by Anne Marsh
“Come on.” He tugs me out of the hallway, then heads for one of the booths lining the side of the bar. Stupidly, I follow along. I do manage to fish in my purse and find my phone so that I can shoot off a quick text to Samantha.
Met friend. BRB.
Friend is a misnomer, but since Samantha didn’t spot Rev at the birthday party, she wouldn’t know who he is anyhow.
Rev slides my purse down my arm and tosses it toward the back of the booth. The little pink square at the end of a silver chain doesn’t hold much. I slide in after it and then wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Now the only way out is through Rev. Not that I really think he’d hurt me, but I barely know him.
“You look nice,” he says, snagging my phone and sliding in after me. Somehow, I’m not surprised when he looks down and reads the message I just sent.
“Thanks. Maybe we should talk about boundaries.”
He looks up and winks at me. “If you’ve got hard limits, you tell me.”
Did that sound sexual to anyone else?
“We what you said?” He gestures toward the phone in his hand and then tucks it into my purse.
“Friends?”
“Yeah,” he says. My beer is mysteriously empty, so I snag his and help myself to a drink. “Never had a girl friend before.”
“I’ll go easy on you,” I tell him and finish off his beer.
His fingers graze the bare skin above my knee. “You here with someone?”
My pulse rockets into overdrive.
“Kind of.” I blurt the words out. Think them over. “Not really. Yes. No.”
He gives me a slow smile. “Hard to be all of those things.”
“I’m here with friends,” I say firmly.
He nods thoughtfully. “You should know that if you stay here, I’m gonna want a taste of you.”
I stiffen before I can stop myself. This is not the kind of thing you discuss with an almost total stranger. “You did not just say that.”
His fingers move a little higher. I slap them and only end up smacking myself. Real smooth. “That’s disgusting.”
His grin gets broader. “You not a fan of oral, Evie?”
Great. Now my face and my pussy are on fire.
“Not really my thing.” I blurt the words out before I can think them through.
“Why not?” He sounds thoughtful, rather than pissed off or offended, so I tell him the truth.
“I’ve tried it, but it wasn’t all that.” I give my previous boyfriends full points for enthusiasm, but oral sex just isn’t the fireworks-inducing pleasure that my Cosmo assures me it is. I can and have lived without it for years. There’s just something about the enthusiastic licking and the slurping that put me off. Reminds me of puppy dogs or something, and that’s not sexy at all.
Rev gives me a look. He’s totally still, but somehow I get the feeling he’s about to pounce. “We really friends?”
“I think so.” I nod cautiously. Probably shouldn’t have finished his beer because now the room whirls gently around me and a pillow sounds like nirvana. Bet Rev would let me put my head on his chest. Bet he’d let me do a lot of things.
“Then I gotta tell you something, as a friend.” He pulls me onto his lap, settling my back against his chest as he rests his chin on my shoulder. “Fucking waste, your not liking oral.”
He doesn’t sound mad that I’ve shot down his friendly offer, but this is undoubtedly my cue to go back to my own table. Still, when he pulls me tighter, the closeness doesn’t feel scary or like a threat. More like he’s putting himself between me and the rest of the world, just in case shit starts happening. Which it probably does in his world, now that I come to think of it.
“So show me how you like it,” he rumbles in my ear.
“What?” Pretty sure I sound as dazed as I feel.
He tugs the empty beer bottle away from me and sets it on the table.
“Kiss me the way you’d like to have your pussy kissed,” he offers. “Promise you one thing, Evie—I’m a fast learner.”
“But I don’t like it,” I point out with the careful logic of the slightly inebriated. “And we’re just friends. Friends don’t go down on friends.”
Or have conversations about oral techniques in the middle of a bar—but, details.
He sounds sincere when he says, “Nothing wrong with one friend making another feel good.”
