Hammer (Heartlands Motorcycle Club Book 9)

by Dani Wyatt

  “Something like that,” he smolders.

  Yes, smolders. I’ve never heard a man smolder when he speaks.

  This is bad and getting worse.

  “Listen—” I start, but he puts a finger to my lips.

  “One shot. Then I’ll listen.”

  He pulls his finger away and I open my mouth but I’m not sure what it is I want to say. My eyes drift to where he is now holding the bottle in one hand and pulling on the glass ball stopper.

  It makes a ‘pop’ sound and he pushes the now open bottle my way.

  I swallow hard, knowing this has trouble written all over it, but against my better judgment, I slip my hand around the cool glass and watch him watching me. It’s one drink, what’s the harm?

  “Straight from the bottle?” I ask, and he nods, sucking his lips tight to his teeth, those green eyes looking like they are about to catch fire.

  “Straight from the bottle,” he repeats, lowering his chin as he watches me.

  I blow out a long breath and nod at the liquid bad decision, before bringing it to my lips, upturning the bottle and taking a draw.

  I throw my head back a little, letting the burning tequila slip over my tongue and I swallow, hoping I keep it down. It’s sweet and harsh at the same time and my skin immediately lights up. Heat envelops me and I set down the bottle, shaking my head on a grimace.

  I hear Hammer chuckle, but my eyes are watering and I can’t speak.

  When I recover enough for a breath, I cough hard, then shove the bottle across the steel table to him and choke out, “Your turn.”

  He doesn’t answer, just takes the bottle and turns it up. His draw is longer than mine and I’m sure he’s more adept at drinking than I am.

  I’m mesmerized at the way his throat moves as he swallows. His Adam’s apple is prominent, working under the scruff of his unshaved neck. The muscle in his square jaw hardens. He finishes his shot and when he licks his lips, my nipples tingle and I hate the betrayal.

  I have no idea how much time passes as I stare. He only took one shot but it’s like time has slowed to a crawl as I devour his every movement and sound.

  By the time he puts the bottle back down on the table, I know I’m in deep cow shit.

  He slides it back my way. “One more.”

  I should shake my head. I’m willing my muscles to do what’s right, willing my vocal cords to say no.

  They refuse to comply.

  Instead, my hand is back on the bottle, the cool glass once again on my lips as the burn of the liquid slides down my throat for the second time.

  I’m spinning. Not just from the alcohol, but from the vibration growing between us. Hammer is right next to me. I feel the warmth of his skin and the sex scent that he should bottle and sell because he wound make a trillion dollars.

  As I withdraw the bottle from my lips, he leans down, his hand brushes the hair back from my ear and the last thing I hear before all my defenses retreat is, “Good girl.”

  Plop.

  Chapter 5

  Hammer

  “Listen.” She starts again, trying to be so serious, but I see the way her nipples are punching through the fabric of her shirt. I see the strap of a white bra, a bit of lace showing through the thin white fabric and I wonder if her nipples are big and light pink. Or maybe darker, pulling into quarter-sized circles, and the thoughts have my hard on at full length, making me salivate like Pavlov’s fucking dogs.

  “I’m listening,” I growl, keeping my face by her ear, then lowering my lips so they are a fraction of an inch from the base of her neck, letting out a long breath, and I feel her body tense next to me.

  “I like to be straight up.” Her voice is quivering, but she doesn’t make any attempt to move away from me so I bring a hand to the back of her neck, slipping her hair through my fingers, and there’s a little sound she makes in the back of her throat before she continues. “Whatever this is, and I get it. There’s something here. But, it can’t be more than physical.”

  “Is that so? There is something, I agree. I think we should explore this something.”

  I pull back a bit, her cheeks are bright pink and I raise an eyebrow at her.

  “It’s just…” She tries, but I slide my hand under her hair, lightly gripping the back of her neck and turning her body so she’s facing me. Her tits are just brushing the front of my vest. “If this is something, it can’t be more than like, friends with benefits. Or whatever, because we’re not really friends.”

