by Rie Warren
Rafe smirked. “And what about Georgia?”
“Y’all need to stop with the procreatin’ so Delaney and I can catch up.”
And yet later . . . an obscene number of presents.
Little Miss Josie opened the first, got way too excited, and had a total meltdown.
Couldn’t blame her. I shit you not, Marquis and Charmaine gave her a tot-sized motorized pink Ferrari.
And everyone understood. She was plum tuckered out. Her face streaked with dirt. Her fingers possibly crusted with cake. Reggie held her close, rocking her softly, gently, while I said the goodbyes and thank yous.
My folks headed off to their hotel, even though they had an open invitation to our house. The house finally vacated, most of the lights turned off, I took Josie from Reggie’s arms.
“I got her, sweetheart.”
Reggie lifted up, her kiss just a sample of her lips promising so much more. “Did I forget to tell you how much I love you?”
“Matter of fact, you did today.”
“Maybe I’ll show you later.”
A promise I’d definitely hold her to. And Reggie better not be out back cleaning up all the crap and party favors or doing dishes. She had one job only, and that was to let me take care of things.
I took the stairs, Josie a little curl against my chest. In her bathroom, decorated like a mermaid’s shell, I stripped her down.
Girl had gotten grubby all over.
Her eyelids barely lifted when I laid her down on a fluffy stack of towels near the sink, forgoing the usual nightly bath. Diaper off, clean one on. Hands, face, arms, feet washed and dried. Baby fresh.
Except she wouldn’t be a baby much longer.
I couldn’t wait to watch her grow up, and I wanted to stow every single moment and memory in my mind forever.
She’d fallen asleep there in the bathroom. I had to dislodge her thumb from her mouth while I quietly pulled a nightie over her, her tiny little nape lifted in my hand.
After I was done, her thumb snuck right back into her mouth.
She didn’t even move when I carried her to her room, placed her in the crib with her lovey, and turned off the light.
She didn’t even hear me when I leaned over and whispered, “Sleep sweet, baby girl.”
I withheld a yawn. Stretched all over. Left her door cracked.
Headed to my wife.
Reggie had lowered the lights.
She was awake.
Waiting.
Like I’d been waiting all day.
Twenty-four hours was too long between us.
Hunger hollowed my cheeks, rippled my chest, and I threw off my shirt. I hesitated, just for a second.
“Too tired?” Reggie asked, dark eyes glimmering.
“Hell no.” My cock had been mostly rock solid for her all day.
“Then come to me. What are you waiting for?”
“You know what. The Little Miss to pipe up down the hall to tell me she wants a sippy cup or let us know she did a tee tee in her diaper and it needs to be changed now.”
“She has you wrapped right around her little finger, Daddy.”
“She’s not the only one, and you know it.” I prowled to the bed and Reggie rose like a goddess from the blankets.
Sexy as fuck.
Wearing nothing but bare glowing skin.
She was even curvier than ever, and she licked her lips before leaning over to shuck off my shorts.
“Jesus Christ.” I grunted, rocking forward.
“I bet you’re glad Remy and Meg stayed at a hotel tonight.”
I nodded dumbly.
Her tongue lashed at me like a branding iron, fingers running around to my ass. And all I could do was stand there, straining, taut and hard from waiting all day to come.
Her head low, her rear end raised high, hair falling against my flexing thighs, Reggie licked and sucked. My balls. My shaft. Even my stomach before she dipped back down to begin the tease again.
My hands curled at my sides then I fisted fingers in her thick soft hair.
She had her way with me. And when she sucked a testicle into her widened wet mouth, a grunt pushed from mine.
She managed the other heavy ball in the same way, her hand on my cock now slickened by more than just her saliva. But she never touched the bell-head, the hot taut dome. Not with her lips. Not with her fingers.
She didn’t touch the head until the crown dripped copious amounts of precome and my knees were buckling and I was harshly rutting against her exploring tongue, one more lick away from begging.
