STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC)

by Devane, Lauren

  “That was all?”

  “For a few minutes. I asked her if she wanted to try again, and she said she’d rather just wait out the time. Seconds are ticking by and she’s looking at me—and then she asks if that was my first kiss.”

  “What did she say when you told her?”

  “She got all thoughtful for a second, like she was remembering hers. I’m sure she’d had more than one by then. Rotating boyfriends, that’s what Becky liked. A new guy to carry her books in the hall every week. But she gestures to me.” Tom raised his hand and moved his fingers in a come hither motion. “I move closer and she takes me by the shirt and pulls me forward. Then she gives me the best kiss I’d have for the next four years.”

  “That good?”

  “Long, sweet and she didn’t gag me with her tongue.” Grace laughed, covering her mouth to keep from showcasing the broccoli she was eating. “Yeah, it had that going for it. Anyway, I walked out of the closet with stars in my eyes for Becky Scully, just like every other boy in that school.”

  “Did you ever kiss her again?”

  “God, no. That was like charity work for good ol’ Becks. The next year she went to high school and fell in love with the sophomore quarterback of the JV team.”

  “They get married and have lots of chubby babies?”

  “No,” he said, and reached over to spear one of her mushrooms. “She dumped him when he went away to college, got serious about volunteering at a nursing home and went to some college on the east coast. I heard she went to medical school, but I haven’t seen her since the day she graduated.”

  “Did you date a lot in high school?” Grace just wanted him to talk more about his life like this. Casual and happy, not cloaked in lies and the impenetrable wall she saw in him whenever she pushed for information he wasn’t ready to give.

  “Some,” he said, “but I was more interested in the club, even then.”

  “That’s understandable, given your dad’s position.” She’d hesitated before mentioning his father, but it couldn’t be off limits if they were going to spend time together and get acquainted as their real selves.

  He nodded, sliding his fork into the pile of rice on his plate and plucking out a few grains. “You can’t officially become a prospect until you’re 18, but—.” Grace raised her hand, cutting him off.

  “Wait, what’s a prospect?”

  “A prospect is kind of like a pledge for a fraternity. We like them enough to give them a shot, but there’s no guarantee they’re making it into the club.”

  “What determines who gets in?”

  “Loyalty is the primary factor. The club comes first.”

  “Before anything else? What about family?”

  “That’s the thing that outsiders don’t understand—the club is family. We’re a unit. When one of the guys marries, the woman is part of the family, too.”

  “But not part of the club.”

  “No. We don’t have any female members. But they’re protected and we treat them with respect. My brother Jack married a nice girl a few months ago, and she’s around all the time now.”

  “Is that hard to get used to?”

  “Nah. Lots of women going in and out anyway. We have parties and girls pour in like beer from a keg. But she matters to him, so she matters to us. It’s that kind of family. Even her friend Carly lives on the property now.” He stopped talking abruptly and shook his head. “Yeah, loyalty is what matters most. If you’re loyal to the club, we’re loyal to you.”

  “Her friend counts as family too?”

  “We took her out of a bad situation.”

  “Good.” She smiled to think of an anonymous woman being saved by rough and tumble bikers.

  “How do you find out whether a man is loyal?”

  “Observe what he does. How he acts. Whether he pitches in and shows up and contributes. We’ve been opening a few local businesses and you can tell who’s interested in building up the club and who isn’t. That’s another thing—some clubs just want bodies, but we want people who bring something to the table. Humor, hard work, intelligence, the ability to juggle—something that makes the guy more than just another body in a leather jacket.”

  “What do you bring to the table?”

  _____

  She leaned back in her chair and her t-shirt molded to her breasts. It was distracting and he swallowed thickly before he answered. “Dad always said I was the happiest guy to have around. I made people laugh and made them feel good.”

  “Not anymore?” One thing Tom liked about her was that she picked up on tones and inflections. He could say what he meant in few words and Grace would know the right thing to say or ask. Outside of the Storm Runners execs, he’d never had that experience with another person.

  “It fucked me up when Dad was killed. More than Mom dying, because at least that was natural and I could tell myself she knew and had a chance to make her peace. Dad didn’t have that.” He took a long swallow of the wine and wished it was something stronger. “This is heavy.”

  “You said your friend’s wife has a friend who lives on the property?”

  “Yeah, the Storm Runners own a lot of acreage outside the city and some people who founded the club built houses on it. We only rent out to club members and some people stay for free when they need to. It’s a good way to keep your friends close and your enemies far away.”

  “That’s smart. My parents have some property above Sebastopol and the rent from the homes they acquired keeps them in champagne and RV gas now that they’re retired. I’ve always wanted to invest in property.”

  “Have you?”

  “No.” She shook her head and again he marveled at how lovely she was. She soft skin of her face had a light flush that rose up after she finished her second glass of wine. He wanted to trace that glowing line down her long, elegant neck until he pressed a kiss on her pulse point.

  “Why not?”

  “Cops don’t make that much money.” It was the first reference to her job she’d made. “Mom and Dad made it clear that when they go, I get their land. But the truth is, I want to make something for myself too.” She pushed the plate away. “I don’t think I can eat another bite.”

