Make You Burn (11 page)

“Hey, baby,” Ajax said, danger and delirium and something dark like fate in his rough voice, though it spread over Sophie like sweet, hot syrup. “You making new friends?”

Sophie didn’t respond.

She hung there before him, that tight body of hers on display, defiance in her green eyes, and those lush lips of hers pressed together in a firm line, and Ajax thought that keeping her mouth shut for once was maybe the smartest move she’d made all night.

He made the hand he’d wrapped up in the rope of her hair into a fist and he felt the tiny wince she tried to repress. He could see her pulse going nuts in her throat, like the pinch of it made her hotter. He was sure he could
smell
her, warm and
Sophie
and all that hunger that was his, damn her.

It was his.
She
was his.

He kept his back against the bar and hauled her closer, then tracked those fucking circles of no dress at all that made her as good as naked. He slid his hand over the indentation of her waist that was exposed to the entire goddamned bar, and felt her quiver against him. So he kept going, keeping his hand beneath what little stretchy purple fabric there was, smoothing his way over one cheek of that sweet ass and growling at her as he gripped it, right up against that mouth of hers he was holding so close to his own.

“What the fuck is the point of wearing a dress that isn’t a goddamned dress at all?”

Sophie smiled, damn her. Her mouth curved and her green eyes saw everything, all that shit inside of him he refused to name, and her lips were so close to his that he could almost feel that smile of hers like it was his own.

“This.” He could feel that, too. He could taste her when she spoke. “This is the point.”

He didn’t take her mouth. He gripped that ass like it might be the saving of him and he shifted his gaze, slightly, to fix it on a dumbass businessman bitch gaping at them from behind her.

“You like to watch, douchebag?”

The businessman jolted, took a good look at Ajax, and ran off, the way all bitches did.

“I thought you liked public sex,” Sophie taunted him, like he didn’t have her ass in one hand and her immobilized by the hair with the other. “What did you call it? A public service? What’s the matter—the big, bad biker not feeling like a good citizen tonight?”

This woman was going to kill him.

Ajax couldn’t fucking wait.

He yanked her smart mouth to his and he ate at it, thrusting his tongue deep, taking her over like he was fucking her already, deep and long and hard. So hard. And this was Sophie, his Sophie, so she didn’t just stand there and take it. She melted against him. She slid her hands up to dig into his chest, one thumb against one of his nipples for that little bite, and she gave as good as she got.

The kiss was dirty. Raunchy. Wet and carnal and fucked up in the middle of all these people, but she was right. Ajax didn’t give a fuck. Let them watch. Maybe those pansy little bitches who had tried to get their hands on his woman on the dance floor would learn something.

Like how to make a woman this hot moan into his mouth. How to make her writhe against him, sticking her ass back to fill his hand, making him think about the fastest way to get his cock as deep inside her as possible—

But instead he moved his hand lower, curving around her ass to that hot, wet cunt below. No panties. Nothing but wet, greedy pussy and his woman’s tongue deep in his mouth, her hard little nipples rubbing against his chest.

He needed to fuck her.

Now.

Ajax tore his mouth from hers and they both panted there, hot and dark. He didn’t give a shit about the crowd. He didn’t care if more fuckers were watching him, if they could see he’d found her slippery folds. He didn’t care about anything but the way she arched into him and moaned low when he thrust two fingers deep into her, all of that soft, creamy fire so fucking perfect his chest hurt.

He made a noise he’d never heard come out of him before and then he pulled his fingers out, then put them back through that ridiculous hole in her dress.

“If this is a game of chicken,” Sophie said, dark and breathy, right there against his mouth, because she never broke. Not this woman. “You lose.”

“You think?”

He dragged his hand away from the warmth of her body, out of that slinky little
fuck me
dress, and then he plunged the two fingers that had been deep in her cunt into that smart fucking mouth of hers. She didn’t hesitate. Sophie held his gaze with hers, challenge and that crazy need and a darkness that sang to him besides, and she sucked. She licked. She took her own cream from his fingers and he felt his cock try to claw its way out of his jeans, and she was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen.

