Devil's Game (Reapers MC #3) (18 page)

She didn’t say anything for a moment.

“I just slid my hand down into my boxers,” she whispered, and I swear a pint of blood left my brain. “I’m remembering what it felt like when you sucked my nipples. I want to lick your stomach.”

My entire body clenched. My fingers slid up my straining cock to find the beads of precome. I palmed my cockhead, then started jacking myself slow and hard.

Yeah, this was what I needed.

“Find your clit,” I told her, my voice going low. “Are you wet yet?”

“Yes,” she said. “I feel really weird doing this … Like I’m a whore or something, because the club—”

“You’re
not a whore. And don’t think about the club. I don’t want you thinking about anyone else at all when you’re touching yourself, got me? Think about me and what I’m going to do to you the first chance I get.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll start by sliding my fingers deep inside your pussy, get them nice and wet. Then I might play with your clit.”

I heard her breath catch.

“I’m doing that right now,” she said. “What about you?”

“I’ve got my cock out and I’m jerking off while I listen to your voice,” I told her bluntly. “My balls are so fucking tight they feel like they’re in a vise, and I keep imagining how hot and slick you’d be around me right now.”

“Oh,” she whispered. Her breath caught again. “You’re better than my vibrator, you know that?”

The image of her using that vibrator filled my brain and I lost the power to speak. I felt my balls drawing up, my hand gripping my dick so hard it almost hurt.

Almost.

“How are you doing?” I asked, trying to slow myself down.

“Good,” she whispered.

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m rubbing my clit, one finger on each side,” she told me. “First up and down, and then I sort of wiggle them against each other. I’m using my other hand to play with my nipples. Your turn.”

I gave myself another hard tug, hips lifting. Hell, I was getting damned close. Usually I could last for hours, but something about Em fucked with me on every level.

“Jesus, wish I was better with words,” I muttered. “Honest to fuck, Em. I’m pretty close to blowing my load. Picturing you getting yourself off makes me feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

“You want me to stop?” she asked, her voice almost playful. My dick spasmed and my balls drew up tight. Shit shit
shit
.

“If
you stop—” I started to say, and then the door to my room burst open.

“The fuck?” I yelled, sitting up and dropping the phone with a crash.

“Get your ass out here,” Skid said, his voice grim.

I decided to shoot him.

I let my cock go and reached for the gun sitting on the bedside table, but he held up a hand.

“You gonna get off the phone?” he asked, giving me a pointed look. I couldn’t think—all the blood in my body was currently concentrated in my dick. My balls seized up and I realized I was in for some serious pain.

“Liam, are you okay?” I heard Em’s voice, high-pitched and tinny. I reached down and grabbed the phone, pulling myself together.

“It’s fine, babe,” I said, glaring at Skid. He shook his head and made a slashing motion across his throat. “I have to go, though. Skid needs help with something. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Wait—” she started to say, but I hung up.

“This had better be really, really fucking important,” I told my club brother. “You got shit timing.”

“It is,” he said. “Put away your joystick and get your ass downstairs. We got serious trouble.”

I walked painfully down the narrow stairwell to the living room. Damn house was a hundred years old and it showed. Zipping up my jeans hurt like a bitch and I decided the next time I needed information from someone, I’d torture the fucker by making him talk to Em, then turn off the call and force him to put on my pants.

Like most Friday nights, we’d had company. It hadn’t been a formal party, but Skid and the other guys had invited a group of slutty girls over. Not quite a real clubhouse, but better than nothing. Now two of those girls were naked and making out on the
couch. Another had passed out cold on the floor and I heard more laughing in the kitchen.

Typical night for us.

It wasn’t normal for the girls to be playing alone, though. They were putting on a hell of a show, and it went against everything my club brothers believed in to miss live girl-on-girl action.

“Down here,” Skid yelled. I followed his voice to the basement stairs. It was a dankish pit kind of a place, but it had its uses. Smoking out, storing product, laundry, and even one memorable night when this hippie chick did some kind of weird talking-to-spirits thing …

It was also where we had church. Not that we were a real chapter or anything, but we essentially functioned as one, complete with formal meetings and the occasional vote.

“This better be fuckin’ good,” I muttered as I climbed down. Clutch lay back on the ratty couch next to the semifunctional washer and dryer, his bum leg propped up on the armrest. Grass paced back and forth, muttering, while Skid leaned against the washer, fingers tapping a rhythm restlessly against the ancient metal.

