by Joanna Wylde
Thank God.
We needed this. We needed it in a big way.
Later that night, Hunter finally got in touch. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was until his text popped up. Kit’s words had been eating at me, making me doubt him.
HUNTER: How are you doing? Can’t call, no privacy
ME: Good. Still at home. Kit got in touch early this morning. She’s fine. Dad wants me back in CDA, of course. Kit is trying to get leave from school
HUNTER: You planning to go?
ME: Do I have a good reason to stay? We decided to stay away from each other but then last night happened … I don’t know what’s going on between us.
I waited for his response, holding my breath. We hadn’t discussed the future or anything between us. It’d never been a secret that he wanted to have sex with me, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that meant anything serious.
I had hope, though. Before everything fell to shit and he’d kidnapped me, we’d talked every day. We shared jokes and laughed and I’d felt like I could tell him anything. So we hadn’t spent much time together in person, but that didn’t mean we hadn’t spent time together … That had to count for something, right?
Hunter still hadn’t answered. Shit. Had I pissed off everyone I knew over a one-night stand? For one horrible minute I thought I might throw up.
The phone buzzed again.
HUNTER: Sorry. Lot of shit all around me. I hope to hell you have a reason to stay in Portland … I just told my whole club about you, that I plan to make you my old lady. Skid can go fuck himself, along with his bullshit reasons for us to stay apart. Hoping I didn’t do it for nothing?
I sighed, feeling the tension drain out of me. Okay, I hadn’t imagined whatever it was between us. Then what he’d said hit me—he’d told his club he wanted me for his old lady.
Holy hell … that was practically a proposal!
ME: You almost gave me a heart attack. For a minute I thought maybe that was just a one night stand. Old lady? That’s a big step … but I like the sound of it …
HUNTER: Def not a one night stand. We need some time together, time to talk. This is insane.
ME: No shit … Ha. My old man. wow
HUNTER: Damn straight. Where did you think this was going? No offense, Em, but us being together is way too dangerous and crazy to risk for just sex. Fuck that. I want to do this right. Are you with me?
I took a minute, wondering if I’d lost my mind. Probably. Definitely. I didn’t care.
ME: I’m with you. My dad might kill you
HUNTER: He can try. We’ll figure it out.
ME: You sure your club is good with this? It seems so unreal
HUNTER: They’re not thrilled but they’ll get over it. FYI—I won’t be home for a couple days. I need to go now, but I’ll try to call when I can. Don’t freak out if you don’t hear from me tho. Fucked up shit all the time right now
ME: Don’t worry about me. You stay safe.
HUNTER: You too. A lots up in the air, but I’m with you Em. Don’t doubt that, okay? No matter what happens or what you hear … Promise?
ME: I promise. xoxo
I set down the phone, feeling a little giddy. Hunter’s old lady. Wow. I knew my friends Marie and Sophie had struggled with the term, not quite understanding how important it was. But I’d grown up in the MC—I knew exactly what Hunter was asking me. Calling me his old lady meant more than offering me a ring, it meant he’d taken responsibility for me and all my actions to his own club.
The daughter of a Reapers MC president, despite the fact that his brothers and my father had been enemies since before I was born.
Hunter had handed me his life.
Literally.
Monday afternoon Cookie and I sat at the kitchen table playing rummy. Hunter hadn’t been in touch again and I’d gotten over my initial giddy excitement. Now I was just bored.
“I’m tired of coloring,” Silvie declared. “I wanna go to the park.”
“Me, too,” Cookie murmured. “But we need to stay inside today, baby. Why don’t you go to your room and pick out a book? I’ll come back and read it to you in a little bit. I want to talk to Em for a minute.”
“Okay.”
Silvie hopped down and ran out of the room. Cookie leaned toward me across the table.
“I’m losing my mind,” she confessed in a low voice.
“At least the shop is open again,” I replied, trying to sound cheerful. It wasn’t a particularly successful attempt. I was losing my mind, too.
“For now,” she muttered. “But they can’t handle taking stock or ordering, even if the counter’s covered. I’m thinking about telling Deke to leave. They may have water damage at the clubhouse, but that’s their problem, not mine. I think it’s time for this operation to move out.”
I opened my eyes wide.
“Seriously?”
“Yes,” Cookie said, glancing toward the living room. “I’m a prisoner in my own home. You know what makes it worse, though? This isn’t my fi ght. I’m not even part of the club anymore. Bagger is dead and I’ve been on my own for nearly a year. Deke has no fucking right to show up here and treat me like club property. I may have been Bagger’s property, but that’s over. Not like he’s coming back.”
“I don’t know what to say … I didn’t know you felt that way about the club.”
She sighed, and shook her head, tossing her cards down.
“I don’t,” she said, running a hand through her curls. “Or maybe I do. I don’t know. I’m just tired of being stuck in my house when I have a business that needs running. I’m not getting laid and I’m not getting any younger. You know, it’s only been eleven months since Bagger died, but he was deployed for ten months before that. I’ve been alone forever, Em. Or at least it feels that way … I’m tired of being a good old lady, staying strong in memory of a man who cared more about his fucking war than his family.”
