RUSH (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Daphne Loveling

  “Not this way.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t act like his mom,” he growled.

  “If I acted like his mom, I wouldn’t give a shit,” I shot back.

  The words came out of my mouth without me wanting them to. I stomped my foot in exasperation. He had no right to know about our personal family history. He knew too much already.

  Grey’s expression changed, to something I couldn’t quite read. He stood up slowly, and came toward me until he was standing only inches away. I should have moved back, but I didn’t.

  “Seton,” he said softly. His hand came up and cupped my chin. “I’m sorry.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “I know about your dad. That he was killed. That it was a Stone King who did it.”

  I froze. I did not want to have this conversation. Not with Grey. Not with anyone.

  “I didn’t know who Cal was when he started hanging around,” he continued. “That he was Clayton Greenlee’s son. I didn’t know that until after I met you. I promise you that.” He raised my chin until I was looking him in the eye. “I promise,” he repeated. I looked away and nodded reluctantly.

  “But it wouldn’t have changed anything if I had,” he resumed. “I’m not going to make Cal’s decisions for him. If he wants to do this, then we’ll see if he’s cut out for it. Maybe he won’t be, like you say. But if he is,” he said gently, “then it’s his choice.”

  I looked away from his penetrating gaze. I couldn’t speak. I hated what was happening. I hated it so much. But in spite of myself, a part of me had to admit that Grey was right. Tears sprang to my eyes again, and I swallowed and fought to keep them back. Then, with a gentleness that surprised me, Grey’s thumb brushed against my cheek. His head bent, and his lips came down on mine.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I was returning his kiss. His tongue find mine, his beard rough against my skin. I moaned into his mouth as he reached back and fisted my fingers in his hair. It was as though we were devouring each other. I lost myself in him, and when he broke the kiss I was left breathless, panting.

  He groaned my name: “Seton. Christ, Seton.”

  I told myself to stop. I told myself to remember why I was there. But when his lips moved to my neck, everything else just fell away.

  His breath singed my skin as he began to kiss and lick at my neck and the soft, vulnerable lobe of my ear. I shuddered as I felt his lips travel further down toward the hollow of my collar bone, tasting me as he went. It felt like my insides had turned to liquid, and the throbbing between my legs was so intense that I wondered in a haze if I would come just like this. I heard myself moaning, but I wasn’t in control of any of the sounds that escaped me.

  Grey’s other hand moved up to my breast, cupping it. He growled in appreciation. “Fuck, Seton, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about this?”

  My only reply was a moan as his mouth moved lower, skimming my nipple through my T-shirt and bra. It felt like fire. I threw back my head and moaned his name. “Greyson, God, please…”

  His teeth nipped through the fabric at my nipple, which felt as hard as a diamond under his touch. Each little nip sent an electric current through my body that ran straight to my core. The throbbing between my legs grew even more intense, and for a moment, I was sure I was going to come like that if he continued. But I needed more. So much more. “Greyson,” I whimpered urgently.

  He seemed to know exactly what I wanted. Leaning me back against the desk, he swept an arm behind me and cleared everything off the top of it. Objects fell to the floor with a crash. I should have been worried that the noise would bring someone, but I didn’t care. I was too far gone. He reached up and pulled my T-shirt off over my head, and with a flick of his fingers the bra was unhooked, and soon that was gone, too, and I was lying there in front of him, naked from the waist up. Greyson drew back for a second to look at me. “God damn, woman,” he said in a low growl. “You are going to be the death of me.”

  He lay me back on the table and moved over me. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he mutters. His eyes were hooded with desire, his half-grin animal, almost savage. My lips parted involuntarily, and then his head came down and he began to tease my nipples, first one and then the other. His lips lightly nibbled me, his tongue flicking at the sensitive nubs, and I cried out. My hands went to his hair and I held him there. The pleasure was almost unbearable. I wanted it never to stop, but I wanted… I needed… so much more. My moans became increasingly desperate, the throb between my legs becoming an ache that begged to be relieved.