“Got news,” Grass said, eye twitching. Fuck, was he tweaking? I’d told him no more, but it’d been a rough couple of weeks. He stopped pacing and rubbed his chin mindlessly, the motion spasmodic.

Yup, he was. Great, because we needed one more thing to worry about.

“Toke is dead,” Skid said. I glanced at him sharply.

“How?”

“They found him this morning,” he replied. “Still in protective custody, but his throat was slit. No explanation. Word just filtered down—I guess Picnic called Burke.”

I raised my brows.

“No shit?”

“Gets weirder,” he continued. “Reapers want to know how we
pulled it off. Burke bullshitted them, bought us some time to investigate. He wants to know if you arranged something. You been playin’ games without tellin’ the rest of us?”

I cocked my head, feeling something dark building inside me.

“Don’t care for your tone, brother,” I said slowly and carefully. “One, I didn’t do shit—but if I had, that’d be between me and Burke. Two, why is Burke talkin’ to you and not me?”

Skid offered a twisted smile.

“He called you first, asshole. You didn’t answer. What were you doin’ that’s more important than takin’ a call from your VP? Seein’ as I found you on the phone with your dick hangin’ out, you might wanna consider what you plan to tell him very carefully.”

Shit. I shut my eyes and shook my head, rubbing my temples.

“Jesus, Skid,” Grass snapped, his voice high-pitched and trembling. “Stop being such a little bitch. What are you, jealous?”

We both looked at him, startled. Grass threw up his hands, clearly frustrated and even twitchier than before. He wasn’t done yet, either.

“What does Burke want from us?” Grass demanded. “I’ll bet it’s the Reapers that took him out. He fucked them over, and now they’re tryin’ to blame us. Use it as an excuse to end the truce.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Skid snarled. “Jesus, Grass. You need to lay off that shit, it’s makin’ you paranoid. Reapers want peace, too. They don’t
need
an excuse to go to war. They wanna fight, they’ll just start shooting. It’s entirely possible they killed Toke—fucker betrayed his club, no surprise there. But I don’t think they’d come callin’ if that was the case.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot!”

“Shut the fuck up!” I roared. The two men jumped. “Christ, what are we, fucking children? Skid—did Burke have anything he wanted us to do?”

Skid scowled.

“No,” he admitted. “Although he said to watch out. Until we
know who killed Toke and why, we need to assume there’s a new player.”

“Cartel?” Clutch asked. “You think they have the contacts this far north to pull off a hit in protective custody?”

We all stilled. Shit. Not a comforting thought.

“Okay, we need to assume there’s someone local we don’t know about, someone with that kind of power,” I said slowly. “Time for more security. Make sure you check in with each other, and we all start carrying. Grass, when you stop seein’ shit that isn’t real, I want you to make sure Clutch has a place in his truck that’s safe from a search, okay? Can’t risk a parole violation. Anyone else need help rigging up something for their bikes?”

“It’s covered,” Skid said, sighing. “Sorry, Hunter. Didn’t mean to be such a dick.”

“Fair enough,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. Christ, what a night.

“I fucking hate Portland,” Grass announced suddenly. “This town is like hell, only cold. It rains all the time, like we’re living underwater, and now we have to worry about the cartel, too? Getting away from them was the only good part about moving north.”

“We’re doing our jobs,” I reminded him, my voice cooling as I moved into enforcer mode. Enough of this shit. “Burke needs us here—we all agreed to it—so stop whining. He wants active intel, and that means we’re in Portland until he says otherwise.”

Skid crossed his arms, silently backing me up. God, I wanted to kill him sometimes, but I had to give him credit—he always put the club first, and that meant keeping discipline. He never let it get personal.

Grass glared at me, but he closed his mouth. He knew damned well I was right. He also knew I’d make an example of him in a heartbeat if I had to. We couldn’t afford kindness, not with the club divided and elections coming.

“We have a problem?” I asked Grass bluntly. He held my gaze a
moment longer, then shook his head. I glanced down at Clutch, deciding I was way too sober for this shit.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Leg hurts like a motherfucker, but I’ll pop some pills so it’s all good.”

“Pussy,” Skid taunted, rolling his eyes. “Been a full two months since Toke tortured you. You still whining?”

