“Holt…” She didn’t know how to ask, had never asked for what she needed. But this time, with him, she fought for the words. “I want you … to…”
She didn’t have to finish. Gritting his teeth, he released her, spun her around, and pushed her down on the table. One hand in her hair, the other on her hip, he kicked her legs apart and thrust hard into her wet center.
Oh God. So perfect. He filled her completely. She trembled, her breasts pressing against the cool wood, hands white-knuckled on the edge.
Holt groaned and slid deeper. “You’re so fucking tight, and hot and wet, darlin’. I’ve been waiting a long time to take you like this.” He squeezed her ass cheeks, and she quivered under his hands. Then he slid his fingers over her clit, making her moan.
“Not gonna forget about you,” he murmured, leaning over her back, his lips warm against her ear. “You’re gonna come with me.”
He started slow, letting her stretch to accommodate him, then he went hard, plunging into her, letting himself go. With one hand in her hair, he yanked her head back, forcing her to arch up, his fingers skimming over her clit, building her higher and higher, until finally, she came, her inner muscles tightening around him. As if he’d been waiting for her, Holt roared and thrust deep, his cock erupting in forceful jerks that drew out her own orgasm, ripping a moan from her throat.
When his cock stopped pulsing, Holt collapsed over her back. She could feel his heart pounding against her, his breaths rasping in her ear.
“You okay, darlin’?” he whispered.
“Yeah.” She shivered, and he lifted her off the table and wrapped his arms around her. For the longest time they stood, looking out over the city. They were safe up here where no one could find them, but nothing good awaited them below. Death. Destruction. Jail. The loss of all her dreams and everything she had worked for since the night she’d left home.
“I don’t want to leave here, Holt.” She leaned back against him, sinking into his solid warmth. “I don’t want you to go after Viper and the Sinners. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Holt tightened his arms around her waist. “I was kinda thinking that myself. When I left that dungeon, I was prepared to die for revenge ’cause I had nothing to live for. I never imagined I’d wind up here. Now I got you, and I want to keep you safe. I don’t feel like the same man who walked out of that dungeon, but I’m not the man who went into it either. Only thing that still makes sense is that Viper’s got to die.”
“When I was standing in the cemetery saying good-bye to my mother,” Naiya said, “I never imagined I’d wind up here, either. I thought after the funeral I’d go back to my normal life.”
Holt cupped her breast, gaze it a lazy squeeze. “What was your normal?”
Naiya shrugged. “A steady partner, a good job, friends, and maybe one day a house and if I could get over my issues, kids. Now I’ve lost Maurice and my job opportunity. I can’t contact my friends or access my bank account. I’ve only got the clothes on my back, and I can’t go home because I’m on the run from Viper. I’ve committed crimes that mean I likely will never work in a crime lab. But I’ve had sex—real sex, and I’ve met someone who makes me feel safe and who makes me laugh and makes me eat donuts in bites. I’ve lived more in the last week then I’ve lived in the last seven years. How can I go back to my regular life?”
“How can you not?” Holt released her abruptly, leaving her bereft. “There’s no future with me.”
She turned to face him. “There is if you go back to the Sinners and hear them out.”
“Not gonna happen.” His face tightened, and his lips pressed tight together.
“Holt.” She reached out to touch him, but he was already walking away.
TANK
To Ella’s credit, she didn’t even look scared when Tank kicked in her door.
Nor did she look surprised. In fact, she seemed to be waiting for him.
And that just pissed him off even more.
“Goddamnit, bitch.” He kicked over her coffee table and yanked her off the white leather couch. Her white-silk dressing gown slid softly over her body, the front gaping wide, revealing the crescents of her lush, creamy breasts, and the barest shadow at the apex of her thighs.
Tank forced his gaze away, focused on his anger. “What the fuck were you thinking saying that on the fucking news? Now the fucking cops are gonna think the Sinners did the hit on the Black Jacks up in Still Water. The ATF will be all over the clubhouse with warrants coming out their wazoo.” His voice rose to a shout. “Jagger’s going to go out of his fucking mind, and he’s gonna come for you.”
