“You are something else there, darlin',” I say as Tease scoots to the edge of the spa and climbs out onto the pavement, sitting down hard with a smack of her wet ass on the concrete. I grin as she sweeps hair from her face and looks at me hard, like she's delving in deep. Those green eyes spin through emotions faster than I can keep up with. No doubt about it; this girl is a hell of a lot smarter than I am.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice confident and brazen despite her nakedness and her shaking hands. “And I guess … so the fuck are you.”
I laugh at her, but she doesn't look away, keeping her eyes locked on mine. Tease has got a gaze that feels a hell of a lot older than eighteen. Old soul in a young body. I think I might just be the opposite o' that. I've seen a lot in this life, but I feel like I came into it fresh. I almost wish me and Tease had met under different circumstances. I think we could've had a lot of fun together. She'd probably enjoy ridin' the country with Triple M.
The thought of my club sobers the moment up a bit, giving me just enough energy to take a step back and pull away from this girl and her magnetic half-smile.
We lived in the moment. Now it's time to see what the next one holds.
Tease
Chapter 14
Beck lets me shower, keeping his back turned while I scrub away the smell of chlorine and the feel of his hands on my body. But shame doesn't wash off that easily. I punch the wall of the shower, real quick, just to get out some frustration.
“You alright in there?” he asks me, but I don't turn around to see if he's looking at my body through the clear vinyl of the shower curtain. Apparently, I'm not able to control myself when he's around. My whole body is tight, pulled taut as a bowstring. If Beck were to pluck me, I'd let him play me all night long. Even though I shouldn't. Traitor. I slept with a murderer, a man who might be personally responsible for some of the deaths of my fellow club members and who is definitely guilty by association. And this time, I didn't do it to try and trick him, I did it just because. Live in the moment. I wish life were that easy. Beck Evans makes everything seem so simple, so easy.
I finish showering and we switch places. He makes me sit on the toilet with a towel, but I don't bother to go anywhere. I'd have to have an incredible fucking plan to outrun or outmaneuver this man. It's fairly obvious at this point that he isn't going to hurt me, so why bother? I'll get back to Seventy-seven Brothers sooner or later. There'll be funerals and angry faces, raised voices. My brother will send me back to the house with an armed guard, and then he'll hunt Triple M down and make them suffer.
I pull the towel tight around my shoulders and force myself to keep my eyes on the wall in front of me. Beck's muscles are so hard, so stiff underneath his tanned skin. And his cock is huge, so much bigger than the boys I dated in high school. I touch my fingers to my lips and wish for a cigarette.
After he's done showering, Beck gives me some boxers and a shirt to sleep in. I feel so awkward being around him, but he just whistles as he digs some clothes out of his saddlebags. Again, I'm used to dating boys, not sleeping with men. And we're obviously not in a relationship. Careful, Tease, your age is starting to show.
“Are you really going to handcuff me?” I ask him as his hand emerges from the bag with a pair of metal cuffs. I imagine he's used these on a lot of women in the past. I highly doubt they're just for club business.
Beck swipes some wet hair from his forehead. He's walking around shirtless, drawing my eyes back to his body again and again and again. From the skull tattoo on his pecs to the delicious curve of his obliques as they disappear under the denim of his jeans, I am mesmerized.
“I got to, if either of us is going to be sleepin' tonight. Sorry to tell you this, Tease, but I am dead tired.” He holds up the cuffs. “I'll make it as comfortable for you as I can. You've got my word on that.”
I stand up from the chair I've been sitting in and move across the room, lying down on the bed with a sigh. Handcuffs. A double bed. Beck and me sleeping together on it. My heart starts to race. He helps me fluff the pillows, putting my head and neck into a comfortable position. The bed creaks as he kneels on it, a towering block of muscle and the sharp scent of spicy body wash I detected on him before. Male. That's what I smell from here, and it's like a drug. I can hardly think past it.
“Arms up,” Beck says and I sigh as I lift my wrists over my head, feeling the cold metal slide around my skin. He doesn't just hook one wrist, but both of them, locking my hands together and then using a second pair – a second pair of cuffs – to attach me to the wooden post on the right side of the headboard. Right away, I feel that sense of vulnerability, that fear that he could do anything with me, anything, and I wouldn't be able to stop him. I don't like how excited I get down below.