Clutch let out a choked snort and shook his head. The tension broke and just like that, it was all good. Thank fuck for Skid—it’d been a long stretch in this water-logged city without allies, but every time we found ourselves at each other’s throats, he’d step in and somehow make it better. The guy had a gift when he chose to use it.

I flipped the guys off and climbed back upstairs.

The chicks on the couch had passed out, and I didn’t see anyone in the kitchen. I used my foot to roll the girl on the floor out of my way, grabbed a beer, then flopped down in a chair and clicked on the TV.

Porn. Of course.

Naturally, that made me think of Em fingering herself, and I wondered if I should call her back. I decided not to—it was late and the mood wasn’t right. Not only that, I wasn’t sure I could handle hearing her husky, sexy little voice calling me Liam again. My balls fucking hurt, and not in a good way.

A few minutes later, Clutch hobbled in and sat down on the couch next to the girls. Together we watched some redhead with giant implants get fucked up the ass on the big screen.

“Shit,” Clutch said after a few minutes. “The high-def has totally ruined porn. Are those ingrown hairs?”

I choked on my beer, and he grinned at me.

“Jackass.”

Em filled my dreams.

Her ice-blue eyes—surrounded by thick, dark lashes—peeked up at me as she thoughtfully licked the tip of my hard-on, then slowly sucked it into her mouth. I knew she didn’t have a hell of a lot of experience, but damn she sucked dick like a pro.

Her hand wrapped around my shaft and I bucked up.

Fuck, that was worth the wait.

Then she drew me even deeper, taking me into her throat, catching me off guard.

How the hell did she know how to do that?

I felt a sudden desire to kill the owner of whatever cock she’d been practicing on. Her tongue flicked the underside of my dickhead, fluttering, and I forgot all about my upcoming murder plans. I stiffened, my balls tight and ready to blow, but my brain was starting to question the whole situation.

What was wrong here?

Em sucked hard, humming deep in her throat as she bobbed
faster and faster. Her other hand reached down between my legs, rolling my balls with her fingers as she sped up. I was close, so I reached down to touch her head, give her a warning.

Wait. Em’s hair wasn’t this short.

But her mouth was so goddamned hot and wet. Shit. I couldn’t think. I’d never dreamed she’d know so many tricks, and some small part of me started to consider murder again. My Em wasn’t so innocent anymore, and whoever taught her would answer—

I lost the thought as my load exploded, blowing the world apart. Holy shit, I needed that.

Wait. Those weren’t dream lips on my cock.

Adrenaline hit and my eyes opened.

“The fuck?” I demanded, looking down to find one of the carpet munchers from last night slowly licking my come off her lips. I jackknifed up and backhanded her, knocking her off the bed with a crash.

“What the hell is wrong with you? Fucking cunt!”

She clutched her cheek and looked up at me, eyes filling with tears.

“You didn’t like it?” she whispered, looking confused. Her pupils were tiny, tiny pinpricks and I saw tracks on her arm. I was lucky she’d sucked me off instead of stealing my wallet or stabbing me. Wait. No. Stealing the wallet would definitely be better …

I pulled that shit on a girl, they’d call me a fuckin’ rapist.

Goddamned junkie.

“I’m supposed to like some random stranger sneaking into my room and putting her mouth on my dick without asking?” I demanded. “You don’t fucking touch me without permission, bitch. Some guy did that to you, you’d be screaming rape.
Christ.
”

I swung my legs out of the bed. She fell backward, scuttling away from me like a crab. I rubbed a hand through my hair, trying to focus.

Shit, but Em had me all twisted up and making stupid mistakes. Men like me don’t sleep with the door unlocked. I didn’t normally
sleep heavy, either—breaking into my room was an invitation to meet my gun, no apologies.

Yet this junkie not only got in, she invaded my dream about Em.

Fuck.

The bitch pushed to her feet and darted out of the room, which was a damned good thing. If I had to look at her again, I’d throw her through a fucking wall.

Then it hit me.

Since when did a surprise blow job piss me off?

My phone dinged somewhere in the covers. I dug through them, trying to find it. Was it even morning yet?

I found it and saw the time—six a.m. I’d been asleep for two whole hours before Princess Sucky Fucky came in to kiss me awake. I checked my messages, wondering who the hell would be texting me this early. Hell. Burke. His words were short and sweet.

Wasn’t that just perfect—exactly what I needed to start my day. But there was a message from Em, too. Sent while I was downstairs drinking beer and watching porn with Clutch.

