Hold Me Down

by Slade, Shari

  “Why the hell are you answering the door for strangers?” Ella rounds the corner with an infant on her hip. Her lanky hair is loose around her shoulders, making her look older than the ponytail she always sports at the diner. Or maybe it’s the kids. “Star! You’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I assure her. “I didn’t realize you had a little boy too.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ve actually got four kids but I try not to play that up too much at work. Nobody asks the single mom of four to cover shifts. And I need all the tips I can get. You know how it is.” She winces a little. “I’m real glad to see you today though. Jason—my boyfriend—was starting to get…annoyed with me.”

  There’s a shadow around her eye that makes me think Jason does more than get annoyed.

  “Thanks for letting me use your car like that. I hope it didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

  “Yeah.” She steps through the door and pulls it shut behind her. Then looks left and right, making sure we’re alone in the yard. “The cops came by here, Star. I told them I lent my car to my cousin who wanted to audition for a dancing gig in Vegas. I think they bought it but…”

  Noah tenses beside me. “But what?”

  She brushes her fingers over the bruise and quickly flicks her hair behind her ear as if to mask the movement. “Jason didn’t.”

  Noah growls. “Did you tell him—”

  Ella’s face pales and I shove Noah back. “Don’t worry about him. Did Jason hurt you because of…because of me?”

  “It was my fault, Star. I should’ve told him right away. I should’ve warned him there was trouble. He doesn’t like surprises.”

  “God, Ella. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

  “Go pack a bag and get your kids.” Noah grunts.

  I turn to Noah and place a hand on his chest. “It’s not her fault. You don’t have to—she won’t say anything—she won’t—”

  “You’re god damn right it’s not her fault. And there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her here to get beat up by some pissant for helping the club.” He grabs my chin and looks me in the eyes. His gaze is searing. A host of emotion swirls just beneath the surface—emotions so sweet and true that I’m terrified of them as much as I’m desperate to name them. “For helping you.” The last frozen layer around my heart thaws as he turns back to Ella. “If you want protection, you’ve got it. Is that car in your name?”

  Ella nods.

  “The trailer?”

  “It’s a rental.”

  “Go pack a bag.” He says it softer this time but just as firmly. She shifts the baby on her hip and heads back inside.

  As soon as she’s gone I wrap my arms around him and press my forehead to his chest. “Can you do that? Just take her in?”

  “It’s been a rough stretch, but the club isn’t just about death. I promise. It’s a safe place. A family.” He plants a rough kiss on the top of my head and laughs. “Are you getting romantic ideas about me again?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Good.”

  This time the tears soaking his cut are happy ones.

  Chapter Nine

  Settling Ella was easy. She took one look at the filthy floor behind the bar and knocked Drew over to find the cleaning supplies. Settling the kids was even easier. They took one look at this bleak wonderland and let out a whoop of glee. Now I just have to settle Noah.

  “They’ve been playing hard for an hour.” I reassure Jules. “I’m sure they won’t be any trouble.”

  “It’s fine.” Jules says, dropping her sunglasses down from the perch on top of her head. She looks less haunted than she did in the back of Ella’s car.

  “It’s just. I really need to talk to Noah, and I don’t want to interrupt Ella while she’s getting adjusted.”

  “Go. Really.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind watching all these kids?”

  “Look, Star. You don’t know me so we’ll get this straight real quick. If I ever don’t want to do something, I promise you there will be zero confusion.”

  We sit together in silence for a little while. The ancient sandbox behind the club was a surprise. Jules had mentioned family picnics but it’d been hard to picture in the middle of the bar. Out here, I can almost see it. Weeds choke the brick grill, and one of the seats on the old swing set hangs loose, but there’d been something.

  “It wasn’t always so…desolate out here. Things were different before Dev took over. When my daddy was in charge…” She picks at the fraying edge of the old lawn chair she’s sitting on.

  I suck in a breath. Their father had been the president? “Why’d Dev take over?”

  “Dad got sick. Parkinson’s.” Jules says it matter-of-factly, but there’s a quiver in her lip.

  I reach over and squeeze her hand. “But I met him. He’s fine. I don’t understand.”

  “Dev took advantage of the situation, but he was within his rights.” She shakes her head and drags her toe through the damp sand. “You can’t rule if you can’t ride. Dad’s still got plenty he can do, but it’s not safe for him on a bike anymore.”

  “That’s not fair.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying. How naïve I must sound to her. How silly.

  It’s her turn to squeeze my hand. And let it go. “Parkinson’s isn’t fair. The rules of the club are crystal clear. Things will be different again now that my brother is running the show.” She taps my knee. “They already are. You know that.”

  I find my way back to Noah’s room but I barely recognize it. The walls are stripped bare. All the pictures he’d tacked up are crumpled in a trashcan in the corner. “What did you do?”

  “I guess I was pretty messed up when I thought you’d left me.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I came out of the vote as president of The Devil’s Host and all I wanted to do was tell you. Hold you. Nothing seemed important without you. And you were gone. Walked right out, according to Drew. It was hours before anyone found the ransom note. Hours for me to think about my life. What I wanted. It wasn’t any of this bullshit.”

