by KB Winters
He winced and then laughed. “Okay.” I licked my lips and gave him a dark look.
He tossed a crooked smile at me. “But you already taste so sweet.”
I batted my eyelashes and pulled the camper door shut behind me. “Everything was fine. I took every precaution and I made sure I wasn’t followed.”
“Good. You ready to tell me what you’re up to next?”
“Not yet.”
“Then when?” He stood when I did and pushed into my space. “I’m here to help you. I might try to talk you out of something crazy stupid but if you’re set on it, you know I got your back.” One hand cupped my face and God help me, but I leaned into it. Let the warmth of his palm sink into my body. It felt good. Really fucking good and I didn’t want to talk about the fight for my life that was on the horizon. Right now I just wanted one thing.
“Damn. Jag. I need you.”
His grin was dark and sexy, and filled with promise. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.” I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and crashed our mouths together, fusing them in a kiss so hot and fiery that there was no way we’d ever part. Instead of scaring me, the thought thrilled me. Inspired me. “Now, Jeremiah. I need you now.”
This kiss was different than the others; there was no teasing and no joking smiles. It was just me and him. Jag and Vivi. Jeremiah and Genevieve. Raw need and wild hunger. It was the realest kiss I’d ever shared with a man and I didn’t want it to end.
“Not yet,” he said, throwing my words back in my face.
I laughed and slid my hands under his shirt, scraped my nails up his rock-hard abs and his tight pecs. He really was a beautiful man and he was wearing too many damn clothes. “Now,” I told him and pushed the shirt over his head, hungry as hell to get close to him. Closer. So fucking close I didn’t know where I ended and he began.
Jag growled and tore the t-shirt from my body, chest heaving as he stared hungrily at my tits.
“Fuck, you’re so beautiful. And braless.”
His big calloused hands cupped my ass and lifted me onto the dinette table.
“And wearing too many fucking clothes,” he growled and in seconds had remedied the problem. “Better.” He dipped low, sucking slow at first and then harder until I pushed into him and my nipple disappeared into his mouth. I couldn’t look away, not from the sight of his thick plump lips doing wicked things to my body.
“Jag,” I moaned, making all sorts of noises as he moved back and forth, pleasing and torturing me. “No more. I can’t wait.” My hands fumbled with his belt and jeans until he shoved them aside and did what I could not. “Thank fuck.”
He chuckled, staring at me while he fisted his cock, stroking in long hard strokes. “You ready?”
I spread my legs wider until I nearly straddled the table. “See for yourself.” Jag wasn’t playing around today. He didn’t dive right in, instead he took two fingers and rubbed them up and down my pussy, making sure I was completely coated in my own juices before he dropped down to his knees.
“Stay just like that,” he growled. The order was issued in a deep, commanding voice that forced obedience. And fucking hell, was that obedience returned ten-fold. His mouth worked me over. Kissing my pussy like a teenager in the back seat for the first time, the kiss was endless. My body shook and trembled beneath the swirl of his tongue, the way his hands branded my thighs as he held them apart.
His tongue touched my clit and that was it. My hips bucked off the table so eager to get close to the source of all that heat and all that pleasure.
“Jag.”
His name was the only word my brain could find, and it seemed to fire him up, which was just hot to watch.
He stood and stroked my pussy with his thumb. “Vivi,” he whispered, barely able to speak and stepped closer until his thick cock was at my opening and he pushed in deep in one long slide.
“Oh, fuck!” he moaned as if he were in pain, the kind of pain that meant endless pleasure.
But that was the end of the slowness. There was no more teasing or playing, Jag was in full pleasure seeking mode as he fucked me. Hard and fast and dirty. He cupped my face and my legs wrapped around his waist, giving him just enough room to pound into me deliciously hard. Each time his balls smacked me, a shiver ripped through me.
“Vivi,” he growled again, gaze locked on mine. The intensity of it stole my breath.
I leaned back on the table and that only deepened his reach. So hard and thick, he filled up all the free space and I loved it. Rolling my hips and urging him on, I needed it all. “Yes, Jag. Oh, fuck yeah!”