And there went my dick again—so much for the morning head. I pulled on my pants and took a quick piss across the hall. Then I dug out a burner phone and called Burke.

“What’s up?” I asked him, hoping to hell it wasn’t war with the Reapers. “This about Toke? Was that us?”

“Nope,” Burke said. “That’s a mystery hit. I wish we had that kind of pull up there. Not that I was upset to get the news … But we got a bigger problem. Someone took a couple potshots at Mason last night, at his old lady’s house.”

“Fuck,”
I muttered. This was serious. “He okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Burke said. “But it’s the tipping point—he’s done. Says he’s held on as long as he can, but that he wants to die with his family, not in the middle of a war.”

“Shit.” Mason stepping down meant that Burke—as VP—would take over as national president. But not an elected president. Throw in the fact that the club was divided about the Reaper truce and what direction we should be moving …

“I wonder if it’s an inside job,” I mused. “Puts you in a tough spot. Things are already weird with the Toke situation, Reapers are trigger happy. Now you have to take over right as we’re lookin’ at a war. No vote means you’re weak.”

“Could be,” Burke said. “Hate to think of one of our own doing this. Unfortunately, some of our brothers aren’t worth much these days.”

“Yup,” I said. Damn club was falling apart around our ears. “Of course, it could be the cartel.”

“Or the Reapers.”

Silence fell for a minute.

“Drake will step up as VP,” Burke said. “That means I’ll need a sergeant at arms. I know we wanted to wait for elections, but consider this your call, son. I’ll need you in Salem tomorrow. Officers are gathering, we’ll put you in place then.”

I felt myself sway.

I’d been waiting for this a hell of a long time … but shit. Things were so up in the air with Em right now, on top of everything else.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “And after that?”

“You’re with me,” he said. “We’ll keep Skid and the boys in Portland for now. I still want a presence there, even more important now. Pack your shit, we’ll be traveling light. I figure the next few weeks’ll get interesting. Bring Skid with you when you come down, got me?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to wrap my head around it. I hung up the
burner and sighed, flopping back down on my bed. I needed more sleep. Sleep, and then I’d figure out what the hell I was doing.

I didn’t text Em back.

No idea what I’d say to her anyway.

Water hit me in the face.

I screamed, falling out of bed to find my witch of a sister standing over me, laughing her ass off.

Note to self: Tell Cookie to never let Kit in the house again.

“You’re a bitch,” I muttered, wiping off my face with the sheet.

“True,” she said thoughtfully. “But I’m the bitch who’s here to take you shopping. I need a new purse.”

“They don’t have stores in Olympia?”

“They have stores,” she said. “But they don’t have my sister. I’m so excited to have you close—it’s like we’re back in high school again!”

“You were a bitch then, too.”

She picked up my phone.

“Oohhh,” she said. “What happened last night? I see a long phone call to Hunter and then a text saying you finished alone? You want to tell me what that’s all about?”

I climbed out of bed and pulled off my cami, flinging it at her. It landed on her head and dripped water into her hair, but she didn’t even seem to notice.

“We talked for a while,” I said. “Then he had to go. What time is it?”

“Almost noon,” she said absently. “So you can’t really blame me for throwing water on you. How else would I wake you up?”

“Some people use words.”

“Boring people. You want to shower before we go? I really do
need a purse. We’ll go shopping, then come back here and fix dinner for Cookie. Then Kelsey and I are taking you dancing.”

“Kelsey?”

“Hunter’s sister,” she said. “We’ve been in touch. No offense, but I think me and her have way more in common than me and you. She’s in touch with her inner bitch, and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“I see that,” she said, holding up the phone with a wicked grin. “I’m really proud of you. You should try calling him now.”

She hit a button and handed me the phone already ringing. I glared at her, but it was too late to hang up. He’d know I called, so might as well play it through. Unfortunately, he didn’t answer.

“Hey, it’s me,” I said, glaring at Kit. “Just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

I hung up.

“Good,” Kit said. “You’ve made a move. Now you’re going to leave your phone here while we shop, so you can’t answer if he calls back.”

“Why?”

“Don’t want to sound too eager,” she said thoughtfully. “You not only talked to him last night, but you’ve already texted and called, too.”

“I didn’t call,” I said pointedly.

“He doesn’t know that. You want to shower before we go? No offense, but you look like shit.”

“I’m not sure I like living closer to you.”

