exercises Moon showed me. So far they hadn’t worked for shit but I kept trying because Moon seemed so damn Zen all the time and I wanted some of that.
Hell, I needed it.
But every time I tried to inhale deeply through my nose all I caught was Moon’s scent. It was floral and earthy and sexy. No it wasn’t just sexy, there was a muskiness that called to mind sex. Specifically, sex with Moon because now I knew just how satisfying it could be.
And I wanted more.
So much more I could fucking taste
it, but now was not the time. And honestly I wasn’t sure there would ever be a time that climbing back into bed with Moon would be a good idea.
Which was too damn bad because now that I’d had one taste, it wasn’t enough.
Chapter Twelve
Moon
It still felt strange being back inside the Rainbow Canvas, but with every day that passed it was easier to be back. Adding small touches, like changing up the art hanging on the walls and rearranging the supplies helped. It made the place feel new. Updated and upgraded rather than just put back together. I could stand inside and almost not see the remnants of that night.
Baby steps.
Customers were coming back, but Friday nights were still slower than usual. Maybe I should consider calling them off for a few weeks. Until people felt comfortable coming back here to have fun while they made art, staying open was just a waste of money.
The wooden chimes over the door tinkled and I looked up from the inventory sheets on the counter as a young girl walked in. Girl wasn’t quite accurate though. She was young but twenty-something young in a tiny, dark blue denim skirt and a white tank top that showed more of her hot pink bra than it covered.
“Welcome to the Rainbow Canvas. If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know.” It was my standard greeting and her little sneer told me she didn’t appreciate the effort.
“Is it true you had a shooting in here?” Big blue eyes did their best to appear innocent and non-threatening but her moves were far too practiced.
“It is. Looks like gang violence is everywhere these days.” The girl leaned in, hanging on to my every word. “The police have no idea who did it or why,” I snorted for added effect. “Probably already forgot about it.”
“That is so terrible,” she replied but even that sounded forced and not even a little sincere.
“It was at the time, but life goes on.” I knew when I was being pumped for information. I grew up in a house full of servants who felt nothing wrong with doing the job when my parents couldn’t or wouldn’t and they were more skilled than her. “So did you come for art classes or supplies, or to see where it all went down?”
I could tell that my tone had caught her by surprise but this was a business, not a tourist attraction.
“Is that okay?” She hunched her shoulders forward and shoved her hands into her pocket, in an effort to look more innocent, I guess.
“Sure. But if you’re not a customer then I have other things to do.” She seemed surprised but not offended when I went back to inventory slips that really didn’t need to be dealt with today, but busy work made me feel like I was doing something. Anything.
She walked around the shop carefully. A little too carefully. I kept an eye on her, watching as she looked at everything then fingered several of the mid-grade brushes. But her gaze wasn’t on the brushes or the palettes in front of her, but on the ceiling. More specifically, she was looking at the corners and light fixtures, for what, I had no clue but she was definitely searching for something.
She piqued my interest enough to make up my mind to do more than keep an eye on her. I pulled my phone from my skirt.
I have an interesting visitor. I sent Cross the quick, vague text message because he seemed so stressed lately that I knew he’d want to know this, even if I was reluctant to pass on any information.
Yeah, who?
I smiled. He was a man of few words. Young girl, twenty-ish with dark hair and blonde highlights. Skimpy clothes and not a skilled interrogator.
His response came within seconds. Be right there.
I should have known the man with so much on his mind wouldn’t let this sit for long. My house, not the shop. I had to be careful on the off chance that someone was watching, because clearly they knew Jana, and possibly Rocky too, liked to hang out here.
“Thanks for letting me look around. You have a super cute shop!” With a wave and a blinding smile, she was gone.
My shoulders sank in relief the moment I saw her cross the street and walk out of my sight. That girl was some kind of trouble, I could just tell. A girl who tried that hard to be sexy usually ended up with men who had warped views of femininity and sexuality. It wasn’t my problem but I committed her face to memory just in case it became my problem.
A tap at the back door interrupted my fifteen minutes of alone time. I knew it had to be Cross because Jana was the only other person who knew about the back entrance. A quick peek through the back door and I gave Cross the high sign to give me a few. I hurried to close up my shop, putting a sign in the front window telling customers I would “Be back later.”
“Hey,” Cross said the minute I stepped outside.
