I wasn't working anything out; I was only working myself up. I had to fucking stop. I closed my eyes and took a couple of long, slow breaths. I looked down at Dakota's beautiful sleeping face. I combed my fingers through her silky hair. She moaned quietly in her sleep, snuggling deeper into my lap.
I couldn't lose her. I couldn't lose her even to keep her safe. Maybe it was selfish. Or maybe Dakota and Pops were right, and it didn't matter. But I loved her. I needed her. She mattered.
I turned off the TV, then eased out from under her and stood up. I picked her up from the couch and carried her, cradled in my arms, to bed. She barely stirred.
***
I woke up in daylight. Dakota was still sleeping, her back tucked against my chest. I didn't think either of us had moved all night. In fact, my arm, the one she was lying on, was thoroughly numb. I carefully stretched and flexed my hand, trying to bring some life back into it without disturbing her.
She stirred and pressed back against me. Well, some parts of my anatomy were feeling plenty lively. I pulled her even closer, being careful of her hurt arm. I kissed the back of her neck and slid my hand up under the t-shirt she was wearing. That was all she was wearing, and it was huge on her, so I had easy access to her whole body.
I ran my free hand all over her, caressing her legs, her back, her ass, her belly. She began to wake up, emerging slowly from her deep sleep. I cupped her full breast in my hand and tweaked her nipple. She gasped, and I knew she was finally awake.
"Morning, gorgeous. How's the arm?" I slid my hand between her legs. She was wet.
"Mmm. What arm? Oh. Fine. Whatever. Don't care. Stop talking and get to it, Bad Boy" She shifted her legs, giving me better access.
"Oh, I will, Beauty." I slid my fingers inside her. She rolled back against me, freeing up my numb arm to fold around her. I shook out my hand and, when it would move, I took her breast in it. She gasped at the dual stimulation and reached her arm up to grab my head. She hissed when the stitches stretched as her bicep flexed. "Me," I whimpered. "Put your arm down. Let me take charge."
She brought her arm down and lifted her leg, winding it around mine, opening herself to me. I bit down on her shoulder as my hands tweaked at her breasts and rubbed tight, heavy circles on her clit. I loved the feel of her as she writhed. It was only a matter of minutes before she was keening, her hips rocking against my hand, her ass rubbing against my cock. She was driving me crazy. As soon as she came down, I grabbed her thigh, bending her leg up against her belly. I pushed into her, and she cried out, her back arching. She moved her leg over my hip and flexed.
Jesus, she felt so fucking good. I'd been inside her hundreds of times by now–I could count on my hands the number of days we hadn't had sex at least once. I'd had her every which way. And still the sensation of sliding into her was as intense and supremely pleasurable as the first time.
I had to pause, holding her tight against me to keep her still, while I got hold of myself. She flexed her hips anyway, and clamped her muscles down on me. Fuck. I gasped and began to move, holding my palm firmly against her belly, trying to slow her down. I wanted to go slow and easy. I wanted to love her, not fuck her. But she was fighting me, trying to move, already looking to increase the pace. She was so wild.
I kissed her neck and whimpered in her ear. "Dakota. Relax, babe. I want to take some time." She sighed and settled down. "That's my girl. Let me feel you for awhile." I slid slowly back and then pushed slowly in. She moaned. I kept a steady pace, moving slowly and pushing deeply, for a long time, until she was panting and whimpering, and the pressure at the base of my cock was almost unbearable. I nibbled at her ear and asked, "You ready, babe?"
"Yes! About time. Please, Jake." I slid my hand between her legs again and rubbed hard on her clit and doubled, no, tripled my pace, pushing into her hard and fast now. She bucked against me, thrust for thrust. We came together with a scream and a howl.
After a few moments to catch her breath, Dakota kissed my hand. "Damn, you're good at that."
I chuckled, "I'm not the only one. Your arm okay?"
"I forgot about it." She moved it around, testing it. "Yeah. A little stiff. But not bad. Thanks, by the way."
"For what?"
"Not freaking out yesterday. You were very chill about the whole thing. It was hot."
There wasn't any point in telling her what had gone through my mind last night. I kissed the side of her head. "I'm trying, anyway."
"I appreciate it. I love you."