  “Really?” I can hardly believe the destruction even though I’m looking at it with my own eyes. The passion.

  “I’m done collecting debts, baby.”

  “I know. You’re club president now. You’ll have someone do that for you.”

  “It’s more than that. I want to be the kind of man that deserves to have you in his life. You asked me to run away with you before. I won’t run. That’s not who I am. It’s not who you are either. But I’ll go with you. We can make a life somewhere. Whatever kind of life you want. Two point five fucking kids and a dog named Sparky? Sign me up. I want it all.” He steps closer and splays his hand over my belly. “God damn. Just thinking about your belly all big with my babies. Maybe five point five kids.”

  “Can’t we have that here?” I think about his father’s sad empty house. Not part of the club. Not part of normal society—whatever that might be—either. And bite my lip.

  “If that’s what you want.” He says it cautiously—quietly. The way you’d talk to a frightened kitten you’re trying to lure out of the bushes.

  “There’s family here, Noah.” I think of his father, and Jules, but also of Ella. Of Drew and of Stone. And I think of the babies that are yet to be. Probably not five, though I don’t want to tell him that now. “Our family. I want Zig to keep cherries behind the bar for our little ones. I want Stone and your sister to dance at our wedding. I love you. I want to help you lead. Every king needs a warrior queen, right?”

  “You love me?”

  “How many times do I have to say it?” I echo his words to me. The ones that had melted my heart so thoroughly. “A hundred? A thousand? I will—”

  His answering kiss is fast and fierce, knocking the wind from my lungs and bruising my lips. He may only have two arms, but somehow every inch of me feels held. Cherished. Loved. “You love me. Together we can do anything.”

  Chapter Ten

&n
bsp; Six months later…

  “It’s customary for the best man and the maid of honor to dance together after the bride and groom. I swear this is not a conspiracy.” I lean against the wall and reach around the corner to thread my fingers with Noah’s.

  “Fuck if I care. I don’t want that filthy biker’s hands on my little sister.”

  “But it’s okay for you to put your filthy biker hands on me?”

  “Damn right.” He tugs, trying to pull me around to his side, but I dig my heels into the courthouse carpet.

  “You’re not supposed to see me yet.”

  “Fine.” He huffs. “I’ll fire him as best man. My father can do the job.”

  I can’t help but smile, imagining his grumpy face. And the black silk bow tie. His tattoos peeking out from beneath French cuffs secured with the tiny silver skull cufflinks I’d gifted him yesterday. The shit-kicking boots polished to a shine to wear with tuxedo pants. “It’s too late, Noah. He’s already in the ceremony room. With your father. Where you should be. We get married in five minutes.”

  “Plenty of time for a quickie.”

  “Not for me.”

  “Challenge accepted.” And just like that, I’m whirling around the corner and over Noah’s shoulder.

  “Damnit, caveman. They’re going to start the wedding march any second.”

  “Won’t get very far without us.” He grunts.

  A few quick strides away from where we need to be, and one swinging door later, I’m right-side up again. The velour bench beneath me tells me we’re in the ladies’ room where Drew, Ella, and I had all applied lipstick just a few moments ago. Where I’d told them all how pretty they looked in their little black bridesmaid dresses. “This is so not appropriate.”

  Noah twists the lock on the door, drops to his knees in front of me, and grins. “Now, I’m going to make you come in less than five minutes. And then I’m going to carry you down the aisle, the taste of you all over my face, and marry the hell out of you. And then I’m going to take a lot longer than five minutes to make you come for the rest of our lives. Forever.”

  I lean back, accepting my glorious fate. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

  He nips my inner thigh in answer. “Both.”

  I can’t think of a more beautiful sight than my lacy skirt in his tattooed hands. Our rings on a chain around his neck.

  I tap the ink on his knuckles. “Is this still true? Lost Soul?”

  He smiles up at me, over my skirts, his ice blue eyes dancing with wickedness. We’ve had this conversation so many times. “More than ever. You know I’m lost without you, baby. Now show me what I want to see.”

  It’s easy enough with the scoop neck of my dress. I cup my breasts, lifting them up until they nearly spill out, until the ink over my heart slips into view. It’s a delicate work of tangled vines, around the warrior shield of a Viking shield maiden. Beautiful and fierce. The banner across the center is emblazoned with words in the same style as Noah’s knuckles. By the same artist. “Finders Keepers.”

  THE END

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  Want More Alpha Hero Hotness Right Now?

  Grab Three Nights with a Rock Star

  by Shari Slade and Amber Lin

  When Hailey crashes a Half-Life after party, she expects to find the bastard who knocked up her little sister. Instead she meets the sexy front-man who agrees to give her access to his crew if she gives him access to her body.

  All Lock demands in return is three days of complete control over the Sunday school teacher. With a contract, because he’s been burned before. One misstep could send the band—and his tenuous sobriety—up in flames.