Beck doesn't waste any time, flicking the lights off and curling up beside me, the roar of the highway a gentle sound in the distance. Headlights flash through our curtains every now and then, but for the most part, it's dark. I don't mind the dark, but tonight, it feels almost stifling. I can't keep my mind off of the day, replaying every single thing I did. Such a failure. Darren's probably so disappointed in me.
“Beck,” I whisper, trying to determine if he's asleep or not. I adjust myself a bit and the metal on the handcuffs clinks. “Beck?” He rolls over with a groan, putting an arm across the bare bit of my belly that's showing beneath the shirt. I glance over at him and take a sharp intake of breath. His face is gorgeous in the near dark, a strong outline that emphasizes his nose, his perfect lips.
“What can I do ya for?” he asks me, voice already succumbing to sleep. I guess he must be exhausted. I know I am, but I can't keep my heart still. Adrenaline is pumping through my body, making my skin feel electric. I lick my lips, not sure what I was planning on saying.
“How is this really going to work? Once you trade me for your friend, what happens then? My brother won't let you go.” Beck stays quiet, probably unaware of how heavy his arm feels on my belly, how warm, how much I wish I hated it being there. How I don't.
“I don't rightly know,” he answers honestly. And then he laughs, his hot breath moving against the skin on my arm. “Probably won't end well, Tease. I won't lie to you. Honestly, I'd let ya go right now if I knew Melissa would be okay.”
“Seventy-seven Brothers won't hurt her. That's not how we work. Other MCs maybe, but not us.”
“Doesn't matter. We lost people; you lost people. Somebody has to pay. Until someone fesses up to the roof shooting, we're gonna be at a standstill.”
“It wasn't us,” I assure him, watching Beck sit up a bit, his muscular body a dark silhouette against the headboard. The loss of his arm on my stomach is frustrating, making me angry again. I refuse to acknowledge that the anger is directed more at myself than it is at him. I know what's going on here, and I know how ridiculous it is. I'm crushing on Beck. I started crushing on him the second I saw him, even when he was pulling my hair and growling against my face. I must have some serious issues. Beck is too old for me, first off. Second, we're worlds apart. Because of this situation, he could never be in Seventy-seven Brothers, and I could never be with someone who wasn't. We shouldn't even be … living in the fucking moment.
“You keep saying that, but so what? It wasn't your guys, and it sure as fuck wasn't mine. Then who? We been over this, all of us. It's all my Pres is thinking about right now.” Beck sighs and rubs at his face. As my eyes adjust to the dimness, I can see his face twisted in thought. “If there were someone who had a grudge against us, it would be a good play, but I can't think of anyone who's still breathing that would've had the opportunity. Unless we have a rat … ” His voice trails off, and I feel good, like I've planted a seed. Despite everything, I still want to help Triple M out. Traitor. Beck shakes his head and slumps back down, resting his arm behind his head.
The heat of his body warms mine, making me sweat, drawing drips of liquid down my skin, teasing my nerves with sensation. I want him to figure out who that shooter was
because it can't have been my family. Darren isn't that stupid, and I can tell just from Beck's demeanor that they aren't either. Someone wanted us to fight. I don't have the information to figure out who, but maybe Beck can. If not him, then Darren. I have to talk to Darren.
“Tomorrow's another day,” Beck whistles. “Hopefully a better one than today.”
He lays back down, facing me. When I glance over at him, it looks like his eyes are closed. I shift uncomfortably, listening to the rattle of the handcuffs, feeling the sweat running down my body. Between my legs, an ache is pulsing, making me squeeze my thighs in desperation. Somehow not being able to move around, to touch my own body, makes me desperate to.
I stare at the ceiling and try to use my imagination to soothe my mind and body, imagining what would've happened if Beck had come into the club as a prospect, claimed me as his old lady … It's not as exciting as people-watching – it's much, much more entertaining.
“Is the air conditioning in here working?” I whisper, not knowing if he's asleep or if I should even bother him. Beck's laugh rumbles next to me.
