Enough (9 page)

“Say, ‘I’m Dare’s property tonight,’ and they’ll leave.”

“Your property?” I’d heard the term before. “Explain
property
?”

“Property has rights based on the biker. So no one else can play with you, it’s a specific claim. Like Zayn. He’s Jericho’s property because Jericho’s his sponsor, and ultimately his first boss, but we can all tell him what to do unless it crosses purposes with Jericho.”

“So can others tell me what to do?”

“No, a woman is the exclusive property of the biker who owns her. I don’t share.”

Relief released my growing tension. I didn’t ever plan to be shared. Maybe I should be insulted and full of anger at the chauvinistic way the club worked, but my brain repeated
I’m Dare’s property.
Those words excited me. I wanted to be his property, and hearing him agree, well, it was sweet perfection. Even if he only meant for the night.

I drew his face to mine for a kiss and another and then one more before I remembered we were talking. I released him. “I’d love to go to the club with you. I think I have the basics down.”

He smirked and captured my lips in a tender kiss, stroking my hair the whole time. It overwhelmed me and tears threatened, but I didn’t let them fall. Instead, I pretended he was my home and my heart, a part of me forever. The man who loved me one day would kiss me like this.

The kiss ended more softly than it started. I sat there with my forehead resting on his, soaking in the joy of this perfect moment. I took a mental picture to remember. Minutes passed with us sitting together before he carried me to bed. This time we went slow, exploring every part of each other until we were too exhausted to continue. I curled into him as he spooned me, his hand circling over my stomach, and my heavy lids shut.

* * *

“Fuck” muttered over and over woke me up. Daylight shone through the curtains.

“Problem?” I asked, eyes closed.

“Sorry, I fell asleep last night, and didn’t wake up.” He cursed again and stood.

“You leaving?” I yawned and turned to see what worried him.

“I guess.” He sat back down. “Uh, I’ve never done this, slept the night with someone.”

A slow shiver of pleasure moved through me at his words. I was the first.

“No wonder you’re freaked.” I flopped back on the bed, too tired to get worked up. “Three options: get dressed and do the walk of shame, go back to sleep or fuck me.”

He stared at me a second before a laugh burst from him. “I pick option three.”

“Thank God.”

He rolled over and kissed my breasts. “I didn’t get near enough of your tits last night. You drove me wild.”

“Lucky you, they’re ready for you.” I wanted him to touch them, taste them.

He bit harder and I moaned.

“You like it rough? What a bad girl.” He set to work reforming me.

* * *

Three days had passed since he’d woken up freaked out in my bed. The party was tomorrow and Dare hadn’t given me any details. Maybe I didn’t need to know anything.

Damn
,
the rules are tricky
,
and I’m a total chicken.

Stewing over the party, my mood darkened throughout the day. Zayn came up front for our normal chat. I tried. He gave me a strange look before he headed out less than five minutes later.

Shit. I worked hard to avoid bad moods but today, my funk refused to be banished. Taking my anger out on the glass, I buffed it with fast, furious circles; maybe I needed to work off my attitude.

I screeched when Dare’s arms circled my waist.

“Red, you okay?” He laughed in my ear.

I searched for a mood not black and came up empty. “Yeah. I’m kind of stressed about the party tomorrow.”

He flipped me so fast my ponytail whipped into my face.

“Why?” A frown marred his forehead.

Now I’d done it.

“MJ said she wanted help cooking. Do I bring something? And what time are we getting there? Or should I go early and help get ready?”

His crooked smile sent flutters through my middle, and the first bubbles of happiness popped inside me. “You arrive on the back of my bike. If you need to bring shit, Zayn will stop by and get it. I’ll have MJ call you, stat.”

Relief seeped through me, he hadn’t thought my questions silly, and my dour mood evaporated with his kiss. He had my back, even if he hadn’t been very specific. It was enough.

