by Lane Hart
“Smiling Skull,” she reads, looking up at the sign above the door.
“You ever been here before?”
Six shakes her head. “I don’t get out of town much.”
“I got that impression.”
“Is this a biker bar?” she asks, glancing toward a row of bikes at the far end of the lot.
“Something like that.” I raise my chin toward the entrance. Actually, the Skull is owned by my MC, the Lords of Carnage. As we go inside, I lift my chin and wave at Jewel, the manager and head bartender.
“Hey, there, heartbreaker,” she calls easily. Her eyes slip to Six with curiosity.
“Hey, Jewel,” I wave back. “We’re takin’ a table toward the back. Send a couple of beers our way, would ya?”
“Will do.”
“You a regular here?” Six asks me, eyeing Jewel with something that might be jealousy.
“You could say that,” I chuckle. “Come on. Let’s grab a seat. Beers should be over in a second.”
“So,” I say a few minutes later. We’re sitting at a high-top table near a bay of windows, a couple of glasses between us. It’s a little quieter in here than usual, which is good. Sometimes this place gets a little out of hand for a first-timer. The point of taking Six out was to relax her, not make her more nervous. “Tell me about yourself. You ever gonna tell me why they call you Six?”
“They don’t call me Six,” she half-smirks, tilting her head at me. “I call me Six.”
“Okay. You call you Six,” I correct myself, humoring her. “What’s your real name, Mystery Girl?”
She waits a beat. For a second, I think she’s gonna tell me.
“If I wanted people to know that, I wouldn’t call myself Six,” she finally says.
“Noted,” I snort.
Shit. This girl isn’t gonna make anything easy, is she?
I try again. “So, where you from?”
“Um…” Six glances down at her beer. “Nowhere, really. I was born in Western Pennsylvania.” She shrugs. “But I don’t have any connections there anymore.”
I frown. Seems like that’s the wrong question, too. All of a sudden Six’s face has slammed shut tighter than a safe. I start to get kind of pissed, but when she looks back up at me, there’s something in her eyes that tells me she’s not just doin’ this to fuck with me.
It’s pretty clear she’s being vague for a reason. And I don’t think it’s because she’s just being a tease. I get the feeling that wherever she came from, she wanted to cut all ties when she left. That’s something I can understand.
But damn if that ain’t gonna make this little getting-to-know-you date a fair amount more challenging.
Taking a swig of my beer, I glance around the room. My eyes drift over toward the pool tables, and I notice there’s a free one. It gives me an idea.
“You play pool?” I ask, taking a stab in the dark.
“M-hmm,” Six says, taking a sip from her glass. “A little.”
“Come on,” I say, standing up. “Let’s go see what you got.”
At least this way, we’ll have something to focus on while we talk. Maybe I can get her to open up a little more.
And in the meantime, I can stare at her ass.
Chapter Four
Bullet
Ten minutes later, we’re in the middle of a round of eight ball. I suggested the game, since I want the girl to focus on loosening up, not on concentrating on some rules she doesn’t know.
My idea seems to work. With the distraction of the game, Six starts to get a little more chatty. She tells me how much she likes working at Rebel Ink, and that Hannah, her first friend in Tanner Springs, was the one who got Chance to give her a job. Six does respectably well; she doesn’t sink the eight ball by mistake, and ends up losing to me with just two more of her stripes to sink. She has a pretty good eye for where to put the shot, and I do my best not to give her advice. I know from experience chicks don’t always like that shit.
When the game is over, I notice she’s done with her beer. I go to the bar and signal to Jewel I need two more. When I come back, I’m about to ask Six if she wants to play another round when she crosses her arms and tilts her head at me.
“What?” I ask, frowning.
Six waits a beat, like she’s trying to decide something. “Wanna play one-pocket?” she finally asks.
The tiniest hint of a smirk twitches on her lips.
And something inside me just about comes undone.
‘Cause I know a come-on when I hear it. Even from this little girl who tries to play it so cool. Even if she doesn’t quite know it herself. Or she does, but she’s tryin’ to pretend otherwise.