He didn’t know if Jagger had seen the news, but no doubt he would get word about it soon. Ella had been up in Still Water, reporting that the police had found two Black Jacks down by the lake, the victims of what they believed to be a biker-related shooting. Ella had referred to “a source” who had suggested the murders had been carried out by members of a rival MC, the Sinner’s Tribe.
Ella tilted her head to the side, and the silken strands of her hair brushed over his hand. “Hello, James,” she said coolly. “Nice to see you again.”
Tank drew in a ragged breath, inhaling the rich, sultry scent of her perfume. All his blood rushed to his groin and he cursed inwardly.
Son of a bitch
. He was here to deal with this fucking mess, not fuck the woman who threatened to bring down his club.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You put my club at risk.” If she’d been a dude, he would have resorted to violence. Punches. Kicks. A few broken bones. Then he would have pulled out his weapon. But he couldn’t hit a woman. He saw no point in using his strength against someone weaker than him, despite the fact his dad had not hesitated to use his fists on Tank.
As if she knew he wouldn’t hurt her, Ella smiled. “I was helping you. I did a little digging, talked to a couple of my friends in the police department. It looks like the dead biker’s bike might have been the same bike you saw at the gas station. I checked the gas station video on your phone when you were sleeping and made a few notes. The bike you saw matches one of the bikes on the list forensics drew up from a partial track on the main road and was registered in the dead biker’s name. If the Jacks tortured your friend, it makes sense that he would go after them. He is a Sinner after all. So it was a win win for both of us. I got a story, and you got your man.”
“I told you no story. You’re gonna get me kicked out of own fucking club. Now sit the fuck down so I can think.” He paced her living room as she settled on her couch. How could he get out of this? If Jagger kicked him out of the club, he wouldn’t have any support if he went after T-Rex, and what would he do without his brothers? Where would he go? The club was his goddamned fucking life.
“James…”
“Don’t call me that,” he barked. “Name is Tank.” The name the club gave him when he’d earned the cut, not because he was built like one, which he was, but because he’d stolen a tank from an army base one night on a drunken dare from T-Rex just so they could take pictures of themselves in a tank. He’d taken a lot of heat from Jagger for his stupidity, but he wouldn’t have traded that moment for anything. He still had the selfie he took of him and T-Rex, leaning back on the tank, grins on their faces, beers raised in a “fuck you” salute.
A selfie she had probably seen when she went through his phone. What else had she seen and how the hell had she unlocked it?
“Okay … Tank.” She crossed one leg over the other and her gown slid up revealing the creamy expanse of her thigh. Fuck, she had nice legs. And nice tits. But then he knew that about her ’cause he’d watched her that night T-Rex warned him away. He probably knew more than that about her, but damned if he could remember their night together.
“I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with your club.” She loosened her belt, letting the gown fall to the sides of her hips. Now he could see her cleavage, the soft skin of her stomach, and … Fuck. Her pussy was bare. Tank bit back a groan. Nothing he liked better than smooth, soft, bare pussy.
“I didn’t disclose my source, and really, you didn’t give me the information. I deduced it. And I might be wrong. Maybe it was a drug deal gone bad, or a mafia hit, or even another club. If the Sinners weren’t involved then you have nothing to worry about.” She trailed her hand down her body, between her breasts, parting the white silk until she got to the juncture of her thighs. Her hand rested on her mound, her fingers dangling over what he most wanted to see, hiding it from his now throbbing cock.
Christ. She was like one of those mythical Sirens who lured sailors to their deaths. He couldn’t tell whether the pounding in his veins was fury or lust. No wonder T-Rex had warned him about her. And Banks. He had to get out, and yet he couldn’t look away. Something niggled at the back of his mind. A question. There was a question he wanted to ask her, but he couldn’t remember what it was.
As if she could read his thoughts, she drew in a deep breath, her breasts rising, the silk slipping until he could just see the blush of a nipple. “I’m so sorry, Tank. Let me make it up to you.”
Tank swallowed hard. How long had it been since he’d had a woman—and remembered it? One? Two weeks? Maybe more. But tumbling a sweet butt in his bed was never the same as fucking a woman he really wanted, a woman he had to work to get, a smart, classy woman the likes of whom never usually looked twice at a guy like Tank.
