Mick met him glare for glare. “She needed to know what the fuck you’d gone through just to get some underage Demon pussy who ain’t all that anyway.”
He saw red. He saw motherfucking red.
He swung his right fist, then his left, and then his right again. Mick blew backward with every hit until he ran out of room and hit wall. Grabbing Mick’s shirt collar, he got up in his face.
“Take off your fuckin’ cut and get the fuck outta my club.”
Mick’s eyes went wide. “You can’t—”
He swung his fist into Mick’s jaw, and the brother’s face whipped right and hit brick. “I fuckin’ can. You got no idea what you just messed with. No fuckin’ clue. You think you know, but you fuckin’ don’t ’cause I didn’t tell you shit about it ’cause it’s none of your fuckin’ business. So you take off your fuckin’ cut and go the fuck home. When I fuckin’ feel like it, I’ll send Cox to bring you back.”
Still holding Mick’s shirt, he yanked him away from the wall and swung him out of his office. Mick hit the floor and went sliding across the room. Jase jumped out of the way, and Mick crashed into a pool table.
“Get him outta here,” he growled to no one in particular. “Anyone else got somethin’ to say to Eva, or somethin’ to say about her, you’re gonna answer to my fuckin’ fist. We fuckin’ clear?”
He received a series of grunts and nods during which he slammed the doors closed and locked them.
“Eva, babe, look at me.”
She shook her head. “I should leave,” she whispered brokenly. His chest went tight. No way was he letting her leave.
“Eva!” he said forcefully. “Fuckin’ look at me!”
Hugging herself, she turned away from him. “I got you shot,” she whispered.
Fuck.
“Eva!” he yelled. “Fuck! Look at me before I spank the fuckin’ shit outta you!”
Her head jerked up, and her narrowed eyes zoomed in on him. He grinned.
“Babe, don’t you fuckin’ dare think any of that shit was your fault. It was mine, darlin’, plain and simple. I shoulda left you alone, but I couldn’t fuckin’ help myself. Marriage had already gone bad, and I saw you sittin’ there with a pair of great fuckin’ tits, tappin’ your Chucks, bobbin’ your head, and singin’ your heart out to fuckin’ Zeppelin. And you looked so damn innocent and fuckin’ sweet as hell without a care in the fuckin’ world except for right then, right there. I was so fuckin’ jealous. I would’ve given an arm and a leg to have life be that simple again. Then that little shithead showed up, and I knew he fuckin’ worshipped you. And then I heard that shit he said to you, and I knew nothin’ was gonna make that boy back off until he got inside your sweet pussy. So I kissed you, babe, ’cause I was selfish. I wanted to taste that fuckin’ sweetness before he took it all.
“And, babe, when I kissed you and you kissed me back, not knowing what the fuck you were doin’ but doin’ it anyway—not carin’, just feelin’—I fuckin’ lost myself in that kiss. Couldn’t remember ever losin’ myself in a kiss until then.
“That fuckin’ kiss, Eva, has gotten me through some pretty bad nights. That fuckin’ kiss reminds me that life ain’t all bad.
“As for what happened in that alleyway, your old man never found out about it. But even if he had and he buried me, I wouldn’t have fuckin’ cared ’cause when it comes to you, darlin’, I got no fuckin’ sense. You fuckin’ pull me in until you’re all I can fuckin’ see. Suddenly, I can’t fuckin’ breathe, but I don’t care ’cause you, babe, you’re you. I ain’t ever met anyone as fuckin’ perfect as you. Knowin’ you gave me your first kiss, and then you gave me that sweet pussy first, knowin’ that I got that and no one else can ever have it ’cause it’s fuckin’ mine—fuck, Eva—there ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think ’bout that, ’bout you, and how much I fuckin’ wish shit was different.
“And that’s the God’s honest truth, darlin’. I wouldn’t change a fuckin’ thing ’cept for you being in so deep with the Demons, me being a Horseman, me being fuckin’ married to the biggest fuckin’ cunt on the planet, and your old man being who he is. Take all that shit away and you’d be on the back of my bike and in my fuckin’ bed. You wouldn’t be leavin’, and I wouldn’t be walkin’ away from you ever again.
“Now, woman, you need to start doin’ what you came here to do, or I’m gonna do it for you.”
