“I’ll be back in a few,” he promised before switching to Illiniwek. “Come on, Loki. Outside.”
It was more than a few minutes. By the time the dog was done chasing critters, Adrienne was turning down his bed, dressed in a white knit shirt that a ruthless pair of scissors had cut into a tank top and soft knit shorts that were free of panty lines.
Book was glad the men were still in the media room. Once he was far enough away from her, he could hear their thoughts loud and clear and fuck if they didn’t all want a piece of her pussy or mouth or ass. Well, everyone but their gay Blade, who was looking for Mr. Right.
She climbed between the sheets, pulled the covers over her breasts, and punched her pillow into submission. He walked over to the other side of his bed, watching disappointment register on her face when he took the spare pillow instead of joining her.
“Good night, princess. Sleep well.”
He took a turn in the bathroom, washing his hands and brushing his teeth before calling it a night. He threw a spare sheet over the leather sofa cushions and covered up with a summer-weight blanket. Loki didn’t like it, but he obeyed the command to stay in the living room, his golden eyes casting wistful gazes at the beauty in his master’s bed.
The First Daughter of Texas.
Child of The Prophets and their wife, Anna James.
Successful jewelry designer and failed fashionista.
A mesmerizing vocalist with talent enough to be touring on her own.
A cocktease whose perfect ass begged to be spanked.
Oh, yeah. His brothers were all over that, too.
“Can you hear me now?” she quipped, sounding like a vintage commercial.
“Only when you talk,” he answered. That much hadn’t changed. As soon as he was within fifty feet or so of her, his telepathy had shut down again.
“I’m sorry I’m your Kryptonite.”
He smiled at that. “Not quite the same thing, darlin’. From what I can tell, it’s my clairaudience that’s affected the worst. One of these days, I’ll figure it out. Until then, I plan to enjoy the quiet.”
“Goodnight, then, Book.”
“Goodnight, Texas. Watch out for Loki if you have to get up. He’s hard to see in the dark.”
“Okay. And Book?”
“What?”
“Thank you for not killing me.”
6
Book let her go back to the media room on the condition she would treat club members like she did her brothers. Adrienne found that easy enough to do with all the years of practice that she’d had.
She whooped ass at video games and promised to sing for her supper, feeling like she owed them after that stunt she pulled the night before, singing Etta James with an attitude. According to Book, these men all had Native blood. To speak to it, she decided to sing a selection of tracks from No Mercy’s albums, beginning with Wolf Moon, the first one that her dads had written with her mother and Uncle Nico.
Adrienne wove her way through four decades of music, ending with the prophecies that foretold The Fall and offered hope beyond it. By the time she finished, a number of the men had tears in their eyes. Deacon pulled a drum off the wall and started singing and chanting in Comanche. Chairs were cleared so the men had room to dance. The impromptu powwow celebrated all of their heritages. She’d have joined in if she’d had a shawl. Instead, she watched from the sideline, honoring the circle they formed and respecting the spiritual nature of the dance.
A couple of peyote morning songs were followed by a buffalo dance, then a rousing war song whose athletic interpretations got the men hot, sweaty, and pumped.
She couldn’t stop watching Book. A gifted dancer, his movements were mesmerizing. Her body responded, yearning to match him step for step, spin for spin. When he caught her staring, she felt like she was locked in a Paso Doble, mentally dancing with a Dom who had the power to bring her to her knees.
At that moment, something changed. The world shifted. Rather than deny her, he welcomed her attention. Putting his heart and soul into the dance, he shared his spirit with her a drumbeat at a time, opening himself up more with every stolen glance and sidelong look.
When he called it a night and bid the others farewell, Book placed his hand on the small of her back and left it there as they walked, awareness humming between them every step of the way.
By the time they reached his apartment, she was ready to jump his bones. “Settle,” he hummed, opening the door. “I need to take Loki out. You can stay here or come with.”
