Was this part of what Hank had been talking about in the farmer's market? He had told her that he was into some things which could not be discussed, or even hinted at. It was obvious to her at that time that at least one of those things was following him. She saw him searching for multiple watchers, but she knew a bird dog look when she saw one. Hank had spotted at least one watcher that he believed to be dangerous or important enough to let her know he was in some heavy shit. But that was all he could let her know.
“Six weeks, he said,” she told her ceiling. “For eight months, maybe, down to six weeks.” It made sense that whatever he was into would be growing more intense, not less, during these last six weeks. Countdowns were used most often for heralding explosions: rockets, bombs, lift-offs.
She heard his engine coming down the lonely road, and she got out of bed to meet him on the porch.
“With legs like that, you never need to be lonely, that’s for sure,” he said as he came up her stairs with two bags of grease-soaked food.
“Think that’s all it takes to find a good man? Flash some leg and reel him in?” she countered.
“Seems to be working on me rather well, but I guess we still need to figure out if I’m a good man or not,” he said, stepping through the door.
“Are you fishing for a complement? That feels so below you,” she told him, following him inside. She took the bags of food from him to the kitchen.
“Maybe I was a little, but, well, I wish I could discuss things with you that I can’t right now, and it makes me feel like I’m not being honest with you,” he said, taking off his jacket and then pulling off his chaps.
She came out with two plates and set them on her coffee table before going back for sauces. “Which you aren’t, and you’ve already told me you can’t be. You even said it would be better to wait a few weeks until whatever it was, was over. I declined then, and I decline now.”
“Knight was quite impressed by you tonight,” he said, changing the subject.
“Impressed?”
“By the way you stood by Daphne.”
“She’s my best friend. There was nothing else I could have done,” she said, sitting down beside him with a tray of various sauces. She noticed his slight dismay at the offering on the tray, and she told him, “I’m into dipping.”
“I can see that,” he said. “I don’t even know what some of these things are.”
“Best not to try them tonight, then. I plan on using you roughly, and I don’t want your stomach to suffer,” she announced.
“What if I was planning on sleeping in my bed tonight?”
“I’ll persuade you,” she answered.
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Are you really going to push this to the point of handcuffs? I could probably produce a bear trap as well.”
“Sounds like I’m sleeping here, then,” he agreed.
“Yep. Just get comfortable and let nature take its course, big guy,” she agreed with a nod.
They ate together, dipping and smiling, and after a while Hank said, “That’s quite a knife you carried tonight.”
“Dagger,” she corrected.
“Ah, ok, dagger. Any good with it?”
“For ten years, my dad was a training officer for Recon marines at Camp Pendleton, specializing in knife and hand-to-hand combat. He started teaching me with that dagger when I was about twelve. So, yeah, I’m pretty good. So far I’ve been able to get out of situations that I didn’t want to be in with it. And that’s my only goal, really. Just be good enough to get out and go home.”
“Is that why you brought it tonight? Thinking you were going to have a rough way out of the door?” he asked.
She searched his eyes. “Daphne told me what Derrick planned — or rather, had planned for you, and she described the weight of it to me. She told me that I should distance myself, because it could be really ugly for me if I went there with you tonight.”
She finished an onion ring. “I wanted to tell you, but didn’t know how. We’re only a few days into each other, and it seemed like such an insulting thing to even bring up. The feeling I got from you, though, said that whatever Daphne and Derrick saw that day, it wasn’t what they believed it was. I didn’t believe that Daphne was lying to me, not at all, but I also didn’t believe it was the truth, either.”
“Hell of a risk, then, riding in with me like that,” he offered.
“Hence the knife,” she agreed.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t need it,” he told her.
“So am I,” she told him. “Being gutted tends to stick in people’s minds, even as the years pass.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, yes, we’ve only been into each other for a few days, but I felt that withholding that from you carried the price of being at your back. And I planned on riding out of there with you, too.”
“What if it appeared that Derrick was right?”
“He wasn’t,” she answered flatly.
“And if—”
“If’s are sort of useless once you’ve made up your mind. I rode in with you and I was riding out with you, and I was only leaving you if I had the feeling that you were going to be alright. Which I did, and I felt that Daphne needed me more once things turned so horribly wrong for Derrick,” she told him, then turned to face him more fully.
“You’re feeling me out for something,” she told him, “which I normally wouldn’t mind, except you aren’t using your hands. So, what is it?”
Hank leaned back and studied his hands. “I guess I was trying to get a handle on your value system. It seems so cut and dry on the surface, which is reassuring.”
