Hiding in Plain Sight (25 page)

"And you are?" The buxomest brunette of the bunch had zeroed in on me as soon as I'd opened my mouth.  She was dressed head to toe in red leather:  a fringed halter, ankle hugging pants and plat formed slides all meant for a woman twenty years her junior.

"Reese Jovanovic.  Brand's wife," I tried to say but I think it came out more of a mumble as I tucked my hands around my waist.

I heard more than a few gasps and caught more than a couple of eyes doing a slow roam over me and my outfit.  All accompanied with eyebrows hitting hairlines.

The buxom gal chuckled as she slid her eyes to the girls that bracketed her.  "No.  Really, who are you?"

I blinked.  Had I stuttered?

Holding up my left hand and wiggling my fingers in the same movement I'd done for Trey on my front porch, I repeated, "Reese Jovanovic.  Brand's wife."

"He's fuckin'
married
?"

"Goddamn.  There goes any chance of me getting some of that European schlong."

"I thought he only did threesomes.  Ain't that what you said, Lily?  That he only does threesomes?"

Shit!  The other women's comments, probably meant to only be heard by the other women of the club were drilling holes in my heart with their words.

"And when did this happen?" The lady in red asked stridently.

"Last Saturday.  In Billings," I replied glancing around the group.

"You get a ring?" The blonde to the right of the red dressed bitch asked with a chin lifted in challenge.

I held up my hand and again wiggled my fingers. I must admit, I was getting pretty freakin' tired of doing the move.

"A band.  Hung like a horse and he gives her nothing but a band?"

"Cheap bastard."

"Shit, my Huff's so tight, he squeaks when he walks but he gave me a diamond set."

"You happy with that?" the dark-haired woman was squinting as she questioned me.

"Don't much care about the jewelry as long as I get the man," I answered honestly with a one-shoulder shrug.

The severe face changed immediately with her smile.  I could see the beauty inside as she again looked me over, only this time with acceptance.  "Good answer, baby girl.  Name's Dee."

"Hey, Dee," I shot back and made a point of smiling back at her.

"Carly," came from the redheaded gal on her left.

"Vanessa but everyone calls me 'Lock'," came the voice from the blonde on the right.

I realized these women were doing a kind of roll call by the station their men held within the club.  But there were too many names coming at me too fast to memorize.  I held a hand up at one point and told them, "I hope there's no pop quiz at the end of this!" 

At their giggles, I felt like I had passed some sort of test and took my hands from my waist to accept a red plastic cup that was, I assumed, filled with beer.  "Thanks," I offered to the younger girl who'd handed it to me, maybe about my age or a little younger.

She smiled back.  "I'm Jilly and I'm with Snake."

"Thanks, Jilly," I said, lifting the cup to my mouth while trying not to recoil at the smell.  There was no way I would be able to drink this.  "Ah, is there any soda instead?"

"Are you preggers?" I heard Dee call from across the table.  She was now sitting and her bosom was lifted almost to her chin just by resting on the tabletop.

"Ah, no," I said and I found my feet were moving, shifting as I admitted the truth.  "Dad is an alcoholic.  I have trouble with the smell."  There were more than a few nods from the others in the group.

"Let me switch that for you," said a tall girl reaching over Jilly's shoulder.  "Brown or clear?"

"Brown, thanks," I sent back, thankful that they understood. 

"Where'd you meet your man?" Jilly asked, her voice a sweet lilt in the middle of towering hair and low necklines.

"Kansas.  How about you?" I said, accepting my now non-alcoholic cup.

"Here in Missoula.  I was working at 7-11 and he just kept pestering me to take a ride on his motorcycle," she admitted with a shrug.  "One ride and I was hooked."

There were more than a few chuckles and giggles at her words.  If I wasn't mistaken, this was a common tactic for the men to meet women outside of their natural habitat.

"That hair natural?" I heard from Carly now seated next to Dee.

"Does it look natural?" I countered with a snort.  "Brand did it.  Picked out the color and did the cut."

"Shit."

"Fuck."

"If I'd known he'd go for red, I'd have colored my hair months ago."

"I'd have damn well handed him the scissors and told him to have at it if that's what he'd wanted."