“You love me and you know it.”

Unfortunately, I did.

Six hours later we pulled back into Cookie’s driveway, the car full of Chinese carryout and three new purses. Two for Kit and one for
me. Not that I needed a new bag, but it would’ve been rude not to buy anything at all, right?

“Sorry we aren’t cooking,” I apologized as I walked in the door. “We sort of lost track of time. Hope takeaway is all right?”

Cookie glanced up from the couch, where she sat reading with Silvie.

“If I don’t have to cook it, I don’t care where it comes from,” she said. “Silvie, help me clear off the coffee table. Let’s have a picnic out here, sound good?”

Silvie loved that idea, and after another five minutes we were opening boxes of hot, steaming food.

“Where are you girls going tonight?” Cookie asked.

“Just downtown,” Kit said. “Meeting up with a friend, doing some dancing. That kind of thing.”

“Be careful,” Cookie said. “Deke tells me things are a little unsettled.”

“He give any details?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “But if it was serious, they’d let us know. Just don’t get too drunk, okay?”

We promised, finishing our dinner. Then we got slutted up in my room and I realized I’d gone all afternoon without my phone. I searched through my covers, turning it on hopefully.

Hunter hadn’t called, though.

Nope, just a quick text.

“That’s not very exciting,” Kit said, biting her lip thoughtfully. “He should be all over you by now.”

“Well, he said he was busy.”

“No man is too busy to get laid,” she replied, her voice knowing. “Speaking of, that’s what you’ll be doing tonight. I’ve made up my mind.”

“What?”

“Getting
laid. Before we leave the club tonight, we’re finding someone for you to sleep with. Hunter wants a piece of your ass, he’ll have to stand in line.”

“Do I get a vote in this?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Do you ever?”

Kit made good on her threat. Ten minutes after we walked into the club, she’d scoped out six different guys she’d decided might be worthy of my bed. I flipped her off and bought myself a beer. I wasn’t interested in sleeping with some random asshole in a bar.

Still, as the night progressed and no word from Hunter, I got a little annoyed. I’d had phone sex with him just the night before, and now nothing? Not that he owed me anything. I knew that. But the fact that I didn’t have the right to be annoyed was even more annoying.

I drank another beer.

An hour later Kelsey joined us at the club. She was definitely a little rough around the edges, but I decided I liked her. She and Kit really were alike in so many ways it was scary. Put them together on the dance floor and the men didn’t have a chance.

Not that I did too poorly myself.

I had no intention of bringing anyone home, but after a while I found a cute guy to hang out with. His name was Devon, he was tall and somewhat built, and he smelled pretty good when he wrapped his arms around me. He had clean-cut looks, the total opposite of Hunter in every way. Kit gave me a silent thumbs-up in approval. Kelsey told me pointedly that her brother could kick his ass without even noticing.

I told Kelsey that Hunter wasn’t around, so he couldn’t kick anyone’s ass. She flipped me off and I decided she could go screw herself, along with her stupid brother who couldn’t call me back
after hanging up mid-phone-sex. Fortunately, Devon was a great distraction. We alternated dancing, talking, and drinking, and gradually I learned that he was in as fucked-up a nonrelationship as mine.

Well, maybe not
quite
as fucked-up. I didn’t ask, but so far as I could tell, he hadn’t actually been involved in a kidnapping.

But other than that, things were about the same.

It made him the perfect partner for the evening, and it got Kit off my back, too. Of course, Kelsey continued to scowl at me, but I didn’t give a shit about her. I might like her all right, but I wasn’t looking for a new best friend. Anyway, once I established Devon as “safe,” I let myself go and enjoyed his company, leaving Ms. Grumpy scowling behind me. We danced to almost every song, and nothing I did was too dorky for Devon.

To be fair, he was kind of dorky himself, and so funny I got to the point where I couldn’t stop laughing. Seriously. I had this giant laughing fit and I couldn’t stop and he kept doing weirder dance moves and it was insane.

“Make it end,” I gasped, clutching my stomach. “I’m gonna puke if you don’t stop.”

He stopped. Abruptly.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe how weird you are,” I giggled, but he didn’t laugh back or smile or anything. I cocked my head.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Your friend is going home now,” a deep, familiar voice said behind me. “Right?”

Devon nodded, then took off without even saying good-bye.
Rude.
I turned slowly to find Hunter behind me, his sister standing next to him, smirking.