The Biker's Wench (5 page)

Monica stretched, keenly aware of Harley's gaze slipping to her chest as her bare breasts threatened to escape the bedspread.
"Have a good nap?" His rich, low voice slid like silk over her body and she struggled to hide her reaction. Adjusting the cover more tightly over her chest, she nodded.
"Do you always just walk into your guest's room without knocking?" She glared at him, pushing up on one elbow. Hoping he couldn't see her hardened nipples through the blanket.
He reached across to brace one hand at her back, effectively trapping her in place. "The guest room, no." The grin on his face vanished, replaced by a serious look that both scared and excited her. He bent down, until his nose was almost touching hers. "This is my bed though, and you are my wife. I didn't think the formalities were necessary."
Then his lips were on hers, his tongue demanding entrance as she rolled to her back and he followed. She reveled in his weight, the feel of his solid muscles under her touch and the earthy, all-male scent that filled her senses. Clearly he'd gone back on the no sex rule, and she was glad. Her whole body came alive at his touch as he drew the covers back and began to map her skin. His fingers traced over her chest then down one breast, kneading in increasingly smaller circles. Finding the pebbled tip, he pinched gently, pulling up and out and around in a way that sent electrical pulses down through her core. She whimpered as his fingers released her to be replaced with his mouth, his tongue swirling around the turgid peak. Arching up into him, she slid her hands down his chest and grasped his shirt, pulling it free of his waistband by the fistful.
"Too...many...clothes," she panted, reaching for the button on his jeans. He bit her nipple gently with one last tug, and then pushed up to slide off the bed to his feet. Making quick work of shedding his shirt, boots and pants, he pushed off his briefs, his erection springing free. Monica licked her lips at the size, not too long, but nice and thick. She was practically salivating at the thought of him in her mouth, and she moved to the edge of the bed as he stalked forward, her eyes trained on that delicious prize.
"Yum," she purred, reaching out with one hand as he drew near. Wrapping her fingers around his silky cock, she sucked him into her mouth. A growl erupted from somewhere deep in his throat, and he thrust forward, giving her what she wanted. She pulled back, lapping at the hard shaft then sucked just the tip in as she fondled his balls with her fingers. Legs shaking, he pulled away, placing his hands on her shoulders when she tried to follow.
"Darlin', you've got to stop now, or this show’ll be over before it starts." He knelt in front of her, cupping her face in both hands and kissing her softly, warmly. She whimpered once more, her body aching for more.
He leaned back, his smile knowing as he stared into her eyes for a long moment. "Sit up," he said in a raspy tone that belied his calm demeanor. She pushed up and swung her feet around, boldly opening her legs on each side of his shoulders.
"Like this?" She grinned coyly, not ashamed to ask for what she wanted. The look on his face told her he wanted the same thing, and she crooked a finger at him, inviting him closer even as she lowered her other hand to stroke her wet folds. He reached out to run a firm hand up the inside of each thigh, spreading them farther apart as he stroked higher, finally reaching her core. Holding her open he held her gaze as he licked a slow, wet trail between her legs and up to her sensitive nub.
Monica fell back on the bed, muscles quaking under his talented movements as she pinched and tugged at her nipples. Harley laved and suckled, bringing her just to the brink before abruptly pulling away. Bereft at the loss she arched her back, the crinkle of a foil packet sending a new flood of warmth through her center. Then finally, he was there, his cock probing at her entrance as he covered her with his body and kissed a path between her breasts to her neck. He bit down at the apex of her neck and shoulder, driving home in one hard thrust that sent a tantalizing shudder straight up through her spine.
"Oh!" She arched up again, pressing her breasts into his hard torso. The hard tips brushed through course hair, a wicked sensation as she met his thrusts with her own. He quickened his pace and she held on to his shoulders, a delicious fog settling over her brain as her release flirted just out of reach. Then he pressed hard on her clit and the orgasm spiraled through her just as he pressed in hard and growled out his own pleasure.
Harley laid his head on her chest, and she knew he must be able to hear how fast her heart was beating. She lay still, stroking his hair with one hand as they both tried to catch their breath. When he rolled away and padded to the bathroom, she restored order to the blankets, lifting them up for him as he joined her again. As he tucked her against his body, she snuggled against him, trying to keep her fears at bay for just a while longer.