“I’ll come.” She didn’t want to risk breaking the connection that had formed between them, woven by her music and strengthened by his dance.
“It’s cooled off. You might want to take a jacket.”
Book grabbed a denim work shirt to add over his tee. She found a zippered hoodie and put it on when they approached the lodge’s front door.
Loki was out like a flash of black lightning, streaking into the night. She’d be worried except she knew the property was fenced and the gate was secured. Loki might get distracted but he wouldn’t get lost.
Just a few days past new, the moon was a thin crescent in the star-studded sky, visible despite the light pollution from the overhead security lamps. Like ones that still dotted parking lots and lined city streets, they illuminated the darkness to reveal potential threats. No one could approach the lodge without being seen unless they took the lights out first.
But that also meant she and Book were exposed, in clear view of whoever was monitoring the lodge’s security cameras. She wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but she’d prefer to keep her first time with Book between the two of them. It was awkward enough having Loki in the room. They weren’t exactly free to explore things with him underfoot or in the way a great deal of the time. As scary looking as the wolf-dog was, he was a pack animal and Book was his Alpha. Hopefully, Loki would let her become Book’s, too, for as long as she was here.
The night was cooler than she expected. Despite the hoodie, she felt a sudden chill. She hugged herself and rubbed her arms, trying to stay warm.
“Cold?”
“Yeah. It feels like the temperature’s dropping.”
“C’mere.” Stepping up behind her, Book opened the front of his shirt and wrapped his arms around her front to share his considerable warmth. It was the closest she’d been to him since sitting on his lap for aftercare, and it felt nice.
Very nice.
“Better?”
“Yes, Sir,” she sighed and melted against him. Feeling his body’s reaction to her nearness gave her hope for the night ahead.
“The tattoo on your back reminds me of the Milky Way,” he said. “It’s like a constellation with three stars in it.”
“It is,” she told him, impressed that he’d studied it enough to see what it was. “It’s the first piece of jewelry I designed. I made it for my mom one Christmas. She’s at the center of our universe, the heart of our family with my dads above and below her. The cross marks the place where I can find them. Their love always leads me home.”
“I’m sure she cherishes it.”
“She did. Does,” she corrected, chuckling softly. “The first time it ruined a sweater, we turned it into a Christmas ornament for our tree. Which is kinda sad. The design looked great on paper, but it didn’t work well as jewelry. It is, however, a gorgeous ornament and a kickass tattoo.”
“Do you have more tats?” he asked, his mellifluous voice sending delicious shivers down her spine.
“I do. I’ll be happy to show them to you. I’m hoping you’ll reciprocate. I know you have ink.”
“Just a bit,” he chuckled. “You once asked what we do here. Well, I help break and train the horses and I do tattoos on the side. There’s a shop in town, Lost Creek Ink. I’m there by prior appointment only, so I don’t do nearly as much as the other artist who’s there five or six days a week. The club owns the business, but Cool Ray runs it for us. Everyone’s happy.”
“I wish I c
ould stay longer,” she sighed. She’d love to have him leave a mark on her body, a reminder of their time together. They hadn’t had sex yet, and she already felt a bond with Book that defied explanation. She wasn’t quite certain what to make of it or how it would feel when she drove away. If she wasn’t careful, she might just leave a part of her heart behind.
“We have tonight,” he reminded her. “The latest word is that the couriers will be here at ten tomorrow morning. That’s twelve hours away.”
Time enough to get intimately acquainted . . . only to say goodbye.
Except she wasn’t ready.
“Is Loki done?” she asked, her growing need for him driving her to speak. The sooner they went back inside, the longer they’d have in bed.
Book lifted his face and looked around. A low growl sounded from the far side of the compound. “Sounds like he’s busy. Coons,” he guessed. “Or possums. He’ll be fine if I leave him for a while. Let’s go.”
Moving meant losing his warmth. Catching his hand, she pulled him after her and hurried back to the lodge, switching to submissive mode once they were inside. She followed him to his room, took off her hoodie, and waited for his command.