Okay, I didn't need to be hit over the head with a brick to realize these women lusted after my husband.  Yeah, he was hot and he was good, but I was kind of getting pissed off at all the comments made about him.  He wasn't just a 'schlong' as Lock had called him.  My Brand was also protective, sweet and loving. 

"Don't worry about it, Reese," Jilly advised, sitting next to me and hitting me with a shoulder bump. "It's just talk."

I saw her eyes roam the group around us.  "Well, most of it is, anyway."

Wait… what?

"What do you mean?"  I refused,
refused
, to get upset before I had all the facts, and I didn't want the picture I was creating in my head to be the truth about my new husband.

"Your Brand was special because he… ah, he would, uhm." Jilly was stumbling over her words which caused my heart, already at my knees, to sink down even further.  "In the club, if everyone agrees, then you can do a three-way." 

She shot me a look I couldn't quite get a grip on.

"Three way?"

"You know, three people in a bed?" her innocent voice, that sweet voice was almost a whisper.

Oh, hell. 
No
. 

I swallowed and, it must be said, it was thick and it was deep.

I must have made some kind of unconscious signal with either my eyes or my body because Jilly's cute, young voice continued.  "Brand only liked to do it with other couples.  Which is allowed as long as everyone in the three-some agrees."

Fuck!

I married a man-slut.  A fucking biker man-slut who 'did it' with couples. 

All the feelings I'd been harboring, the specialness of the few times we'd done the nasty came up front and center in my mind.

Oh fucking, goddamn hell. 
No!

I twisted to find him in the crowd.  She couldn't possibly be talking about my man.  Not about my Brand.

He was standing about 30 feet away and I caught his look, offered with a dimpled smile and heard numerous voices around me sigh at the sight.  I whipped my head back to the table and caught the looks being given his way.

There was no denying it.  He'd done it.  Just what Jilly had said.

I dropped my head and gazed unseeingly at my hands that were gripping the table so tight they hurt.

Fat to fire.  It didn't matter, in the whole scheme of things. 

Either way, to human flesh, they both burned and destroyed.

Chapter Twenty Four

He collected her from the group at the table, anxious to hear her reactions but more than excited just to have her all to himself.  She offered him her shoulder as they made their way to the back of the equipment garage, and she helped him into the passenger seat.  But she turned away before he could recreate their moment from earlier.

In fact, he would almost say she'd distanced herself from him completely as he watched her slip the key in the ignition to get the Tundra moving.

"You're gonna need to tell me how to get back," she said dully as the truck hesitated at the gates.

"Left, my beauty," he said, watching her profile, hoping for a glance, a smile, lit by the glowing green of the dashboard lights but which never came.

She never looked at him, the whole of their journey back to the cabin, and Brand watched for it.  Was disappointed by its lack.  He'd hoped that from their earlier tongue play that she'd be receptive to what his heart and body were aching to do.

He'd tried, though.

"Did you have fun tonight?" he'd asked.

"It was… informative," she'd mumbled.  If he didn't know better, he'd think she wanted to pull on her bottom lip.  "How about you, Brand?  Did
you
have fun tonight?  Or does being
married
take you away from all of that?"

He was confused.  Not just by her words that didn't make any sense to him but by her tone which was almost bitter.

"I like being married to you, my Reese," he replied, reaching to hold her neck, which he knew steadied and calmed her.  Especially when he brought his thumb into play.  Only this time, she shrugged, dislodging his touch.

"Oh, yeah.  Nothing like being married to get your groove on," she muttered, her tone still flat and lifeless.

"Groove on?"  Her idioms were starting to get on his nerves.  He felt he had a good grasp of the English language until she threw certain phrases around.  Phrases he didn't understand. Or, even if he did, didn't make sense within their context.

"Hit it, do the Nasty, get your groove on.  Sex, okay?" she yelled.  Reese normally didn't yell when she explained her words to him and he took it as a bad sign.

"What is wrong?" he yelled back, his voice echoing in the expanse of the cab of his truck.  A truck that was only probably going thirty miles an hour.  Couldn't she fucking drive any faster?

He saw her hands tighten and twist on the steering wheel as she leaned forward and glared,
glared
, at the empty road in front of them.