Harley woke several hours later to a soft, warm body tucked against him, a plump breast filling the palm of one hand. His body came to life as he remembered the events that had transpired earlier, and Monica shifted against him in her sleep, nestling her backside more firmly against his stiffening cock. Stifling a groan, he carefully moved his hand and began rolling to his back.

Not sure whether she was awake or dreaming, he stilled for a moment and listened to her slow, even breathing. Moving slowly he got out of bed and tucked the covers in around her before heading to the ensuite bathroom for a shower. He stood under the lukewarm water, willing his body under control as he soaped up and rinsed off, trying to prepare for whatever would come next. He'd just wrapped a towel around his waist when a piercing scream sent him running back to the bedroom.

Monica flailed on the bed, her arms and legs tangled in the sheet as the bedspread fell to the floor. Thrashing her head back and forth she cried, her eyes tightly shut. "No! Please! I'm not ready...please not yet. Not him--let me go!"

Swearing under his breath he went to her side. "Monica, wake up." He hoped the loud, commanding tone would be enough to wake her, but she cried out again, rolling too close to the edge of the bed. Left with no choice, he grabbed her wrists, setting off a frantic fight response he regretted immediately. Holding tightly even though he knew she'd have bruises, he pulled her close, whispering softly into her ear. "Open your eyes, sweetheart. You're dreaming." He placed a light kiss a little lower on her neck as she stopped struggling, then leaned back, studying her face intently to make sure she was fully awake. Satisfied, he released her wrists, leaning back to give her some space. "Sorry about the grip - you were headed for a nasty fall."

She looked past him, her eyes widening as she rubbed her arms and scooted back a few inches. Glancing down at herself she seemed to realize she was naked, and he watched a pretty pink blush spread over her chest and up into her cheeks as she grabbed for the sheet, trying to cover herself. "Um...thanks," she said quietly, wiping her eyes though it looked as if she wasn't done crying yet. "Sorry about that - I get those sometimes."

"No need to apologize," Harley said, laying a hand over her thigh and stroking his thumb in what he hoped was a soothing back-and-forth motion. "Wanna talk about it?" He tensed up, waiting to hear what possibly could have happened to cause such violent nightmares. Then he was going to go break someone's neck.

Monica shook her head, surprising him again. "I'd rather not, if you don't mind." She glanced at his towel then looked quickly away, her shyness bringing a grin to his lips. "I could use a shower though, if you're done..."

"I've seen you naked, you know." He pulled the sheet away from her with a flick of the wrist. "And I'm not opposed to seeing a lot more of it." She hugged her knees to her chest, the sadness in her eyes replaced with a curious look.