The instant she knew I’d blast off, no holding back, she drew me to her lips, inside her mouth, the cherry red oval sucking me in.
I almost collapsed. “Fuck, Reggie.”
The dam broke. At the last second she pulled me from her lips and settled my cock between the cushion of her tits, bracketing me in soft plush heaven.
I heaved up from the balls of my feet, pumping iron-hard through her cleavage. Her tongue leaped out, and I pressed her head down as I stamped up and closer and—fucking hell—I came.
Blasts of semen hit her neck, her tits, and at last she swallowed me down, glugging noisily, knowing I heard her, knowing I’d come even fucking harder as she drank my seed into her belly.
I’d exploded into her mouth.
I was ready for more.
Both of us naked, I bucked her back onto the bed.
Her mouth was hot against mine. Her body wild against mine.
We careened from one side to the other. I held her down, anchoring her to the mattress to get my own taste on. Couldn’t wait to fill more than her mouth. Wanted to fill her cunt.
Her legs heaved up, I bent my head.
Reggie cried out. Bowed up. And I feasted. Not gentle. Completely hungry.
She swelled. She came. I feasted on. As long as she spilled into my mouth I’d eat her out. Always had. Always would.
Sweat shimmered on my shoulders, and Reggie’s heels beat against them.
I lifted my face. Sucked at my lips. Pressed two fingers inside her to make sure she stayed just as wet, just as open.
My mouth landed on hers as soon as I crawled over her.
She cupped my ass.
Her tits still shimmered with my come.
“Fuck me.”
I hilted deep on the first thrust.
Her eyes closed, her hands grasped mine.
And her hips beckoned with swirling heat.
There was no guilt.
No shame.
Nothing but new love and cherished memories now.
Curling over her, I couldn’t stop the hot slap of my hard cock into her tight cunt. Christ, I almost drove Reggie over the side of the bed.
“You brute.” She laughed, breathlessly, when I hauled her back into place.
My cock kicked, and I hit that spot inside her that belonged only to me, unleashing a rain of come.
“Calder! Calder!” She steered my gaze to hers, arms around my straining neck, then hands on my hollow cheeks.
Reggie kissed me during the orgasm that flexed her entire body, ran roughshod through mine.
“Calder . . .”
Leaning above her, I took her hand in mine. The left one. The one bearing my rings.
I snuck a kiss to her rosebud lips then got a little hazy-eyed when she caressed my shoulders, drawing me on top of her.
I lay with a thigh across her legs, my hand on her tummy, my heartbeat slumberous.
Fulfilled.
Her eyelashes fluttered. I knew she was still awake.
I rose above Reggie. “When can I knock you up again?”
“Who says you haven’t already?”
Also by Rie Warren
Bad Boy Ballers
New 2017 Sports Romance Series
Million Baller Baby, Book One
Free Baller, Book Two
Baller Made, Book Three
Standalone BOXER book
In the Ring
Bad Boys of X
-Ops
Complete series, spring/summer 2016
Walker, Book One
Justice, Book Two
Storm, Book Three
Bane, Book Four
Bad Boys of Retribution MC
Complete series—Carolina Bad Boys spinoff
Hunter, Book One
Kinkaid, Book Two
Bo, Book Three
Coletrane, Book Four
Carolina Bad Boys—the original Bad Boys
Ongoing series
Stone, Book One
Ride, the novella from within Stone, Book 1.5
Love, Book Two
Steele, Book Three
Chrome, Book Four
Rush, Book Five
Lowcountry Heat
Sugar Daddy, Book One
Don’t Tell Series
Complete series
In His Command, Book One
On Her Watch, Book Two
Under His Guard, Book Three
In His Sights, novella, Standalone
Freebies
Jingle Bell Rock, Free download
Heart Beats, Download for free
In His Heart, Free download
Keep reading for the first chapter of
HUNTER
Bad Boys of Retribution MC, #1
Complete series
Danger comes in many forms but Hunter’s not prepared for the extreme danger innocent MC babe JB presents to his heart—a heart he thought was off limits.
http://amzn.to/29hJ3eg
Chapter One
“YO, HUNTER.” COLE SLID me a fresh cold beer across the steel-topped bar in the Retribution clubhouse.