“But…” she pressed.
“I’m just going to drop it on the floor and let you decide how you will act. I believe, strongly, that your heart is in the right place, that you feel good about the club, and you love Daphne.”
“I feel strongly about you, too,” she offered.
He nodded. “It is reciprocated, I assure you, but you might not think so once you realize what I’m getting you into.”
She waited. There was nothing to say to that. He might be right, after all; he observed details like no one else she had ever known.
“What Knight said,” Hank began, “about not letting rumors out about what Derrick brought to the table tonight — it is true that that particular plan, that particular moment, was not a success. He didn’t lie. There are concerns, however…”
She had a sudden and alarming insight into where this conversation was going. “Derrick has no reason now to keep back names.”
Hank nodded, and he leaned forward to take up a shrimp. “You catch on fast. That will spare me from going through all of the details.”
“If Derrick tells the wrong people about what he saw that day, adding in that it was an operation condoned by the club and created by the president, it could mean war. Failed or not,” she reasoned.
“Yes, but certainly my death,” he added.
“How deep are you in?” she asked.
“Deep enough that I can’t talk about it, and if you press, I’ll have to leave,” he told her flatly.
“Alright. And so far you haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know, just pointed out a perspective,” she mused. “How can you safeguard against Derrick?” she asked, concerned now.
“I can’t.”
“Shit, and he would love to see you put down,” she said, worried, her heart racing.
“And then the club — we would have no warning about his actions, either,” he added.
It hit like a hammer, leaving a nice ringing sound in her ears after it struck. She sounded out the words carefully as she said, “Unless, of course, Daphne told me about what Derrick was doing and I breached trust with her to tell you.”
The words hung between them and tore at them both.
Finally, he said, “I don’t need, nor really want, an answer. I’m just putting in on the floor.”
“That’s a
hell of a thing to leave on a girl’s floor, Hank,” she growled. She got up and took their plates into the kitchen, unconcerned that Hank hadn’t finished his yet. She dumped them in the sink, and rinsed them, and then stacked them in the dishwasher before coming back for her sauces.
“I’m not going to give the ‘Derrick weather report.’ I’m not going to tell you if she says he’s edgy or needy or calm or whatever else she might say about him,” she announced, heading back into the kitchen with her tray and grabbing a towel to wipe the table with. “That’s too much to ask. I love Daphne, and I can’t do that to her, even for the club. I can’t.”
She wiped down the table, then stood up. “But if she mentions something that is a clear and present danger to you or the club, I’ll tell you. I believe the only reason she would tell me something like that was if she wanted you to know, anyway.”
After taking her cleaning towel back into the kitchen, she leaned against the doorway. “Is that good enough?”
“It’s fair enough,” he told her. “Would you like me to leave?”
“Have I asked you to go?”
“I withdraw the question,” he consented.
She bit her lip and then said, “You are wearing far too many clothes.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On her bed, naked and entangled while his hands roamed her body with calm explorations, she marveled out how well he already knew her as he set fires in her ass, back, and breasts.
Her pale nipples were alight and hard as he teased and suckled her. She loved the feeling of running her hands through his hair while he did that. His cock was hard against her thigh, so she knew he was already very aroused, which pleased her, but he was also in no hurry tonight, which pleased her even more. Rough-and-tumble monkey sex had its place, but this was a night for healing, and both of them needed healing.
For nearly an hour, they just rolled and caressed and soothed each other, pressing as close together and as much as they could.
When she was straddling him after such a long and loving embrace, the ache for him was more than she could take. Lifting up from him, she rolled her hips and brought his cock to her entrance. “God,” she hissed, as he stretched her open, “am I ever going to get used to your cock?”
Working her hips and ass and thighs, she ground him into her, loving the width of him, moaning with every aching, wonderful stretching sensation. “Fuck yes,” she whispered, rising up fully and undulating her whole body in a dance. “Fuck yes, this is it, this is exactly it.”
Her body was a flowing wave that rose from her ass, up through her hips to her abs, and then to her breasts before finally tossing back and jerking forward her long red hair with her head, rolling her body with lustful oscillations in the moonlight coming in through the window. Her hands rubbed her sides and milked her breasts and dug deep into her hair.
In his eyes, Cyn could see that this was turning him on. She could feel it in his cock, too, when it twitched and bucked periodically.