I tilted my head up to kiss him and stopped. Now he had the shadow of worry hooding his eyes. I raised my hand to cup his chin. “Baby, don’t make me erase the frown with my mouth.”

And his fuck-me look was there with his hand clenching my ass to pull me close. “Your place, now.”

Chapter Ten: Lila

I didn’t hesitate, leading him upstairs. Inside the door, he flipped me and braced me against the wall. His hands squeezed my breasts, and his cock ground into my jeans-clad ass.

“How long until my next appointment?” He spoke into my ear, tickling it.

“Two hours.” I gasped. “But I didn’t tell Zayn I was leaving.”

“Naked, your bedroom, now.” He took his phone out and spoke a couple sentences to Zayn, I guessed.

I hurried to the bedroom before I shimmied out of my jeans and panties, and pushed my ass back toward him.

I heard him join me in the room. “Baby, you have a fine ass.” He caressed said ass. “We need to talk about your ass.”

I turned to him, unease skittering through my middle. “What?”

He shoved hands roughly through his hair. “I’m an ass man, Red, not that tits should be ignored.” He tucked the hair behind my ear with the trace of a smile. “I dream of my cock in your ass.” His voice scraped. “Eventually, ropes and ass, and then...”

He was swirling fire, blue and hot and I wanted to touch the flame, but did I dare? I didn’t know if I was brave enough.

“Oh.” I gulped, trying to gather my thoughts. I stepped away from him, needing distance, some room to think.

“It has to be right for both of us. Don’t agree unless you mean it.” Passion still burned but was restrained now.

“I didn’t say no.” I paced my bedroom, struggling with how to put my thoughts into words. I worried how he’d react to my answer. Gathering my courage, I stopped pacing.

“I need to think about it.”

Had I said no to him? What would happen now?

Dare moved toward me with slow steps, maybe this was the end.

He caressed my cheek. “Red, turn around.”

I shook my head.

“Red, now.”

I faced him to see warmth, not anger, in his expression.

“I’m a selfish bastard. Take your time, and if never is it—that’s fine with me. Your wildness drives me toward more and more. I want to do everything with you. You fucking top all my expectations.”

“Until now,” I whispered, trying to look away.

He held my chin firm. “Not even a bit. It’s a big step if you’ve never done it. Think it over, and see what feels right. No hurry. No pressure.”

I gulped, unable to believe he let me off the hook and made me feel like I’d chosen the right answer.

“Okay.” I adored him. He’d given me a real choice, not the fake choices leading to a single response.

I circled my arms around his shoulders. “Can I kiss you?”

His brow wrinkled in confusion, so I pressed my mouth to his. I didn’t have words for what filled me up, so I poured it into my kiss.

He stumbled back even as he grabbed me to him. Then he devoured me, catching me up and carrying me to the bed. Our lips never parted.

He laid me on the bed and smiled down at me. His fingers dancing across my skin, he slid my T up my torso then tugged it over my head. His mouth teased my breasts as he unclasped my bra, removing it.

“Hmm.” I raked him with my gaze. “How can you do this so slow? I want you now.”

He kissed my belly button. “Patience.”

With the lightest touch, he brushed his fingers down my stomach, and I bucked up my hips when his finger grazed my clit.

“Dare. When will you fuck me?”

He stood at the end of the bed and he stripped for me. The Harley shirt climbed his torso revealing abs, pecs, and it was gone. He winked before he kicked off his boots. He turned so his gorgeous back and ass faced me, Levis sliding over his defined ass and down his legs. Strong thighs met calves decorated with tattoos.
Live free or die
held dominion on his left calf.

He stalked to me with a hungry expression. “Now, Red. I’m gonna fuck you slow right now.” He moved onto the bed and knelt at my feet, then pulled me down toward him, lifting my legs up his torso.