• • •
I ran to him, wrapped my arms around his neck, and buried my face in his chest.
“Missed you,” I whispered. “So, so much.”
“Babe, yeah,” he said softly. “Now you gonna give me that sweet fuck-me mouth, or do I need to take it?”
I went up on my tiptoes, and he bent down. I took his mouth, I took his tongue, and I ate him alive. Four years I had gone without him, without his mesmerizing eyes, and his devastating grin, and his perfect mouth, and his perfect hands, and his perfect body, and his perfect cock. Desire, slick and hot, heated my blood and pooled low in my belly. I had so much time to make up for, and it couldn’t happen fast enough.
Frantically, I pushed his cut down his shoulders. Shrugging out of it, he tossed it aside.
Up went his T-shirt, over his head, and across the room. Mine was next; he yanked it up over my head and tossed it aside. Then my breasts were in his hands and then in his mouth, and I died a heavenly, happy death. We tasted, touched, grabbed, and gripped each other until it wasn’t enough anymore, not even close.
I released him, slid down his perfect body, and onto my knees. After wrestling open his jeans, I took him in my mouth, all of him, and again I ate him alive. His breathing hitched, and his hands gripped a hold of my hair. I clung to the backs of his thighs, digging my nails in, keeping myself steady when I otherwise would have collapsed under the heady sensations rippling through me.
I made love to him with my mouth in the same frantic, desperate way I have always kissed him. I couldn’t stop, didn’t want to ever stop. I felt so alive, taking all I could as I gave all I had. My mouth loved Deuce, my hands loved Deuce, my body loved Deuce. Loved, loved, loved, loved…I loved Deuce.
Loved.
“Baby,” he groaned, fisting my hair, pulling on it painfully. “Fuuuck…me…”
He exploded, and I took it all, whimpering desperate, greedy little whimpers, already wanting more. I wanted to own this man’s body, this man’s innate sexuality. I wanted to own this man.
I stared up at him through my wet lashes, trembling, my body quaking under the onslaught of need. For him.
“Eva, baby, fuck, do you know what you fuckin’ do to me?” He bent down to cup my cheeks and ran the pads of his thumbs over my fluttering eyelids.
“You make me insane,” I breathed. God, he so did.
“Babe,” he rasped. “Yeah.”
Scooping me up, he carried me to his black leather couch and stripped me naked, divested himself of his jeans, and bent me over the arm of the couch. He settled himself between my legs, lifted my hips, and leaned down over me. His chest pressed against my head, his stomach rubbed against my back, and his growing erection was pushing into me.
We were blessedly bared to each other. We were skin on skin.
Your mother holds you skin on skin when you enter this world and feeds you with her own body, skin on skin. Your father runs his fingers over your tear-streaked cheek, presses his lips to your forehead, skin on skin. You make love, skin on skin, with a man you love, a beautiful man. And then, if you’re lucky, your own baby will enter this world, and you’ll hold her, skin on skin. Feed her with your own body, skin on skin. It’s a magical thing.
Nothing compares.
“Gonna fuck you now, baby.”
“Yes, please,” I whispered.
He pushed inside of me, and my breath caught. He withdrew and pushed back in, this time harder, this time going farther. I whimpered.
“Babe,” he rasped. “So goddamn tight.”
“Only you,” I breathed. “No one else
since you.”
He sucked in a breath. “Christ, Eva. What the fuck did I do to deserve you?”
“You’re you,” I whimpered.
He pulled out and again pushed in. We both groaned.
“Goddamn your fuckin’ body, so fuckin’ hot, baby.”
He pulled out again, and again he pushed in a little farther. I pushed back, trying to take him deeper.
“So fuckin’ sweet and wantin’ an asshole like me.”
His hips swiveled, grinding into me, causing me to moan. He did this four more times before pulling away and thrusting roughly. It was all I needed. My body blossomed for him, stretched and spread, allowing him to seat himself fully inside of me.
“Not carin’ that I got shit to give you. You just wantin’ me for me and not the club and not the fuckin’ money, just straight up wantin’ me.”
He pulled out and slammed back inside of me. I dug my fingernails deep into the leather and cried out.