I stared at her, eyes wide. I had no idea what to say. None. I heard a throat clearing and looked up to fi nd Deke standing in the doorway.
“Um, hi, Deke?” I asked.
“Fuck it,” Cookie said, turning her head to glare at him. She stood and walked out, pushing past the big biker without another word.
Awkward.
Deke walked slowly to the table, then leaned across it on his hands, his face about a foot from mine.
“What the hell was that about?” he asked, his voice like ice. God, did he have any settings that weren’t scary?
“I have no idea,” I whispered, eyes wide. “Seriously. We were just sitting here playing cards and she started talking. I’ve never heard her say anything like that before. I had no idea …”
My voice trailed off. Deke nodded, then sat down across from me. He folded his arms across his chest and studied me like a bug. I hoped very sincerely I wouldn’t pee my pants, because that’s how terrifying he was. No joke.
“We need to talk.”
“Okay?”
“Your dad wants you home,” he said. “You should’ve gone with Kit yesterday.”
“I’m not going home. Coeur d’Alene isn’t a good place for me anymore.”
“Listen up, little girl,” Deke told me, his voice cold and matter of fact. “Hunter is using you. I know you don’t like that idea. It probably hurts your feelings or some such shit. But these are the facts. This club—your club—is under attack. We don’t know for sure that the Jacks are behind it, but we do know one thing—when they needed a weak link last time, they went after you. You already fell for Hunter’s shit once. He’s a proven liar who’s not afraid to use a woman to get what he wants. Don’t you think it’s a pretty big coincidence that he just happened to be with you the night everything went down? The Jacks could be trying to pit us against the cartel for their own reasons. For all you know, he’s using you to convince us they’re victims, too. Take us off guard for another sneak attack.”
“What about their president?” I demanded. “Two men are dea
d, Deke.”
“So they say,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. “But all the cops are saying is that two men were shot. We know their club is tearing apart at the seams. Their VP—Burke—has stepped up, but there’s no guarantee he can hold them together. At least that’s how I read it. For all we know, the Jacks took them out for their own reasons. Power struggle.”
I shook my head.
“You didn’t see his face,” I said. “It was real, Deke. He had no idea.”
“Says the girl who talked to a Devil’s Jack online for almost three months without a fuckin’ clue she was being set up. Use your brain, Em. Don’t make a fool of yourself again. Just go home and forget you ever met him.”
I stood carefully, blinking back tears, and walked out of the kitchen with as much dignity as I could manage. I agreed with Cookie—Deke needed to go away.
I didn’t like him one little bit.
TUESDAY
ME: I’m sick of being stuck in this house. They won’t let us do anything. Not even Kit is this trapped in Coeur d’Alene!!!
HUNTER: They didn’t shoot up the clubhouse in CDA and it’s farther north. Not the same thing. But I hear you—I’ll be back to town tomorrow. See you then?
ME: Definitely
HUNTER: Think I can call tonight. I never have any privacy, but I fucking miss you. Want to hear your voice. Keep thinking of that sexy mouth of yours and what it will look like wrapped around my dick.
ME: Um …
HUNTER: Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you first, babe … And after. I can’t wait to strip off all your clothes and get you naked in my bed. Might not let you out for a month.
ME: Well, when you put it like that … Ok :)
My phone rang at ten p.m. I’d almost given up on him calling, so when he did, I was so excited I nearly fell off my bed.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. “How are you?”
“Exhausted,” he said. “I’ve been down to California and back a couple times now. I hate to admit it, but I think it might be time to park the bike and break out the cage. I hate winter in Oregon.”
I laughed.
“It’s not even winter yet, and at least it’s warmer here than Coeur d’Alene,” I said. “They had the first snow last night, according to Kit. She wants to know if I’m coming home for Thanksgiving.”
“What did you say?”
“I haven’t made any plans yet,” I said carefully. There were so many things we hadn’t had time to talk about. It wasn’t like either of us had our own place. Did he want to spend the holiday together? I kept looking back over our texts to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing. “Figured I’d see how things play out. I can’t wait to be with you again.”
“The feeling is mutual, trust me,” he muttered. “Christ, I’ve been thinking about talking to you all day, and now that I’ve finally got some privacy to do it, I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Sorry, babe.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Why don’t I talk and you can listen?”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” I said hesitantly. “About what I plan to do to you when we finally get together again. I want it to be special, so I decided to do a little research.”
“Oh really?” he asked, and while he still sounded tired, I caught a hint of something else, too. “You do this ‘research’ on another guy?”
I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, because there are so many available men in this house. Reapers don’t count, especially annoying ones. No, I decided to download a book, get some ideas.”
“Sounds interesting,” he murmured. “What kind of ideas?”
“Well, you know I don’t have tons of experience,” I said. “So I figured if I wanted to do this right—sex, I mean—it might be a good idea to read a manual. I bought the Guide to Getting It On. Interesting stuff. For exam-ple, did you know that most men are far more sensitive on the top half of their penises than the bottom half?”