True to his word, he made me scream his name more than once as I came for him. Yet he held control until the very end and we came together on my last orgasm. Panting, I couldn’t move, all my muscles had turned to goo. Eyelids heavy, I wanted to sleep, but it was the middle of the day, so I fought to stay awake.

He moved to the foot of the bed and dressed.

How much did he hide from me? What did he do in the club? The questions were never far from the front of my mind, no matter how I tried to banish them.

I sat on the bed’s edge and shoved my feet into my jeans legs and hopped up and down to haul them up.

“Cute dance,” his low voice teased.

“You coming by tonight?” When the words were out, I wished I could take them back. Definitely not a fuck-buddy question. At least I hadn’t asked what he liked for dinner. So far I’d kept from asking what his favorite foods were. I wanted to show my love—
Not love
, I chastised myself—by fixing what he liked best. Strange that even after the losers, I yearned to take care of others. Why hadn’t I learned my lesson?

While I beat myself up, he closed the distance. “What the hell’s going through your brain?” Humor tinged his words.

“What?”

“Everything you think plays across here.” He tapped my chin.

“Just thinking I’m bad at this fuck-buddy stuff.” I shrugged.

He laughed and I had to look up from my inspection of the floor.

“What?” I asked again.

“Red, you’re funny. You’re my girl for however long it works for us.”

I gaped at him. His girl? When had I shifted positions, and why hadn’t he asked me if I wanted to be his girl?

Who am I kidding?
He had me wrapped around his pinkie.

Lila
,
you never learn.

“Am I good at that?” I hadn’t meant to ask that question either.

Stupid.
Stupid.
Stupid.

“Perfect. Too damn good for me.” His words held a tinge of regret.

My heart missed a beat, and I wished I could pepper him with questions about exactly what he meant. He moved toward the door, antsy now.

I wasn’t the only one a little freaked out by this thing between us.

* * *

I followed just a few minutes after Dare. Once I was back at the front counter, I realized he hadn’t answered my question about tonight. A heavy sigh didn’t get rid of the unease churning inside. It was getting complicated, and I loved every minute of it. I was destined to repeat my mistakes, or this time wasn’t a mistake.

Picking up the ringing phone, I said, “Marked Man.”

“It’s MJ. Can we chat about tomorrow?” Her words rushed into my ear.

I bet she talked in her sleep, filled with energy like hers. “Yeah, what can I do to help out?”

She chuckled in my ear. “I knew I liked you, girl. You like desserts or salads?”

“Desserts.” And I did. Baking was a luxury for me, one I rarely indulged in living alone.

“Music to my ears, girl. What can you bake up tonight? We got a hundred or so coming.”

Holy shit
. I thought about what I had, and the biggest obstacle was baking dishes. If I did cakes and cobblers, then I could buy the tins at the store. MJ and I discussed logistics, and Dare’s favorites—apple pie and cheesecake. She ordered me to go with Zayn and have him pay for everything.

The clock read two thirty—no problem getting the desserts done, and a few dozen cookies. Cookies were always the right answer. I spent the next thirty minutes straightening up and finishing a bit of paperwork so I’d be ahead. A couple hours on Sunday, and I’d be done with the week’s tally.

“Ready to jet, Lila.” Zayn dangled car keys in his hand.

Shit.
I’d planned to get him when I was ready. “Give me twenty to make a list of supplies.”

He grinned and nodded.

“Come upstairs with me,” I called over my shoulder as I opened the back door of the shop and headed up to my place.

I grabbed my cookbook and wrote furiously, doubling recipes in my head to figure out how much I needed of the different ingredients. Zayn ambled over, watching me.

“Cobbler is great.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” I kept writing.

“Red velvet cake, like my mama made, with that wonderful icing.” His words spoke of a specific memory.

“Got it. Red velvet is on the list.”

He whooped and then prowled my apartment. “Glad you got my old furniture.”

I nodded but bit my lip because I hadn’t completely made peace with Dare’s high-handedness. I focused on the list, scribbling down ingredients and amounts so I’d get enough of everything. I hated running to the store in the middle of baking.