“You feel amazing.”
“You feel better,” I told him back and squeezed.
“Ah, fuck.” He reared up and palmed my tits, kneading and pinching my nipples while he fucked me hard and fast. It was too much, and I was feeling so much pleasure as my body began to overheat. The passion swirled around the room, crackling in the air between us like it was a second away from combusting.
My orgasm started at my toes, making my legs numb as it crawled up my body, but when the heat reached my pussy, all was lost. Pleasure swamped me, filled me with a heat as bright and hot as the sun. My body shook and shivered and then convulsed violently as I rode out my ecstasy on his thick, dark cock while Jag still sought his own.
“Oh, Jag,” I cried out and he grinned.
“I fucking love the way you say my name, babe.” His hands crawled up my thighs and his thumb stopped at my clit. “But I need to feel you come again while I fill you up. Come for me again, Vivi. All over my cock.”
His words were just dirty enough to get me going again or maybe it was his talented thumb rubbing a tornado over my clit until I shot off one more time. The deep strokes came faster and faster and then he was roaring my name and filling me with his come.
“Ah, Vivi! Fuck, Vivi!” He collapsed on top of me, panting. His big hard body felt good against mine, especially the way his cock twitched inside of me.
“That was amazing.”
“Yes, you are.”
We dozed off curled around each other, stars still swirling behind my eyes.
I was a coward, keeping my plan away from him until it was finalized. I trusted Jag, really, I did but I knew he would try to talk me out of it. The thing was, I was deathly afraid he just might do it.
***
Today was the day Governor Blaise arrived in Las Vegas for his big shit political fundraiser. He’d arrived with a small contingent of staffers, including his chief of staff, junior press secretary and his sixteen-year-old sidepiece masquerading as a twenty-two-year-old staffer, Sabrina. Not to mention three bodyguards, which his wife always insisted on thanks to her family’s wealth.
Armed with the information I got from Terry, combined with my own not-above-board research, I was ready to go head to head with this dirtbag. I sprawled out on Jag’s sofa watching Blaise and his crew smile for the cameras as the handsome and slimy owner of Siren Casino and Resort, Drake Foster greeted him, sharing Governor Dirt Bag’s big, shit-eating grin. From one scumbag to another.
“Enjoy it while it lasts, motherfucker,” I chucked at my computer screen.
Everything was all set. Friday was two days away, plenty of time to check and double check every phase of my plan. Then when Friday rolled around, I would do what I had to, and I’d leave Las Vegas for good. I didn’t want to leave, not really. Jag was incredible, even more than I dreamed back when we talked every single day. He wasn’t just a hot body and a good hacker; he was a good man. The best man. Kind and sweet, handsome and smart. He was damn near perfect.
He had a family. The Reckless Bastards were his tribe and they, for the most part, hated my fucking guts. So I would do what I came here to do and help Jag’s club in the process. Then I would leave. I had no plan and no clue where I would go next. New York was ruined for me and I’d already put my apartment on the market. I was done with the east coast and thanks to Jag and his crew, I couldn’t be on the west coast either.
>
Maybe I’d move to Big Sky country. I’d heard Wyoming was beautiful in the springtime.
“You finally ready to talk?” Jag stood in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen looking delicious in nothing but a pair of burgundy boxers that hugged his thighs and his thick, semi-hard cock.
I wasn’t ready to give him all the details, but he caught me off guard and distracted me with his beautiful body. “No, but a promise is a promise. I’m going to out Blaise.” I braced myself for his response because I knew he wouldn’t like it.
His posture proved it. Arms crossed and a disapproving scowl on his face. “Vivi you can’t. Those girls are underage.”
Question answered. “And that’s why I’m going to out him. He’s breaking the law, Jag, and that means it’s going to come out one way or the other. At least if I leak it then I can be sure the media will cover it.”
I closed down my laptop, sick of seeing Blaise’s face smiling on every goddamn channel. “Oh, and it might save my life if that matters to you at all.” Why was I being so bitchy to him? I didn’t know but I had a feeling and I didn’t want to examine it too closely.