  “Please…” I whispered again.

  “Tell me what you want,” he growled, his lips brushing against my nipples as he spoke. “Tell me. I want to hear it.”

  “Greyson, please,” I said urgently. “Please make me come. I can’t take anymore.”

  He raised his head and moved up until we were face to face. Instinctively, I spread my legs, thrusting my hips upward to meet his hardness. It felt so good that I gasped, and thrust again, desperate for relief. He was huge with need, hard as steel, and his dark eyes told me beyond a shadow of a doubt how much he wanted me.

  “Remember what I told you last time?” he growled.

  “Yes,” I said breathlessly. If only he knew how many times I’d brought myself to orgasm thinking about it.

  “I told you I was going to lick your pussy until you came, and then I was going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

  “Yes,” I said again. I needed it so badly.

  He laughed, a low throaty sound. “Buckle up, sweetheart.”

  He unbuttoned my shorts, pulling them roughly over my hips, then stepped back to look at me. “Blue,” he said, a slight grin playing across his face.

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  “Nothing,” he said, chuckling. Then, in one motion, he reached down with both hands and ripped the fabric of my panties, tearing them off of me. My eyes widened as he growled in satisfaction. He traced one finger slowly up my thigh, the softest touch possible, and I gasped and writhed at his touch. My legs widened involuntarily as his finger found my center. “Jesus…” he hissed. “You’re so fucking wet. You’re so wet for me.”

  I almost felt embarrassed, but then his finger began to trace a pattern from my opening up to my desperate clit, and I cried out in pleasure, lifting my hips toward his touch. He grabbed my thighs and pushed me back on the desk until my legs were spread and my feet were on the surface. He stopped and looked at me, and his tongue licked across his lips in anticipation. I started to close my legs, momentarily self-conscious, but he barked, “Stop. Don’t move.”

  I froze like that as I watched him undo the top button of his jeans, then the next, until the soft, worn fabric fell away to the floor. Underneath, he was not wearing underwear, and his erection snapped to attention before me. My eyes widened at the full glory of him: the muscular, tattooed chest, the hard, taut abs, his gorgeous, thick cock. I wanted so much, I wanted everything, right now. I reached for him but he shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

  Then he spread my legs and leaned down, and I lost what little control I still possessed. His tongue began to lick a path up my inner thigh, slowing as it reached my clit. He teased me, drawing circles around it but avoiding the spot that he knew I wanted him to touch, and I whimpered and tried to move toward him. With an impatient sound, he grabbed my hips and braced me so I can’t move, then continued his torture, tongue flicking and teasing until I was afraid I’d lose my mind.

  Then, when I was about to cry out in frustration, his tongue moved to the spot I so needed it to find. I gasped as he began to tease my clit, lapping at it, sucking it into his mouth, loving it. I moaned and thrashed, needing to come so desperately but at the same time wanting it to go on forever. He pulled away for a moment, sensing I was on the edge, then after a second resumed teasing me. I was panting, my breasts rising and falling rapidly as I hurtled closer and closer to the edge. A low groan escaped h
im, vibrating against my skin, and I cried out again. I felt his hand leave my hip then, and from the motion of his arm I realized he had begun to stroke himself slowly as he licked and tasted me. The image of his hand stroking his rock hard cock was too much for me to bear, and I shattered, calling out his name as I came in wave after wave.

  I was still coming when Grey stood and reached into the desk drawer. I was dimly aware of the rustle of a condom wrapper, and then he was inside me, filling me as I continue to come. Grey groaned sharply as he entered me, and my hips raised to meet his as he began to thrust, hard, violent thrusts that made me come harder. He groaned my name and thrust a final time, and then I felt him pulse inside me as he came. I clung to his arms as they held my hips. It felt like the world had stopped spinning.

  I have no idea how long we remained like that, breathing heavily, waiting for our hearts to stop pounding. Eventually, Grey reached down and gathered me up in his arms. His lips found mine and he kissed me, deeply, almost tenderly. I returned his kiss, wondering even as I did what in God’s name I had just gotten myself into.

