Thunder (Desert Phantoms MC Book 1)

by Verlene Landon

  Rolling her hips back before she lost her confidence, elicited a groan from him and he ran his teeth along her neck. Her body remembered what to do, even if she didn’t. I can’t believe I did that.

  Andy was on the verge of turning in his arms when he released his hold and brushed past her. Standing by the bed, she watched in fascination as he stripped down to his boxer briefs, pulled back the comforter and fell face-first into the bed.

  Stunned was an understatement. He didn’t move or motion for her to join him, just snored softly. He must’ve been drunker than she judged him to be in the hall.

  Andy didn’t know what to do. Did she tiptoe away after covering him up? That thought dragged her attention to the man lying face down in the giant bed. His toes still hung slightly over the foot of the bed. But holy wow with a side of Jesus help me. The man was built. Not that she doubted it from what she felt, but seeing it was a whole other thing.

  Every muscle in his legs, cut and defined. His ass was a work of art. Fat free and fine as hell wrapped in black and gray ribbed cotton.

  Her eyes feasted on him as they traveled north. The ink on his back matched the one she’d done on Blast, but slightly different from the one outside on the building. Two steps closer and… yep, Ripley’s work. No doubt in her mind.

  After awkwardly staring at a sleeping man for longer than was normal for a non-stalker, Andy knew the right thing to do was leave, but something kept her there.

  So, next best thing, snoop. Not the creepy get your restraining order signed kind of snoop. The fun kind. Like, ooo, bedside drawer. Score.

  The carpet absorbed her heel strikes as she tried to tiptoe over to the bedside table. Her shin struck the low bench positioned at the foot of the bed. “Son of a biscuit making cunt.” So much for snooping, but nope. The giant, sexy man on the bed didn’t even flinch.

  Abandoning her attempts to be quiet, because she was always louder when she tried not to be than when she just acted normal.

  Dragging the drawer open, she almost choked when she saw the contents. The man had some interesting tastes, obviously, and a healthy appetite if the number of condoms were an indicator. Closing the drawer, she turned and surveyed the room. A shelf above the bed held a few items. A dark dresser took up the whole far wall but only had one picture on it.

  Curiosity got the best of her, and the picture called. She picked it up and walked toward the door she assumed was a closet or bathroom.

  Bathroom. The other must’ve been a closet. Flipping the light switch, she looked down at the framed picture in her hand. It was four men in flight suits standing beside an airplane. They were all smiling and the one in the middle was wet from head to toe. She squinted and brought the picture closer to her face.

  None of them appeared to be the tatted, bearded behemoth snoring in the other room, but she recognized one face.

  Killer from the underground fights at Ozzy’s. Man, she’d always wanted to sleep with him. She just knew he’d be a hell of a ride. Too bad she never got the chance. With regret, she stopped staring at the picture but wondered at the giant’s connection to Killer.

  Before she could return it to the bedroom, the bathroom finally caught her eye. “Damn.” There was black subway tile on the walls, black marble on the floor. All the fixtures were brushed steel, including the fuckton of surrounding showerheads. The toilet, sink, garden tub, and shower were a glazed dove gray. The bathroom was something straight from a modern living style magazine.

  Wow. Stepping back into the room and replacing the picture, she found herself more curious about the man still snoring on the bed. Who was he? He was kind of sloppy drunk, but she could tell by the tidiness of the room he wasn’t a man who enjoyed being out of control or disorder. She had to assume tonight was the exception for him, not the rule.

  What would cause a man who valued control to get wasted? Andy’s curiosity was piqued. And what was his connection to the man who regularly still appeared in her naughty dreams?

  When she was trying to break into the fights, she refused to sleep with the other fighters. You don’t shit where you eat. However, she would’ve made an exception for Killer. He was at the top of her Fuckit Bucket List. Right ahead of Jason Momoa, Sam Elliot, and Adam Driver. The last she’d added the last time she and Lexi compared notes. Her argument was he would definitely play a sub role and maybe even be into pegging. Yes, she knew it was all in fun, but it made her feel good to continue one of the things they had done pre-traumatic brain injury. So, she went with it. Of course, every time she looked at or thought about her list, she sent up a silent apology to the man in the fourth position. Sorry, Adam Driver, it’s all in fun.