“That’s not fair, you know I care. But are you even thinking of the girls?”
I scoffed, disgusted at his view. “Oh please, these girls knowingly fucked a married man. I’m sorry Jag, but I’m not risking my life for young girls with daddy issues. Or an old fucking pervert. You know he’s using his political power to screw these girls over.” He sucked in a breath like one of the girls was his long-lost family and I knew this was going to be a problem.
“That’s cold, Vivi. Even for you.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion, isn’t it?” It was also a good thing I’d already decided to leave Vegas or else I’d be really upset right about now.
“There’s no other way?”
I shook my head. “I looked, Jag, but going to the cops with the proof only helps if they do something about it. What if he’s got the cops in his pocket? No one will do anything. The only way to make sure he’s caught with his pants down is to make certain enough people know about his proclivities.”
He gave me a disappointed look I’d been seeing on people’s faces who were supposed to care about me—my parents, social workers and even that one foster family before I ran away—my entire life. I hated that look. It pissed me off because I didn’t need anyone else to be disappointed in me. I did a good enough job of that all on my own.
“Vivi, think about it. Please.”
“I have thought about it. Day after day after day. And something needs to be done about it. He’s a freakin pervert!”
There was nothing more to say, not about this. He’d made his opinion clear and I disagreed. We were at an impasse.
Luckily it would be over on Friday, one way or the other.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jag
Vivi was so goddamn stubborn. The woman could make the Pope lose his cool and I was far from his fucking holiness. I couldn’t believe she refused to listen to reason where those girls were concerned. They were kids for fuck’s sake and not in control of their actions.
“How could a woman have such a callous attitude towards little girls? Can you believe it?”
Lasso and Rocky stared at each other and then at me, their heads nodding in agreement.
“Jag, it’s illegal. Those girls might have been all over Blaise, saying yes, yes, yes. Doesn’t matter. If they are underage, there’s no consent. Even if he didn’t coerce them. Read the law,” Rocky said, leaning forward and looking at me like maybe I didn’t understand the English language. “It’s no different than if that fifteen-year-old was dating a nineteen-year-old. Statutory rape. Hella illegal.”
Lasso put a hand to his wife’s shoulder to calm her down. “Did Vivi find any evidence he coerced the girls?”
“No. The opposite.” She found emails and love letters, explicit images of Blaise and his girl of the moment along with explicit text messages. “They wanted to be with him,” I admitted reluctantly. “But it doesn’t make them not victims. He’s a powerful man with a shit load of money. I think it’s called abuse of power or something.”
“So what you’re saying is that she should protect their illegal secret at the risk of her own life? Don’t be stupid,” Rocky said in an unusually blunt way. “Maybe he promised them things if they sucked his dick. Sick bastard.”
“Am I really being that stupid?”
“Yes. As a former teenage girl myself, I can tell you that I rarely dated a guy my own age. Even he who shall never be named again was eight years older than me.” Ever since shit had gone down with her ex, Rocky refused to even mention the fucker’s name. It made me love her even more for my brother.
I had a feeling that I was being worse than stupid. I was being ignorant. “Shit.” My stupidity could’ve cost Vivi. Big. “I guess it’s a good thing she basically told me to fuck off.”
Rocky laughed, and Lasso shook his head, looking happier than I’d ever seen the guy. “She’s definitely a firecracker,” she agreed and rubbed her swollen belly.
The phone rang, and I picked it up automatically because shit had been so tense for such a long time that every ring could be an emergency. “Yeah?”
“Get to the clubhouse. Now.”
I ended the call. “That was Cross. Something’s up at the clubhouse.” Those were the only words either of us needed to hear to be on our feet and headed toward the door. Bikes revving, chrome glinting under the late afternoon sun and fifteen minutes later we were pulling up to the clubhouse.
Everyone was outside, the guys and their girls plus a few Reckless Bitches. But what surprised me when Lasso and I drew closer was that there were half a dozen Roadkill MC members standing around with their chests puffed out. Looking like they were ready to start some shit.
