I laugh, pretending to enjoy the banter. “You know, I have to ask. Why are you telling me all this?”
Jenny looks at me from head to toe. “I just have a good feeling about you.”
Well. Good old Jenny has some seriously bad judgment for trusting me, but who am I to straighten the girl out? In a way, it’s a breath of fresh air, after all the tension with the club’s reigning president and his territorial, queen bee momma breathing down my neck.
“Thanks. I guess while I have you here, maybe you can clue me in so I know the rules of this place? I’d hate to break one by accident. I hear these clubhouses are like secret societies?”
Jenny levels me her with a curious expression, and then she bursts into a peal of giggles. “I like you, honey. Hopefully you stick around.” Jenny’s still laughing as she downs the rest of her beer and lets out a dainty burp. “Want another one?”
I glance down at my more than half-full bottle. “Okay.”
Jenny moves in close for a hug, so I roll with it. The woman holds on to me as if we’ve known each other all our lives. As we pull away, I fight to make sense of this weird kinship the woman’s trying to form with me. I don’t have many female friends.
“As for the club, try not to piss off Cindy Corrigan, and you’ll be okay. You seem like a smart chick. I’ll leave the rest up to you. Use your head. You’ll fit in fine around here.”
Her husband steps off his bar stool near the pool tables and strides over to a spot at the bar, signaling with his hand to get Jenny’s attention. “Hey wifey, bring that sweet ass of mine over here on my lap.” His roar echoes through the lodge, overpowering everyone else’s talking and laughter.
“Looks like I’m needed elsewhere. You know the drill. I’ll see you around.”
I don’t know the drill at all, but I’m a quick learner. Tossing back a third of the beer, I lower my sweaty bottle to my side, but a hand plucks it out of my palm.
“Hey, I wasn’t done with that—” I start, but my words are cut off by Silas and his unreadable stare. He doesn’t say a word as he rests the bottle it on the nearest table. “What do you want?”
“Follow me.” He nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and I follow him up, not minding the valid excuse to admire his tight, perfect ass.
“Admit it, big guy. You ran out of pet names, didn’t you?”
“Hardly, dollface.” He smirks over his shoulder and keeps walking down a wide hallway, opening one of the doors on the right. “This room has it’s own bathrooms, but it you need any supplies, there are a few more at the other end of the hall. Make yourself at home in this room for now. I’ll be out here waiting.”
“Awww, how sweet.” I flutter my eyelashes and frown, then roll my eyes.
“You have a heck of a lot of attitude. I can fucking appreciate that.”
“I look like I care what you appreciate, don’t I?” I grin, pressing in close to him to pass through the slightly cracked door. I don’t keep that smile on my face for long, though. My breasts brush against his lower chest, and the sensation has me half-lidded and drenched between my legs, with my nipples already hardening through the thin material of my dress. Before I can move away, his hand shoots around my wrist and yanks me in closer. I suck in a surprised breath at the sudden jerk, his fingers burning into the sensitive flesh of my inner wrist. Neither of us move an inch. We both remain locked in a tension-fueled stalemate. I sense him staring down at me, but I’m am too stubborn to look up at him—and too amped up with raw need, if I’m being honest.
“If you know what’s good for you, don’t play that game. Don’t wake the beast.” He presses in closer, stepping me backward until my ass is pressed up against the door jamb. His muscled thigh lingers between my legs, and his hard cock nudges my belly.
It feels like I already woke it.
This is going way too far, but hell, I have a hard time stopping myself. I’m frantic to slip into the room and away from his dizzying gravitational pull that practically shuts down my mind from rational thought. Clearing my throat, I try to come up with a witty way to make him back off. Some distance between us will subdue the sexual fantasies winding their way through my blurred vision at light speed. I swallow and try again while his encroaching heat only grows hotter against my aroused flesh.
“You’re…so…hot,” I croak as his fingers idly trace the bare line of my collarbone along the halter neckline of my dress. My eyes close at his butterfly soft touch. Jesus. How is it possible for someone so big, tough and badass to be so gentle?