"I love you more, Beauty." I held her tight and held my tongue.
Chapter Fourteen
Dakota
I laid on my stomach in my garden, propped up on my elbows. An old quilt was spread under me. I was wearing a red bikini and enjoying some sun. It was warm-going-on-hot, the California sun was beaming, and flora and fauna surrounded me. I had a good book. I felt pretty damn good.
The last six months had been like some trip on a bizarre and dangerous rollercoaster. But in the past few weeks, since the last attack, things had calmed down some. Jake had told me that the way things were on a calm day now was still unusually intense compared to the way things had been before Weston had gotten them involved in bad shit. But this way, was all I had ever known with the Fire Birds, so it seemed calm enough to me right now.
Jake and I were having our Birdy Ceremony in about a month and a half. We weren't planning an elaborate shindig; a simple affair was perfect for us. We were just going up to the cabin by the lake, with all the Fire Birds and the various gang associates in attendance–there was a surprising number of bikers who would be offended not to be invited.
There'd be cake and a party. Of course, with that crowd, the end of the night would be rowdy as hell, but still Tiffany and I had spent several delightful weekends shopping for dresses and a few trimmings to distinguish this from the usual drunken Fire Birds parties. Plus, I wanted to look very pretty for Jake.
So I lay on the cool ground of my garden, the babble of the small fountain behind me keeping me amiable company, thinking about dresses and family and the hard left turn my life had taken since I'd met Jake. I wasn't actually reading, I realized. I closed my book and slid it away, laying my head on the quilt and closing my eyes.
I was dozing lightly, the sounds of water and bees and birds lulling me peacefully, the Sun and a cool breeze on my back, when I heard Jake's Dyna coming up the drive. He only rode the shovelhead when I was riding with him–he'd told me it felt empty when I wasn't on it. We'd ride it tonight.
When I heard him open the side gate, I propped back up on my elbows and called out, "Hey! Hot stuff! I'm back here." He came through the arbor and grinned when he saw me looking over my shoulder at him. When he got to the edge of my quilt, he dropped to his hands and toes to loom over me.
"Hey, babe. You look like you're having a good day." He nipped at my shoulder, and then kissed the same spot. He shifted and laid down next to me on the quilt.
"Mmmm. I am. It's amazing out here. I'm relaxed. And I'm really looking forward to tonight." We were going with Tiffany and Dixon to a concert in Sacramento. Afterwards, we planned to stop at Pinn’s in Stockton for pool, good bar food, and blues. We needed a night away from the gang. Getting the guys to agree had taken some effort, but I knew Jake was now looking forward to it, too–if only because I was excited and happy about it.
Unbeknownst to Jake and Dixon, Tiffany and I had conferred on our wardrobe. We'd decided to really play up the ‘biker chick’ angle, and I was looking forward to ‘tarting’ it up a little.
I felt Jake trailing his fingers along my arm, tracing the faint, thin scar from the last attack. He eased his hand over my shoulder, then ran the backs of his fingers over the contours of my back. I pulled myself out of my thoughts. I crossed my arms under my head and lay prone on the quilt, my head turned towards him. He was focused on his fingers, which were tracing the outlines of my tattoos. He scooted right up against me and leaned down to kiss my shoulder blade.
I loved the feel of his clothed body pressed against my nearly nude one, the denim and leather warm and rough on my skin. I felt his fingers slide under the silky material of my bikini bottom and caress the spot right at the top of my cleft, then lightly trace the edge of my suit to my hip, hooking his finger through the silver ring at the side. I squirmed and moaned quietly. I saw him lick his lips, and then he untied the string across my back.
I rolled onto my back, and my now-loose top shifted away from my breasts. I pulled it off, then stretched my arms over my head and arched my back, elongating my body and raising my breasts towards him subtly.
He moaned low in his chest and rested his hand lightly over my heart. He whispered, "Seeing you like this, so close to me, the Sun shining on your beautiful body... God, Dakota. You are so precious to me." He snaked his hand around my neck and leaned over and onto me to kiss me.
The love we made that afternoon in the Sun was slow, sweet, and quiet.