“One-pocket, eh?” I ask, handing her a beer and trying to ignore the fact that my cock just got as hard as my pool cue. “You sure are full of surprises, Mystery Girl.”
She cocks a brow at me. “Are you really gonna keep calling me that?”
“What, you don’t like the nickname?”
Six snorts. “Aren’t nicknames supposed to be shorter than a person’s actual name?” she complains.
“Well, I don’t actually know your name,” I reason. “Maybe it is.”
Six purses her lips. “Point taken.”
“So, one-pocket. You certain you’re up for that”
“Sure,” she shrugs. One corner of her mouth tilts up a little more as she accepts the beer and takes a drink. “I’m feeling pretty warmed up.”
“You want to make a wager out of this?” I raise an eyebrow. “Make it a little more interesting?”
“Okay,” she smirks. “How about… winner gets to make one request of the loser? No questions asked.”
“One request?” The chuckle that comes from my throat sounds wolf-like, even to me. “Anything?”
“Well…” she hesitates, then shrugs. “Anything legal.”
What in the hell? Is it the beer talking? But Six doesn’t seem like she’s tipsy. Far from it. Her eyes look clear and sober — and a little saucy. Like she’s teasing me. Challenging me to take the bait.
This girl has a reckless streak I didn’t see coming.
If she thinks I’m gonna waste this win on asking her what her real name is, she’s nuts.
“You sure you don’t want to wager something else?” I ask her, giving her one final chance to back out in spite of myself. “You’re playin’ with fire, little girl.”
“You haven’t beat me yet,” she points out.
“Okay, then,” I nod with an incredulous laugh. “Game on.”
I should have known this girl wasn’t gonna bet something so risky unless she was sure she had the upper hand. Turns out, Six is some kind of goddamn aspiring pool shark, and she was fuckin’ with me the first game. I’m usually good at sussing out that shit, but damned if she didn’t just play me.
We each take one of the corner pockets on the table, hers diagonally opposite from mine. I let her break, thinking I’ll give her a head start. She proceeds to run the first four of her balls, and just barely misses the fifth, turning the table over to me.
In the process, she’s done a reasonably good job of positioning two of her other four balls near her pocket. That keeps me from taking any low percentage shots. I’m not fuckin’ slouch at pool, either, though, so I sink the first of my balls easily. The second one is a little trickier, since I have to do a bank shot that might backfire on me. As I lean down and eyeball it, Six wanders into my field of vision and makes a show of chalking her cue, wiggling her ass right behind the ball and causing my cock to jump to attention.
“You’re doin’ that on purpose,” I growl, noticing that my voice has turned hoarse.
Six glances over her shoulder and flashes me a smile. “Is it working?”
“Goddamn, girl,” I mutter under my breath. “You better hope like hell I don’t win.”
I had been planning to only ask for a kiss as my prize, to let her off the hook. But her sass is startin’ to give me ideas for revenge.
&nb
sp; In the end, though, she edges past me and sinks her last ball while I still have two on the table. It’s only when the ball plunks into the pocket that she drops the mask of cool detachment she’s been wearing since the first shot. She does a little hop into the air and pumps her fist, with a dance that ends in another shake of her ass. It’s ridiculous, and cute as hell, and strangely sexy. I’m tempted to burst out laughing, but also to bend her over the pool table, other people be damned.
I don’t do any of those things, because I’m also pissed that I just lost. It’s been a long damn time since anyone’s beat me at pool, and I sure as hell have never been smoked by a woman before. I’m doin’ my best to take it in stride, but I’m kind of failing. Especially because I’ve just lost a bet I was fucking sure I’d win not even fifteen minutes ago.
“Two outta three?” I growl.
Six laughs and shakes her head.
“Okay, then,” I shrug. “I ain’t gonna argue. You won fair and square.”
“Damn straight I did,” she says, smugly.
“All right, all right,” I mutter. “Don’t rub it in. Come on. I’ll buy you a shot and you can tell me what your request is. You did say anything legal, right?”