Lasso strolled into the center of the group “What’s going on?” He stood with his hands on his hips and a wide grin on his face. “Are the Roadkill boys here asking for coats for winter again,” he joked.
A few Reckless Bastards laughed a little too hard, drawing glares from Roadkill. Their President, White Boy Craig, glared hard as he approached trying to intimidate a big fucker like Lasso who wasn’t intimidated by anyone. “Real fucking funny cowboy. We don’t need shit from you or your club.”
Lasso grinned. “Then what the fuck are you doing here, reserving time for a fucking tea party?”
“You think you’re real fucking funny, don’t you? How about I knock that smile off your face.”
“How about you try it, dick breath?” Lasso stood taller, giving his five-inch-height difference more of an impact. “Or maybe you’re just trying to get close to me since you’re clearly missing your cellmate.”
White Boy Craig laughed in a maniacal way that often happened before someone snapped but Lasso wasn’t concerned. “Fuck you, Lasso.”
“See boys, he wants a taste of me. Is that why you and your pussies are here? Because we ain’t interested.”
Craig snarled. “You know why we’re here. The money. Rizzoli told us you took it.”
Lasso laughed. “And you believe that songbird?” He looked to Cross and pointed to White Boy Craig. “Can you believe this shit?” Craig pushed Lasso when his back was turned but the big country fucker smiled and turned, slamming his fist against Craig’s cheek with a deadly crack. “I ain’t one of your prison bitches. Touch me again and I will fucking end you.”
Two Roadkill members got in Lasso’s face and the crazy bastard smiled. “Looks like my dance card is fillin’ up here!” He head butted one guy and knocked the other out cold with one fucking punch. That started the shit right up. Fists flew from all directions before the dumb shit Roadkill assholes realized they were on our home fucking turf.
“You’re outnumbered,” I told White Boy Craig. “Stop this shit now before you end up dead.”
“Is that a threat, punk?”
I smiled and got in his fac
e. Guys like him always thought they could bait me by calling me names. “It’s a promise, asshole. Look around. There are four of us, at least for every one of you. Stick around any longer and we’ll be cleaning your blood and brains out of the asphalt until next summer.”
“Do that and the rest of my organization will rain hell down on this shitty MC.” For all his bravado, Craig’s words were spoken with less fire because the asshole knew he was only alive because we allowed him to live.
Cross barked out a laugh. “How in hell can we be scared of a guy who doesn’t even know what his own VP is doing behind his back?” Oh, shit. Cross was intending to use Vivi’s info now, either to scare Craig or just to fuck with him.
“You’re talking out your ass, Cross. My men are solid.” He pounded a fist against his chest and his crew did the same. Jackasses. “If you had the proof you’d present it.”
Yeah, Craig had a point. I pulled out my phone and texted Vivi. We hadn’t talked much over the past couple of days since our argument, but I knew she wouldn’t punish the whole club because we were having a disagreement. When a full minute passed without a response I began to worry. Maybe I didn’t know Vivi the way I thought I did. Thoughts raced around my mind and every second she didn’t respond worried me.
Was she ignoring me? Or had something happened to her?
Vivi might have been a little crazy, but she was trustworthy. Four long minutes later White Boy Craig’s phone chimed and then the rest of them. He frowned at the phone, flipping through pages of shit that had me wondering just what Vivi had sent.
“This is for real? Vigo’s workin’ with the fuckin’ Feds?”
Cross nodded, his expression more solemn because more than any of the rest of us, he knew exactly what Craig was feeling now.
Cross said cool as ice, “You need the fucking emails too?”
“Naw, I got ’em,” he snarled and held up his phone. “Fuck, bank records too?”
It was the first I heard of them and that made me wonder what Vivi had done.
“You’re welcome.” Cross stood with his arms folded over his chest, a stoic expression on his face. He wasn’t offering a kindness to Craig, just giving him the information to prove what kind of leader he was. If Vigo made it out of this alive, we would decimate Roadkill MC in less than a year. If he did what he needed to do, White Boy Craig might live long enough to turn his shitty club around.