No Second Thoughts (Seven Devils MC Book 2) (2 page)

Then he waited until that moment when the climax had fully subsided, to minister to her all over again. Her body was readied, still so sweetly sexually stimulated that he brought to life another orgasm quickly, this one more powerful and pleasurable than the last. So intense. So consuming. So complete. Physically, anyway.

She felt so empty that he was not really with her. She wanted him inside of her, their bodies touching either from behind or on top of her.  To the side of her.  With her legs splayed out wide, making a super tight entrance for him to create the most sensual friction ever for her.

She needed his beauty.  His masculinity.  She needed him.  So the exquisite pleasure that he gave her was coupled with this distance that she could not figure out.  He tucked her body with light cotton spread. Finally she blurted out, "Why are you doing this? You have already expressed your dislike of me and yet you are caring for me, pleasuring me? What is up with this?"

Jason took his time in answering. His movement was slow and casual. He stepped into the next room and turned the fire off.  He sat back down in the overstuffed chair.  hey regarded each other for some time, he with his steely piercing scolding gaze. "You have no thoughts as to what I am doing?"

"No. I am completely confused," she said sitting upright quickly in her bed without care of her nudity.  She was completely comfortable and oblivious of it. The light cotton drape covered her from the waist down but her round full breasts were exposed. She thought she looked a little like a mermaid in bed.

"Well Blanche, simply put, you are my captive. I mean to keep you here until the dust of the damage you caused settles. While I don't like liars or women who mean to kill me, you did kill Hortensio Jimenez, Hawk, and therefore saved me.  I owe you. 

"But I believe you need to be punished and punish you, I will. I will also give the district attorney time to sort out the facts.  They wanted to indict you on first-degree murder since you are a trained assassin and all. I wasn't forthcoming on your behalf, but since they asked, I did tell the truth.

"You did save my life. It does appear that you did not break out of the jail, but rather you were kidnapped, so I am willing to take care of your every need until it's time to turn you over.

"I am hoping that the facts that you were just a misguided, brainwashed member of the Norte Mexicali who showed intentions on fighting for the good guys will at least take the bounty on your head placed by my guys, the Seven Devils Motor Cycle Club. And then once they cool off, they can offer you protection against the employer whom you also betrayed."

"Good thing I did," she said quietly. As soon as she said that she felt him stiffen.

"Let me explain to you how this works. I am in charge. I call the shots. If you want to be snide with me, like you were just now, you can forget about any conversation from me.  Now, have I answered your question sufficiently?"

"No. I have more," she answered, now angry and less in love with him. "So if I leave?"

"There is the door. Let me re-cap that you are wanted by two groups and the law. You may succumb to a life ending ooopsie at the hand of two of them. But good luck all the way around, because you don't get your clothes back. I am keeping them."

"So I have to say naked indefinitely? That's just creepy. And another thing, the difference between us is that I realized killing was wrong; you think it's justified. The thing that motivated me in the first place was that they built you up as this smarmy, self-righteous guy and after I got to know you, I thought they were wrong." She sat up a little straighter. "The very things I love- liked about you were that you were caring and protective.  You get your ego bruised and you seem to be okay with killing," she stared at him, wondering if she had him all wrong when she fell in love with him.

"Let me ask you a question. Are you comfortable?" he asked matter-of-factly. "Is that bed better than the mountainside? Do you feel a little safer?"

"Yes," she said, but that wasn't the point and she wanted to tell him so. 

He didn't let her. "Focus on that. And I will try to remember you saved my life," he said curtly. 

Blanche could not just leave it. As much as she hated giving up the rustic luxury, she would suffer the harsher elements of the San Gabriel Mountains if she had to just to make a point. She stood up in a flash, floundering momentarily under the pain. 

She was seized by it. Stupid shoulder. Who knew that so many muscles and movements were connected to a seemingly single body part?  She took a deep breath. A bead of sweat formed on her upper lip. She believed her shoulder hurt worse than the gunshot graze did at times. Recovered, she marched into the bathroom and searched drawers and cabinets for her clothing. 

He seemed unmoved. He didn't even react to her flash of pain. She went into the kitchen and did the same. The kitchen had all essential appliances, both kitchen and laundry. She lifted the doors for the washer and the dryer. Then she stopped and thought to check out the kitchen window where she spied a laundry-line on which hung her clothing. He had washed them. She sauntered into the living room/bedroom, grabbed the cotton spread, made a makeshift toga out of it, and went outside the door.

By this time, Jason caught on that she found her clothing and was after her. Blanche was quicker and sprinted around the shack cottage away from him. Oh. she knew he would catch her soon, but she was going for it anyway. 

"Come back here," he said. "Come back here." 

Blanche grabbed her clothes from the vinyl line that strung across the trees and, with them in her grip, he swooped her up at the waist. "No," he said.

"Oh my God," she said; the activity way too much for her, especially after having been relaxed.  She collapsed against his broad shoulders.

"Nice try,” he said. “I am not buying it." 

But Blanche submitted, staying motionless against his shoulder as he carried her. He walked her into the cabin and set her down in one of the overstuffed chairs this time. He lifted her feet and draped them over the arms.

The position did wonders to alleviate the discomfort of her body. He sat on a wooden foot locked at the foot of the bed and lifted her chin so that they could regard one another directly. He took the clothing from her clutches and she offered no resistance.

"Want to try something else?" Without waiting for a response, he added, "Have you ever injured your rotator cuff before?"

She had, actually. Her aunt had beaten her once so badly she thought she was going to die.  Instead, she came to with aches and pains for about two weeks, but she didn't want to tell him that. It would seem like she was trying to get his pity and she would be damned before that happened. She turned her head defiantly.