Unbidden, an image of Connie flitted through his mind. Connie was smart, too. She had a master’s degree in music. He’d thought she would be soft and sweet in bed, but she’d gone fucking wild for him, clawing at his back, screaming his name. He’d never had that kind of sex with a woman. Hell, he’d never had that kind of connection. But Connie was gone, and Ella was here. Ella with her silky robe and her lush lips. Ella who had gone through his phone and put his club at risk. He couldn’t hurt her, but maybe she could pay him back another way. She was offering after all. His mind wandered, and his cock rose to follow.
“Tank.” She raised her voice, pulling him out of the beginning of a fantasy about the famous Ella Masters on her knees between his legs with her lips wrapped around his cock, wearing those damn glasses she wore on TV and nothing else.
“Yeah.” He grunted, not wanting to risk any telltale huskiness in his voice, although if she looked down, the boner straining against his fly would be a dead giveaway.
“I can do more for you than access police reports.” She pulled the belt on her robe, and the two sides parted, her perfect body on display.
His mind split in two, half of it focused on Ella, sitting half naked swathed in white silk, the other half focused on his club and what they would do to him when the ATF came beating down the club door wondering what the Sinners were doing in Still Water putting bullets into Leo’s brain.
“Don’t talk about the fucking police. They’re gonna be all over the club ’cause of what you did.” He struggled to put his thoughts together. “What I told you about the gas station was between you and me. I didn’t say the Sinners were involved. If that was T-Rex and he offed Leo, he did it on his own and not as part of the club.”
“Don’t you get it?” She stood and the gown slid down her body and pooled at her feet. Christ, she looked like those marble statues he’d seen on TV—Greek goddesses with lush bodies and perfect faces, smooth skin, and bare pussies.
She walked toward him, her heavy breasts swaying, pink-tipped nipples hard and begging to be touched. “That little tidbit got me a boost up the rankings, which means I have more pull. I can stay on the story, and my boss is giving me more resources to investigate, resources I can use to help you. He’s even sending me to the bike rally on the weekend. I’d say that’s a win win for us all.” She stopped only a few inches away, slid her hands over his chest. “The Sinners are a powerful club. I’m sure they can handle the police.”
Her soft words, the gentle lilt of her voice, her hand roaming his body, the sweet scent of her perfume, and her lush naked body all ripe for the taking eased his tension, assuaged his fears. He reached for her and pulled her against him, ground his erection into her hips. “You better not be fucking with me, Ella.”
“I would never do anything to hurt you, James,” she whispered, leaning up, her breath soft in his ear. “I want you too much. I always have.” She clasped his hand, drew it down to the juncture of her thighs, slid his finger through her wet, slick folds.
Ella Masters, one of southern Montana’s top reporters wanted him. She wined and dined with governors and senators. She was on the fucking news every night. She was smart and rich and beautiful and talented and she wanted him, really wanted him. Tank. An outlaw who had never even finished high school. She was wet for him, and he hadn’t even touched her.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Ella reached into his cut and pulled it out.
“Let’s put this away,” she whispered. “Right now it’s just you and me.”
The sight of her slim white fingers wrapped around his phone broke through the haze of his lust. Images tumbled through his mind: T-Rex, Banks, Connie, Sirens, Black Widow spiders with their heads bitten off, and the button on his phone that he pressed with his thumb to unlock it. And through her fingers he could see the flash, flash, flash of Jagger’s name.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He ripped the phone from her hand and stepped away.
His president needed him. His club needed him. There was only one way she could have accessed his phone when he was sleeping and the thought she’d used him that way made his skin crawl.
Ella opened her arms and his betraying cock throbbed.
“Come,” she beckoned him forward.
He went. But not in the direction she was expecting.
Naiya slid off the bed, careful not to wake Holt. After the movie, they’d watched a crime show, and made love two more times before falling asleep. Holt had woken twice already with nightmares about his time in Viper’s dungeon, but he calmed quickly when she held him, so she’d given up sleeping anywhere except curled tight against his body.