“Fuck me,” he rasped, his hips pumping back and forth, in and out of me, excruciatingly slow. “You fuckin’ show up out of nowhere, lying, saying you were in the neighborhood and standin’ in my office wearing my old man’s tag, always wearing my old man’s tag, and drop straight to your fuckin’ knees.”
He stilled, and I squirmed until his fingertips bit painfully into the skin on my hips and held me still. “You want it hard, baby?” he whispered. “Or you want it slow?”
“Hard,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “You want me to own you, don’t you, baby? You been waitin’ for me to own you for a long time now, haven’t you?”
Oh my God, my heart was going to explode. I wanted this man so bad. I wanted him to own me. All of me. Every. Single. Inch.
I shuddered with need. “Yes, Deuce.”
“Sweet fuckin’ girl,” he rasped and thrust hard and deep. “Sweet and beautiful.” He thrust again, harder.
“Please,” I moaned. “More.”
He gripped my hips. “Anything you want, darlin’. Anything you fuckin’ want.”
“You,” I whispered. “All I want is you.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck.”
Then he gave me everything I wanted, and he gave it to me hard.
• • •
Cradled in Deuce’s arms, I stared up at him with unfocused eyes, my sated body limp and heavy. He ran his hand down the side of my face, down my neck, across my collarbone, and over my breasts.
I arched my back, pushing more of me into his hand.
“Fuck me,” he muttered, thumbing my nipples, making them hard. His other hand slid down my stomach and in between my hipbones where his fingers traced my indented abdomen.
“Know I don’t deserve nothin’ as sweet as you,” he whispered darkly as his hand dipped in between my legs. “Anything a man’s gotta steal to have he don’t deserve.”
“You didn’t steal this,” I breathed, writhing against his hand. “I gave it.”
His blue eyes glittered with amusement. “Naive, darlin’,” he murmured. “I stole you a long time ago. ’Round the time you fuckin’ stole me.”
You fuckin’ stole me.
He just said that. He really, really said that.
“I love you,” I breathed into his mouth, overcome by sheer sensation and the larger-than-life force that was Deuce.
He went rigid and the pleasure-induced fog I was floating around inside of instantly cleared. Oh no. Ohnononono. I did not just say that. There was no way he was going to understand what he meant to me. I barely understood it; I just accepted that it just was.
“Wait…that’s not what I meant,” I stammered. “I didn’t… I don’t…”
Deuce wasn’t listening to me; he was moving me off of him, laying me down on my back, settling his hips between my thighs and pushing back inside of me.
“Say it again, Eva,” he growled.
I bit my lip.
“Babe. Say it again.”
I didn’t. Mostly because he was inside of me again—so full, so big—and he was fucking me deliciously slow. I went soft beneath him, staring up into his eyes. Eyes that I could never look away from. Eyes that pulled me inside of him where it was warm and safe. Eyes that I loved. And that’s when I realized he wasn’t fucking me. He was making love to me.
“Say it,” he demanded, his expression fierce. Dominant. Possessive.
“I…didn’t mean…”
He pulled his hips back and slammed inside of me. “You love me. Say it.”
“No, I meant…”
“You love me.”
I gave up. “Yes,” I cried. “I love you! I’ve loved you forever!”
His eyes closed, and his head dropped to my chest. “Fuck,” he whispered.
“Deuce,” I whispered.
He looked up at me. “Yeah, baby,” he asked hoarsely. His eyes were hooded, his mouth slightly parted, and his breath coming in short, hard pants. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. He wasn’t Deuce, badass biker, and I wasn’t Eva, his rival badass biker’s daughter. He was a dangerously beautiful man, I was a woman he wanted, and it was so fucking beautiful. I wanted to freeze time and stay in this moment with him forever—touching, fucking, and loving.
“Come on me,” I said, driven only by need. “I want you to come all over me.”
His body went stiff; his nostrils flared. He barely had enough time to pull out of me before his body let go.
“God, baby…fuck…fucking good.”
Watching Deuce orgasm was absolutely beautiful, an aurora borealis kind of beautiful. His face drew in tightly, and then loosened as his release began. For a moment, he looked younger than he was, young and vulnerable like I remembered him looking the day I met him. His eyes were glazed over, his lids at half-mast. A small, noisy breath passed through his lips and swept warmly over my breasts. Wet warmth shot up over my stomach and chest, and suddenly, Deuce’s fingers were inside of me, pumping. My sex clenched and clenched again, throwing me into orgasm.