  Dread settled in his stomach. He wanted to continue the easygoing, normal conversation as long as he could before he started pumping her for information. No matter how he framed it, Tom was going to screw up her investigation by relaying the information to the club—or using it to find Butch himself. He hindered it even more by refusing to share what he knew with her.

  But loyalty to the Storm Runners came first. He looked over his shoulder at the jacket slung over the coat rack, at the emblem emblazoned on the back. It was what he’d wanted from the time he was old enough to understand what the club was.

  If I’d met her first… No, he’d always want the club. It was part of who he was. But god, he wished she wasn’t a cop so he could have something real with her.

  “I guess we should get to the real work,” he said. “Why don’t we clean up in here, then go into the living room and you can give me a rundown of what you know?”

  “Sounds good. This is the first time I’ve ever had a man offer to help me clean.” She picked up their plates and grinned at him when he picked up the napkins and cups.

  “My mother taught me well. I did just as much in the kitchen as my little sister.”

  “Is she as domestic as you?”

  He shook his head. “She wasn’t when she left.”

  “You miss her?” Grace missed her siblings every day and couldn’t imagine how she’d feel after her parents were gone and they were all that was left.

  “Yeah. Some shit went down and she left town. Said she needed space. I talk to her now and then on the phone.”

  “It must get lonely with so much of your family gone.” Some people made remarks like that in a way that was almost mocking, but he knew Grace wasn’t. So he reached around her and gently moved her away from the sink, taking over the dishe
s.

  “I have my brothers in the club.” And now I have you. “It’s not so bad.”

  “That kind of comradery sounds appealing,” Grace said, taking a plate from his hand and drying it. He smiled down at her while she reached up and put it in the cabinet.

  “It is. You must know something about that, being a cop.”

  “Not here. Maybe in some precincts, but here I’m the odd woman out. I’m not local. I’m not part of any legacies. I’m just the strange woman who moved to Detroit and likes it too much to leave.” She finished drying the silverware and placed it in the drawer, then took his hand. “But it’s good work. It’s helping people. Come on, pick my brain. Let’s see if we can figure something new out together.”

  He followed her into the living room, trying and failing to keep his eyes off the subtle swing of her hips. For the past few weeks, Tom resisted the urge to bury himself in her—but it was stronger now. Something about knowing her made him ravenous to have her under him. All of her. The dancer and the cop. Her blazing eyes when she explained herself that night in her room.

  Get information. Find Butch. Kill Butch.

  There was nothing on his list about tumbling Grace into bed and making her come until her pupils dilated and her small hands were leaving furrows in his back.

  But god, he wanted to.

  “Ask me anything,” Grace said, settling down on the couch. He sat next to her, shaking his head to clear the scent of her jasmine and rose perfume. Everything about her was a distraction.

  “How did you get the case?”

  “A higher up in the department approached me and asked me to come to his office to discuss a workplace incident. I thought he was referring to an argument I’d had the week before with Jenkins.”

  “Jenkins?”

  “One of the officers downtown. He’d grabbed my ass while were out on patrol together.”

  Add break Jenkins’ arm to the list.

  “He knew I was interested in the case. It was kind of my pet project. He said that it couldn’t be handled from inside the department, but if I was willing—I could make a difference from the outside.”

  “That was Chief Anderson?” he asked, referring to his boss.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “I’ve been working under him directly since the following week.”

  She looked so forlorn that he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and laying a hand on her leg. “It’s not going to be forever.”

  “I know.” She moved her body closer to his and the heat she always inspired flared.

  “Tom…”

  “Yes?”

  “I was disappointed you weren’t there this morning, but not just because I like seeing you.”

  “Why then?”

  “I wanted to do this.” She rose to her knees and pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. Tom knew he should resist—this wasn’t why he was with her again. Not officially. But deep down, he knew what he wanted from her was more than case files and access to police information.

  So he leaned into the kiss, deepening it and pressing her back against the arm of the couch. Let his body cover hers so that her curves molded to his chest while her tongue slid out to caress his own.

  “You feel so good,” she said. Her small hands slid under the fabric of his t-shirt and over his back, soothing and arousing him at once. When she pulled up her knees, he sank down deeper against her and kissed her again, harder, a predatory growl escaping.

  Everything about her brought him right to the edge, even now when they were both fully dressed.

  “I don’t want to wait anyone. Take me to the bedroom.”

  Tom drew a deep breath, then stood, reaching for her hand. They walked into the bedroom and she ripped his shirt over his head, throwing it behind him. Her soft lips places kisses on his chest and he watched as she traveled lower, the gleam of the soft bedroom lights illuminating blues in her dark black hair.

  “Don’t move.” Her quick, clever fingers undid his jeans and he kicked off his boots, helping her pull the jeans free. She knelt in front of him—he’d never seen a sexier woman. From his vantage point, he saw the ass that was proudly on display in the tight black leggings she wore. Her breasts pushed against the soft front of her t-shirt and he was desperate to see them again.

  “Take your shirt off.”