"I know, okay?  No reason for you to hide it any longer!" Her voice was almost a scream.  "You fuck anything that moves.  Girl, guy.  One on one, threesomes.  It's all there for the Hellion's sex god!  Any fucking port in a storm.  If there's a hole, Brand will fill it!  Goddamn.  Come to find out, husband, I fucking married a biker, man-slut!"

What. The. Fuck?

Is that what she thought of him?  Oh, shit.  Is that what the other women had told her?  There were a couple of them that seemed to almost delight in stirring up trouble and would have made sure Reese was uncomfortable in some way.  He should've known, should've warned her somehow.  But he hadn't.  And now the damage was done. 

So fucking done.

He glanced at her, his heart riddled with holes at her words, her goddamn tone.  She was grinding her teeth.  And the worst part was, he knew at the moment, she regretted marrying him.  Maybe even rued that she'd even met him.

What had they told her?

"I fucking married an goddamn, motherfucking, man-slut biker!" she yelled, slapping her hands against the steering wheel, leaving him no room for doubt as to what she was pissed about.

She half-twisted in her seat behind the wheel and pointed a finger at him.  "Do
not
say another fucking word, Brand!  Not another motherfucking word, you hear?"

As before, way back in that first Kansas motel room, Brand grabbed her finger and moved it aside.  "I am not a slut.  Any more than you were when presented to Deschames as a virgin but already having someone else in that sweet pussy."

Reese wrenched her hand from his and whipped her head back to the road.  "How dare you!  How fucking
dare
you!" she screamed and he wanted to cover his ears but knew she needed, no,
they
needed to have this out.

"Which are you the most upset by, wife?  That I had sexual experiences before you or that I brought up yours?"  He yelled back, half-twisted in his seat.  "Are you jealous? Or simply embarrassed because your family sold you as something you absolutely
were
not
!"

Her middle finger shook as she shoved it to within millimeters of his nose.

"You slept with men and women!"  She continued and there was a note of self-righteousness in her voice.  Brand had to bite his lip and look away at the innocence her statement exposed.  He'd known from their couplings that Reese wasn't experienced in bed, her hesitancy and uninhibited responses had spoken volumes on that count.  Her lack of sophistication was something he found extremely sexy.

"Three in a bed—whether its two women and a man or two men and a woman does not mean everyone interacts, my draga," he explained, his words hitting the window where his face was pointed.  "There is sometimes pleasure in the viewing, in simply sharing the experience with others."

"Fuck you," she said, albeit with less force from before.  Her temper, as usual, was starting to settle.  She may've gotten angry fast, but it never lasted for long.  Another thing he liked about her.  In order to move things along between them, and the direction he wanted them to go, he made use of the opening she provided.

"Oh, yes.  I want to fuck you.  Deeply.  Hard.  And feel you fuck me back, my Reese," he murmured.  "Fucking you is a pleasure, and one I look forward to doing."  He paused to give emphasis to his next thought.  "Often."

The truck leaned as she took the turnoff to their driveway sharply, letting him know her emotions were still running high.

She jabbed her very busy finger at the garage door opener clipped to the visor, and he saw she was frowning fiercely as they waited to enter the dimly lit building.  As she set the brake and turned off the ignition, Brand reached across himself and slid his hand underneath the jacket to capture her breast.

Rubbing his thumb over her stiff nipple, he leaned further, allowing his breath to shimmer over her neck.  "And you like fucking me, too.  You like my hands, my cock and my mouth anywhere on you, delighting you and your luscious skin."

"No," she replied, but it was said on a moan as her eyes closed.

"What happened before we came together, can never be undone.  But what we have now…," he murmured on a deep exhale and let his lips touch her fragrant, soft neck as his fingers plucked at her hard nub.  "What is between us, is more than I could've ever imagined or hoped for, my dearest wife."

She dropped her head back, giving him more access as well as her acceptance, and his hand moved over the fullness it held.  He used his left hand to disconnect his seat belt and shifted again to get closer to her.  As he felt her relax into his caresses, he grabbed her underneath her arms and maneuvered her over the console, shifting her until she was straddling him.