“Are you hot, baby?” he asks me, and then he's leaning over, stubble brushing against my forehead as he presses his lips to my skin. My body bucks involuntarily, muscles seizing as a thrill rips straight through me. “Oh yeah, you're sweatin' like a sinner in church.”
“Am I?” I ask him, completely and utterly aware of how close his body is to my own. I want him to press me into the bed with his weight, push my knees apart and slide into me. “Probably because I realize how stupid this is going to sound.” I lick my lips. “Fuck me again?” I've already gone this far, so why not? Sleeping with him twice isn't any less terrible than doing it three times. I'm such a fucking slut, a terrible fucking slut. I like this though, this sex with no commitment. I don't have to worry that he's going to slap a jacket on my back and call me his own.
“Shoot,” he snarls, fist curling in the pillow next to my head. “You didn't even need to ask.” Beck sits up, suddenly wide awake, and settles himself between my legs. I fully expect him to undo the handcuffs.
He doesn't.
Instead he pulls the borrowed boxers off and tosses them to the floor. Before I can even utter a word, Beck is grabbing my hips and slamming his cock into me. He's so big, so so big. His dick opens my body up, spreading me wide. I lose my mind when I start fucking him, instincts taking over and forcing my thighs to spread as far open as I can.
“I was hopin' you'd give me an invitation, sweets,” he says, pounding hard and fast. Our pelvises are slapping together, wet and warm. I guess I expected some slow foreplay, kissing or touching or … whatever. But this is okay, too. Very okay.
“Uh,” I groan, arching my back, straining my arms against the cuffs. My breasts are bouncing all over the place, my mind stretching to its limits. Beck is bruising my hips with his fingers, filling me and then leaving this empty gap that hurts so bad that it doesn't even matter that it's only a split second between thrusts. I keep moaning, thrashing back and forth, struggling even though I know I can't get free.
“Tease, you are so fuckin' hot,” Beck tells me as I struggle to catch my breath, to find words. So fast, happening so fast. I'm absolutely drenched in sweat now, struggling to stay sane as pleasure arcs through my body. He's grinding into me so hard that all I can do is raise my chin and watch his muscles bunching and releasing. Claiming me. That's what it feels like. I try not to give in, even though I want to. Oh, fuck me. Traitor, traitor, traitor.
But then Beck just stops, pausing and freezing like a deer caught in the headlights. His body gets ramrod straight, his cock still trapped inside of me, keeping me open and wanting. A split second later, he leans over and strips a pillowcase from one of the pillows.
“What – ” I start as Beck wraps the fabric around my head, gagging me. I'm so confused right now, my body an aching mess, my brain scrambling to understand what's going on here. Beck slides out of me with a whispered curse and moves over to the window, peering out the curtains with his bare ass hanging out of his jeans. I look around the room, absolutely baffled at his sudden change in behavior. And worried. Really, really worried.
“Mother of Christ on high. Fuck.” Beck turns and scoops up his saddlebags, drawing out a shirt and slipping it on before he starts to stuff fabric into the leather bag. I make some noises against the gag, rattle the handcuffs a little, but he doesn't look back at me. Instead, I watch as he moves like a shadow, gathering the few belongings that are scattered around. Ten seconds later, I hear voices outside in the parking lot. “Sorry about this, Tease,” he says, and he does sound sorry, really sorry actually. Beck tucks his half-erect cock back in his pants and zips them up, fetching the discarded boxers and sliding them right up over my hips. My core is wet and hot, desperate and aching to be touched. But at the same time, I'm starting to wonder who's outside these curtains …
It could be my club, looking for me. The thought makes me happy even as it terrifies me. I don't want Beck dead, and if they find me here, especially like this, they will kill him. At the same time, I've seen this man move. What if he takes down someone I love with him? Right away, I know I'm not going to fight. I think of Lizzie back at the university and wonder what she would do in this situation. Hell, she'd probably run away and marry this man. That would be a Lizzie move for sure.