Taking his fingers away, he slid his hand over my body, rubbing his liquid heat into the skin on my stomach and breasts, down between my thighs, and up into my sex, staring into my eyes the entire time.
He was marking me.
Claiming me.
Owning me.
“Say it again,” he demanded.
“I love you, Deuce,” I whispered.
CHAPTER SIX
My eyelids fluttered open, and I blinked sleepily. The thick, steely arm around my stomach tightened.
I lifted my arm behind me and encircled Deuce’s neck, pulling his head down until I could see his eyes. “Morning,” I breathed.
His hand left my belly and moved lower, cupping me. I lifted my leg and hooked my foot behind his knee. He made a hungry noise in the back of his throat that I felt all the way to my toes.
“You sore?” he asked roughly.
“Uh-huh,” I whispered. “In a really, really good way.”
He chuckled. “You want it?”
“Please,” I breathed.
“You want it hard?”
“Please…”
“Bitch is gonna kill me,” he laughed. “Keep wantin’ it raw.”
Oh God, he was teasing me. Here we were lying in his bed, and he was teasing me. It was so…domestic. I loved it.
He groaned as he entered me. I whimpered as I stretched for him, molded around him, drenching him, and then finally, eagerly accepting him. All of him.
I came, and I came hard.
Shaking his head, he let out an amused grunt. “Fuck. Never seen a woman catch fire the way you do, darlin’. The way you squeeze my cock and that body of yours shakin’ so hard while you scream in my ear, pull my fuckin’ hair, and claw up my fuckin’ back. When I let you outta my bed, darlin’, I’m gonna be spendin’ the rest of my life thinkin’ ’bout that pussy and not findin’ anything that comes close. And, babe, my balls are gonna fuckin’ explode.”
We switched positions, and he started moving ag
ain, this time with vigor, hard and fast, skin slapping skin. Then, slow and sweet, our sweat-slicked bodies sliding against each other.
There was nothing else quite like it. And there was no one else quite like Deuce.
“Oh fuck!” I cried out, cursing and clawing through my second orgasm. “Holy fucking shit!”
He grinned down at me, all beautiful blue eyes, laugh lines, and dimples.
“There it is,” he rumbled appreciatively. “There’s my fuckin’ girl.”
His girl.
How long had I been waiting to hear him say that?
• • •
After fucking Eva all morning, she had fallen asleep again. It was late afternoon now, and Deuce and a few of his boys were drinking brews and grilling steaks out back of the clubhouse.
“Where’s the hottie?” Tap asked around the neck of his beer bottle.
“Which one?” Jase asked. “The blonde or the brunette? They’re both badass.”
ZZ laughed. “The blonde’s been in a Ripper/Cox sandwich since she got here.”
Hawk made a face. “Shit’s not fair. If it’d been me that walked out there first, bitch would be in my bed.”
Deuce shrugged. “Kami’s a fuckin’ whore. Doubt she’ll be opposed to you joinin’ the party.”
“Naw,” Chips said. “I already tried. They don’t wanna share. Not that I blame ’em. Not many holes left available when they’re both hittin’ that shit at the same time. So how’s ’bout yours, Prez? You wanna pass her on yet?”
ZZ spit out his beer.
“Asshat,” Jase muttered. “That’s not a whore. That’s Eva Fox, Preacher’s fuckin’ daughter. The bitch our prez can’t seem to think straight around. The bitch who got him shot.”
Chips eyes went wide.
“I got myself shot,” he muttered. “Wasn’t her fuckin’ fault. She was sixteen. I had my hand down her fuckin’ pants, and my tongue down her throat. He’s her old man; do you really fuckin’ blame him?”
“You die,” Marsh said, his expression hard, “then, yeah, I would fuckin’ blame him.”
“Sixteen, huh?” Danny D. grinned. “Nice.”
Tap frowned at Danny. “You’re fuckin’ sick, dude. I got a fifteen-year-old daughter. Some fuckin’ old asshole like Prez gets anywhere near her pants, and I’m gonna put him to ground. I’m puttin’ a one-year age difference on her datin’ life.” Tap turned to him. “Not a fuckin’ eighteen-year difference.”
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