"I thought you didn't want sex," she said, absently running a hand over the front of her calf. "Well, not with your wife, anyway. I take it you've changed your mind?"
Harley ran a hand through his hair, remembering his first proposal. Then he remembered her reaction. "You objected," he said, a knowing grin spreading over his face. "You wanted to sleep with me. Admit it."
"I never pretended otherwise," she said, her tone matter-of-fact as she scooted closer to him on the bed. "But I was willing to go along with your rules since you seemed so set on them. And then you kissed me..."
He reached out, trailing a finger down her arm. "Yes I did. You were very convincing." He grasped her hand, pulling her to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "You may have noticed I have a hard time resisting women..."
"All women?" She raised an eyebrow, the corners of her lips lifting the tiniest bit. "And here I thought I was special."
He laughed, pleased when her eyes followed his hands as he stood to readjust the towel at his waist. "I love women, sweetheart. That's why my lawyers were ready to marry me off. Less expensive staying with the same one, even if she does try to take my money." She was staring at him, both eyebrows raised now as he took the two steps back to the bed. He leaned over, his face just inches from hers and gazed into her pretty brown eyes. "But you're the only one I ever married, so that should count for something."
The urge to close the distance and kiss him was almost too strong to resist. Instead Monica leaned back and pulled a pillow across her lap, needing some sort of cover to make sure Harley's focus was on her words rather than her body.
"What exactly are you saying?" she asked, a shiver running through her skin. "Are we renegotiating the marriage contract?"
He shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "The damage is done as far as I'm concerned. We might as well enjoy ourselves for the rest of the year."
"Damage? Is that what we did? How on earth could having sex with me 'damage' you?" Monica swung her legs off the other side of the bed and grabbed a throw blanket off a chair near the window to wrap sarong-style around her body. She turned to face him, hands on her hips as he sat watching her from the bed. "You didn't honestly think that people would assume we weren't sleeping together after you married me..."
"I expected them to assume we were, actually." He stood, the towel at his waist slipping an inch lower on his hips. He didn't fix it. "But you don't want to be married and I don't really want anyone falling in love with me, so staying away from each other would have been the safer option." He crossed his arms over his chest, muscles flexing in a way that would have made her drool two minutes ago.
Now she was just mad. "So you think if I sleep with you, I'll fall in love with you. Just like that." She spied the bathroom door and walked toward it, stopping in the doorway to look over her shoulder at him. "Well screw you. Or not, in this case. Our original deal stands - no more sex." She stepped into the generous room and closed the door, reaching back to flip the lock before the tears started to fall.
"Monica?" He knocked on the door, twisting the knob back and forth. "Open the door, dammit."
She went to the shower and turned on the spray, then draped the blanket over an empty towel rack and stepped in. Letting the water run down her face she wept. Everything was such a mess. How had it gotten so complicated?
The answer was the same as it had always been. Her father. He was the reason she'd married Harley, and the reason she'd been running in the first place. And in all the personal drama, Harley hadn't told her how he'd dealt with her father, and suddenly she really needed to know. She used his shampoo to wash her hair, then quickly soaped and rinsed her body. Swearing under her breath when she remembered her lack of clothing, she wrapped the throw around herself again and cautiously opened the door. Relieved that no one was there, she padded over to the freshly made bed where she found a small stack of folded clothes and a note. Unfolding the paper, she scanned the lines.
"I hope these fit - they belong to my sister. I'll be waiting in the living room."
She pulled on her own bra and panties, which appeared to have been washed. Betsy had loaned her a super-soft pair of jeans that would work if she rolled them up, along with a fitted white cashmere sweater that clung in all the right places. Not half bad, she thought as she checked herself out in the freestanding mirror and fluffed her still-damp hair. Unable to wait any longer she retraced last night's route back to the front door, and turned to see Harley waiting for her on one of two plush overstuffed couches. He stood as she approached, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"What happened with my father last night?"
"Why don't you sit down?"
Monica almost protested on principle, but the serious look in those dark, brooding eyes convinced her otherwise. She chose a dark green overstuffed armchair, thinking as she sank into the plush cushions that it would make a wonderful spot to read under more favorable circumstances. Harley sat across from her on a matching sofa, perched on the edge with his forearms braced on his knees. She frowned.
"I'm sitting, now spill. Did something happen to my father? Is he okay?" She leaned forward, gripping the edge of the seat with her hands.
Harley shook his head. "He's fine," he said drawing out the words longer than necessary. "We came to an agreement of sorts, but you're not going to like it. And I'm already working on a way to get out of it, so don't overreact, okay?"
She threw her hands up and fell dramatically back against the chair. "An agreement? Of course. I sure know how to pick 'em, don't I?" Raising her head she settled more comfortably in the chair, wondering if she would be using that secret tunnel tonight after all. "Do tell, Harlan. What did you and my father decide about the rest of my life?"
Pushing his hands on his knees, he stood, pacing between the couch and the coffee table. "It turns out that your father owns the company that holds our mortgage to this place. When things got heated last night, he threatened to call in the note. I'm close to being able to pay it off, but just not quite there yet." He moved over to the cold, dark fireplace and propped one arm up on the mantle. "I didn't have any choice. It was either agree or lose the ranch. I can't lose this place, Monica. It's my life."
She nodded, her heart beating faster at his words. Stephen Burns was a powerful guy, and he'd been holding things over people's heads since she was just a child. Disappointing as it was to hear, his treatment of Harley wasn't really surprising. "It's obviously something pretty bad, so you might as well get it over with." She reached out as he paced close and took his hand, pulling him to sit on the large ottoman in front of her. "We'll figure out a way to deal with it."
"It's two things, really," he said, his voice low with that raspy quality she found so sexy. "First, I have to transport packages to one of his offices in Reno. He'll have one dropped off here twice a month."
Monica's frown deepened. "What's in the package?" she asked, even though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.
"Drugs or cash is my guess. I'm not supposed to look or ask questions."
She nodded, oddly energized by the possibility of seeing just what her father wanted moved. It could be something they could use as leverage later. "And the second?"
"He wants grandchildren, Monica. A boy and a girl at least two years old before we can divorce, or he'll take the ranch away."