Capone

by Lynn Burke

  But he was so damn fine.

  Perfection, just like the muscle, heat, and heady scent of pure male wrapped around me. We could both have what we wanted with no emotions involved, no expectations—just like I preferred. And if he did want more, I’d simply tell him to take a fucking hike.

  Ride him, then be rid of him. God.

  I tipped my head back against his chest and guzzled the rest of my champagne. The cool bubbles raced down my throat as his breath skittered down my neck and back up again to heat my ear. His hand on my belly lowered until his pinky rested close enough to my pubic bone I moaned again.

  Sarah scowled.

  I grinned and pressed harder against Capone’s cock digging into my lower back.

  His low groan in my ear pulsed my pussy again. I’d never been so damn turned on in my entire life.

  Fuck this.

  I wanted him, so I would have him—end of story.

  “Want to get out of here?” I asked loud against the music, my head turned enough my lips brushed his chin as I slurred the question.

  Without a word, he grasped my hand and led me away from the crowd, our fingers entwined, my entire body thrumming. Out the double doors into the hotel lobby … a few steps toward our left and through another set of doors.

  Naughty boy…

  I didn’t have much time for thought over the fact he’d led me into a coat closet, because he crowded me against the few hanging coats until my back hit the wall. My drunken giggle cut off as his lips caught mine.

  Electrical charges simmered along my skin as lightning exploded behind my eyelids. Talk about fireworks … I blamed the champagne for the way my body went limp against his. My moan sounded loud in the silence of wool and darkness surrounding us. His subtle cologne swarmed my senses as his lips and tongue swept me up into a world of pure lust. Pure need.

  He tangled his hands in my up-do, tilted my head, and devoured every inch of my mouth. He kissed me like he owned me, like he could lay the world at my feet.

  Wetness beyond what I had ever experienced welled, and I whimpered as he slid a knee between my knees and lifted, taking my skirt high enough his thigh rubbed against my pussy.

  I grabbed at his shoulders. His back. His ass. Couldn’t keep my hands from mapping every hard inch of his body, and when he tore his mouth from mine and sank to his knees, my fingers found hold in his hair.

  Our heavy breaths filled the muffled silence. My gasp broke it as he wrapped his hands around my knees and slid them to my waist, taking my skirt all the way up.

  He nudged my pubic bone and trimmed patch with his nose, his deep inhale loud in the quietness. “Divine,” he whispered and licked through my soaked folds.

  My head thumped against the wall behind me, the darkness behind my eyelids spinning. “Fuck…”

  “Mmm,” he agreed, his lathing tongue finding my throbbing clit.

  I ground my pussy against his face, so damn ready to combust from a man’s touch for the first time in ages, I bit my lip, knowing I would scream.

  Capone had a tongue to match the rest of his perfection. He tasted every inch of me, licking and nibbling with enough sting to make me gasp. Enough pressure to take me to the edge over and over. Enough intuition to leave me dangling on the cliff I teetered upon … so ready to tumble headfirst into the waiting rush of euphoria I damn well deserved.

  He fucking stopped. Backed off, the prick.

  “The fuck? Give me what I want.” I yanked on his hair, trying to pull him back to me, but he rocked on his heels and stood.

  “I want you spread out on a bed, naked and crying for release.”

  I rubbed against him like a cat in heat, imagining what he said in my buzzed head, but not wanting to wait. “Give it to me now.”

  “No, darlin’.” He cut off my responding growl with his luscious mouth, once more melting me against the wall.

  I wrapped one leg around his waist, grinding against his hardness, chasing the orgasm I wanted.

  “Tell me you need a ride home,” he whispered against my lips, my tangy scent clinging to his breath, his hands sliding down over my breasts, beneath the dress, pulling at the beaded nipples that ached for his kiss.

  “I need a ride home,” I agreed without thought, my drunken need to fuck already owning every inch of my brain.

  Maybe too much alcohol, I realized as he grasped my hand once more and led me out into the hallway. My feet didn’t want to cooperate. Neither did my focus as we walked out into the cool, spring night.