Silas groans, and his arm tightens around my waist, drawing me impossibly close.
“I don’t…understand,” I mumble. I can’t remember the last time a man’s hands had such an effect on me because nothing like this ever happened to my body just from someone’s touch.
He grinds his hips forward, rubbing his cock against my abdomen. I let out an unintended breathy sigh as every part of my body goes on high alert. I’m still clutching the bundle of his clothes to my side with one hand, and my purse with the other. That leaves no barrier between us to keep me sane—other than the vague fragment of a hazy thought that I don’t know this man from a hole in the ground.
“Fuck,” he moans.
Christ, that small, deep sound makes my skin prickle with pent-up pleasure. Without thinking, my right hand falls from my tight hold on his clothes, dropping it altogether when he winds his fingers into my hair and tugs my head backward. The sound of the clothes hitting the floor must bring him back to reality. Silas leaps back into the hallway as if I pulled a knife on him. Cooler air invades my body from the void created by the abrupt loss of his contact. It leaves me numb and unsteady. My eyes widen, lips slightly parted and desperately trying to regain some control. I still can’t feel my legs.
Silas clears his throat nervously, and I sneak a glance at him as he adjusts himself in his pants, looking away. Taking the opportunity, I quickly pick up the spare clothes and slip into the bedroom. It isn’t until I pass the door that I hear what sounds like his quiet apology through the thick walnut wood.
Chapter 9
Silas
That was too fucking close for comfort. I was that close to ripping the clothes off this woman. If we kept that up any longer, I’d have Sabrina drop to her knees in front of me so her smart little mouth can glide up and down my shaft. Groaning at at the visual in my head, I get a grip. This shit takes a lot of effort because I’m not used to walking away. It’s my clubhouse. Usually, I just take what I want. It’s my right. And she’s here in my space. But fuck, I know I shouldn’t.
I can’t remember being attracted to any woman like I am with this stunning, high society stranger. My cock throbs, jerking against my fly as I fight yet another urge to go right back to her. I’ve done enough.
The wall and doors in here don’t cover up much noise, so I keep my hearing trained on the sounds coming from the other side of her door while the rest of me agonizes over the thousands of things I want to do to her trim, toned body. I hear the soft-skin rasp of her dress going down her legs and the fabric pooling at her feet. When she holds out my sweatpants and shakes them before putting them on, I shift my weight, already hard from the idea of her wearing my clothes, our scents mingling together—
“Silas?” her small voice calls out through the door.
My throat is so dry when I swallow, it makes an audible gulp.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the clothes.”
My tension deflates against the hallway, although my boner still hurts like a son of a bitch. I’m almost sorry for the missed opportunity. “You’re screwed in the head, motherfucker.”
“What was that?” Sabrina calls out.
“Uh, nothing. Don’t worry about the clothes.”
Silence.
“You okay in there?”
More silence.
Okay, I need to ease off. She’s probably checking her makeup or something. No biggie. But I want to rip the door off its hing
es and charge through the room to catch a glimpse of her face. And other parts. I bang the back of my head against the wall a few times. The pain doesn’t dilute the need that’s running hot through my veins like fire. There’s something about her. That mouth.
“Sabrina?” I pivot around, banging on the door with a fist.
“I'm all right, Silas.”
“What are you doing in there, duchess? Writing me a thank-you card?”
There’s a sarcastic huffing noise from the other side of the door. I grin, crossing my arms over my chest. Still fidgety, I riffle through my pockets and wait. Then I pop a mint into my mouth and snag a cigarette from my pack. That’s nervous energy. It kind of cancels out the mint, but the more I can do with my mouth, the better. Better to keep my thoughts on anything other than what I can do with my lips after I rip my sweatpants off her sweet, round ass and go south of the border. I vaguely wonder what she tastes like and gulp, closing my eyes to suppress the thought.
It’s a bad idea.