I think about that while he runs his hands down my back, cupping my butt and lifting me until I’m sitting on his dick. The only things between us are my panties and his jeans. Or wait—maybe he’s pro-underwear and not naked underneath his denim? The beer must be talking, because I skim my fingers under the edge of his jeans on an exploratory mission. Not commando. Okay. That’s one question settled.
“This is a bad idea,” I inform him even as I turn and straddle him. I can’t be that drunk, because I manage it without sticking my knees in any unfortunate places. Or maybe that’s because his hands guide me and it’s so easy to let him take control.
“Never a bad idea to tell me what you want.” The words sound like a promise. I lose the thought as I slide my hands up his chest and over his shoulders to cup his neck. God, his skin’s warm. I wonder how he feels about licking, because right now his dick is aligned with my pussy and it feels absolutely perfect. “Plus, sweetheart? I’ve got one rule. The game stops the minute you tell me you’re not having fun.”
That’s a good rule and I tell him so.
He nudges my chin up until I meet his eyes. “You’ve got my promise on that.”
“And you always keep your promises.”
“Damn straight.”
He’s smiling when he says it, but the words are like a safety line. Nothing too bad can happen now. He’s said so.
“First thing? I don’t like to rush,” I whisper, leaning up.
“Got all the time in the world,” he tells me.
No.
He’s so wrong.
All I have is right now, this one stolen moment.
I cup his head with my hands, one thumb tracing the soft line of his ear. Must be the only place the man isn’t hard, because I’m definitely sitting on an impressive erection and his chest isn’t any softer. I tug his head down toward my mouth before I can think too much. He helps me by cupping my butt and boosting me up his chest, his fingers skimming the curve of my butt just below my panties.
“I don’t like to go for gold right away.” I brush my mouth over his throat. He’s inked in so many places. In addition to the dark bands on his wrists and forearms, he’s got more ink on his throat.
“This is pretty.” I trace the black swirl nearest his ear with my tongue.
“Got nothing on you,” he growls. “Girls are pretty.”
“Mmmm.” I eat him, kissing my way toward his ear.
I lick him and he groans.
“Pretend you’re a girl,” I whisper. “And let me call you pretty.”
“Fuck,” he says hoarsely. “Asking the impossible, princess. I’ve definitely got a dick.”
The tip of that dick bumps against my clit in a bull’s-eye. Nothing subtle about the move, but somehow the very bluntness of it makes me hotter. Plus, he grabs my hips when I buck, holding me rock-steady in his hands. My internal temperature rockets up to on fire and it’s all I can do to not grind down on him and come right now.
“Are we still playing show-and-tell?” he asks with a hoarse groan. “Because you’re giving me ideas.”
“Shut up.” I lick his ear lightly, teasing him. “This is my show.”
“For now,” he agrees, making it clear I’m only in control because he’s letting me be. That apparently turns me on, too, because my pussy clenches, reaching for the dick I’ve decided it can’t have. Still, since he asked for a lesson in how to lick my pussy, I need to be thorough, right? J
ust in case we ever end up putting this plan into action, I’d hate to be the one to give him bad advice. So I go back to work on his ear, sucking hard on the lobe until he’s the one bucking up. Imagine that. What works for the princess works for the big, bad biker.
“I think we’re gonna be real close friends.” His hands trace the top of my thong through my dress, and when he tugs gently on the tiny strip, I feel it right in my clit. My panties are his own personal leash to my libido. God, I should get up. Should go. Should—
“You like it slow,” he whispers roughly, and my thoughts grind to a happy halt. Right now, I’d like it however he wanted to give it to me.
“My fantasy,” I whisper back. “My rules.”
“You want to hear about mine?” He wraps my hair around his hand, pulling my head back until I meet his gaze.
“I have friends waiting for me.” I sound the opposite of decisive.
“Had a real shitty day, princess,” he growls. “Don’t make it worse by leaving now.”
“Funny,” I gasp. “Because mine is getting better by the second.”
