Hunter: MC Romance (Hell Reapers MC Book 1) (6 page)

And then he slung an arm over the back of my neck, pulling me tightly against his person. Squishing me even. Never in my life was I big on public displays of affection, or even touching for that matter. Call me weird, or whatever, but it was what it was – and after…well, after what happened, I wasn’t comfortable with being comfortable.

Hunter glanced over at me, that look making me feel weak and like my heart might float right out of my body. He looked over to the two men that were walking towards us, the men whose names I’d already forgotten.

“Reyes,” Hunter called out. The man was built almost equally as impressive as Hunter. He had dominating shoulders, and was maybe only a head smaller in height than Hunter. His skin was toned darker, like he had been baking in the sun for quite some time. Besides his slicked back dark, auburn hair, his most prominent feature was his displeased scowl. “Play nice with my lady friend here, you can call her Firecracker,” Hunter glanced at me, “less she tells you otherwise.”

Reyes’s light gray eyes sized me up for a moment of time, and then he stepped closer, bringing his hand out in a clasping motion. Stitched onto his jacket was a peculiar white piece that read ‘Sergeant-at-Arms’.

I awkwardly reached out at the angle that Hunter was forcing me to come from, meeting his hand with mine.

“Good to meet you,” he practically growled the words, and his eyes shifted over to Hunter – speaking something subtle; what exactly, I could not be sure.

I pulled myself away from Hunter’s embrace, “Who pissed in your cheerios?” I asked sincerely.

The man to Reyes’s right spit out a laugh.

Hunter scoffed, “Jameson, try to show this beautiful creature some of our honest grace and hospitality.”

Jameson was maybe an inch smaller in height than Hunter, and his pinecone brown hair was done in an attractive manbun – even if it wasn’t my thing, I could respect him for rocking it. He reached his hand out towards me and gave a warm smile, “Elated,” he said, shaking his head from side to side, “positively elated, miss.”

I returned the smile and finished shaking his hand, “At least one of you has manners,” I announced, spying on his jacket a patch that read Vice President.

Jackpot.

Chapter 4

The four of us spent a lot of time downing shots and going out into the dance floor and doing what I do worst. But after I made a fool out of myself, the boys made sure to help me with it. There was a small period when I had to pretend to go to the bathroom, when I felt Sabrina buzz my phone. I caught her up to speed, and let her know that I’d call a cab and find my way home just fine.

When I got back to the dance floor, Hunter went to talk to the DJ, and have the guy put on some of the easier songs to follow along to. They all seemed impossible to me. He got in close to me and put his hands on my hips; guided me to the motions and the beats of the song - pointed me towards how others were doing it. They made it look easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You just gotta relax, Firecracker," he whispered in my ear, his hands lavishing me with seductive attention, "move like this," he insisted, rocking my body in a particular motion to the pulsing synths and blaring kicks. The seductive vibrations caressed the whole of my being, but I could only seem to partially get the hang of things.

"I told you," I replied, the buzz from the alcohol playing at my mind and heart, "I'm no good at this," I practically whined those words out. That was strange. Whining, at least out loud, was unlike me. It felt surreal, I could hardly believe that I was getting to hang out with a sexy outlaw. Sabrina’s going to be so jealous.

"You're doing great," Hunter assured, "you'll get the hang of it, I promise you," he gave that warm laugh that I wanted to lose myself in. "Just keep to the beat, don't worry about everyone watching you—"

"People are watching me?!" I turned my head, a twinge of heat coursing through my blood.

"I'm sure they are, beautiful," he whispered, "any man in here would be looking at your tight ass, if they had even half a brain - or any balls at all."

"So that's what you've been looking at, is it?"

"I confess to everything," Hunter practically growled the words, "and to nothing."

I hummed something low from my chest in response, turning to face him then and dancing with him. We got close, so close I feared I might drown in his eyes; that I could smell the mint of his breath – I’m sure he snuck away to freshen up at some point. Clever. As we danced, I felt this invisible tug. I felt like putty in his hands, but I was alive.

Alive was good. Beat the hell out of misery.

The hours passed and the four of us trolled the club. We smoked herb in the tiny, fenced in courtyard at the club’s side. They had me meet a host of usual suspects, older men that didn’t ride – like Ricky Twelvefingers, of whom I never learned exactly why he was called that. I suspected from their seeming embarrassment, which I thought bikers would be incapable of, that it was something related to sex.

The uproarious night went on and the three marched me towards the dart section, having me miserably toss the sharp bad-boys. I lost every match that I played, but when I got a few points they would cheer and when Hunter would show me how to play, the boys would whistle their approval.

Sometime later (most of us had stopped drinking) in the night, surely just hours before the sun would peek over the skyline, when the four of us were worn out from moving our bodies; we adjourned ourselves back to the table where I had originally seen the bikers. At this point, I was having too much fun acting like a damn fool.

You're here for a reason, I reminded myself. You've got to stay on point. My eyes met Hunter's gaze for just a spell, and those thoughts and feelings of having to act professional. Of having a purpose here, to research and look and report - it all washed away.

Heat sank itself deep into my core, and a delicious, teasing ache formed against my clit.

The ever grumpy Reyes sat himself beside me, which was pretty disappointing, as I would have preferred Hunter - or even Jameson, at my side. He looked over at me for a moment and then turned his gaze elsewhere.

He definitely doesn't like me.

Hunter leaned forward in his side of the booth, "Come on now, beautiful," he said, "it's about time you gave us a little something."

"What do you mean?" I raised a brow.

Jameson brought the beer to his lips and dipped his head back, and then cradled the bottle in his hand between his fingers

Hunter’s gaze seemed to look right through me, "I mean we've been buying you drinks and keeping your fine ass happy," Hunter explained, "told you what we do. Now it's time you open up a bit," he instructed. It was true, they had told me some about themselves; though I learned next to nothing about Reyes.