  She did, then leaned forward and kissed the bobbing head of his cock. Years of experience went down the drain and it was all he could do not to explode right there. She looked up at him and he shook at the predatory gleam in her eyes.

  Then she took him deep in her mouth.

  “Fuck, Grace. You’re so good.” The pressure on his shaft increased and he felt his balls tighten as she moved her mouth on and off him. When her soft hand cupped his balls and rubbed gently, he thought it as all over.

  For long moments she stayed on her knees worshipping him. Showing him how much she wanted him with her mouth. He realized then that she was going to finish him—but he wanted inside her.

  “Stop.” Tom placed a hand on her cheek. “I need to be inside you.” Her eyes widened and she gave his shaft one last loving lick as she pulled away. Rising, she shed her leggings and panties, giving him a view of the world class ass she walked around with.

  Unable to stop himself, he reached out and smacked it once. Hard.

  She giggled, her eyes lighting up.

  Fuck.

  She was so fucking beautiful and funny. Just a twist of her lips had him mad to be inside her and he didn’t think the feeling was going to disappear after he came. She sat on the bed and he straddled her, pushing her back so that her long, luxuriant hair spread over her white pillows.

  Leaning up, she pursed her lips and kissed his neck, then the line of his jaw. He turned his head and captured her sweet lips, sinking into them as his body moved down on hers.

  Tom used his hands to tease her between the thighs. She was already soaked, but he wanted more. Wanted her slick for him, so wet that she forgot every man who’d had her before. He wanted to be something more to her than anyone else that had seen her like this, wild and sexy and sweet.

  His cock surged when it made contact with her thigh and she gasped at the heat.

  “I want you.” Her eyes met his as the words left her beautiful mouth. “I have since the night you showed me the fireworks.” Those lights glinting in her gold eyes—he’d wanted her then too. “I just didn’t want to before you knew who I was.”

  “You were going to tell me.”

  “Eventually,” she said, pure truth gleaming from her as she smiled at him. Open. Free.

  And now he was the one who wasn’t being honest.

  Pushing those thoughts back, he shifted his hips, sliding his crowd against her parted center so that she gasped and dug her fingers into the sheets. “Oh, god, Tom.” Grace threw back her head and moaned. “Please.”

  “Soon,” he said, sliding against her again. Her body bucked and he slipped right over the place he wanted to enter so bad, felt it and a shudder wracked his big body.

  He dipped his head to capture a nipple with his mouth, swirling his tongue as she sighed and arched her back. When she was lost in the pleasure of his mouth, the heat of his body, he started to sink into her.

  “Fuck,” he growled, edging deeper as she took measured breaths. “You’re so fucking tight.”

  She smiled, moving her hips up to meet him as he pushed deeper and when he drew back a little, she hissed. “No, not yet.”

  “I’m not taking it away, baby.” He thrust back in and almost came when her eyes went wide, her mouth opened on a moan. “Never taking this away from you.”

  His body picked up a rhythm as he fucked her, finding the perfect spot that made her scream and clutch his body tight. Grace drew her knees up and worked her hips, driving him to the brink of madness as he drove his heated body in and out of hers.

  When she came, it was on a moan that shook his entire body, making him clutch tight and drive into her faster while her sh
eath gripped him. “Fuck, Grace, I can’t stop.”

  “Don’t.” Her voice was dazed. Her body kept moving under him. “Don’t stop.”

  “I…” Tom looked down at her, pushed his hand between them and teased her to another climax. When her golden eyes went wide and sparked with fire, he followed her down, pushing deep and giving her everything he had.

  _____

  When their breathing returned to normal, Grace rolled over and draped herself across Tom’s chest, grinning at him and peppering his face with light kisses.

  “I can’t wait to come home and do it again.” She stretched her arms, as if everything in her felt loose and relaxed.

  “Baby, you drained me. I’m going to need at least five, ten days…” But his eyes gleamed.

  She laughed. “I have this dress…”

  Tom smiled and ran his hand up her back, pulling her closer for a kiss. “The night is young.”

  CHAPTER 18

  The next three nights that she wasn’t wrapped around a pole played out the same way. Grace would pull on a skin tight dress and follow Tom into a club where she’d always see at least three violations she could have called in a raid for. He’d talk to people and she’d pretend to be vapid, taking in everything around them.

  But there wasn’t anything new to set them on a path. Though she appreciated his help, sometimes his eyes were so bleak as they left each useless place, devoid of leads. It didn’t add up that the case was already affecting him more than her, after ten days of real work on it.

  She didn’t ask, though. At the end of the night, she’d just slide onto the back of his bike, trying to keep her legs closed until they were wrapped around him, feeling the leather of his jacket against her thighs. By the time they got back to her apartment, she’d be shaking and soaked.

  “You want this now, don’t you?” he asked in the lobby, letting his hand slide down to cup her ass. “My girl can’t even wait until we get upstairs for me to play with her soaked pussy.”

  “I…I do want it. You. Now.” Heat flooded her at the gruff sound of his voice, and she slid her hand down the tight muscles of his torso to feel his erection pulsing hard at the front of his jeans. “So much.”