This dance she was doing was rubbing her clit into the base of his cock, and it was really starting to get to her. Her moans weren’t quite as playful or soothing anymore. There was an urgency to them that she knew he could hear. Her voice was practically imploring him to fuck her.
“Oh, sweet mercy,” she moaned when her orgasm began to rise and swirl inside of her like a filling pool of electric lava.
“Oh god, I’m going to come, oh please let me come,” she begged and her body’s dance, which was sensuous and slow, became more urgent and forceful.
Her hips now rocked against him instead of rolling, grinding her clit with fervent desire. Rather than milking her breasts, she pulled at her nipples, stretching them, and threw her head back as the delicious ache ran through her abs and inflamed her clit with ardent hunger.
“Oh, fuck yes! Hank! God, you feel so good!”
She came forward, her hands gripping his thick shoulders, feeing his chiseled muscles and the tension building in them. Her incited body left all sensuous pretense and began to fuck his cock. Her abs rolled and she squeezed his cock with the muscle walls of her pussy as her hips fucked up and down, driving him into her.
“God yes! Oh god, yes! Fuck, Hank! Fucking give it to me! Fuck! I need it!” she screamed at him.
Hank grabbed her hips with his powerful hands and began to drive his cock into her with his ass and hip muscles.
The sudden power she felt from him set her off. She growled and cried as she thrashed and pounded back into him. The orgasm only seemed to enrage her body. It wanted more, much more before her climax. “Fucking sweet mother! God, I need it. It’s fucking right there!”
The agony of pre-climax seethed through her body, and she fucked Hank with desperation now. Her hands were claws as she raked his chest and shoulders. Hank was mercilessly pounding into her, his hands gripping her like steel clamps, and she could feel his cock becoming harder.
“Do it Hank! Fucking do it! I need you!”
Hank’s climax filled her and sent her whole body into climax as well. Her cries were wild and hungry. She rose up and humped at his cock viciously, riding the climax, and the blissful agonies churned inside of her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Cyn woke close to three in the morning in an empty bed. Hank was gone.
She got up and padded out to the living room, and then peeked outside to see if his bike was still there, but it was gone as well.
“Hmm,” she growled.
After a drink of water, she crawled back into bed and fell asleep, wishing he would have woken her to say he was taking off instead of sneaking out like a thief.
She woke at eight in the morning to the smell of bacon frying in her kitchen.
“Just as sneaky coming back in,” she smiled.
She got up and, since there was the possible threat of bacon splatter, got into her sleeping t-shirt before going out to say good morning.
He was in straight cut blue jeans, running shoes, a blue button-up shirt with a collar. She nearly didn’t recognize him. His hair was brushed to a shine and pulled back into a very manly pony-tail. His cheeks and chin were freshly shorn. Hell, he made Larry look casual.
She came up behind him and put her arms around his waist, giving him a hug. “Glad you decided to sneak back in.”
“Couldn’t sleep. I went home and played a few racks on my pool table. That always eases my mind. Helps me focus.”
“Been up all night, then?”
“Yes, but I plan on sleeping most of today. Day off, completely. Planning on several in fact. Need some serious downtime,” he told her.
She tried not to get all girly-attitude with that statement, by which he obviously meant that he was going to want solitude during this downtime.
“I get like that,” she told him, reminding herself as well.
“Everyone does. The ones who don’t do something about it are the ones who wind up screaming like mad men in divorce courts and taking automatic weapons to work.”
Divorce courts? Was that one of those Freudian slips?
If he was thinking marriage already, then maybe he should get some time alone, and her, too.
“I’ve got a ton of work today and tomorrow, so it’s probably best anyway. Though I am just down the road. You might want to take a break from yourself and pop over,” she added, hoping it didn’t sound too needy.
“That would be nice, yes, but I think I’m going to take a break from the club for awhile. I just got back, and look at the mess.”
Her instincts told her there was more to it than that, but likely in the area he wouldn’t talk about.
“Tuesdays and Wednesdays are usually slow anyway,” she said. “Not missing much.”
“I might have some work to do on Thursday and Friday. It could stretch into the weekend if everything goes right,” he told her.
Oh god, he’s going back! Whatever it is that he’s into, it’s starting Thursday.
She knew it like she knew her own name.
&
nbsp; “Yeah, well,” she said into his back, struggling not to cry, “You can’t just sit around all the time playing pool. You’ll get flabby, and then I won’t want you anyway.”
He put a hand on her clasped ones in front of him and said, “I will be coming back, lass.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Outlaw's Wrath - An MC Brotherhood Romance Boxed Set Page 32