  I bite into my cheek. I like the benefits part of that, but a flash of red anger blinds me.

  “You’ve had these kind of friends before?” I manage, trying to keep my voice even as I imagine choking the life out of anyone that’s had some casual encounter with her before.

  Because nothing about what I’m feeling is casual.

  “No, it’s not that—” She stammers, as my fingers pulse on the back of her neck and my eyes stay on hers, watching her lashes flutter. “I’m just not interested in anything serious. You don’t strike me as the type that wants serious either, so I just want to be clear…if we, you know.” She shrugs a shoulder upward and there’s an innocence in her eyes and words that makes me think this is all fairly new territory for her. “Nothing serious. Just sex.”

  “I don’t think you have any idea what I want.” I run my other hand down her back until I have a handful of the world’s most magnificent ass. “But, I’m willing to show you.”

  She stalls, holding her breath, then lets out a long exhale before she replies. “Maybe you won’t like what I want.” She counters in a harsh tone, but that tough voice she uses doesn’t fool me.

  Sure, she’s tough. She’s straightforward as fuck, and it all turns me on. But, it’s what I sense behind it all. There’s a girl inside, unsure, looking for answers, and I imagine this other part of her, the part that she wears for the rest of the world, might be something she needs to put down on occasion and let someone else take control.

  And that someone is about to be me.

  I pick up the bottle and nod. Without a word, she takes it from me. There’s no hesitation this time as she turns her head away from me and she takes a long swig of the clear liquor before shoving the bottle into my chest.

  I counter with another shot of my own, and start to feel the effects of the tequila. I’m not a huge drinker, most people would think otherwise from stereotypes, but if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a stereotype.

  I push away my own reservations. The clutching inside is stronger than my logic, and there’s just something about her that fucking levels me in ways I never felt before.

  I put down the bottle and slide both hands down her arms, ending with her hands in mine.

  “Follow me.” I lick my lower lip and turn, holding both her wrists in my hand and pulling her toward the back hallway

  I know Luann that owns this place. She’s about a hundred and twenty, but has the libido of a pubescent boy. She hit on me the first time I came in here and although she was disappointed when I turned down her advances, she told me that her old man was one of the first Heartlands members, way back in the day, and we got close.

  He’s been gone decades now, but she carries his name inked down across her chest, along with a pair of eyes that are supposed to be his. She says he would want her to be happy, but she feels like he’s with her this way even when she’s with some other man.

  I pull Robin behind me toward a metal door under the buzzing fluorescent lights. Stopping in front of it, I drop her hand, reach into my back pocket and pull out a pocket knife, jamming it into the key slot in the knob.

  “What are you doing? You can’t just—” The sound of me throwing my shoulder into the metal door and it popping open finishes her sentence.

  “It’s okay. I know the lady that owns this place. She won’t care. In fact, she’d be jealous…”

  I flip on the light switch and the room is stacked with boxes of single use detergents and dryer sheets for the ven
ding machine, along with a big yellow bucket with a mop and other miscellaneous, and probably toxic, cleaning supplies.

  I spin her in front of me and pull the door shut with a thud. The single bulb above casts shadows across her face as she tugs her lips to the side, scrunching her freckled nose and ruining me with a final death blow.

  She has a dimple.

  Not just any dimple. It’s a secret dimple.

  I’ve seen her smile before and it’s never come out to play before now.

  It’s perfect. And it seems it only shows itself on special occasions.

  Like this one.

  I didn’t think I could get any harder, but I was wrong.

  I turn her toward a stack of boxes, pressing my chest into her back, and walk her two steps forward until they are just in front of her.

  “Put your hands here.” I reach around her and show her what I want, before pulling my hands back and feeling her tense and freeze.

  I give her a second.

  Two.

  Three.

  “Do it now.” I grunt, running a hand down the back of her head, then gripping a handful of her hair and tugging.