“Ready to go,” I announced.

Zayn drove a classic ‘80s Monte Carlo to the local super mart so I could buy everything in one place. It took almost an hour to grab all the ingredients, and then I shopped the mixer isle. A stand mixer would be a luxury, but one that’d make this all easier. I found one on clearance and carried it to checkout while Zayn pushed the cart. At checkout, we fought over the mixer, but he bought it because MJ had said anything I needed. The man was stubborn when it came to his directions from the club.

Back home, I cranked the Chili Peppers and dove into my work. Once the apple cobblers baked in the oven, I made a sandwich and sat down for a few minutes. Six cakes and two pies down.

I stood, energized for my next baking binge when I heard a thud. Was that the door? I turned my music down and hurried to the door. I opened the door and smiled up at Dare.

“You’ve got flour on your nose, Red.”

I hurried to the music and turned it down before swiping at my nose, but I probably only smeared more across my face.

“Hey, handsome, fancy seeing you here.” I sashayed back across the floor to him.

His kiss was like a fresh breeze, and I wanted more and more. He drew me toward the bedroom, but I broke away. “Two minutes and I’ll be there.”

His eyes tracked me while I put the fruit and other perishables in the fridge.

“What the hell?”

“I’m making desserts for the party.”

He frowned at me. “MJ said she recruited you, but not that she’d dumped it all—”

“I volunteered. Baking relaxes me. And I don’t get to do it often.” And I’d hoped for MJ’s approval, maybe a little too much, so I’d overdone it. But, I did love to bake, and couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun.

The buzzer rang on my stove and I grabbed the two cobblers. “Now, we have an appointment, I believe.”

“You sure?” His frown hadn’t eased.

“Never more certain.” I tugged his hand and he followed me to bed.

He grabbed the ropes. “Undress and kneel. I’ve been thinking about this all afternoon.”

I scrambled out of my clothes, my panties already damp from seeing the black ropes, remembering the last time they covered me, and anticipating what new ecstasy he’d give me now. Once he’d tied me tight and positioned me with a pillow under my ass, he knelt on the bed above me. “I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked.”

And he kept his word. He wrung every ounce of emotion from me. Euphoria created a floating feeling of satisfaction. Every time he pushed my limits, still it surprised me that our no-holds-barred exchanges only made me want more. A fragile confidence blossomed. If I held my own with Dare, perhaps I could with anyone.

He undid two knots, and the ropes sprang loose. I wasn’t sure what surprised me most, the way the ropes enhanced my pleasure or how quickly he could release the knots, but I ate up every brush of his fingers as he unwound them.

Once free, we cuddled together, even though my mind returned to the kitchen and my baking. I stroked his hair with my nose buried in his neck, inhaling his masculine scent. His body relaxed into sleep. I’d become an expert at deciphering the change in him.

When I rolled away, he stirred and flipped onto his stomach. I stared at the complex maze of tats on his back while he slept. The center of the art spread low across his shoulders. The Jericho Brotherhood with his name below it—his christening. Above the Brotherhood stood a bound woman, tied with the same knot design he’d tied me with the first time.

Was she a past lover? It hurt to think about the question.

I shook my head and focused on his long lashes closed in sleep, telling myself to get back to baking, but I hated leaving his side.

I tiptoed to the door, closing it against the noise of the kitchen. I mixed up the cherry cobblers, crimping the edges of the dough. Once they hit the oven, I prepared the peach pies for baking, sitting them on my table until it was time for them. Icing came next on my list, and I decided to frost all the cakes, except Zayn’s red velvet, with chocolate icing.

“You do love this shit.”

I jumped with a squeak and hit myself in the forehead with a spatula covered in chocolate icing.

Smooth
,
Lila
,
real smooth.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me.” I frowned at him, but the effect was lost with the icing on my forehead.