I’m disappointed as hell as we belly up to the bar and Jewel pours us each a shot — JD for me, tequila for her.
“So. You won fair and square,” I say, raising my glass as Jewel moves away.” Why don’t you tell me what you won?”
My disappointment flies right out the window when she tosses hers back like a pro. She leans in to whisper in my ear, the faint aroma of tequila tickling my nostrils.
“I’m gonna let you take me back to my place, cowboy,” she murmurs. “That’s what I win. Long as you agree to stop asking me what my name means.”
“That’s two requests.” I manage to choke the words out while my dick is yellin’, Hell, yeah!
“Don’t get smart,” she says breathily. “Now, let’s get out of here. Before I change my mind.”
Chapter Five
Six
I hear myself laughing as I climb onto the back of Bullet’s bike and put my feet on the pegs. I listen as I tell him my address, and hope that I’m the only one who hears the slight tremble in my voice.
I want this. There’s no question about that. Being around him, staring at his damn sexy, teasing eyes as they look me up and down, watching his muscles flex under his shirt as he aimed for a shot across the table… I should have known I didn’t have a chance. It was even harder to keep my cool than it was when I was leaning over the taut muscles of his abdomen while I gave him his Bullet tattoo.
There’s no way around it: this man oozes sex. And without the protection of the front counter at Rebel Ink, or the supervision of my boss Chance’s watchful eye, I’m a goner almost before I even realize it.
All it took was a little alcohol to loosen me up. That, and the tantalizing sense of power I had from knowing that I was in control of that pool game. And that he was watching my body as I moved around the table. I knew he liked what he saw. The flood of pleasure overwhelmed my senses to know he was seeing me in control. Sure of myself. Sexy. It was intoxicating.
It made me want to be what he saw: Free. Happy. The kind of girl who isn’t always looking over her shoulder.
All of the things I used to feel about myself, too.
But at the same time, I’d be lying to myself if I pretended I’m not afraid of what’s about to happen next. No matter how I try to give Bullet the impression that I’m cool, calm, and in control of myself, the reality is that it’s been an eternity since I’ve been with a man. It’s been so long I can hardly stand to let myself think about it. As much as I want him — as much as I want this — I’m nervous as hell right now, in a way I haven’t been since my very first time. My brain is crying out that it’s a mistake, even as my body is telling it to shut the hell up and let it have a little fun for once.
But damned if I’ll let Bullet see this war that’s raging inside of me.
As we fly down the highway back toward Tanner Springs, I can’t help but admire once again the sure, deft way he handles the powerful motorcycle under us. It doesn’t seem possible, but the way he maneuvers the bike, so strong and capable, turns me on even more than I already am. Between my legs, I can tell my panties are already soaked through. I push down my embarrassment and try to hold on to my “cool, collected” persona, even as I can feel I’m starting to come a bit unraveled.
Not a moment too soon, Bullet turns onto my street. I point past him to the nondescript apartment building I call home. He pulls up in front of it and he backs the bike up against the curb, then waits for me to hop off. I do so a little awkwardly, holding onto his hard, muscled shoulder for support. A second later, the bike’s engine dies and he’s standing in front of me.
“You ain’t changed your mind?”
The smoldering look in Bullet’s eyes makes it clear he knows damn well I haven’t. I don’t even respond. I just toss my blond hair back over one shoulder, fire back the same smirk and head up the front walk.
I know he’s watching as he follows behind me, so I put a little extra swivel in my hips, enjoying the dance of seduction. It calms me a little. Makes me feel more like I’m the one in the driver’s seat for now. Even though I can tell just by looking at Bullet that once we’re in bed, he’ll be the one in charge.
If he fucks the way he rides a motorcycle, I can hardly wait to see how he handles me.
“You just move here?” Bullet frowns as he looks around my barely lived-in living room.
I sweep it with my gaze, trying to see it as he would. There aren’t any pictures on the wall. Objects on any surfaces are strictly utilitarian. The flowered sofa and mismatched chair are Dumpster-diving treasures. The soft, plush area rug in the center of the room is the only touch of luxury in my otherwise spartan decor.