***
After the concert, Jake and Dixon were riding side by side, Tiffany and I wrapped around our men, headed towards Stockton. It was late enough that the freeway was relatively clear. We were doing about ninety, the roar of the engines heavy in the air.
I was a little drunk, and feeling really good. It had been a great day. I wrapped myself tighter around Jake, and then slowly, subtly slid one hand down to his crotch. I'd never done it before; it was pretty damn dangerous, considering that we were balanced on a thousand-pound machine Jake was operating with his hands.
In fact, he flinched when I pressed my hand against him, and the shovelhead wobbled. He was half-hard already. I understood; riding with him always got me wet.
He turned his head a couple of degrees towards me. But he didn't move my hand. I squeezed and felt him fill out. I squeezed again, and moved my hand along his length. He jostled the throttle a little, and the engine revved. Then he caught my hand in his, brought it to his lips for a kiss, and placed it firmly on his abdomen with a pat. I looked over and, in the staccato glow of the roadway lights, saw Dixon and Tiffany laughing at us. I grinned and shrugged.
When we got off our bikes at Pinn’s, Jake swung around and grabbed my face in his hands, kissing me hard, his tongue deep in my mouth, before we even had our helmets off. I grabbed his belt and pulled him against me.
Dixon cleared his throat. "You want us to wait for you inside or are you gonna put on a show for us?"
Jake laughed against my mouth. "Nah, we're coming. Just had to bleed the line a little." He gave my ass a little squeeze.
I took off my helmet and shook my hair out. I knew Jake liked that move especially, and, indeed, I had his full attention. As I took off my jacket and put it in his saddle bag, his eyes roved up and down my body, and he shook his head ruefully and sighed. "Yeah. Let's go be in public. That sounds great."
The ‘biker chick' look had gone over really well. I was a little disconcerted by the strength of the reaction, actually, since it was not a look that would ever be routine for me. Still, it was fun to have Jake so befuddled. I was wearing tall, stiletto-heeled black boots over skinny jeans, and a fitted black halter top with a spray of black sequins and a deep neckline.
The rise on my jeans was quite low, so when I raised my arms, a couple of inches of bare belly showed; I was hoping–against hope–to get Jake on the dance floor to make use of that feature. Though I didn't generally wear much jewelry at all, tonight I'd donned silver hoop earrings, a black leather choker, and a leather cuff on each wrist.
I had also put on pretty heavy makeup, lining my eyes with dark kohl drawn out at the outside corners. My self-appraisal was that I'd achieved an exotic look with an edge, but had stopped just on the right side of the border between classy and cheap. Jake had been rendered slack-jawed stupid at first and then had nearly ruined my work by pushing me against the kitchen wall and kissing me with intent.
Tiffany was in skinny jeans and tall boots, too. She was wearing a snug white lace top with a wide boat neckline and long sleeves; just enough of her red satin bra and otherwise-bare torso showed through. She was also wearing lots of jewelry and makeup. We looked hot.
The guys looked like they always did: jeans and tight black shirts, Jake in his boots. No complaints–that was our preferred look for our men. And Jake had left his beanie at home and was wearing his hair styled out, knowing it was my favorite.
Pinn’s was a huge place: Part pool hall, part dance hall, part bar and grill. We intended to avail ourselves of all the parts tonight. We ate good burgers and shared great fries. We drank beer–Tiffany and I going a bit heavier than the guys, who didn't ride drunk. We played some pool, and Tiffany and I made the most of bending over the table in front of our men. We laughed and teased and joked. And no one mentioned the Fire Birds. It was a great time. I hadn't felt this loose in ages. I was kind of giddy. I liked it. I was happy. Really happy.
The blues band went live, and we settled at a table near the dance floor and ordered drinks. Tiffany and I ordered tequila shots. We did the little ritual–salt, tequila, lime–and ordered another round. I saw the guys exchange a glance. "What?" I demanded.
Jake gave me a measured look. "You know I love it when you're buzzed, babe." I raised my eyebrows and smirked at him, and he grinned back. "But if you're too drunk to balance on the bike, we have a problem. So just slow down a little, okay?" I looked at Tiffany. We turned to the guys and, in unison, flipped them off. But when the next round of shots came, we let them sit.