I watch as Beck uncuffs me from the bed, but leaves my wrists shackled; he doesn't bother to remove the gag either. With his bags draped over one arm, Beck reaches underneath me and lifts me off the bed, moving over to the window and peering out the curtains again. I can't see much from where I'm at, but I can hear the voices a little better. Men. A lot of them. I can't tell how many because they're talking in low tones – at least three, possibly a lot more. Could be my brothers in arms or not. From the way Beck's acting though, I'd say it was a definite possibility.
He waits for awhile and then creeps over to the door, hoisting me into one arm and then using the other to remove the chain and twist the deadbolt. His face is dead serious, no hint of a smile on that face. Beck's almost scary like this. If I hadn't been around men twice as stern, I might be worried.
“This is going to be quick, and probably not a lot of fun. Whatever you choose to do right now, I won't hold it against you, darling.” He looks down at me and we make eye contact. I don't know what he can see in my gaze, but whatever it is, it spurs him out the door in an instant, moving across the pavement at a run. His motorcycle's parked just a few doors down, under an awning and stuffed between a white van and a blue pickup truck.
I'm pretty sure that's the only thing that saves him.
“Who the fuck is that?” I hear someone snap as we barrel down the sidewalk in a blur. Beck only pauses for an instant to throw my arms around his neck, so that I'm facing him, still handcuffed, still gagged. We straddle the motorcycle as a pair of men in leather jackets come around the back of the van. Flying my club's colors. It's Cape and Tim. I can tell right away.
“It's Tease!” Tim screams, pulling out his gun and aiming for Beck's back tire. Too late he fires off a shot as the engine revs up and we go screaming over the curb and onto the sidewalk. My hair flaps in Beck's face as the motorcycle grinds through the walkway and explodes onto the street, men in leather shouting behind us. I can see them over Beck's shoulder as we move away, racing down the parking lot, carrying guns and hammers and wrenches. But they can't fire at Beck because they might hit me. I'm sorry, Darren, I call out in my head, hoping that somehow, he knows I didn't want this to happen. Even though I'm enjoying Beck, even though I shouldn't be enjoying Beck. I just want to see his face and make sure he's alright.
“Goddamn it,” Beck snarls because he knows the chase isn't over. Not by a long shot. A few seconds later, the growling roar of hogs starts up not too far behind us. I don't think it's a full group, not the usual seventy-seven my brother sends out on official club business, but at least a dozen based on the noise.
My hair continues to fly arou
nd in wild bursts of red, smacking Beck's face and hopefully not impairing his vision overly much. If we go down, dressed like this, we're going to be shredded alive on the pavement.
Beck picks up speed, using his little Suzuki to his advantage, tearing around corners, and flying off the beaten path, into a grassy patch and around some trees. It's a risky move because if they see where he's going, they'll catch up to us for sure. That, or we could easily hit a pothole, a fallen log, anything, and go down hard. I close my eyes for a moment, letting time freeze briefly around me.
The wind feels good against my skin and the rush of adrenaline isn't unwelcome. My heart is pounding faster now than it ever has before, pounding against my ribcage so loud, I'm sure Beck can feel it, too. It's a surreal split in time where nothing means everything – the little white farmhouse across the highway, the split in the trees, the silver light of the moon beaming down on us. It all feels symbolic. I close my eyes and let go, trying to accept that whatever happens is going to happen. At this second, I am not in control. I'm honestly not ever really in control.
“Fucking Christ on a cracker,” Beck growls, spinning the bike in a dangerous arc and and sliding to a stop next to a dilapidated barn. He kills the engine right away and waits, his chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm, straining against mine from where I'm pressed against him, legs wrapped around his waist. I've been in the club my whole life, ridden a lot of choppers, but I don't think I've ever sat like this. “Come on, come on, come on,” he whispers, eyes flicking back and forth, examining the highway. I watch, too, listening for the roar of engines. My heart stops briefly as they move past us, flying down the dark highway at staggering speeds. Country dark isn't like city dark though. There are no streetlights, hardly any porch lights. We're buried in plain sight right here, and for all they know, Beck is still on the road straight ahead. He made a smart choice driving through the break in the hedges on this property, straight through the grass. Other than a small track mark, nearly invisible in the silver light of the moon, there's no sign we even came this way.
Needing Me, Wanting You Page 10