I savored the first swig, watching the man who was the biker on MC probationary status. In fact, most of the guys here called him Probie instead of his given name. I knew he wasn’t wet behind the ears or too stupid to have a clue. Unfortunately for him, everyone had to start out on the ground floor when pledging an MC, and he’d gotten the shit end of the stick. But he’d proved himself during our search for Detective Ashe Kingston. Brodie Steele, the VP of this club, was going to make things right with Cole the Probie tonight.
Just then, the old lady of the hour and her wildman entered Retribution. Whistles erupted only eclipsed by loud shouts and fists pounding on the tables.
Ashe accepted her welcome with the usual smile and sass, Brodie beaming by her side. The pair was well matched. Both blond: he the tall rangy biker dude, she the curvy babe on his arm. Ashe wasn’t new to the MC ’hood—she’d ridden a cop chopper in her time on duty as a Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina, Police Department officer before ranking as Vice detective. But word had it there’d been so much bad blood between Brodie and her in years past he’d just as likely have flipped her off as flipped out over her.
The times, they were a’changin’.
Ashe had been through the wringer. Solving her first case after her promotion to Vice, she’d been kidnapped while making the arrest. That night in September I’d come clean with Brodie about my undercover status. I worked off the record, in the dark, and usually solo. Lucky for him I’d been brought in on the sly, and we’d doled out a little vigilante justice.
In my eyes, the detective was Comeback Ashe. Now it was November. She’d recovered from the trauma and sat through endless hours of counseling. She’d just completed her first full week back on the force. She was back in the saddle, and for a change, Brodie didn’t look like he wanted to go full bodily harm on anyone who crossed his path.
I couldn’t imagine the hell he’d gone through, which was why I tended to keep my relationship status firmly in the one-night-only column and women at arm’s length unless they were deemed content to let me fuck them then leave them. My work was dangerous enough. I didn’t need to drag a honey into it—or into my heart.
Glancing across the room as the celebratory furor died down, I performed my usual calm cool appraisal of the action. Who might be a threat, who was working an angle, who was to be trusted. Along with Cole and Brodie, Boomer Steele—Brodie’s older bro—was in the solid corner. He was the founder and president of this club. The Steele family was tight and included Catarina, the youngest sibling of the trio who owned and operated the auto parts dynasty next door—Chrome and Steele.
Where Brodie was blond and leanly muscled, usually with a wicked gleam in his icy pale blue eyes, Boomer was a brick shithouse on legs, broad enough to take up an entire doorway, and his eyes either danced in laughter or held a dark sadness. I’d looked into the background of each Retribution member. Unfortunately, due to the Steele family tragedy, theirs was the most captivating.
The most sad.
I took another drink and turned to face the back of the barroom. The pool tables drew a crowd. So did the dartboards. The wood was polished. The tables shined. The floors didn’t stick to the soles of my boots. In fact, despite the usual loud rock tunes, many drinks imbibed, and the ladies in waiting to get laid, this was one of the cleanest clubs I’d ever investigated. All thanks to Cole aka Probie.
Brodie waded through the crowded room toward me as his woman made a show of banking balls at insane angles before pocketing them at one of the pool tables. He looked like he was ready to sink a couple balls of his own into Ashe.
Cole fetched a beer for Brodie, setting it at the ready before he even took the stool beside me.
I clinked his bottle. “Chief’s happy with Ashe’s progress.”
“Yeah. I know. Sipowicz and I are like this.” He knitted two fingers together.
I chuckled. Sipowicz was Brodie’s very appropriate nickname for Chief Tilden, head of the Mt. Pleasant Police Department. His face was haggard and lined and he was most notable for wearing wrinkled suits over a larger-than-life belly, but there was more intelligence going on behind that workaday exterior than anyone could ever fathom. Tight ship? He ran it out of the side of his mouth without ever letting a smile show. Good man.