  I didn’t give a shit about the purse I’d left in the wedding party’s private room. Didn’t give a second thought to the fact I’d left without letting anyone know.

  Capone climbed onto his Harley, and I slid on behind him, my dress riding up.

  “Where to?” he asked as I pressed against his back.

  I murmured my rental’s address in his ear, adding a flick of my tongue along his lobe.

  He groaned. “Hold on.”

  The engine roared to life, and seconds later, wind whipped into the night the pins Capone hadn’t already dislodged from my hair. My head spinning and dark hair flying behind us, I fought to cling to his trim waist. The heat of his skin, the dips of his six-pack kept me somewhat focused—and turned on as fuck.

  The short ride across town seemed an eternity. My stumble up the steps of my rental house brought giggles to my lips, the type that hadn’t escaped me for years. I fumbled to get the spare key from atop the doorjamb as Capone palmed my ass and grumbled about the lousy hiding spot.

  We fell into my entryway, but before he could utter a word, my stomach turned.

  “Oh God…” I pushed his hands off me and rushed back the hall, my shoulders banging me around like a pinball on the walls as I tried to focus on the bathroom door.

  Somehow, I ended up on my knees, crawling over the cool tile.

  I managed to hold off heaving until I bent my head over the toilet.

  “Shit.” Capone’s murmured curse accompanied his hands gathering up my hair.

  He fucking held me while I puked my guts up into the porcelain throne.

  Thoughts of my being a moron for drinking so much rang with each gagging heave that hunched me over the toilet. A sexy-ass man ready to blow my mind, and I end up blowing chunks in front of him.

  My eyes watered with every heave, and although I expected my makeup smeared in rivulets down my cheeks, I couldn’t find it in myself to give two fucks. I spit a few times, and swallowing against the burning sting of bile in my throat, I sat back, eyes closed.

  “Damnit all to hell,” I rasped out, hands still clenching the toilet seat.

  “You okay?” Capone murmured, one hand holding my hair, the other smoothing down my back.

  “Ugh.” I struggled to stand on shaking legs, and he held my arm as I attempted to move toward the sink. “Toothbrush,” I managed, needing to rid my mouth of the puke taste.

  Blinking repeatedly didn’t bring the toothbrush in my hand into focus. Didn’t clear up the fuzzy image of the wrecked face in the wavering mirror above the sink.

  “I’ve got you, darlin’.” Capone’s arms wrapped around me from behind, and I sighed back into him, allowing my eyelids to rest.

  ****

  My head fucking pounded. I groaned and rolled, burying my face in my pillow against the bright light streaming around my closed blinds.

  Had I closed them before going to bed?

  Is it fucking Monday already? I forced an eye open and blinked into focus the red numbers on my clock.

  Eight.

  Wait.

  I rolled faster than I should have, noting my complete lack of clothing and the empty bed beside me. Sitting made my head scream, and I scowled.

  My bridesmaid dress sat at the foot of the bed, folded neatly.

  Blinds closed…

  I slid off the bed and walked toward the bathroom on weak legs. No mess near or around the toilet. Toothbrush put back in its holder. No condom wrapper in the trashcan.
>
  No sign of Capone in either room—or evidence of him between my legs. No leftover cum dripping from my pussy, no sweet ache or sting of welcomed invasion.

  My scowl deepened.

  Naked as a jay, I stalked into the kitchen, hands on hips. Door locked. Key on the island, and fucking Keurig ready to roll with my favorite mug beside it… How the fuck did he know?

  “Fuck.” I slumped on a stool. A glance around the kitchen didn’t reveal the purse I normally wouldn’t go anywhere without. Had I left it at the hotel?

  Yes, goddamnit. That meant no cell phone.

  No phone, but I wasn’t about to let Capone off the hook. Failing to attain one of my goals didn’t sit well. Never had, never would. I got what I wanted, when I wanted, unlike my weak mother who gave up her dreams for whatever my stepdad had wanted.

  Not this woman, I told myself, rising once more to my feet and heading to the bathroom. Jeremiah Capone Caldwell owed me a fucking orgasm, and I was going to claim it. Two-fold.