“I haven’t researched the wider population, but I’m not surprised,” he said, sounding amused.
“Well, that’s why it’s so important that when I do finally get you alone, I make sure I spend a lot of time exploring the head first. I think it’s the … hmm, let me check my notes. The frenulum? You know, the little—”
He started laughing.
“Babe, two things. Don’t use the word ‘little’ when you talk about my dick, okay? And two, don’t use the word ‘frenulum.’ Ever. Not that any-thing said in that voice of yours isn’t sexy, but it’s sort of blocking the visual I’m trying to paint in my head.”
I frowned. Last time we’d had phone sex he took the lead. This was harder than I’d thought.
My phone rang at ten p.m. I’d almost given up on him calling, so when he did, I was so excited I nearly fell off my bed.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. “How are you?”
“Exhausted,” he said. “I’ve been down to California and back a couple times now. I hate to admit it, but I think it might be time to park the bike and break out the cage. I hate winter in Oregon.”
I laughed.
“It’s not even winter yet, and at least it’s warmer here than Coeur d’Alene,” I said. “They had the first snow last night, according to Kit. She wants to know if I’m coming home for Thanksgiving.”
“What did you say?”
“I haven’t made any plans yet,” I said carefully. There were so many things we hadn’t had time to talk about. It wasn’t like either of us had our own place. Did he want to spend the holiday together? I kept looking back over our texts to make sure I hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing. “Figured I’d see how things play out. I can’t wait to be with you again.”
“The feeling is mutual, trust me,” he muttered. “Christ, I’ve been thinking about talking to you all day, and now that I’ve finally got some privacy to do it, I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Sorry, babe.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Why don’t I talk and you can listen?”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” I said hesitantly. “About what I plan to do to you when we finally get together again. I want it to be special, so I decided to do a little research.”
“Oh really?” he asked, and while he still sounded tired, I caught a hint of something else, too. “You do this ‘research’ on another guy?”
I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, because there are so many available men in this house. Reapers don’t count, especially annoying ones. No, I decided to download a book, get some ideas.”
“Sounds interesting,” he murmured. “What kind of ideas?”
“Well, you know I don’t have tons of experience,” I said. “So I figured if I wanted to do this right—sex, I mean—it might be a good idea to read a manual. I bought the Guide to Getting It On. Interesting stuff. For example, did you know that most men are far more sensitive on the top half of their penises than the bottom half?”
“I haven’t researched the wider population, but I’m not surprised,” he said, sounding amused.
“Well, that’s why it’s so important that when I do finally get you alone, I make sure I spend a lot of time exploring the head first. I think it’s the … hmm, let me check my notes. The frenulum? You know, the little—”
He started laughing.
“Babe, two things. Don’t use the word ‘little’ when you talk about my dick, okay? And two, don’t use the word ‘frenulum.’ Ever. Not that anything said in that voice of yours isn’t sexy, but it’s sort of blocking the visual I’m trying to paint in my head.”
I frowned. Last time we’d had phone sex he took the lead. This was harder than I’d thought.
“Okay, well, it says I should take my time and explore that little notch on the bottom side. For example, I thought I might start by running my tongue all the way around, make sure I have a feel for the layout before d
oing anything else.”
“That’ll work,” he said, his voice lowering.
“I have a theory,” I said. “According to my book, some men prefer it when a woman sort of points her tongue and just uses the tip. Others like it when you really spread the tongue out, and rub the cock’s underside as you pull the head into your mouth.”
He cleared his throat roughly.
“Yeah, that’d be okay.”
I thought I heard the sound of his pants unzipping. I hoped to hell I was right, because otherwise I might feel sheepish about the way my hand was sliding down into my sleep shorts.
“So here’s my theory,” I continued. “The book says the best way to find out is to just ask, and I can appreciate the efficiency in that. But I also think it would be really fun to experiment and decide for myself. You know, like a randomized series of tests so I can gather lots of data?”
“You’re going to kill me,” he grunted. “Less data, babe. More licking.”
“Just a sec. I’m gonna grab my vibrator before I keep going.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah, that’s the general idea.”
I rolled over and dug out my trusty magic bullet, turning it on low. Not too much … not at first.
“So I’m a little worried about how big you are,” I said. “The book tells me I might want to consider licking you all over, until you’re good and wet. Then I’ll wrap my hand around the bottom so you can’t accidentally go too deep. Think that might work?”
“Can’t hurt to give it a shot,” he muttered. “Fuck. I love your voice, babe. You using that vibrator yet?”
“Uh-huh …” I whispered. “I’m just laying it against my clit right now, letting it sort of warm me up. I’m imagining what it’ll feel like the first time I taste you. I’m a little nervous, so before I take you in my mouth, I’m going to explore that little slit at the top, okay? You know, try out some of your precome? I figure a little taste is just what I need to get a sense of how it’ll be. Not sure if I want to swallow or not.”
“Babe, I don’t give a shit if you swallow,” he said, his voice strained. “Just don’t stop talking.”