Love Ties (3 page)

It was impossible to deny how much she loved the hooded way he looked at her. As if she were the most beautiful and precious thing he’d ever seen. Power came with such a look, and she’d known it before. Having it back felt good—and dangerous.

His eyes glinted when she positioned her breasts over his cock. Some men liked this, but she loved it. As she clamped her breasts together and sheathed his cock between them, her pussy flooded.

“Jesus hell.” He shuddered, pulling her hair a little.

She moved over him, drawing the tip of his purple cock down into her cleavage then back up. “You getting religious on me?”

“Goddamn, yes.” He rocked his hips, thrusting between her breasts again. The head of his cock leaked pre-come. Dipping her head, she gathered the clear juice on her tongue.

“Did you learn that on YouTube as well?”

“Mmm. Maybe.” She ran her tongue around the cap of his cock and found a soft depression under the head that made him moan. He rubbed himself between her breasts, and more juices oozed from him.

Suddenly he fell still. Over the length of his hard body, their gazes met. “No, really. Have you done this to any of my guys?”

Ah, so he was the jealous type.

She shook her head, making sure her long hair floated around his groin, teasing him. “Have you ever seen me here before?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been with one of the Hell’s Sons.”

She shouldn’t be with one now. The only reason she’d returned to Heller’s Gap was to seek revenge. Getting laid hadn’t been on her map, and if he didn’t shut up soon, she’d climb off him and get a cab home.

“No Hell’s Sons.” With that, she swallowed his cock right to the base.

Jamison groaned, cradling her nape to hold her down on him. The fullness in her throat made her pussy squeeze. His clean flavors drew a moan from her too.

“Take it, baby. Just like that.” He pulled out and then plunged back into her mouth. The head hit the back of her throat, and she swallowed reflexively.

That ability to reduce a man to this turned her on more than she’d ever admitted. She sucked his length, drawing several grunts from him.

“Hell, yes. God, I fit so tight in your mouth.”

She focused on his face while drawing on him. If she needed him later—for protection or to hurt someone for her—she could use this.

No, she never would. She wanted to give this pleasure to Jamison because she loved that hazy look in his eyes and the way his full lips fell open.

Grabbing her shoulders, he yanked her up and off him. His cock slid from her mouth and bobbed on his abdomen. As he settled her over him, she resisted.

“Condom.”

“What? No.”

“Yes.” She’d insisted on a barrier between them last night too.

“You don’t trust me.”

“What makes you trust me?” She could have been with hundreds of men. Just moments ago he’d asked if she’d slept with his guys.

She twitched her head toward his cut, lying across the bed, club patches revealing his importance. His position of vice prez demanded his ruthlessness, and with that came responsibility.

He only sighed and reached for his cut.

He pulled a condom from the inner pocket and handed it to Ever to roll on. She took her time about it, teasing him into a frenzy with fingers and mouth. He slipped his cut on over his bare chest, just as she’d asked.

“Damn little vixen. Get on me.” The gritty quality of his words worked wonders on her libido.

Holding her breath, she hovered over his cock.

“Now.” He thrust upward as he shoved her down, sinking to the hilt. She cried out, her body hugging him everywhere. Jamison closed his fingers around her nipples, twisting them with as much tenderness as he used to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around him and allowed him to control her, though she was seated atop him.

They began to move. Long, slow glides, a push and pull, give and take. Pressure mounted in her core as he slid over her G-spot with every mind-blowing pass. He ran his finger over her jaw and kissed her into a puddle.

Arching her back, she sank onto him and ground her clit against his body.

“You’re soaking wet, baby.”

Yes, right now she could handle being his baby.

He plucked her nipple, and an invisible string between his fingers and pussy pulled tight. Her inner walls clamped around him.

“Mine, all night. Say it.” His multi-colored eyes sucked her deeper under his spell.

“All night.” She’d leave as the sky was lightening, which meant she’d keep the promise to herself to never spend another night with a biker.

Satisfied by her answer, he flipped them. The crush of his weight against her body sent her reeling. White-hot need coursed through her, and primal noises escaped her lips.

Jamison circled his hips. Lust and passion locked them together, making this quite possibly the best sex of her life. As he pulled out to the tip and then drove back into her, she tipped over the edge.

Pulsations gripped her, and she writhed under him. He captured her noises on his tongue and fed her his own as he stiffened with his own orgasm. They rode the waves of bliss.

He held her through the final contractions, his gaze warm and bright with an excitement that had everything to do with him asking her to stay.

Worry was a cold finger on her pulse, slowing it.

Jamison gripped the base of his cock and slid out of her body, and then disposed of the condom in a nearby garbage can. He stretched out between her legs.

The first fiery touch of his tongue sent her flying again. She fisted the sheets while he ran his tongue up and down her slick folds. As he buried his tongue into her channel, she twisted her fingers into his hair.

But when he lapped a figure-eight pattern over her clit, she came apart, yanking on his leather cut, drawing him against her quaking body.

She didn’t want to admit it, but she liked him.