A vision of her naked body sprawled out on the flannel sheets of my king-size bed nearly brings me to my knees, and my inner soldier stands at attention with a ‘let’s do this’. I bet her nipples would be just as perky and pink, dainty…fucking hot.
Dammit.
This shit is fucking hopeless.
“Silas, do you make a habit of rescuing women? Is this like a stray puppy kind of thing, or am I your first unwilling captive at the clubhouse?”
I jerk away from the wall at the sound of her voice, as though I’ve been caught doing something nasty. Brushing at my face, I yelp in surprise when I realize I forgot all about the cigarette jammed between my lips. The damn thing sends sparks and ash raining down all over my boots and the wooden hallway floor.
“Smooth, real smooth, idiot,” I mumble to myself. The smoke is still between my lips as I stamp out any possible embers that can lead to a hell of a lot more damage, never mind the embarrassment.
“Sorry, what?” she asks.
I get myself together again, taking one last, long drag of smoke into my lungs so I can focus.
“Give me a sec,” I breathe out with the smoke, stepping down the hall to discard of the cigarette butt before returning to her door. “I don’t make a habit of it, sugar…or of talking to chicks through closed doors.”
Pleasing the hell out of their bodies is a different story.
I keep that bit to myself, savoring the mixture of mint and nicotine on my tongue.
“Well,” she says, popping her freshly scrubbed face out of the now half-open door with a mischievous grin. “Maybe you weren’t raised by wolves after all.”
Wolves, no.
Badass outlaws and rulebreakers, yes.
Cindy included.
It’s true. Cindy’s fierce. Ruthless when she wants to be. And her rage has no limits. She still demands respect now, even though she’s the old lady of a dead President. Sometimes I have to remind her of that, to put her in her place.
The creek of the door draws my attention. Sabrina looks completely different without makeup. Younger. Happier. Still sexy as hell. I must have something to do with those vibes she’s putting out there for me to pick up.
“You good?”
I take a deep breath, which is the wrong thing to do because I catch a whiff of our scents mixed together on my clothes. Woodsy floral and musk. A clear image of her naked figure in my bed. Or her ass bent over the side as I pound into her from behind, both of my hands grasping her perky, perfect breasts. The giggle she’ll make when I slap her ass.
Sabrina. Hot. Wet. Calling my name.
She probably shouldn’t have opened the door. My first instinct is to push her back into the bedroom and tie her down on the bed. I take two huge steps forward and we’re inches apart before it registers that I’m the one approaching her. She looks up at me with a questioning look on her face, eyes wide, and her lovely lips slightly part until she takes a step back again.
“What is…this…” she stutters.
I don’t have a chance to answer her, or do anything else for that matter.
A loud rumble bursts through the clubhouse, making the whole foundation quake and undulate beneath our feet.
What the fuck?
An explosion?
We’re both jolted forward. Following my instincts, I drag her down to the carpet, covering her small body with mine as a shield. Sharp staccato bursts of shattering glass coming from somewhere on the compound make my ears ring. Shrill screams come from downstairs.
“Oh God…” she cries out beneath me. “This can’t be happening already.”
Chapter 10
Silas
“We’re okay. You’re good. We’re golden,” I keep repeating.
But that’s pure bullshit. Sabrina’s still trembling beneath me. Her small hands dig into my shirt, fingers clawing at my chest for some sense of security. I readjust to the dizziness that won’t quit long after the shaking stops, bunching my shoulders into a knot. The temptation to leave the room and check things out is at an all-time high, but something keeps me from moving. I’m not stalling because I don’t want to loosen my tight hold around Sabrina’s waist without making sure she’s fine.
That’s not it at all.
I know better.
Then another explosion rattles the far end of the clubhouse.
It’s not fucking over.
“Shhh.” I’m distracted as I try to soothe her tiny, fearful shrieks while my eyes roam around her body looking for any sign of injury. “It’s going to be fine, Sabrina.”
Yeah right.
What’s fucked up is I don’t know whether she’s more freaked out because of the attack, or from the calm that she sees behind my eyes. Everyone around the club says my eyes turn cold when shit goes down.