“Tease,” he whispers softly, but he doesn’t sound mad any longer. “Didn’t think you’d play these kinds of games.”
I press down on him. “What kind?”
“The dirty kind.”
His fingers tighten in my hair and my heartbeat jacks up, announcing the imminent arrival of my first heart attack. We’re in public. Sure, the booth gives us some privacy, but it’s nowhere near enough for him to be all but fingering my pussy. Why don’t I mind? Why am I still sitting here on his lap, my legs hugging his hips like he’s my life raft in the Sea of Orgasm? His legs shift beneath me, the muscles bunching and pressing, and a new heartbeat explodes between my legs. Rev is dirty. Wicked. Biker. Outlaw. All the words drain right out of my head when his hand disappears between us. Oh my God, he’s going to touch me.
“Didn’t think you’d let me do this.”
His fingers stroke beneath the edge of my panties.
“Why not?”
“You usually date bikers?” His fingers move higher.
My breath catches.
“I don’t usually date,” I admit. “Tonight’s the first time in a long time for me, and I’m kind of sucking at it.”
I should care. I should feel bad that I’ve left people waiting for me at our table while I climb all over Rev like he’s the only orgasm left in town. Instead, all I can feel is the pleasure. He strokes along the crotch of my panties and my world stills and then explodes in a new beat. He works his finger beneath the edge and my pussy rolls out the welcome mat. Like he knows all I can do is wait, holding my breath and trying not to beg, he works the damp cotton against me, rubbing and pressing. They’re not even good panties, date night panties I wouldn’t mind flashing the world, but they’re my lifeline in the storm that is Rev. Just an everyday Hanes cotton thong that’s practical, sturdy and out of this world in Rev’s hands.
“You like these?” He tugs the side of my panties.
“They get the job done,” I say drily and he laughs.
“Guess that means you won’t miss them.”
He rips my panties apart with two sharp tugs and I don’t have a problem with that, either. Apparently, I’m up for whatever he wants to do tonight.
“Tell me about your day,” I gasp, desperate for distraction. I so need to put the brakes on this crazy attraction.
His knuckle finds my bare clit and presses. It’s too much, too fast, his fingers sliding over my slick, wet flesh. I feel my orgasm coming, and I want to stretch this moment out. Make it last as long as possible, because the best sex of my life shouldn’t be this short.
“Got some unresolved club business.” He circles my clit with his thumb and I reward him with a moan. “Some guys trying to run drugs on our turf. Not good for the neighborhood—civvies keep getting shot.”
“You’re worried about your neighbors?” It’s a minor miracle I can get the words out, because he makes another slow pass around my clit.
He gives me a hard look. “You don’t think I should love my neighbor as myself, sunshine?”
Right now, the only loving I’m worried about is what’s happening between us. He presses. I moan.
“I don’t worry, princess. I fix shit.”
From the expression on his face, those drug dealers will be out of business shortly. Rev clearly has a plan and a goal for shutting them down and part of me wants to stand up and applaud him. I mean, I probably don’t want to know exactly how he intends to eliminate the drug trade from the streets he’s claimed, but the idea’s solid. Instead of saying anything, however, I slide down, more than meeting him halfway. God. I need him in me, and not just his fingers.
A throat clears behind us. “Eve?”
Oh shit. I turn around at light speed, ignoring the way Rev groans when my knee rams into his thigh. Jack takes an involuntary step backward, looking uncomfortable.
“Hi,” I bleat, sounding like the idiot I am.
“I’m headed out.” From the way Jack’s looking at us, he knows exactly what we were doing—and he won’t be calling me. “Play some blackjack and then head home. You okay?”
“Fine. You go on.” My face is probably tomato-red. Jack is the perfect recipe for a forever man, and he’s just busted me humping another guy. It’s not like meeting him here at the casino was my idea (thank you, Samantha), but I still feel bad. I picked him out of the phone lineup, and now I officially suck. He won’t give me a second chance—and worse? I don’t want one.