Tiffany and I danced in our seats for the first couple of numbers, and then I lay back into Jake's lap and smiled up at him. "Dance with me." I stroked my fingers down his brawny neck.
He leaned down and kissed me. "You know I won't, babe." Jake didn't dance. Not even in the living room.
I made a little pout and sat up. I saw Dixon shaking his head at Tiffany. Apparently a strikeout there, too. Macho, biker bullshit. Well, fine. Their loss. I grinned at Tiffany and wiggled my eyebrows. "You wanna dance, Tiffany?" Tiffany smiled, winked, stood up, and held out her hand. We walked hand in hand to the dance floor.
Chapter Fifteen
Jake
Dixon and I watched our girls walk away together. Dixon chuckled. "Damn, bro. Those two are a handful. Hard enough to manage one at a time. Doubly dangerous together."
I nodded. "No doubt. But don't let Dakota hear you say that; she'll kick your fucking ass."
Dixon laughed. "Seriously. She’s like wonder woman." We knocked our beer bottles together and then were quiet as we watched our girls move.
And move they did. They were truly dancing together, not just side by side. They were holding hands, moving together, moving apart, twirling and turning. Holding each other close. Caressing each other. Fuck. I swallowed.
I studied Dakota's body, the way her amazing, wonderful, perfect ass rolled and canted, the way her hips flexed. That's how she moved when she was on me. I swallowed again and felt a clicking catch in my throat. Without taking my eyes off her, I took a pull of my beer.
She looked towards the table, and we made eye contact. She sent me a saucy smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Tiffany smiling at Dixon. They were putting on a show for us.
They moved together again, arms around each other, and I saw Tiffany's hands on Dakota's ass for a moment. Then Dakota lowered to the floor in a slow, sensuous squat down Tiffany's body and swayed back up to standing. Jesus fuck. Tiffany danced around Dakota, trailing a hand around her torso. I was about to pass out. I doubted there was blood anywhere else in my body but my raging cock.
Dixon whistled, long and low. "Fuck. Me."
But I was intent on Dakota and didn't respond. She raised her arms over her head gracefully, catching her hair in her hands as she went, her hips swaying and rolling–and her flat, strong, lick-able belly bared and glowing red in the dance floor lights.
She turned in a slow, graceful circle, her arms still held high, and I saw the toned muscles of her back flexed, her tattoos rippling, and
the few inches of skin exposed just above the low waistline of those smoking hot jeans. The light caught her just right, made shadows in the dimples above her ass. Jesus fucking Christ. I had to close my eyes. It was like staring at the damn Sun.
"Jake." Dixon's voice was surprisingly sharp, and I opened my eyes. Two fucking yahoos were trying to get in with Dakota and Tiffany, dancing next to them and trying to separate them. Dixon and I stood, on alert. We moved fast to the dance floor but didn't intervene yet. We looked at each other briefly, understood, and then returned our attention to our women. I was having a hard time holding off, but I knew how Dakota would feel if I came to the rescue too quickly and started a scene. Tiffany was the same way, and I could feel Dixon's tension, too.
With effort, we stood and watched while the girls first tried to ignore, then to politely decline, then to firmly rebuff. These assholes were tenacious, and I was buzzing with the need to intervene. I was really wishing Dixon and I hadn't left our fucking sidearms locked in our bikes.
Then one of the fucking yahoos put his hand on Dakota's waist. She knocked it away furiously, and he grabbed her arm and yanked. The other bastard grabbed Tiffany.
They had no idea who they were fucking messing with. They were about to find out.
Chapter Sixteen
Dakota
Putting hands on Tiffany and I was a bad mistake. I rolled my arm and spun, painfully twisting the arm of the guy who had me. Then I drove my fist into his throat. He went down sputtering and wheezing. Tiffany had kicked the guy who had her, hard in the nuts with her platform boot; he was down, too. Barely anyone on the dance floor had even made way. Huh. Rough crowd.
It all had happened so fast that both douchebags were on the floor before Dixon and Jake reached us. All that was left was cleanup. So Jake picked up the guy who attacked me by the throat–I heard the bastard squawk–and Dixon picked up Tiffany's likewise. They dragged them off the dance floor. Tiffany and I followed.
Beauty and the Bad Boy Page 19