“What?” she snaps.
“You stupid? That it? Bringing a guy you dunno to your home? A guy who’s VP of a MC you call your enemy and shit?”
She smirks. “I have my reasons. Why? Are you planning on roughing me up?”
Roughing her up? If anyone else spouted the shit she’s been, disrespecting me and the club like that, wouldn’t be a question ‘bout it. Woulda been roughed up good. A done deal. But I don’t beat on women. Some of the brothers might not respect that line, but I do. Ain’t never laid my hands on a woman that way and I ain’t never gonna. Ain’t my father.
But I do wanna lay my hands on her in another way. The second she started mouthing off to me earlier, I was down for that. Had a permanent hard on since she threatened to pull her gun on me.
Talk ‘bout throwing me through a loop. Such a demented response. Know she meant business, but my dick was in the driving seat. If it’d come down to it, I probably woulda let her pull the damn thing just for the sick thrill of seeing a sight like it.
I ain’t used to women like her. In the club, they know their fucking place and shit. But this bitch ain’t nothing like them. Been messing with me all over the place since I walked into that diner. That smart mouth of hers should piss me off big time. It does, but that ain’t the end of the story. It fucking turns me on too. Fucking hot shit.
It don’t help that she’s such a fine piece of ass. Tight little body. Perky tits that’d make a sweet handful. Her silky dark brown hair that I wanna fist my hands in and tug on hard. And those deep blue eyes of hers? Fucking sexy as sin.
Yeah, she hates bikers. But I ain’t never let hatred get in the way of a good fuck. And while I’m stuck in this hell hole of a city on club business, I got time to play.
“Rough you up, huh? That what you want—my hands on you, babe?”
“I’ll break your fingers,” she fires back.
But it’s all bullshit. I ain’t blind. I see her blushing, crossing her legs all awkward and shit. She’s turned on. Mmm, yeah. I bet she’s already warm and wet between her thighs.
She stands up, tryin’ to hide it. Nice try, babe.
“Tell me what you know about Skinner’s plans.”
“Like I said; looks like he wants to set up shop here.”
“And that concerns Black Thorns how? This isn’t your territory.”
“Reirdon’s right next door to Brockford, so yeah, it concerns us, babe.”
She starts pacing slowly as she takes my words in. “All right,” she says finally, walking over to me where I’m lounging on the other couch. She stops in front of me, her arms still folded over her chest, pushing her sweet tits up and giving me a hell of a view.
“This is how it’s gonna work here. You tell me what you know. Give me all the intel you have on this latest initiative of theirs and I’ll take care of it.”
I scoff. “Ain’t happening.”
“Yes it is. I’ll take it from there,” she insists.
That’s it! This bitch dunno when to back down. Been holding back so far, thinking playing nice is the right way to go cuz she’s a woman, a tiny little thing. But to hell with that. Ain’t working. She’s a fucking ball buster and dunno when to back down. ‘Bout to fucking show her. Make her back down.
Grabbing her hips, I pull her down onto the couch, forcing her under me. She fights me—with her fists—no nails like most bitches would use. Nah, she’s all punches and kicks. Damn. Just getting me harder, babe. I grunt as her steel toe boots scrape my shins. She might be feisty, but she ain’t got the weight or muscle I got to back it up. I pin her legs with mine and capture her fists with one hand, pressing ‘em to her tits ‘til she’s at my mercy.
She grins at me then.
What the fuck? Weren’t expecting that.
Before I can figure out her game, she shows me, rolling her hips. I grunt as her pussy rubs against my rock hard dick. Fucking hell. She’s messing with me.
“So easy,” she says as she does it again, driving me insane.
“Stop,” I growl at her.
“Why?” she taunts. “It’s clearly what you want. Aww…got a hard on for me, biker boy?”
She wants to play, we’ll play. I slide my hand inside her jeans so quickly that all she can do is gasp. My fingers brush her panties and I smile to myself. Wet. Soaking wet. “Sure you hate bikers, babe? Cuz, your pussy’s craving this biker’s dick.”
“You’re disgusting,” she hisses.
Funny thing is, she don’t make no attempt to pull my hand outta her tight little jeans.
“Yeah?” I slide a finger underneath the lacy fabric of her panties and tease her drenched pussy. “I think you like that. Down and dirty.”
She bites her lip and shakes her head, tryin’ to fight it.
But I got all the proof I need on my fingers.
Our eyes lock and the heat between us almost makes me stop breathing. So fucking intense.
Jesus, I ain’t never felt nothing like it. My dick’s straining against my jeans painfully now. I’m right on the goddamn edge here.
I tease her pussy some more, and lean into her, my breath hot on her neck. “Want me to fuck you?”
She grinds against my fingers, answering me silently before panting, “Yes. But no more foreplay.”
“What?” I ask as I let go of her hands and rip open her jeans, roughly tugging ‘em down her legs.
“I want your dick, not your fingers,” she tells me.
“Music to my fucking ears, babe.”
I shake off my cut. I pull a condom outta the back pocket of my jeans, unbuckle the damn things in record time and sheath my throbbing dick.
I sink into her slowly, groaning at the feel of such a tight fucking pussy. Been a long-assed time since I’ve felt anything like this. The sluts that hang ‘round the clubhouse are all so damn loose. Nothing like this. Holy fucking shit. Can’t fucking move inside her. Her grip’s outta this world.
I look down at her and she’s got her head thrown back, her eyes closed as she licks her lips. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve even seen. Shit. That thought unsettles me. Get a grip, asshole.
“Hold my hands,” she says, her eyes snapping open. “Hold my hands down,” she presses when I don’t answer fast enough. It’s kinda hard to focus when I’m tryin’ to fight every instinct to pound her into the couch. Can’t ‘til she adjusts to my size. She’d probably pull her gun and shoot me for that.
I grab her wrists and slam ‘em into the couch above her head. Don’t take long before I feel her relax ‘round me. Mmm. Rough gets her off.
“Yes,” she moans out.
And that’s it. I’m done. I pull out almost all the way and then slam back in hard. She curses like a sailor as I pound her so fucking hard the couch moves.
“Name?” she pants at me.
“Neil,” I utter without thinking. My brain’s on lockdown right now. No blood flowing there. “Neil Barron.”
“Barron?” she questions. There’s an edge in her voice.
Fuck that. No more talking. I don’t bother responding. I lean into her, my tongue tasting the side of her neck. I suck hard, hard enough to leave a mark.
Next thing I know, she’s kicking me and yelling for me to get off her.
What the fuck?
“Get off me,” she orders.
“Please tell me you’re fucking about, babe.”
“No. Get off me. Now,” she shrieks. “Now! Pull out!”
As soon as I pull out and lift my weight off her, she scrambles off the couch, hastily pulling on her jeans. She’s white as a damn sheet.
“You’re related to Skinner. Pete Barron? The President of the Devil’s Mavericks is your family?”
Wow, she’s really freaked out, basically hysterical. “Why?” What’s the story here?
“Answer me!” she screams.
“We’re related, yeah.” Christ, even admitting the connection repulses me.
“What…who…who is he to you exactly? A distant relative?” she asks, way too hopeful ‘bout the distant part.
I pocket the condom, zip up my jeans and shrug my cut back on. “No,” I tell her, forcing myself to say the words I fucking hate admitting on my best days. “I’m his son.”
Her eyes go wide. “Oh God. I’m gonna be sick.” She grabs her mouth and runs from the room into the kitchen. A second later, I hear her puking her guts up.