“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere? I don’t see anything…”
She’s still gripping at my shirt as I roll off of her and pull her up to sit. “I’m good,” she answers. “What just happened?”
“The place was hit. Look, I’ve gotta go check.” Helping her to stand, I guide her over to the bed. “Stay put. Don’t leave this room. Understand?”
“But, you can’t do that… don’t just leave me here, come on, please don’t—”
In spite of the pleading in her voice and her state of shock, I rush away and lock the door from the outside.
“You bastard!” she screams through the door, realizing right away that I locked her in there. I hear Sabrina cussing me out all the way down the hall.
Whatever. She’s safest up here. That’s all that matters as I head downstairs. Some fucker got two steps ahead of the game by trying to blow up the clubhouse and actually pulling it off. I vault down into the clubhouse common room. There’ll be hell to pay if any of my members are hurt. Then I stop in my tracks at the bottom step. It’s chaos. It’s close to impossible to piece together the jigsaw of images. There’s smoke everywhere, and panicked cries at varying levels of high-pitched screaming from most every woman in the place. One wall is blown out, leaving only a sparking half of the new big screen TV once mounted on it. That’s toast. Some of the men stand up and dust the debris off of themselves and others.
“Boys!” I struggle to make out the faces of my men through the smoky, sulphur-like haze that has us all choking for clean air.
“Tate’s outside,” a male voice calls out.
A few moments later, I notice that the building’s sprinkler system hasn’t gone off. That’s not good. The thing’s brand new.
“Get everyone out now and find a way to reset the sprinklers!” I bark the order. “If it’s not up in four minutes, call the fucking fire department. And someone tell Axe to get Sabrina out of her room if it’s not under control by then too.”
Now, I need answers. I cover my mouth and nose with the neck of my t-shirt and run in what I think is the direction of the clubhouse front doors. Seconds feel like minutes, but I burst outside into the night just as Tate’s pulling away
on his bike with a grim look on his mug. Yeah, shit’s about to go down for this. Whoever started this attack is in for a rough wake-up call, and if they’re still nearby, we’ll fucking end them.
A sudden chill makes me shiver. As much as I want to haul ass after Tate, I don’t have any idea where my brother’s going, and I’m needed here. If Tate finds anyone, I trust him enough to take care of business and report back. Still, my spine tightens as the first wail of a siren breaks through the quiet from miles away. I should be on my ride, going after whoever did this, not stuck here with my feet planted in the desert dirt.
More of the members start to stumble outside. It’s hard to tell who’s who with all the soot on people’s faces, and it’s that much harder to figure out if anyone saw anything. This parkng lot will be a fucking circus by the time all the emergency responders arrive. Most of them know not to put their nose where it doesn’t belong, though. Some actually feed us information whenever they come across solid intel. But right this second, I don’t know who to trust, and will only rely on my inner circle to get to the bottom of this attack.
Turning back to the clubhouse, I start to wonder if my mother was still here when the bombs went off. If she were, she’s the first person the members would look for and pull to safety. She has to be fine. I survey the damage to the outside of the building. One exterior wall is singed and smoky, and another has a giant hole in it about the size of three men standing side by side. The northwest section of the place is still smoldering. The area where Sabrina’s locked away is untouched, but that doesn’t stop me from wondering how she is. By now, Axe must have taken her out of the room and should have her somewhere at the back of the property, away from too many eyes.
More members spew out of the clubhouse like ants do during a colony-drenching downpour, some of them in shock, or coughing up the smoke still trapped in their lungs. Thank fuck that Tate had the presence of mind to nominate some new prospect as Acting Emergency Warden a few months ago. The new guy’s taking his position seriously. He’s wearing a bright orange and yellow safety vest, directing people to exit calmly and steer clear of the building debris by gathering a hundred feet away. I make a mental note to find out the kid’s name and commend him on a job well done when this is all over.
Outlaw (Satan's Saints MC) Page 5