  Hailey and Lock push each other’s limits… Against the penthouse window. Backstage. In the limo and on the elevator. But as the contract counts down, neither are ready for the party to end.

  WARNING: This book contains a steamy sex contract, spanking, a smoking hot threesome, a dirty talking rock star and the sexy Sunday school teacher who brings him to his knees.

  A Sexy Excerpt from Three Nights with a Rock Star

  Do you like to hurt, Hailey? He’d asked her, and she could only nod.

  He’d hurt her so good she’d give voice to that desire before he was through. She knew it. He knew it. The subtext breathed in the air around them, a living thing, that damned contract come to life. She wants this. She wants the lurid celeb fantasy. The shock, the pulse-pounding vibrancy that only exists on the edge of a bad decision.

  He’d take her there.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said, a little too harshly, his urgency coming out as hard-edged gruffness.

  It didn’t scare her away. She wants that too. She fingered the button of her cardigan, uncertain, and then popped them all in a rush, exposing a silver tank that dipped low over her cleavage. Fuck. Surprisingly lush curves on her willowy frame, and smooth, pale skin.

  He shifted in his seat, imagining his cock between her breasts. Making them slick, squeezing them together, and thrusting, thrusting, thrusting until he came all over her neck. Jesus, he hadn’t even seen them yet. She put a hand to her throat as if she could read his mind. As if every dirty thought he’d ever had was flashing on his face. And she knew. Why was she taking so fucking long to undress?

  Lust propelled him across the room. He grabbed her by the hip and spun her around, pressing his chest to her back. She was warm, soft, every sweet powder-scented inch he could touch. She didn’t resist his rough hands skimming under her shirt. She just raised her arms and let him lift it over her head. The silver tank lay discarded at their feet. Next, the bra. Her favorite part of the day. He stifled a laugh as he unhooked it, guided the straps down, the blue satin cups slipping free. She sighed into him, letting her head fall back against his chest.

  He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and her tights and yanked them down to mid-thigh, taking her panties with them. She rewarded him with a sharp inhale, with shock. He stepped back so he could see the top of her ass. A peach, there for the biting. Two years ago he’d have bumped lines off that ass. No. He’d never have gotten near it back then. She’d have run screaming from him in the thick of his addiction. Sobriety had its rewards.

  He spun her around again. “All of it off, now.”

  She pushed everything down to her knees and shimmied it the rest of the way, kicking free of the tangle of denim and netting. The air conditioner purred to life, blasting them both with a burst of cool air. Her nipples tightened to lickable points. When she wrapped her arms around herself, he shook his head, and she dropped them to her sides.

  She met his eyes, uncertainty and desire at war on her face.

  He gathered her hair in his hand and pushed her against the window wall in his suite, forcing her legs apart with his knee. No one could see in, but the illusion was fucking hot. Her tits smashed, palms flat, breath fogging the glass. His little church mouse on display. The city, all lights and pulsing energy, spread out before them. He never got to see the cities he toured, not up close, just the vistas from his rooms and the blur from a window seat on the jet. He didn’t mind so much when he had a hot body between him and the view.

  “Do you want me to fuck you like this, from behind, while the whole world watches?” He wanted to bury himself in all her softness. And he wanted it to hurt. Her or himself, he wasn’t sure.

  Her only answer was the expanding cloud of condensation as she panted. And then she rocked back. The slightest shift, but just enough friction, in just the right
place. He ground against her naked ass, his cock throbbing in his jeans.

  She turned her head, pressing her flushed cheek to the window, and he couldn’t resist running his open mouth up the column of her neck, chasing that frantic pulse, biting the lobe of her ear until she cried out, “Nobody can see.”

  “Shhhh. Everybody is watching. Let’s give them a show.” He skimmed over her rib cage, her belly, and lower, until he could feel damp heat. She wasn’t wet enough for what he had in mind. Not yet. He wanted to fuck her so hard she’d be bruised. Marked. Damaged. He circled her clit with his thumb, savoring every buck and twitch, and plunged one finger deep. The slick walls of her cunt clenched tight as he drew back. Almost ready.

  “Don’t stop,” she moaned.

  “I’m running things.” He bit the sweet spot where shoulder met neck in admonishment, and reached for his belt buckle. Impatient, he yanked off the belt, pulled the condom from his pocket and shucked his pants. All the while keeping one hand tangled in her hair. Holding her in place.

  He considered having her put it on him with her mouth, but she probably didn’t have that skill set. Though it might be fun to watch her try, to teach her, to corrupt her.

  Later.

  Sheathed, he positioned himself at her opening, rubbed the head of his cock over her slick folds, and then he thrust. One fluid movement and he was balls-deep in hot, honeyed heaven. Every drop of blood in his body raged toward his hard-on. Fuck. He drew back and thrust again. And again.

  God, she felt good, arching to meet him. He gripped her hip so tight his knuckles went white, pulling her back against him as hard as he thrust. He released her hair so he could grab her other hip, get more leverage, and she gasped. How tight had he pulled it?

  He wanted to break her, but all she did was bend and bend.

  Want to read more? Three Nights with a Rock Star is available now.