  Capone

  I hadn’t slept worth a shit. Thoughts of Helina sent shots of cum into my fist as I’d jerked off in my own bed an hour after tucking her into hers, but my dick still ached to be buried inside of her. I’d stripped her down, stared at her gorgeous body while folding the bridesmaid dress with shaking hands, and covered her limp form without taking advantage of her drunkenness.

  My fingers had itched to trail down over her skin, my mouth watering to taste every inch of her, but motorcycle gang member or no, I was no rapist.

  I scowled as I cursed my decency for at least the tenth time since pulling myself out of bed at the ass-crack of dawn and climbing onto my bike.

  Jonny had called a meeting, and I headed to the club with only one cup of coffee sloshing in my empty stomach. Cool air licked at my face as my Harley rumbled beneath me, but the absolute sense of freedom my bike brought didn’t even wipe away my frown.

  I had missed out because I couldn’t take advantage of a woman. You’re a damn motorcycle gang member, I grumbled at myself in my head while parking my bike in front of the club. A badass who was supposed to take what he wants, fuck the consequences.

  Pussy… Dad’s voice chimed in my head along with my brother’s, Pansy-assed little bitch.

  Still scowling, I pushed through the front door. For once, eighties music didn’t blare through the overhead speakers. Instead, voices of my brothers gathered in the bar area rumbled. A few called out greetings, but I didn’t offer my usual grin in return.

  Hawk, our Sergeant at Arms, flagged me over toward the end of the bar where he sat beside Jonny. The two lacked their usual monster of a bodyguard Digger, who, I noted while glancing around the room, must have stayed in bed where his shot-up ass belonged.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked while sliding onto the stool beside Hawk.

  My brother moved the toothpick in his mouth from one side to the other with his tongue, hazel eyes hard and unsmiling as always—unless Janie hung on his side. “Better than this whole fucked up situation is about to get.”

  “That bad?” I whispered as Jonny stood.

  Lips pursed, Hawk nodded and turned his attention on Jonny.

  Dark eyes assessing the group before him, our president straightened, tilting his chin out the slightest bit. “We had an incident Friday afternoon.”

  A fucking pin could have dropped, the sound echoing through the club.

  “Digger and his woman were attacked by two men while riding north,” Jonny continued. “Digger took a bullet to the side, but he’ll be fine. Can’t say the same for the two assholes who thought to take him out.”

  A few muttered curses sounded, and Jonny waited for silence to settle before continuing. “Nicky answered Digger’s call—”

  More than one of the Gliders shouted their approval, grins sprouting up over the fact our former Sergeant at Arms who’d left us the spring before still responded to a brother in need.

  Jonny’s mouth twitched as though he, too, wanted to grin.

  We all missed the old man, the last original Glider from the old days, but he’d left us when his only sister OD’ed on the drugs our club dealt throughout New Hampshire. Couldn’t blame the man. I’d have done the same.

  “Nicky and Digger didn’t leave any loose ends,” Jonny continued once the men quieted down again.

  As if either would. Between the two of them, nothing had ever come back to bite the Gliders in the ass over the years. I’d only gone up north after finding out Digger’s woman had been involved, the woman I’d had first, shared with Digger, then willingly stepped back to allow my brother to stake his claim once I realized she belonged to him.

  Perfect for each other—just sucked ass Digger wouldn’t be my partner in crime anymore. We’d shared dozens of women, including the handful of club whores who always had a hole willing for a brother or two at the same time.

  Ball and chain, I told myself, trying to push away the longing in my gut for something similar to what both Hawk and Digger had found.

  “So now what?” one of my brothers called out once Jonny finished up telling them about the two men’s demise.

  Jonny scanned the room. “The two taken out were the same keeping watch on the club—and Digger last week.”

  “They FBI?” someone from the back of the room asked.

  “Sure as shit didn’t look like it,” Hawk said around his toothpick.

  “We’re going to ride this out,” Jonny said. “See what happens. You’re the only men who know what happened, and if I hear whispers about this from anyone outside of this room—including the club whores who have no business outside of our pants—”

  Laughter filled the place.