What I want is to come, to demand Rev finish what he started. We haven’t exchanged much small talk, and we haven’t done any of the get-to-know-you stuff that you’re supposed to do before you hook up. But I know some important things about him already. He’s a member of the Hard Riders MC, which means that he lives for the club and he plays by a code I can’t always agree with. He’s loyal. He’s protective as fuck. He’ll never bring me roses or stop by Hallmark, but it’s not as if I’m planning on doing that for him, either. I’m an equal opportunity kind of girl and I might be up for borrowing his penis, but there’s no long-term in dating a biker.
Which is why I scoot off his lap as Jack turns and walks away. I’ll bet he’s thinking he had a near miss. That if I’d hook up with a different guy when we’d just met that I’d do worse down the road. Rev’s phone buzzes and naturally he checks it. Those fingers moving over the screen were just—
He makes a rough sound. “Got a meeting or we’d be discussing this further.”
This is a first. My dating life hasn’t been a flaming success, but the guys I’ve met have been interested in pussy first, fun second and nothing else third. Sometimes, they’ve mixed it up and put the fun first, but they’ve never left a sure thing for a meeting.
That’s okay.
“Go.” I slide out of the booth. Rev is more than a little out of my league. I like playing games, but I’m not even sure this man knows how to play.
“We’re good?” He gives me another one of those intent, scary looks. He’s big and not particularly happy-looking, and I’m an idiot for grinding on him.
He sighs, as if he can see right inside my head. “You worry too much.”
Worrying is part of the natural order of things. I have a long list of shit to deal with, topped by growing my business, dealing with handsy dads and uncles at my princess parties, whether or not my girls will show up for a gig and where my baby brother has taken himself.
“I plan,” I tell him. “There’s a difference.”
Some days it doesn’t feel like a big one, but it’s who I am.
He follows me out of the booth, setting his hands on my hips and drawing me back against him. His dick makes itself at home in the crack of my butt. The man’s built like a small mountain.
“You gotta stop thinking about it all.”
“’Night, sweetheart,” he says and heads for the door.
Goddamned biker.
He’s gone before I realize he still has my panties.
Chapter Five
Rev
I LEAVE NOTHING to chance. This is a recipe for fucking disaster, and I don’t bake. I also don’t cook, and I definitely don’t screw up. Must be the finger bang at the club, because I’ve decided Evie’s safety comes first and I’ve got my eyes and ears in place since Rocker was a no-show at the meeting he’d fucking set up to discuss our mutual problem. He needs to understand the Hard Riders aren’t backing down. And me? I need to know no one gets close to Evie. If the Colombians come knocking, I’m ready. I followed Evie to her next birthday party gig and stationed myself outside. Don’t think the Colombians are gonna smuggle themselves inside in a gift bag, but eyes on the street are a safer bet. Came in a cage, too, so I wouldn’t scare Evie’s customers off.
Bet most of her mommies wouldn’t mind a biker, though. Bet we’d be their favorite flavor of bad.
Evie’s been doing her princess thing for a good hour when Rocker pulls up and parks down the street at a discreet distance. I’m leaning against the garage door, watching the house. The prospect on the south end of the street texted me when Rocker turned into the cul-de-sac. The street’s full of cars thanks to the birthday party happening in the backyard, which makes it easier for Rocker to hide his bike.
Rocker and I don’t have much of an acquaintance, but I’ve seen him around and I recognize the colors. Plus, he looks like Evie. Got the same color eyes and hair, although after that the resemblance stops. The sunglasses don’t hide the hard-eyed gaze he directs as me, but fuck him. I get that he’s not happy about my presence here. I feel like shooting his ass, too, but that’s not how this game gets played. He nudges the glasses up and tips his head to me in greeting, taking in the balloons bobbing over the mailbox as the screams coming from the backyard assault us both. It’s like being locked in the seventh circle of hell.