“Hey,” I said back, unsure how to respond to him after our…encounter. And he stood there all expressionless like we hadn’t had the most incredible sex of my life the last time we saw each other. Well, if he could do it then I could too. We walked the short distance to my house, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened between us.
“So like I said, she had thick, dark hair with blonde highlights and she looked young, college age maybe. Her questions were pointed, about the shooting. And she kept looking around the place.”
I could feel the tension coiling in his body. “Looking around at what?”
I shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Where was the sexy but gruff man who’d rocked my world and why had this cold automaton showed up in his place? That was when I realized that the man next to me, this version of Cross, this was him. “I don’t know. She touched the paintbrushes, palettes and mixers but her eyes were on the ceiling.”
He fell silent and I waited until he gathered his thoughts. “Would you recognize her if you saw her again?”
“Of course, she was five feet in front of me the entire time.”
“Is this her?” Cross shoved the phone in my face and showed me a photo of the woman who’d come into my shop, only she was missing her tacky blond highlights.
“Yeah, it sure is.”
“Thanks.” Apparently that really was it and I nodded my acceptance. I had no expectations of Cross other than basic human decency but it still hurt to be so soundly rejected.
“No problem,” I replied because I would never in a million years make a fool out of myself over a man. Not ever again. I tried that once and I didn’t like how it ended.
Before we even entered my house, he waved his phone at me in a sort of goodbye and turned back to his bike parked behind the shop.
***
I was just about to rinse the kale when the alarm on my phone sounded and I groaned. It was time to pick up Beau from school and get him to yet another appointment with Dr. Yang. His asthma attacks had increased in frequency lately, but not in intensity. Even though the episodes scared me numb, I had to believe he wouldn’t have this horrible illness forever.
Luckily the appointment was uneventful, which I was learning as the mother of a child with a chronic illness was as good as it got. Other than an hour wait to get into the examining room, the appointment went as expected. No better but no worse.
On the way home I asked, “How are you feeling today?”
“I hate the nebulizer.”
“Remember what we said about hate, honey.” I didn’t want him to grow up throwing around such loaded words when he didn’t have to. This world was filled with too much negativity as it was.
Beau sighed heavily and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “Fine. I detest the nebulizer and I don’t like the other treatments either. I just want to be like everyone else, Mom.”
“What a boring place this world would be if we were all the same.” It was a sentiment I wished my parents had told me instead of drilling conformity into me until I turned into the rebellious daughter they couldn’t control. Until they gave me the message they didn’t want me.
“You know what I mean, Mom.”
“I do,” I admitted on a weary sigh because I did know, and I understood more than he could understan
d at his tender age. “And I wish I could make it all go away, believe me I do. But for now all we can do is cope with the cards we have.”
He frowned at me from the passenger seat, a tiny smile twitching on the right side of his mouth. “You said that wrong.”
“Did I?” He gave an exaggerated nod but all I cared about was that his smile grew bigger and bigger. “What would you say about pizza for dinner?” Even though he didn’t have a traditional diet, Beau was no different from any other kid who’d jump for joy at the mention of pizza.
“Okay.” It was reluctant acceptance but I knew that wouldn’t last long. “Key Largo’s?”
“Where else?” I’d never ever set foot inside a tropical themed pizza parlor until moving to Nevada, but Key Largo Pizza Haven never did anything halfway. The goddesses must have been shining down on me because we found a spot inside the parking lot, not that it would make the wait any shorter but if Beau suffered another attack I’d have to carry him and for that, distance mattered.
The place smelled amazing, like it always did because for some reason coconut oil and pizza sauce worked together.
“Cross!” Beau darted between four tables, narrowly missing a pitcher of beer.
“Beau,” I called, always worried when he ran when he should walk, anxious that exertion would bring on an attack. If only I had the secret to putting a level head on such young shoulders.
Then I spotted the reason for his excitement. Cross sitting by himself in a booth, a large pizza on the table in front of him. He looked good, even with the bruising. “Hey kiddo, how’s it going?” I heard him say as I came up behind Beau.
“Okay,” Beau said, pushing his glasses up again. “Did you get picked on too?” Beau pointed to his still healing busted lip and Cross grinned.
“People try to pick on me, but I don’t let them, Beau.” Cross turned to face Beau so they were eye to eye. “How are you, really? Your mom said you were having trouble breathing again.”
Cross looked up at me with a look I couldn’t decipher. “Hey, Moon.” Was it pleasure at seeing me? Total disinterest? Why couldn’t I read this man? Why wouldn’t he let me?