•●•

Ever awakened with a gasp. Her eyes flew open, and she stared into the darkness, trying to make sense of why the hell she was in the club with her ex again.

A heavy weight was thrown over her thighs, trapping her to the bed.

Then the scent of the vanilla candle Jamison had burned reached her, and some of the panic fled.

Sure, she’d submerged herself in the Life again, but she hadn’t sunk as far as getting back with Stone. She was only scratching an itch with Jamison. Still, she couldn’t stay. The MC wasn’t for her, even if the Hell’s Sons weren’t into some of the things the Dark Raiders were.

An image of the Raiders’ club tattoo rose in her mind, two crossed sickles with a skeleton seated between them. Stone and every member of the club wore this tattoo on his chest. When someone saw the ink, it was something to be feared. If she hadn’t loved Stone long before he’d gotten his tattoo, she would have run away screaming.

Releasing a shallow sigh, she wriggled out from under Jamison. He cradled his head on his forearm—a hard pillow. After three orgasms, she didn’t remember falling asleep. Apparently two nights of Jamison’s loving in a row had worn her out.

She rolled off the bed onto her feet and padded across the room, locating her clothes and boots. Jamison faced away, and she took a minute to study the tattoos he bore. His shoulder and arm were a myriad of guns and skulls interspersed with roses and words like “honor” and “justice.”

On his other shoulder was a stylized VP for his position within the club. And in the center of his back was the Hell’s Sons logo—Satan on a bike that shot flames from the tailpipe.

She searched the canvas of his skin for Nazi symbols or something pointing to the bad things such as the Dark Raiders dabbled in—drugs and women. Being with Stone protected her from the prostitute trafficking, and an innate hatred for drugs kept her clean.

Shivering, she slipped on her panties and stepped into her jeans. It took her a minute to get the tight denim over her hips. The zipper sounded too loud in the silent room.

Jamison didn’t wake up, but one long foot twitched. She stared at the sole, shocked by the pink tenderness of it belonging to such a hard man.

An echo of his lovemaking abilities.

He hadn’t let her fuck him fast and hard as she’d wanted. Instead, he’d hooked her with his soft looks and softer kisses.

Damn. She had to get out of here.

Grabbing her shirt, she threw it over her head and jammed her arms into it. With her hair still trapped in the collar, she slipped on her boots and headed for the door.

It opened silently. The club was dead still as she headed down the corridor and through the main room. Naked sweet butts were sprawled all over, one even sleeping with her face down in a guy’s crotch. Some people slept on tables or under them.

From what she could see, no one had a needle hanging out of his arm, though.

Before she got to the door, footsteps sounded behind her. An arm snagged her around the middle, and she was slammed against a hard body.

Jamison’s mouth was at her ear. “It’s not daylight.”

She battled the warmth of his body seeping into hers. She was not going to sag against him. Bracing her legs, she tried to put space between their bodies.

“You plan to walk to your car?”

“I’ll call a cab.”

He slipped his hand under the edge of her shirt and rubbed his fingers back and forth. Need clutched her.

“You’ll get there on the back of my bike. Wait for me.” His heat left her. Turning her head, she caught him walking away, buck naked. The lines of his back rippled as he disappeared down the corridor again.

A shaky breath eased from her, and her heart rate slowly returned to normal. His ability to sneak up on her unawares pointed to the kind of man she was playing with. These clubs never did everything on the books. Money changed hands and conferences were held in dark alleys.

When she pivoted and stared at the passed-out partiers, her stomach crawled. She wasn’t this person anymore. What had she been thinking to get into bed with a guy like Jamison?

She reached behind her and turned the door handle.

Two guns clicked as the guys roused and held her in their sights. Gasping, she pinned herself to the door. One bald guy lay on his side, arm outstretched with the gun pointing right at her. His eyes weren’t yet lucid—all he knew was the sound of the door, and his need to protect the club.

She attempted a smile at the other guy. He was naked, his cock flaccid between his legs, but he still wore his boots and several gold chains. One chain was like Jamison’s—a gold tooth dangled from it.

Shuddering, she held up her hands.

“Ah, it’s just you.” The bald guy lowered his weapon, and the naked guy followed. A good thing, too, because Jamison strode into the room, dressed and looking as bright-eyed as he had last night at The Gearhead.

“Ready, baby?”

“Yes,” she said at once. She pushed through the door and stumbled out of the club. The air was only slightly fresher. Something was burning nearby—garbage, by her guess.

Jamison caught her hand and towed her to his bike. Then he handed her his helmet and watched as she fastened it under her chin.

She raised her jaw. “What?”

“You know that when a Hell’s Son gets a woman on the back of his bike for a third time, he buys her a helmet, right?”

She schooled her features. Apparently this rule was universal, because Stone had bought her a helmet too. Slinging a leg over his bike, she said, “There won’t be a third time.”

“No?” He arched a brow.

She shook her head.

He lifted his shoulder in a shrug that was too stiff to be anything but an act. The biker god got on the bike and made it roar to life. Ever rested her cheek against his cut, wrapped her arms around his waist, and enjoyed her last moments with him.

•●•