"I see," he said calmly. "Do you need a gentle reminder of who is in charge?"

She was unnerved. His behavior bordered on kinky and she didn't know if he was just playing with her or not. He had her all turned around. "No."

"Well, when you feel like answering my questions when I ask them...," he said and raised his eyebrows.

"No," she said shortly, lying. "This is the first time I've been injured like this. So I keep thinking it's going to go away.  You happy?"

"Not yet," he said. "Sleep."

She wanted to resist but as soon as he said that, the room swirled.  She had jet lag once in her life and this felt just like that.  She let the weight of her head drop back against the decadent plump of the down pillows and slept. She stirred once in the middle of the night and felt his arms around her. He was bare-chested and though she was naked and beneath the cotton throw and he atop of it beneath his own cover, they slept together.

CHAPTER THREE

The sound of chopping awoke her. She had slept wickedly soundly. She saw her clothes folded in neat little squares at the foot of the bed. Blanche craned to look out of the window to see if she could spot him. He was out in a cut out of cleared space, chopping wood. She didn't understand what in the house required wood burning, because, from what she gathered, the stove and the fireplace operated on gas heat. She grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom for a quick shower. 

Blanche hit the faucet and pulled the lever. After a minute of standing under ice-cold water that seemed to get colder, not warmer the longer she waited, she abandoned the effort. She stepped out onto an alpaca rug and toweled. There was a tin of floral-scented body powder to which she helped herself.
Hmm
, she thought.
Another woman has been here
. Though the last few hours turned things in her heart for him, she was jealous.

The inviting aroma of coffee alerted her. She grabbed a cup and padded out on to the modest front porch. 

When he saw her, he stopped and gave her a punishing gaze, "So how was your shower?" he asked rhetorically.

"Cold, much like the owner of this house," she answered. She smiled, which was the closest thing to a laugh that she experienced since she couldn't remember when. Jason stood the ax against the stump that he had been chopping wood on and leaned on it. "It was kind of funny, you have to admit."

"Were you not clear about the clothes?" he answered with a deadpan expression.

"I got it, okay?" she answered. "I am better off here than anywhere else. But I am not going to waltz around naked." She sipped her coffee. Her stomach was empty and the coffee was hard on it. "Is there anything to eat?" she asked urgently.

"Yes. Right away, princess," he glared as he gathered up an armful of wood.

She stepped off the porch onto the forest floor barefooted to do the same. He said, "No" clearly meaning she was not to help with the wood.

She scurried in after him waiting for him to be available so she could let him have it. "For the last time, Jason Fowler. I get that you hate me for what I was hired to do. And if you want me to be here while things settle down, done. Agreed. But leave. I would rather be left alone here without you and your amazing orgasms than have you mean-mug me all day long. I am not taking it. I grew up with a-" She cut herself off. She was not going to share something personal with him.

"What," he said.  "Finish what you were about to say and I'll back off.  For one day."

Blanche shook her head, "So this is a game," she said incredulously. "So how do you know if what I am saying is true or not?  You just want an answer."

"Take it or leave it. The offer evaporates in about two seconds. So start talking," he said coldly.

"What do you want me to say, Jason? I've been through some shit before? There I said it. After my mother died and my grandmother died, the lady I thought was my aunt turned on me. Did a major head trip."

"Where was your dad?" he asked.  He took her cup and sipped from it. He made a face like he didn't like the way it tasted and got up to the kitchen to remedy that.

"I don't know. Okay?" The subject built up a pressure within her that made her feel like she was going to burst. She heard chopping again, only it was his chopping against a cutting board. He brought a bowl of fruits that had been chilled and cut into chunks. In one hand, he held two cups of coffee. He put the cups on the chest and took one. Blanche had no appetite. "Eat," he ordered.  While his tone was stiff she detected as slight bit of softness.

"I was hungry, but now I am not," she said. She drew her legs up to her hips and wrapped her arms around herself. "Can I please have some privacy? Just for five minutes."

He got up and lumbered over to her, "Too much?" he asked, though he wasn't expecting an answer. He spun her around so that her back was to him.

He climbed up on to the bed next to her. He plucked a chunk of fruit the bowl, icy honey dew and held it to her lips. She refused. "Open for me please," he said.  His voice was low and soothing though she wasn't sure he intended that. Why did he have to say that? He knew that all he had to do was get next to her and she was weak-willed. 

She parted her lips and he put a piece inside. Jason turned and put a leg to either side of her so he ensconced her.

"Stop," she ordered faintly, but the warmth of his fingers as he began kneading the muscles of her shoulders might as well have been fingers that were inside of her massaging and teasing her as if to coax a climax.

"Do you really want me to?" Jason's voice was low and seductive and raw like just before he got inside her. His mouth was next to her ears and her body buzzed at his warm breath washing over her skin. 

"I am so mad at you," she countered. To which he just clicked his tongue and encouraged her back against him so he could have access to the hem of her shirt.

He massaged her breasts with lascivious slowness. "I think that goes both ways," he said patronizing her, "but I promised a truce if you answered me. And you did. You don't want a truce?" His voice was still yet seductive. "Hmm?" He didn't wait for her to answer.

He unfastened the waist of her jeans. He now had her half naked with her shirt up and over her breasts which had been covered only by the sheer cotton of a black T-shirt with a motorcycle emblem, and her belly bared with her pants down around her hips.

Though she didn't respond, she didn't protest and he kept talking to her in the way, though she never said so out loud, that was like an erotic drug for her. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked in a super sweet compliant voice.