“You still on MPPD’s payroll?” Brodie asked.
I considered the question. No one besides Ashe and her partner Davies—both of whom I’d worked with on the Retribution case—Cole, Boomer, and Brodie knew the real solid deal about me. And even then . . . they don’t have a fucking clue who I really am. Brodie had once mentioned I was a ghost. He wasn’t wrong.
“Now, now. I wouldn’t be undercover if I told you, would I?”
“Whatever.” He sniggered. “I’ll get it out of Probie later.”
“His name’s Cole. You know it. I know it. He’s a good one to have on the lookout. Might try to recruit him.”
“As long as you give him enough time to swab the decks around here,” Brodie replied.
I was staying put in Mt. Pleasant for reasons no one needed to know. Another case? Maybe. Let them guess. My personal life was well hidden, off the record, and very fucking lost at the bottom of the sea along with my real identity.
A parade of women from the sister charter sashayed inside. The First Ladies of Redemption went hand-in-hand with the Presidents of Retribution. I’d had my eyeful of the honeys before, but tonight there was a new babe in the mix.
A minx, in fact. I stared at the woman, stunned stupid. Beautiful didn’t cover what she had going on. Her soft-looking brown curls bounced as she strutted inside on ankle-high suede boots. I couldn’t see the color of her eyes, but damned if I didn’t drink in the pink fullness of her lips canted in a smile and her tight body revealed in a pair of hipster jeans to go with the slashed top. That top dripped off her shoulders and down her back, revealing creamy skin marked with a line of butterfly tats all the way down her spine by the looks of it.
That had to have hurt like a bitch.
Jesus, she looked untouched, totally fresh, and more than a little naughty all at the same time.
I cleared my throat, nailing the woman with my eyes. “Who’s that?”
Brodie swiveled around and lazily scratched at his goatee. “Oh, her? With the First Ladies. She’s pretty new.”
I leveled my gaze on
the girl again. She faced full frontal, and damn me if her face wasn’t as sexy as the rearview. Worse? She had a smattering of freckles across her slim nose and along her high cheekbones. My own personal weakness.
“Fuck that. She’s pretty. Straight up.”
“New cherry,” Brodie said. “Fresh off the tree. She goes by JB, but we gave her our own nickname.”
“JB?” I asked.
“Jailbait, dude.”
I dropped my forehead onto the bar with a groan. Of fucking course.
“Fitting. Don’t you think? Detective Sexton—if that’s even your real name?”
“It’s Lieutenant Sexton, asswipe.” I gave him the bird, my forehead still planted against the bar.
His laughter echoed as he walked away.
“Got company comin’ your way, Hunter,” Cole murmured.
I glanced around.
Oh hell. JB was headed straight for the bar on mile-long legs. I dropped my chin to my chest, peering at her through the shafts of my black hair. She passed by, leaving the scent of her addictive floral perfume in her wake.
I didn’t do the obvious thing—like adjusting my suddenly hard cock in my jeans, or making a pass at her. Obvious was not part of my MO. I was the Ghost, literally. That was my callsign and my roadname. I kept my head down, worked the grind, did my job and got the hell out of Dodge before the dust settled.
I used the same set of rules with women. Chicks did not get to me, not anymore. I was thirty-one goddamn years old—and a hell of a lot older if you counted my kills—yet I’d never reacted to a woman like this before. Immediately. Intensely. And probably destructively.
There was a reason I stayed off the relationship grid. Tangle with me, end up dead or worse. I might officially be the “good guy” on paper, but bad shit had a way of following in my footsteps.
Despite my better judgment, I listened to JB place her order and watched her beneath the shadow of my eyelashes. She had a body to die for and a velvety voice that drove a spike of need through me. I hung on her every word, wishing I were playing bartender for the night. Then she met my penetrating stare and lifted her drink in my direction.