  I rub my erection against her ripe, round ass, and watch as she settles her hands on top of the box, bending ever so slightly at the waist and pushing her softness back into me. I give her a few dry hump thrusts so she makes no mistake what’s she’s doing to me.

  “You feel that, don’t you?”

  “Uh huh,” she manages, and I run my other hand over her hip, slipping my fingers under the hem of her t-shirt and working it upward until I feel the soft warmth of her skin.

  I flatten my palm on her stomach and aim my fingers toward the button on her jeans, listening to her breathing halt, then start and halt again.

  Her back is arched as I flip my fingers on the button of her jeans and then work her zipper down, and I hear the moan she tries to bite back but it’s too late.

  I want to kiss her mouth but I settle for pressing my chest to her back, breathing in her sweet, candy scent, and press my lips just in front of her ear as I work my fingers lower.

  Lower.

  Her jeans are tight but I feel the brush of a few curls of hair, then the slick heat as I dip my middle finger between bare lips and feel the drench of wetness. And now I’m the one biting back a moan.

  “Just a sec…” She manages, turning her head enough to catch my eye. “I’m just... I’m not fucking you in some back room at a laundromat.”

  “No?” I rub the length of steel under the zipper of my pants against her ass and listen to her breathing hitch.

  “No.” She snaps. “I know it’s probably what you want, but let’s just…”

  “What?”

  “Other stuff, but not that.”

  I move my middle finger until I find her clit and start circling it slowly at first, then faster, until her eyes drift closed and she drops her head between her arms on a sigh.

  You have no idea what I want, I think to myself as I watch her body soften. Her shoulders drop, and the slick wonder under my fingers tells me it’s only a matter of time.

  Instinct takes over. I’m hungry for her. For something I haven’t tasted but know will be my undoing.

  Heat gathers in my gut like a low fire coming to life. I slip my finger lower, my palm against her clit, pressed hard between the tight fabric of her jeans, and I find her opening.

  Jesus, she so fucking tight it’s hard to even get the first part of my finger inside, but just as I start to retreat, she arches her back and thrusts her hips.

  “God, that feels so good.”

  “It’s supposed to feel good. You should always feel this good.”

  I want to make her feel like this forever. It’s the only thought left in my addled brain. I want to touch her. To memorize her sounds and how she moves. To taste her pussy, and know if she’s going to drench my face when she comes.

  But it’s so much more. I want to know why she’s here in Seneca. What made her become an attorney. Where her family is. Was she happy growing up. Did anyone ever hurt her…

  I let my thoughts trail off, because just the idea that someone hurt her has my muscles tense and my heart beating so hard it hurts.

  I want this moment perfect. Unlike I’ve ever wanted. I’m a hard asshole. I’ve never felt like this about a girl. A woman. The guys in the club give me shit all the time, because I never go after any tail. Even Wrath, the club pastor, gave me shit, wondering if I was a virgin.

  I let them talk. I’m no virgin but it’s been long enough I might re-qualify at this point.

  We stay like that for a few minutes. Me touching her slowly, exploring, while her body moves with my fingers. I slip my other hand up across her belly, under the soft cloth of her t-shirt, then push her bra up, letting the soft full flesh fill my hand.

  All the times I’ve jerked off thinking of this, touching her, hearing her sounds, were nothing in comparison to the real thing—even in the closet of a low-rent laundromat.

  I keep my pace slow, because the smallest bit of control I have left is slipping through my fingers. I roll her hard nipple between my thumb and forefinger, pinching as I press her clit with the flat of my hand, pulsing the tip of my middle finger into her heaven and listening to the soft wet sounds coming from the movement.

  Rational thought has disappeared. It’s all about her now. I grind against her ass, moving her body with mine in time with the strokes of my hands until she’s riding me, taking what she wants, and I’ve never seen anything sexier.

  “That’s it. You are a dirty girl. Ride my hand, take what you need.” I grit into her ear as she moans and rocks faster, faster.