  Before she could snoop his closet, he started tossing and turning. “Heisman no. No!” The giant flinched and tossed. Murmuring a series of no’s and damn it’s. “Why didn’t you listen? You never fucking listen.”

  The man had layers, and by the sound of it, some pretty painful ones. She could figure out his connection to Killer tomorrow. It disturbed her he made California condors take flight in her stomach and she’d never even seen his eyes. More layers, ones she wanted to peel back.

  Without overthinking, she unzipped the stripper boots and shed her jeans. Flipping off the lights and locking the door, she peeled back the covers on the other side of the bed and slid in.

  When he snuggled into little spoon position, she flopped the covers over his body and wrapped her arm around his waist. He pulled it in tighter and tucked their hands together under him and settled into a more restful slumber with a sound of contentment. So did she.

  7

  Thunder

  Wakefulness was slowly easing over his mind. When he flexed his fingers, he felt others intertwined with his. That’s when his mind registered the heat at his back. It felt nice, so he let his eyes drift back closed and just enjoyed the feeling of being held.

  It felt comforting. . .loving. He knew love had nothing to do with it, especially where club girls were concerned, but he enjoyed the illusion. It kept the demons to a dull roar.

  That’s when he heard it. Nothing. Peace. Not the echo of memories and what-ifs he was used to. Not the earsplitting screams, either. The kind that sometimes not a single club girl, or two, could quiet.

  Allowing his hand to lazily caress the arm around him, he lost himself in thought. He’d had his most peaceful night of sleep since. . .he could remember. Flashes of last night came to him. Passing out and remembering Heisman was what popped into his mind first. Then, nothing. Just sleep. Blissful, peaceful sleep.

  He even felt fucking refreshed, which never happened. Normally when Heisman was in his brain, his night went downhill fast. He’d wake up, if he managed a few fitful minutes that was, feeling like he’d been to hell and back, and actually, he had been. But last night had been different. After the initial memory, he’d slept. It didn’t play on a loop until he lost his shit and destroyed the room. Nope, nothing.

  That meant one of two things. Either he’d drank way more than he thought, or it resulted from the new girl. He sure as hell hoped it was the former, because the latter was bad news. Thunder wouldn’t—couldn’t—need anyone that much. Made that mistake once, got the t-shirt and all that crap. Or rather the emotional scarring, mental images, broken heart, and trust issues.

  He tensed at the memories and the thoughts plaguing him in the morning hours.

  Thunder talked himself out of the remote possibility it had anything to do with the chick at his back. Some new piece of ass was just that. A piece of ass. Not to him though. He still had his boxers on, so they just snuggled. Thank god he hadn’t been so drunk he’d fucked her and then let her stay. That was a door that was fucking sealed shut.

  Having convinced himself it was the alcohol and not the chick, he relaxed. As the tension drained from him, he started noticing little things. Like the toned, but short leg draped over his. He cracked his eyes open and eased the covers down. She had some nice ink on that leg.

  Through his ba
ck, he could feel small breasts and six-pack abs. They were covered in a thin layer he assumed was a shirt. Pity. It was the arm around his waist and a familiar scent that gave him pause.

  Cutting through any remnants of sleep that remained, consciousness smacked him in the back of the head. That ink. That ink. He knew that ink. Especially the almost microscopic lettering on the fingers locked with his. He brought their joined hands closer to his face. The light coming in through the window was enough to make out EVIL in delicate scroll lettering. Lettering that looks more like fancy flourishes than letters. He knew if he could see the other hand, it would have the same feminine lettering with a GOOD on the fingers.

  As his eyes traveled up the arm, his stomach dropped. He was trying to convince himself it wasn’t her, but there was nothing but mounting evidence supporting the fact it was her. The girl from the fights he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since that one amazing fuck.