  “—I’ll find out who squealed, and I’ll bury you so fucking deep even the devil himself won’t be able to find your dismembered body.”

  Silence settled so fucking thick, I shifted on my stool. Jonny always followed through with his threats. Hell, I’d seen a man’s tongue sliced out by Nicky’s blade the first year I’d joined the Gliders because the guy wouldn’t shut up like Jonny had told him to.

  Someone pounded on the locked club door, and everyone froze, silence once more descending.

  Jonny nodded to one of the Gliders in the back. “See who it is.”

  He stood and peered through the peep hole. “Some dark-haired bitch. Looks pissed off at the world.”

  She pounded on the door again. “Open the fuck up!” Her muffled scream accompanied by one last fist to the metal door.

  Jonny nodded when my brother turned from the peephole, brow raised.

  The door squeaked, and men shifted to catch a glimpse of the woman who dared to show up uninvited at the Fallen Gliders’ private club.

  Green eyes blazing, Helina stepped into the doorway, hands on hips, and my cock sprang to attention.

  “Fuck.” I hadn’t realized I’d cursed out loud.

  “Know her?” Jonny asked as she scanned the room.

  “Yep.”

  Her gaze landed on me, and her brow furrowed. “Jeremiah Caldwell, get your ass over here!” She stomped her booted foot.

  Laughter rang out, and face heating, I stood and pushed my way through the club. A few backslaps and wishes of good luck followed along behind me.

  “Put that bitch in her place,” one of my brothers hollered, earning a few chuckles.

  “I’ll set her straight,” I said, grinning and swaggering, but inside wanting to wiggle like a fucking worm on a hook. Even my damn palms sweated.

  I grabbed Helina by the arm and dragged her back outside into the morning air with mocked confidence even my dad would have been proud of.

  “Don’t you fucking manhandle me!”

  The door slammed shut behind us, and I dropped my hold on her arm, stepped back, and shoved my hands into my pockets to keep from pressing her up against the wall and devouring her pouty lips.

  She hauled off and slapped me across the face. Hard. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again.” She seet
hed like a hissing cat, fire glinting in her eyes, hair a wild mess of dark tresses hanging over her shoulder.

  Sexy. As. Fuck.

  I told myself I had to be tough just in case anyone watched through the peephole or listened through the door “Don’t you ever show up here uninvited and make demands like you own the place—and me.”

  Helina lifted a hand to slap me again, and I grabbed her forearm, gritted my teeth, scowling while meeting her gaze. “Do not hit me again.” Sexual tension strung between us like a livewire. Fuck, did I want her…

  “I didn’t fuck you while you were out cold, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I said, keeping my voice low and releasing my hold on her.

  “I know.” She fisted her hands at her side and tilted her chin up.

  “So what’s the fucking problem?”

  “You … you … fuck.” She heaved a heavy breath, drawing my attention to the cleavage and pebbled nipples her bra and t-shirt didn’t hide.

  I met her gaze, brow lifted. “I what?”

  “Didn’t give me what I wanted.”

  The corner of my lip quirked at her petulant pout. “Which was?”

  Her gaze narrowed again. “Don’t play coy with me, Jeremiah.”

  “Capone.”

  “Whatever.”

  A car buzzed past on the road, but I didn’t take my gaze off her gorgeous face. “You’ve got balls, woman, showing up at the club like this all because I left you hanging last night.”

  “I always get what I want.”

  “Spoiled brat.”

  “You have no idea,” she ground out between her teeth, hands clenched at her sides

  I stepped into her personal space, crowding her up against the club’s brick wall. “Frustrated, Helina?” Her breath caught as I pressed my hard cock into her soft belly and twined my fingers in her hair, but I didn’t give her time to respond. I took her lips in a bruising kiss, tongue lashing and teeth nipping.

  Helina pulled at my hair. Punched my shoulders and tried to knee me in the balls, but she kissed me back, taking more than I’d hoped. She bit my lower lip, tilting her head back to pull the flesh taut.