“No,” I admit, suddenly self-conscious. “I’ve been here a while. I just… don’t care a lot about knick-knacks and artwork and stuff.”
The more stuff I have to pack, the harder it is to leave quickly if I have to.
I shrug off the oversized leather jacket I’m wearing. It was a parting “gift” from my ex-boyfriend that I shamelessly took when I skipped town. I should really get rid of it, but in a way, I feel like it reminds me to always stay alert and on my toes. So I keep it, and wear it, almost like a strange sort of shield.
Bullet takes a step toward me. “A woman after my own heart,” he rumbles, seemingly satisfied with my response. I know his words are meant jokingly, but in spite of myself I tense up. Bullet doesn’t seem to notice, though, as he pulls up on the hem of my shirt and lifts it off me.
“Nice ink,” he murmurs appreciatively. His fingers start to trace the serpentine lines of the artwork that covers most of my right chest and arm. They’re patterns I designed, mostly abstract but still full of meaning for me. He reaches around and undoes my bra, and I let him, shivering slightly as the cool air hits my breasts.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that, Mystery Girl?” His right hand comes up to cup one breast, to tease the already hardening nipple with his thumb. When I gasp his eyes meet mine. “Good?” he asks.
I nod, swallowing around the nervous lump in my throat. “Very.”
He leans down to graze my lips with his. “Shame we waited so long to do this,” he says, taking me into his arms. “We got some lost time to make up for.”
My skin is alive, clamoring for more of his touch, but a far-off alarm bell is sounding in my head. “Wait!” I half-yelp, putting a hand on his rock-hard chest. “You, um, know this is just a one-time thing, right?”
“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Six. I ain’t gonna cry if you don’t call me afterwards.” His laughter reassures me, and I feel myself relax as he backs me up against the wall. “But remember what I said about your name.”
Bullet’s hands slide around my ass as he pulls me to him. He’s already hard as steel, and I stifle a moan, my eye
s fluttering half closed. “What’s that?” I gasp.
His lips brush against my neck before moving to my mouth. “It’s the number of times I’m gonna make you come. So we better get to work.”
The first time I come is right up against that wall. His hand slips under my skirt, between my legs, and finds my soaking core. The low rumble of his chuckle resonates through me as his lips continue to tease and devour mine. “Fuck, Six,” he growls. “Jesus, that’s sexy. You’re wet as hell, you know that?”
I start to stiffen up at his words, but then dimly through the haze of my own desire I remember he said the word sexy and make myself relax again. “I… It’s been awhile,” I admit in a strangled half whisper.
“Then let’s make it count.” His finger moves aside the fabric of my panties, expertly locating my clit. As his tongue finds mine, he begins to stroke, in slow lazy circles that make me dizzy. The rhythm of our tongues follows suit, establishing a connection that starts my whole body vibrating. Something about the way he’s touching me paralyzes me, and all I can do is clutch onto his shoulders as he holds me against the wall and continues his assault. I’m helpless to do anything, my mind filled with explosions of pleasure. I hear myself whimpering softly, my hips rising and straining toward his hand. Before I realize how close I am, I’m already coming, shuddering against his chest as I ride the wave.
Then I’m in his arms, and he’s carrying me through the hall. I fight through the haze of my orgasm and try to find the words to direct him to my bedroom, but he’s already there, moving aside the tangle of sheets and bedcovers to set me down on the mattress. Then my panties are off and the skirt is at my waist, and he’s lying down on the bed below me, his head between my legs.
His tongue finds my sensitive nub, already swollen from coming, and swipes gently at it. I cry out, the sensation riding the edge between pleasure and pain. Bullet backs off a bit, but grabs my hips, pulling me to him. He starts to lap at me again, softer this time, careful to build the pleasure again by teasing just enough to make me want more, then more still. Somehow, he seems to know my body already — just how much to push me before backing off, just how to help me climb the mountain of my need, until I’m whimpering and straining toward him, desperate to fly over the edge once again.