  Her hands on the top of the box turn to small fists. My forearm steadies her with my hand on her tits, squeezing and milking while my finger pushes in farther, then out, her body soaking me, easing the way inside.

  Her walls suck me in, tightening then releasing, over and over, until her body is heaving and I dry hump her ass like some feral dog.

  Jesus, I won’t be able to stop. I’m losing all control.

  “God, I can’t, oh my God…” She flings her head back, nearly smacking me in the face, so I pull her tighter against me. Moving my fingers faster as she fucks her body back into me and my balls feel like lead weights, full of the cum I want to spread over her. Inside her. Down her throat.

  “Let it go.” I growl as she sucks in a long breath, holding it, and I feel her insides clench. “Now. Give it to me.”

  “Oh fuck.” She whispers as I dig my fingertips into the flesh of her breast, fucking against her until her voice breaks and her inner walls lock my finger inside her, and she gushes a river into my palm.

  As she shakes against me, the orgasm I’ve been holding back since she walked in here tonight lets loose. I practically fucking howl as cum bursts from my dick with such force, it just might blow a hole through the front of my jeans.

  We stand there, grunting and moaning, my chest to her back, both of us fully clothed still, but I’ve never felt closer to anyone before.

  This girl has something over me, and as much as I’ve tried to resist, I’m done.

  She’s mine.

  I’m hers.

  And we are far from friends with benefits.

  Chapter 6

  Hammer

  “Hammer.” Her voice is soft as I withdraw my hand from her pussy, my other moving to her waist and spinning her to face me.

  “Yeah,” I say absently, bringing my slick fingers to her lips and glossing them with her release.

  “Stop.” Her hand comes to my wrist and I freeze, my fingers on the pouty, plumpest part of her bottom lip.

  “I don’t want to stop.” I pause, because I want her to be sure she can trust me. “I’ll never force you. I’d never force anyone. Do you really want me to stop?”

  “Yes. I mean, no.” She shakes her head, bringing a hand to press between her eyebrows.

  “Robin.” I lower my fingers under her chin, pushing
up so she’s looking at me. “You just made me cum in my fucking pants. I’ve never done that. Never.”

  “Well, I’m sorry?”

  I snap my tongue in my cheek and see the flicker in her eyes. The cum-drunk look on her face has me and my cock still at attention, and I know I not only want more, I need more.

  “Are you? Are you really sorry?” I lick my lips, her scent drifting in the air between us, and I bring my lips lower. “I’ve wanted to know what you taste like since the first day I saw you. I’m going to kiss your lips, get a tease, then…”

  I brush my lips on hers, the sweet, sharp taste of her sex bolting through me like an electrical charge, and I already know I’ll never be the same.

  I’ll never let her go. I’ll find a way to keep her—no us—safe. Together. Whatever it takes.

  “Hammer,” she whispers, then I hear her bite back a giggle.

  “What?”

  “It’s just…every time I say your name. It just…” She shrugs and I don’t pull back, I lean down, letting my tongue drift down her neck as she asks, “What’s your real name?”

  “Hammer.”

  “No. Come on…”

  “I’ll make you a deal.” I nip at the nape of her neck, making her squeal, then bring my head up to stare down into her eyes, pinching her chin a little harder. “I tell you my first name, I get to strip off these jeans and clean up the mess I made in that sweet pussy of yours with my mouth.”

  She narrows her eyes, pulling her lips together, then swipes her tongue along the seam. Knowing she’s tasting herself on them only pushes the primal caveman inside of me closer to the edge of any reason.

  “Well. I will say, I taste pretty good.” She pulls her lips to the side, crinkling her nose biting back a smile, and my Kryptonite shows itself again.

  That fucking dimple.

  I fall like a house of cards in a hurricane.

  “Robin,” I blurt out, and watch the humor spread across her face as she bites her lip, holding back the laugh.

  “What?” She answers, not understanding.