He took her mouth again. Savage. Desperate.

He tasted her sweet pussy, hot against her tongue. He tasted the drinks she’d had, the spike of rum and that kick that was all her. All of that and Sophie, his fucking match in every goddamned way.

His.

He unwrapped his hand from her hair and then he pushed her back again, shoving away from the bar. He saw nothing but obstacles, but Ajax had never met an obstacle he couldn’t get around. Tonight was no different—and he wanted Sophie a hell of a lot more than he’d wanted some of the other things he’d managed to get in his day. He grabbed her hand and pulled her next to him, then in front of him. He gripped her by the nape of her neck and he propelled her forward through the annoying, heaving crowd that parted before them once they got a look at his face.

He must have looked evil, he thought, when a couple licking each other’s faces in front of him did a double take and then jumped aside.

Whatever worked.

“Stop fighting me,” he growled at Sophie as she tried to lead the way. “You want my cock inside you or you want to have a fight about who’s in charge?”

She looked over her shoulder at him, her mouth a little crook of defiance, and God help him, she was going to bring him to his knees. How could he know that and not give a shit? What was happening to him?

“I don’t think I really have to make that decision,
Sean.
I think I can do both, and I think I still win.”

“It’s a question of how soon, babe.” His hand tightened around the back of her neck, and because this was Sophie, she laughed at him and leaned into it. And he fucking loved it. “You want to talk about your feelings? You want to lecture me on how I should treat you? I’m still gonna fuck you, you’re right about that. But I might not let you come, just for pissing me off.”

She laughed again, harder, and it made her green eyes sparkle and what the fuck was the matter with him that he felt
that
like a blow job from some other bitch?

“Liar,” she said, like she knew something he didn’t, and Ajax had zero desire to explore that pounding thing in him that agreed. That definitely agreed. “You live to make me come.”

She wasn’t wrong about that, which was another thing he had no plans to analyze. But he noticed she shut the fuck up and turned back around, and then she let him steer her where he wanted her to go. Sure enough, he was flipping a few twenties at a bouncer and pushing her out into an alley in about two minutes flat.

He let go of her as the steel door clanged shut behind them and she staggered forward a foot or two on those fucking hooker shoes of hers before she caught herself. She straightened, a lot like she had that night in her living room, but this time, she turned back to face him.

He almost didn’t recognize her then, her eyes were so dark. So serious.

“Did you follow me tonight?”

Ajax laughed. “Half of Bourbon Street followed you with their tongues hanging out, slamming into each other like a fucking boner festival. Figured that was your goal.”

“You must have followed me.” She eyed him. The alley was at least fifteen degrees cooler than that mess of a bar, but he didn’t think that was why she had goosebumps everywhere. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” He shook his head. “You wear that joke of a dress for someone else?”

“Anyone else.” Sophie waved her hands in the air in a little arc that could have contained the whole of the French Quarter. “
Everyone
else.”

“You have shitty luck then, babe. Because one more man touched you in there? I was gonna take him apart. You’re lucky you stopped dancing when you did.”

“And again.” Her voice was quiet, but not cool. Not with that look in her eyes, burning him up from across the few feet of darkness that separated them, burrowing deep beneath his skin like a bruise. “Why?”

Ajax didn’t want to answer her. He didn’t want to acknowledge that roaring thing inside him that was rattling in its cage, fighting to get out. He didn’t want to admit that he’d almost flipped the table when she’d walked out of the Priory in that fucking stripper outfit. That he’d come
this close
to punching his brother Cash in his face because he happened to be standing there, not even wearing his cut, as further insult. That he’d shouldered his way out into the chaos of Bourbon Street and had followed her.

Oh yeah. He’d actually
followed
her.

Again.

Like her ass was a homing beacon and he was fucking powerless to resist it, and there wasn’t one goddamned thing he liked about that. Not one.