  Thunder had fantasized about this very moment, getting her into his bed for more than a quick screw in a locker room. But instead of rolling over and handling business, he froze.

  So many times, he tried to pretend his flavor of the night was her. Every time, something always ruined the illusion. Maybe that was why it was taking his brain so long to catch up to his body.

  Slowly, so as not to wake her, he twisted so he could get visual confirmation it was really her. His breath caught. When his body and brain synced, he processed the information, and was knocked for a loop. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair had highlights that weren’t there three years ago. The tiny cut that he’d thought didn’t even need stitches had scarred.

  He ran his finger along it and shivered. Not that it was ugly, far from it, he hated the fact he’d been the one to mar her. But the asshole part of him, the part that walked around swinging his dick and beating his chest, kinda dug it. She had a daily reminder of their time together and all he had were memories.

  Thank the little baby Jesus in a tuxedo shirt they were vivid as fuck. Not wanting to waste a single moment, he shed his boxers and rolled his body to match the length of hers. He needed as much skin on skin contact as he could get. His cuddle or sex rule was voided since he’d already done both with her. Thunder loved loopholes.

  When he dropped his head and ran kisses along her elegant neck, she moaned. Still asleep and welcoming his touch, thank fuck. Using his own body, he gently rolled her to her back and decided to do something he’d wanted to do for years. Taste that sweet pussy.

  Sliding down her sleep-warmed body felt like coming home, Thunder pushed those thoughts aside; they had no place here. No chick was his home and never would be again. He didn’t want a relationship, but he wouldn’t mind regular sexual contact with this woman.

  Thunder dragged his nose along her satin-covered pussy and shuddered. “I want to taste you. Do you want that, sweetheart? Do you want me to tongue fuck you into next week?” He may have only spent a few minutes with her in the past, but he knew what got her motor running. She’d come to his bed willingly, but he wanted her awake enough to know who was going to give her pleasure.

  The comforter had caught on his head as he slid down, but there was enough of a gap that he could see her beautiful face. Her eyes were still closed, but she was awake enough to consent. “God, yes. It’s been so long. Yes.” Her sexy body was squirming in anticipation. The loose shirt she wore was halfway down one shoulder and above her rippled abdomen.

  Sadly, her tits were covered and so was her pussy. Thunder didn’t want to wait the time it took to properly undress her. Instead, he pushed her shirt up the rest of the way, exposing her pink nipples and he groaned.

  “Say the words, sweetheart. Tell me you want me to tongue fuck you.”

  Eyes still closed, she grabbed her tits and squeezed as the sound fell from her lips. “Yes, tongue fuck me into next week, please?”

  It was the please that did him in. With two fingers, he dragged that strip of satin to the side and dove into her pussy tongue first. A groan ripped from his soul as her taste exploded on his tongue. Her shout pierced the air.

  Thunder became ravenous. His hunger for her was damn near blinding. He wanted her orgasm like he wanted to breathe. “Oh, God, oh, God, right there…” She moaned when he nibbled her clit and added two fingers to replace the tongue which moved slightly north.

  The way she trailed off reminded him, she didn’t know his name, not even his road name. Back then, he was simply known as Killer. Didn’t want to risk any military connection, so he simply let circumstance name him.

  Thunder was faced with a slight dilemma. He had the opportunity to hear a woman scream his name. A name he hadn’t heard in passion since, well, a time he refused to give credence to while he was tongue deep in a sweet pussy.

  He did love to hear a woman cry his road name. Rather than put any more thought into it, he just let whatever name fell from his mouth decide.

  Pulling back from her body, he peeked through the opening of the covers. Her eyes were on him. “Nick. But you can keep calling me God if it makes you happy.”

  Not wanting her to come down from that edge she was riding, he dove right back into what he was doing. A few more well-timed thrusts of his fingers and sucking her bud and she was flying with the angels. The dirty ones, anyway. His name an invocation from her mouth.

  “Fuck me running. You have exceptional skills in that arena.” Her breathless words died on her lips as he crawled back up her body and gently nipped at a peaked nipple.