  CHAPTER 10

  Grey

  I didn’t want her to go.

  That was a first.

  Women don’t get to me. Not like this. I’m usually thinking about something else by the time I zip up my pants. I don’t have time for hearts and flowers. I’ve got a club to run. Business is business. Pussy is pussy. I can’t mix the two. It’s too dangerous.

  But Seton Greenlee had gotten under my skin. She was like an itch I couldn’t scratch: she was always there in my head, even when I was doing my damnedest to get her the hell out of there.

  When we both eventually caught our breath after I took her hard in my office, there was a lull in conversation that, in hindsight, I should have expected. How do you go from having sex so fucking fantastic you think your head might explode off your neck, to making chit-chat? Especially when there was a subject of conversation so frought with tension that neither of you wanted to return to it? I was no good at social niceties anyway, never had been. So, in silence, I pulled my pants up from around my ankles and watched Seton as she looked around for her clothes. I reached down and grabbed her T-shirt, her bra, and her shorts, and handed them all to her. She rewarded me with a shy duck of her head. I nodded toward the pathetic shred of fabric that still lay on the floor. “Sorry about your panties,” I muttered.

  To my surprise, instead of blushing, Seton smiled. “That’s okay,” she said softly, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “I wasn’t all that attached to them. And,” she continued with a wicked little grin that surprised me, “I think the trade-off was worth it.”

  Our eyes locked, and the moment of merriment dissolved in a burst of heat. Damned if I didn’t want to take her all over again, from every position I could think of, until both of us passed out from exhaustion. But she pulled her eyes away from mine and stood up, pulling her T-shirt over her head. “Maybe I should just put this on,” she said, her voice husky with suppressed desire.

  We continued dressing in silence. My mind was swirling around in all different directions, trying to make sense of everything. What it all meant. So, I did what I usually did when things got complicated. I pushed it all aside. I concentrated on this moment alone.

  “Seton,” I murmured, drawing her to me.

  She looked up at me, big green eyes almost luminescent. “Grey,” she responded.

  Somehow, it seemed as though we had an entire conversation with just those two words. I kissed her again, deeply. Her arms wound around my neck almost instinctively, her body melted into mine like we were made from the same mold. I hardened against her. She whimpered and pressed against me. The heat grew between us.

  After a few moments, she pulled away, breathing heavily. “I should go,” she whispered.

  I didn’t ask why, or try to make her stay. I knew this was all confusing as hell for her. Hell, it was no picnic for me, either.

  “Okay,” I said. I let her detach herself from me, and watched in silence as she walked slowly toward the door and opened it. She stood in the threshold for a moment and looked back at me. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest, but I said nothing. She nodded once at me, and I nodded back. Then she was gone.

  Holy hell. I sank into my chair. Lacing my fingers behind my head, I blew out a deep breath and kicked my feet up on the desk. This shit was complicated. Maybe even dangerous.

  I was falling for Seton Greenlee.

  I couldn’t see this ending well. If I’d had a brain in my head, I’d just end it right now. Hell, I wasn’t even sure if there was an “it” to end. But I had just crossed a line, and even though fucking a woman had never felt like it was an act with consequences before, fucking this woman was different. I might have been able to deny that before, but now, I couldn’t hide it from myself any longer. I never would have thought in a million goddamn years that a woman would be able to turn me inside out with just a look.

  And then I finally meet the one who can, and she’s the absolute last person who should be involved with a piece of shit like me.

  I was going to be sending her brother out on dangerous runs. As the club president, I was potentially going to be putting his life in danger. And every time I did it, I would potentially be breaking Seton’s heart.

  Then there was the fact of the secrets between us. Secrets she didn’t even know existed.

  I had tried to come clean with her. I told her I knew about her dad, and about his death and the connection to the club. But I didn’t come even anywhere near close to telling her the truth.