He’d followed her across the Quarter once already, when she’d been nothing to him but a sweet butt in gold hot pants. Tonight he’d followed her as she’d dodged drunks and ducked out of unwanted embraces, never looking back to see the trail of devastation she left in her wake. That being Ajax, who’d come along behind her and dispensed a little biker justice to every motherfucker who’d dared touch her or even look at her too long, by his estimation. A drunk pushed face-first into a wall here, a tourist tripped and shoved to the street there.

Sophie was his. No matter how naked she seemed to want to be on the streets of New Orleans—and he couldn’t argue with that, given that body of hers was a work of fucking art. But she was his all the same.

And no matter if she was the only one standing in this alley right now who didn’t get that.

Ajax wasn’t going to say it. He didn’t know how to say something so contrary to everything he was and anyway, he’d been pretty fucking eloquent with his fists and his temper for the past few hours. He was done talking.

His cock was a far better negotiator. Time to let him out.

“Shut up,” he told her, his voice so low it was almost a part of the city itself, late-night sin and the far-off kick of jazz in the air. “And show me that pussy you’ve been teasing the whole fucking French Quarter with all night.”

Her throat worked and he expected more smartass remarks—but maybe she’d learned something here. Or maybe the look on his face was as fucking ferocious as it felt.

Either way, Sophie licked her lips, and he felt that in his cock like a slap. He forced himself to stand still. To watch as she spread her legs wider apart and stood there a moment, the stretchy fabric of her ridiculous fucking dress tight over her thighs. And then she reached down and pulled the dress up, rolling it back to expose those smooth, sweet thighs. Then higher, so it was hard to breathe. Then higher still, until the dress was bunched around her waist and her pussy was fully exposed to the night air.

And to him.

The animal inside him almost broke the chain and lunged at her, but Ajax held it back. Somehow. He held himself very, very still, though he could see the way her gaze dropped to move over his hard cock pressing against his jeans. And God knew he wanted to fuck that smart mouth of hers, but he knew that if he did, that would be the end of this.

He wanted more than to bust a nut. And Ajax didn’t feel like psychoanalyzing himself on that one, either.

“Make yourself come, Sophie.”

It came out hard. Guttural. An order.

She jerked. “What? Why?”

Ajax wasn’t playing.

“Fuck yourself. Here. Now.”

She licked her lips again, and she really was going to kill him. She was halfway there, and that was before she tilted up her chin and ran her hands down her thighs, then moved her fingers around to her own sweet cunt. He could hear her breath pick up. He saw her chest move like it was an effort.

And then her hands began to move in that deep V between her thighs, rocking one palm over her clit like a gentle wave and holding the other there. Just holding it.

“You only need one hand to play with your clit, babe,” he gritted out. “Those other fingers belong in your pussy.”

She made a soft, broken little sound that almost made him come in his fucking jeans, like a goddamned kid, and her eyes were dark with a specific sort of distress when they met his. He loved it.

“Do it, Sophie.”

Her face flushed red. She made that noise again and she swayed slightly on her skinny little heels. But then she blew out a breath and moved that covering hand, reaching down beneath to thrust up into her own pussy.

She panted, and stood there, lewd and fucking gorgeous, her hands full of her own sweetness. And he let her.

For a second or two.

“Don’t just stand there,” he told her, his voice a dark, taunting thing, a rasp against the night, as if they were the only two people in the whole of the French Quarter. “I told you to fuck yourself, not cop a feel like this is high school. You know what to do.”

She breathed in between her teeth and she dropped her head, like she needed to concentrate. Her hair fell around her in a thick, dark curtain, but Ajax focused on the fingers that began to move, plunging in and out of that tight, hot cunt he could taste in his own mouth. Her other hand worked her clit.

He watched. And she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, standing there half naked in the moonlight, giving herself over to him because he’d told her to. Because she’d always met him full on, again and again, in every possible way, since he’d walked through the Priory doors.

Her movements got harder, jerkier. Her breath caught.

Ajax took a step and was on her, taking her face between his hands and tilting her face to his.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered her, right there against her parted lips. “Come now, baby. Right now.”

And she did. Sophie convulsed against him. Her mouth got stuck wide open and her face went red and she shook, and he watched, and she came right there against him, her hands deep in her cunt and her face completely open to him.