Some men liked it when a woman stripped for them. Other men liked unwrapping a woman like a present, peeling away the layers until the gift of her body was revealed.
That was Book.
She learned very quickly that he was all about oral— a taster and a biter, licking her skin and nipping it with strong, white teeth. Like a maestro, his capable hands directed their play, prompting her responses. The inquisitive touch of his fingers gave her goosebumps and sent cascades of shivers racing down her spine. His long, soft beard brushed her skin, adding to the symphony of sensations.
Bending his head, he licked the hardened tip of her breast before catching her nipple between his teeth and flicking it with his tongue. She moaned and thrust her hands into the wealth of his hair, burying her fingers in its thick, dark strands and pushing her tit into his mouth.
Encouraged by her response, he finished stripping her, licking her slit before straightening to a stand. Instead of taking her to bed, he sat on the sofa and pulled her down to lie across his lap, fondling her buttocks and teasing her with the promise of things to come.
“I’ve been wanting to spank this ass since the morning we met,” he rasped. His hand lifted and fell with a resounding crack.
Adrienne bit her lip and stifled her moan. Forcing the tension from her muscles, she readied herself for his next blow.
Smack! He swatted the other cheek, adorning her backside with a matched pair of handprints.
Smack! He spanked the first side again. One, then the other, until he’d laid on twenty licks and her bottom was ablaze with heat. She was ripe with arousal but felt so empty, she hurt. Her swollen pussy was shiny with juices that escaped to track down her thighs.
He gathered some on his middle finger, plunged it inside, and fucked her with it, adding a second finger to stretch her out, then a third in her pussy and a thumb in her ass, preparing her for his ultimate possession.
“I want you to turn down the bed,” he growled. “Climb to the middle. I’m gonna clean my hands and go get Loki. When I come back, I want you on your hands and knees, ready to be ridden.”
He stayed dressed until he brought in his wolf-dog. Ordering Loki to lie on his mat, Book turned his full attention to where she was waiting for him. He stalked toward her, stripping as he went, shedding his denim shirt, his tee, his boots, socks, and jeans. Stopping by his bedside table, he pulled down his boxers to reveal the taut, toned curves of his ass.
Book was built like a runner or a tennis player, lean and fit with tattoos adorning his chest, hand, shoulders, and back. Her fingers itched to explore them.
Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a box of prophylactics, took one square packet, and left the rest on his nightstand well within reach. She wasn’t shy about watching him wrap up. He dropped his hands when he was done, letting her have a good look at his latex-covered cock. It twitched beneath her perusal, as eager to get started as she was.
While not the biggest man she’d ever been with, his erection was more than enough to fill her, and it had a curve that was perfect for hitting her sweet spot.
She couldn’t wait to feel it inside her.
He joined her on the bed, crawling up until his body was bracketing hers with his hands planted by her fingers and his testicles cradled in her crack. Shifting his weight to one arm, he fisted her hair, pulled her head to one side, and bit her neck. His cock probed her, parting her seam and finding her opening.
With his teeth latched onto her neck, Book thrust his length inside her like he was a stallion mounting a mare.
She gasped with the force and depth of his penetration. He slammed into her again and again, his heavy balls swinging against her clean-shaven pussy with every snap of his hips. After watching him dance, she knew what kind of shape he was in. Book didn’t disappoint. He had the stamina of a much younger man and the experience she needed, bringing her to the point of orgasm time and again before pushing her over the edge and shuddering to a finish with her.
Bowing his back, he reached to squeeze her breasts and kissed the tattoo she’d designed to honor her parents. It almost felt like he was thanking them for her, for this.
The gesture made tears sting her eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asked, concerned when he heard the small choked sound that escaped her.
Loki whined, hearing it too.
“Was I too rough? I thought you liked it.”