Jameson was a mechanic at their shop down on Caulhoon, the head mechanic of the place.

Hunter, who I had expected would also be a mechanic, informed me that he actually worked as a personal trainer as his main source of legit income - working at the Caulhoon shop as a mechanic was only something he put a small number of hours into.

Reyes was...well, he was a ghost, to me at least. When Jameson and Hunter were explaining what they did for a living, Reyes had told me that he, in so many words, 'did work that others didn't want to do'. Yeah, not exactly the most gripping of stories behind that one. If I couldn’t find anything on the man, he’ll easily be the one I cut from the piece.

"Well," I started, "what do you boys want to know about me?"

Jameson spoke up then, giving a sly look my way, “What don’t we want to know about you.”

I could hear Reyes’ resenting exhalation of breath.

Hunter glanced at Jameson and then over to me, “Tell me what you do,” he raised his chin at me.

“I’m a professional singer,” I told him, “…of sorts.”

“Really?” Hunter’s dimples appeared, but he seemed a tad incredulous.

“Do I not look the type?” I asked.

“Sing us something,” he encouraged genuinely, but as if he could already sense my protests, he said, “come on. We want to hear you sing,” he looked towards the other two. Only Jameson joined in on the pressuring.

“Oh, no, no,” I insisted putting my hands up. Shit maybe this wasn’t the best lie to spin. “I really couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Hunter asked.

"Because, I mean, I just - I can't?" That came out wrong, "I can't, it's too..." I drifted off, biting down on my lower lip nervously.

"You're too shy, eh?" Hunter realized, "come on beautiful, ain't none of us gonna judge you. You're in good company, or have we not been hospitable enough?"

"Y-you've been great, really," I insisted, "I just, I only do studio work." This lie was definitely a mistake that was paying terrible dividends now. Please, don't make me do it - my heart'll come right out of my fracking chest.

The man seemed to be discouraged then, "Alright," he finally conceded, "so you sing. But not for an audience. I can respect that," his icy blue eyes looked me over and I felt my stomach churn in delight. "So why Vivid? You really don't seem like the type."

"My friend, Sabrina, told me that I wasn't being adventurous enough," I said, "that I needed to get out more and live life to the fullest."

"You came to the right place for that," Hunter smirked, "you sure that's all, though?" His earlier suspicions clearly weren't assuaged.

"I'm just a simple girl," I shook my head slightly, "just trying to have fun and get to know some people. And, I mean," I bit my lip again, feeling the fire flow fiercely between my legs, "I was wondering...one little thing."

Hunter gave me a 'you were wondering?...' look.

"If you'd be able to give me a ride," I said, and Jameson nearly spat out his beer in a whoop, "I-I mean, on your bike, to my apartment. I've always wanted to try one. You did say that you would."

Hunter looked devilishly pleased, "Course babe," he said, "of course. But you know," he said, making a sucking noise through his teeth, "we kind of have a rule. See, me and the boys here, we're part of an enthusiast club."

My senses perked up at his mentioning of this. “Oh? I was wondering, guess those things on your chest mean something,” I pointed with a nod of my chin at Hunter’s chest, where his patch would be if he had one.

“Girls? Only ride if they show their tits,” my heart shot up into my throat when he said that, “just how it is, gorgeous.”

I sat there stunned, my body locking up and refusing to do much of anything.

Jameson and Hunter could only look at me from across the table, Reyes didn’t seem particularly interested either way.

“Here?” I asked, sure that my face was going red.

“Here,” Hunter confirmed.

Nervousness and excitement both pricked away at my chest mercilessly. He was going to make me expose myself here, in front of his brothers and anyone else attentive enough to get a good look.

Well, I’ll have to give him a crash course in how I barter. You expect me to give? Best expect I’ll take, too. “I’ve got my own rules too,” I countered.

“Oh?” Hunter said and then laughed, “like what?”

“Yeah, such as, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

And then something strange happened. I felt a rumble of laughter at my side, Reyes moving along the bench, a wide smile forming on his face as he looked over to Hunter.

Hunter himself showed nothing outside of a peculiar, aggravating if not attractive, cockiness.

Shit. He’s gonna whip it out, isn’t he?

Sure enough, as if he could hear the fracking thoughts percolating in my head, Hunter got up from his seat and unbuttoned his tight, faded and torn, blue jeans. Heat curled against my chest, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to some curious tingling between my legs. The man stripped his jeans down, just enough for the outline of his sublime member to be seen pressing against his underwear.

Reyes and Jameson turned away, making their own noises of protest. But me? Well let’s just say I was pleased that I had the restraint not to jump around all giddy.

Hunter peeled his underwear down, struggling to move it past the full and hard muscles of his thigh. He revealed the first few inches of his manhood, just the base of the shaft – and hell that was enough to wake my body up for sure. I was firing on all cylinders, and was certain that if I wasn’t red in the face, I was definitely looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Years ago I used to be crazy about Charlie Hunnam; a couple of girls, and even Sabrina, used to watch that show SoA. I’d have sucked that man off in a heartbeat and with a damn smile on my face. Hunter? Call me a whore, or call me whatever you will – but that man was built
right
. I could feel the delightful tension consuming me; if I’d been cursed (or blessed with the right guy) to suck only one more man in my life, I could die a happy, happy woman with my lips wrapped around that stick.

All of that delightful tension twirling inside of me, driving my clit mad with a need for attention, came to a head when his…well when
his
head sprang free. His rather thick cock stood there at half mast, Hunter’s underwear tightly hugging the muscles of his thigh.