  Seton was proud. You could see that in her eyes. Her fucking gorgeous, whip-smart, defiant eyes. She didn’t want help from anyone. And she sure as hell didn’t want anyone knowing her secrets.

  Trouble was, I knew them already. And I had a few of my own.

  I knew she hated that Cal was prospecting with the Stone Kings. I knew that she barely tolerated that I was one of them. Let alone the president of the damn club.

  What would she do if she knew it was not just a member of the club who killed her father, but my uncle? What would she say, how would she react, if she knew that I was there that day? That I saw her at her most vulnerable moment, in what was probably the sharpest agony of her life?

  I shook my head and swore. There was no way this was going to turn out good between Seton and me.

  The eyes of that little girl crying over her dad’s body had haunted me for years. I knew that Clayton Greene’s death wouldn’t have affected me much if not for the memory of her eyes. Everyone in town knew Greene was a worthless piece of shit. He drank from morning till night, got in bar fights regularly, and couldn’t hold a job for longer than a few months. He was charming when sober and sloppy as hell when drunk. If not for Seton, I might have thought his death was just as well. But even though I didn’t know her, watching her sob over her father’s body — the shock of suddenly seeing Clayton Greene as a father, with people who had loved him — it stuck with me. Even now, when I sent my guys out on a run, I thought about them as family men, as sons and fathers, brothers and cousins, as well as club members. And even though I didn’t let it affect my decisions — I couldn’t — it helped me not make those decisions lightly. It helped me to take the full measure of the men I sent out into harm’s way in the name of the Stone Kings MC.

  I started to feel restless, so I left my office and called to a couple of the brothers that I was going out on a ride. I hopped on the bike and turned it toward the west side of town, out past the city limits in the direction of the mountains. As I rode, I thought about Cal. I wasn’t sure how to feel about him. His good looks and his charmer personality reminded me of his father, though he didn’t seem to have the same weakness for the drink. I even liked the kid; he made me laugh with his combination of earnestness and swaggering self-confidence.

  After what had happened with Jethro, I had to be doubly damn sure about anyone new we took into the club. I knew it was a risk that
I’d be softer on him because of how I felt about Seton. I couldn’t afford that, and neither could the club. I’d have to police myself, make sure he proved himself beyond a shadow of a doubt as a prospect, or he’d have to go. The ride out into Cannibals territory would be a good first step.

  When I got to the club, I went to find Trig, who told me that the ride was planned for two days from now. “Frankenstein and Cal are both up for it. They know what the plan is, why we’re doing it, and they’re ready.”

  “Good,” I approved. “Give them both guns for the trip.”

  “Guns?” Trig repeated. “Sure, prez, but shit, they’re still doin’ beer runs and washin’ our bikes. You sure you want to ramp ‘em up this fast?”

  “I’m not ramping ‘em up,” I retorted. I took out a smoke and lit it. “I want you to see how they do with this. If they get cocky, don’t take the shit seriously, I want you to tell me about it. You know guns make men stupid as shit. I want to see what they’re like when we let them play in the big sand box.”

  “Sure thing, prez,” he said. I wasn’t sure if Trig completely agreed with me, but he didn’t argue. Trig was a VP I could count on. He was with me all the way, would carry out my orders without question. He had never openly challenged a decision I had made, but I still relied on his counsel, and I knew that when he offered a different opinion, it was damn worth considering.

  I nodded once to confirm the plan, then continued as I lit a smoke. “Make sure Repo knows they’re to be packing, too. Just in case something goes down, make sure you’ve talked through a game plan with the prospects. Make sure they know exactly what their role is, exactly what they can and cannot do. They deviate from that plan by one fucking hair, you let me know.”

  Trig nodded. “Got it.” He gave me a speculative look, and then drew a breath. “You know,” he began quietly, “no one blames you for Jethro.”

  “I blame me for Jethro,” I growled. I did not want to talk about this shit now. “I should have never sponsored that fucker in the first place.”