“I did,” she assured him, pushing the words past a throat tight with tears. “I do. It’s just . . . I don’t know how to explain it. I guess I’m feeling overwhelmed. Wondering if the couriers will make it here okay and what will happen if they don’t. I’m sorry, Sir. I should be focused on us, on pleasing you instead of worrying about tomorrow.”
Pressing her down into the mattress, Book turned them to lie on their sides and curled his body protectively around hers, pulling her back against his front and kissing the nape of her neck, whispering things in another language that she couldn’t understand but felt in her heart anyway.
She fell asleep in his arms, still intimately joined.
7
“Texas.”
Adrienne moaned in protest, unwilling to get up any sooner than she had to.
That’s assuming she could walk after they’d fucked half the night. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep and remained that way. Now that morning had broken, all she wanted to do was stay in bed with Book and ride his beard and bones.
“No,” she pouted, refusing to move.
“Yes,” he insisted, nipping her ear and licking the hurt. “Rise and shine, little miss. It’s seven o’clock. Time for breakfast. After you eat, you’ll need to pack your van and be ready to leave when they come for you.”
Couriers from The New Republic of Texas were en route, scheduled to arrive at ten, pay her bills, and escort her safely home. Two days ago, she’d have hailed them as her saviors. Now they felt like jailors, come to take her back to her gilded cage. The expectations of others would keep her there, on display and unable to escape even if she wanted to. She’d managed it once. It was certain they’d be watching for her to make a break for it again. Even if she managed it, where would she run to? Where could she go?
Except maybe here . . .
She couldn’t explain this connection she felt with Book any more than she could deny it. It was there. Tangible. She didn’t know whether it was a force of karmic nature or an irresistible attraction, but she was emotionally invested in a way she hadn’t been since Mitch.
It was hard, but she forced herself to be a good girl for Book, wishing it didn’t have to end like this but keenly aware that it did. There was no hope for a future together when she was the First Daughter of Texas and he was a biker from the Land of Oz.
She kept her sad thoughts to herself and did what she was to
ld. She ate breakfast, packed her things, loaded her van, and waited. While Book went to a church meeting with his club brothers, she read an old romance novel about her ancestress Cynthia Ann Parker and wondered how she was going to drive with tears in her eyes.
Book was quiet when he came back. Thoughtful. Did he have regrets, she wondered, or did he simply regret that she was leaving?
She hoped it was the latter. She preferred to think that their time meant something to him. It sure as hell meant something to her.
A little ahead of ten, Deacon rapped on Book’s door. “They’re headed up the hill,” he told them. “Everything’s ready.”
Book nodded, his sapphire gaze shifting between them. “Go on,” he told his President. “We’ll be out in a minute.”
The door closed. She stared at Book, committing his face to memory and filing it away in her heart. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for everything. I wish I could stay. I’m going to miss you. And Loki, too. Maybe I can come back someday . . . make an appointment . . . get a tattoo.”
Book managed half a smile. “You should,” he rumbled. “I know just the guy.”
She threw herself at him and hugged him fiercely, staying in his arms long enough for their breaths to synchronize. Sighing, she let him go, shouldered her purse, and followed him to the garage.
A third of the club members were assembled outside, waiting to see her off. Several of them were holding their dogs on leashes, probably to keep them from racing past the fence when the gate was opened. Book had put a leash on Loki, too.
One overhead garage door was rolled up to reveal her van sitting inside. It looked like Mack was waiting until payment was received before he’d give her the keys.
A line of blacked-out SUVs with Texas Ranger plates snaked up the gravel drive, white dust billowing in their wake. The gate opened to let them pass, then closed behind them, ensuring that the dogs stayed safe and accounted for, at least.
The Rangers exited their vehicles and formed a small, armed cadre in front of them. The officer riding in the lead vehicle stepped forward with a green zippered bag in one hand, presumably filled with fifteen hundred dollars.
Twisted Steel: An MC Romance Anthology Page 19