"You're hard!" she exclaimed in a soft voice, the depths of her desire evident in its roughness.

"And I would be willing to bet your pussy is soaking," he said crudely before shifting his hands.  One went to capture her hair as the other settled on one denim-clad ass cheek, yanking her until she was splayed over his turgid cock.  The heat and pressure of her had his hips lifting within the confines of his seat.

She leaned until her mouth was near his, their tongues touching, snaking together before their lips even met.   "Oh, Brand," she moaned as she voluntarily pushed her top and her bra up, offering her breasts to both his gaze and his mouth.  Seeing her pink tipped mounds, deliciously displayed in the dim light of the garage, had his dick and balls throbbing as his eager lips took advantage of her immediate submission.

The fullness of her breasts spilled over his palms, and he used his thumb and forefinger to twist and roll their tips into tight points.  She pressed herself against the swelling in his pants and gave a soft cry when he enveloped a bead with his lips and tongue.  He moved from one to the other, scraping his beard stubble over them as he continued to feast.

Her hands moved between their bodies while she fumbled with the fastening of her jeans, wiggling them down to mid-thigh, her eyes hooded and face flushed.  "Touch me," she begged and he felt her hips thrust forward.  "Touch me
there
, Brand."

Hell, yes.  He watched her face as he allowed his fingers to dip to her wet, sizzling heat.  Sliding along her hot slit, he felt her jerk as he fondled her sodden folds, zeroing in on her swollen peak.  Her breaths were now heaving pants as he touched where she'd demanded.  He reached lower and inserted a finger as his thumb continued to keep pace on the side of her clit, slowly rubbing softly in time to her hips cadence.

"Oh, Bay," she moaned, her head dropping back, and he was caught in the beauty of her moment.  Inches away from her bliss, she was everything that defined 'woman' in his mind.  The feel, the taste and the smell of her and her arousal would have him coming in his jeans anytime, but especially now.  "Oh, yes," she hissed.  "Here…god, Brand baby, here it is."

*.*.*.*.*

How could I have gone from so angry to so turned on I could barely breathe in such a short time?

He felt so good, was touching me in ways that were so unbelievably sexy I almost couldn't breathe.  His mouth.  Oh, his fingers!

One minute I was in the driver's seat, and the next I was straddling his lap, feeling the hardness of him pressing against the seam of my jeans and at the feel, my wanton side took over.

I needed to feel his mouth on my breasts, my nipples clamoring for release as I shoved my top up, struggling against the confines of my bra as I quickly whisked it away.  Just to feel his mouth on me—on my sweet peaks that craved his heated licks.

"Touch me," I heard myself moan, unable to help the slewing of my hips against the fullness that pressed between my legs.  I was so out of my mind that I undid the button and zip of my jeans, shoving the fabric of both it and my panties down until I felt the cool air touch my moist flesh.

But Brand's hot hand met me more than half-way.  He reached and touched.  Fondled and caressed until I thought I'd lose my mind.  Oh, it was good.  So damn good that I heard my voice, though I couldn't make out the words.

Oh, damn.  His fingers were magic.

"Here," I offered in warning as the storm within me became sharply focused and built even further.

My body was on fire, taunt as a bow-string as I hovered, before my body slammed into the pleasure only he could provide.  A full free-fall of euphoria met me, crashed into me as my orgasm collided and overcame the last small bit of reality. 

And the echoes of it seemed to last days as it throbbed within me.

When I finally had the right of it, when I'd come back to myself, I wanted to please him too.  To make him feel what he'd caused in me and to make up for my sharp words I'd spewed in jealousy.  A feeling I'd never experienced until he came into my life.

I lifted my hips, rearranging my pants before I allowed my hands to roam. 

God, he had a hot body.  The kind that would hold you in an eye-glued stare if seen on a picture.  His chest held harsh shadows of its u-shaped pecs and his abs.  Oh dear god, his abs.  I didn't count after eight, but there were more bracketed by the vee of his lower stomach as I unbuttoned his jeans and slowly inched the tab of his zipper down.  Not only didn't I want to catch the zipper on the mushroomed cap of his hard-on, it was my eye's desire to uncover him slowly.