  Before she could catch her breath… again, Thunder leaned over to the bedside table, grabbed a condom and flipped her over.

  Not that he didn’t want to look in her eyes when he fucked her, he’d get to that. Now, he needed to see that sweet ass he’d missed.

  After he rolled the condom down his shaft, he pulled her askew thong to her knees. Tapping the outside of her thighs, prompted her to raise each enough to remove them.

  He tossed it on the chair where his clothes were haphazardly hanging on. At least his cut was securely hanging on the back. A flash of her wearing it while he pounded her from behind zipped through his mind, but he pushed it out.

  With his attention back on the woman beneath him, he watched as she reached behind her and pulled the loose shirt over her head. She didn’t get a chance to raise her elbows and remove it before he buried himself to the hilt with a groan that was loud to his ears. Deafening even.

  8

  Andrea

  When Lexi told her to get back into the swing of things, Andy was sure her best friend had no idea where she would end up.

  She was in a room at the Desert Phantoms clubhouse with a guy she knew only as Nick. A man who had a magical tongue and an even more supernatural dick. A dick that was hitting her G-spot so perfect.

  So, with that being the case, why was her mind wandering? Shouldn’t her ability to think be hindered? Something was scratching at the edge of her mind. The edge where only that black hole of twenty minutes lived. Something… something. Shit, the picture. Maybe that was it. Nick knew the man she’d obsessed over for about four months or so, three years ago. Maybe kinda still did.

  “Why am I letting that bother me?” The man behind her stilled. Shit, had she spoken aloud?

  “Usually when I’m fucking, the words falling from my partner’s lips are a litany of incoherent babbles, calls to a deity, or instructions. That sounded like none of the above. Should I stop?”

  He sounded more puzzled than pissed. Hurt than annoyed. “Sorry, but that was one hell of an orgasm. Short-circuited my brain a little.” Did he buy it?

  Nick leaned over her and licked up her spine. Sending tiny shocks through her nerve endings. When he got to her ear, he rasped, “Good answer, sweetheart. I don’t believe a single syllable of it, but still a good answer.” He bit down on her lobe before licking the sting away. She barely recognized the groan that minor act pulled from her. Again, with the scratching. The sense of déjà vu was overwhelm
ing. She tried to grab on to a fleeting flash of… something, but Nick swiveled his hips and started circling her clit with a finger.

  “Fuck.” She grunted as her face ground into the soft pillow with each thrust. Now the only thing she was trying to chase was a second orgasm.

  “Good, you’re back. Now that I have your undivided attention, are you ready to have some real fun?”

  “Um, this isn’t the real fun? Because I have to tell you, I’m having a pretty good time already.” Every few words were punctuated with a deep plunge of his dick. Steady withdraw, followed by a quick thrust. Still for a heartbeat and then he’d repeat the process over and over. Even after she stopped talking.

  The pleasure was ramped up but not enough to make her come. He was purposely holding them on that edge. Andy wanted to come desperately, but also, not. Torn between grabbing that bliss that was right there or intensifying it. She focused on the slow, steady motion of his finger.

  Methodical circles meant to drive her mad with the promise of gratification that he held hostage.

  “Are you going to finally tell me your name, or do I keep this exact pace all night until you go crazy and take me with you?”

  Finally? He hadn’t asked before now. Considering they’d only spent less than ten waking moments together, the majority of which with some part of his body inside hers, it wasn’t like they’d had the time to chat.

  Maybe he expected her to volunteer it when he’d told her his. That was the only thing that would explain the odd phrasing and emphasis.

  “Andrea, but everyone calls me Andy. I would shake your hand, but yours seem a bit full at the moment.” And boy were they. One was still maddeningly circling her clit while the other gripped her hip in a hold that bordered on pain.

  His steady rhythm faltered, but he recovered rather quickly. She could ask about that later, right now, she needed to come. “If you don’t handle business soon, Nick, I’ll handle it myself.” She thrust herself back and circled her hips. It was his turn to ride that edge if she had anything to say about it.