Love Ties (7 page)

She took the packet from him and tore it open with her teeth, holding his gaze. Then she fitted the rubber over his swollen head and rolled it down with a scorching look that made his balls ache.

She took her time, but he was finished letting her have control. He grabbed her waist and lifted her. Her pussy slid over his cock, soaking wet and ready.

“Fffuck,” he groaned as he bottomed out in her tight channel.

She hooked her legs around his spine, her head thrown back with wild abandon.

Digging his fingers into her ass, he kissed her. White-hot need slammed through his system. He couldn’t stop himself from pumping into her.

Her inner walls squeezed him even as she opened her mouth for his tongue invasion. Sweetness unlike any he’d known wrapped around him. Even the dampness behind her knees seemed as if it was just for him. He shoved deep.

Crying out, she threw herself into the kiss. He slammed her down on his cock, needing to possess.

She didn’t accept it yet, but she knew it. She belonged to him.

He sank his teeth into her plump lower lip, and her pussy squeezed him tight. Pressure rushed up from his balls. He dipped his knees to get a better angle and thrust into her.

Her harsh cry signaled her release a split second before her body clamped down on him.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Take what you need.” The blinding haze of orgasm bore down on him. In a bright flash, he was gone.

He locked Ever to him and roared his release. Sandalwood and vanilla engulfed his senses, and her hair tickled his nose. For long minutes he did nothing but listen to his pulse and breathe her in as he rode one of the most mind-blowing orgasms he could remember.

She shifted in his hold, drawing on his cock one last time. He bucked his hips and pulled back to meet her gaze. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen.

“Next time we go slower.”

She nodded, dazed. Smiling, he let her slide down the wall to her feet. He reached for his condom, but she covered his hand. “Let me take care of you.”

As she removed his condom and dropped to her knees, he thought he’d lose his mind. When she cleaned him with her mouth, his cock hardened once more.

He traced the curve of her jaw, watching himself disappear between her lips. “You did that on purpose. You wanted me to ache for you all over again.”

She flashed those incredible blue eyes at him. “Did I?”

“Who are you? Jesus hell…” he croaked as she sucked his length.

She released him with a pop and got to her feet. She shimmied out of his hold and crossed the space to throw away the condom she held pinched in her fingers.

He turned to watch her ass sway with every step. Twisting back, he rubbed his forehead against his arm, which was still braced against the wall. Damn, she was everything he’d fantasized about in a woman.

She snatched her shorts and panties off the floor and stepped into them. He regained enough of his senses to pull up his jeans too. Right now he wanted her on his bike, her arms wrapped around him. But there were points to be proved first.

He caught her hand and towed her to the door. “Come meet my guys.”

“They’re here?” Panic rippled over her face.

“Not all of them. Just a few.” He eyed her. “You think they’d let me go anywhere totally alone?”

“No, I suppose not,” she said quietly.

The bar was a subdued version of The Gearhead, but it was still hopping. A jukebox played Led Zeppelin. Jamison leaned close to speak into Ever’s ear. “Rocket must be here. He’s a Zeppelin guy.”

Weaving their way through the tables, past the bar where everyone craned to look at Ever, Jamison didn’t let go of her hand. She clung to his fingers.

“Jamison Montgomery.” A tall man in all black leather stepped in front of him, arms crossed.

Jamison followed the chest up another few inches to meet his gaze and laughed. “Randall, my favorite smartass. What are you doing in the Tomfoolery?”

Randall was a prospect when Jamison earned his VP patch. Jamison was one of his biggest backers—he’d believed in the guy from the start. Randall had never let him down.

“Bunky told me to watch your back.”

Instantly, Jamison was on alert. “That so?” He shot Ever a look, and she chewed her lip.

Randall stared at her.

Feeling the need to secure her place at his side, Jamison tugged her close. “This is Ever.” His tone said:
Mine
.

Randall acknowledged her with a nod, but he couldn’t stop looking at her. Jamison was okay with other guys coveting what was his. As long as no one tried to touch.

“Ever, this is Randall.”

“Hi.”

Jamison caught sight of Tommy and raised his chin in greeting. “We’ve gotta have a drink with Tommy. Keep watching my back, yeah?”

Randall nodded. “Yeah.”

Ever crowded against Jamison’s side as he led her toward the roughest-looking guy in the bar. Tommy had a baby face—until someone had cut him up. Two X’s crossed his cheeks. A gangster had sliced him for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Face drenched with blood, Tommy had stumbled to his bike and ridden straight for the club, where Strother’s old lady stitched him up and administered antibiotics from the cupboard behind the bar.

One of the lines of the X had extended to the corner of Tommy’s eye. The scar tissue puckered it, but he could see just fine.

Jamison clapped his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “How the hell are ya, brother?” He didn’t release Ever as he gave Tommy a one-armed hug.

“Happy as a pig in a pile of shit.” Tommy grinned at Ever. “Who’s this little morsel?”

“This is Ever.” Jamison pulled her tight to his side, allowing none of that space for Tommy to see between them.

“A worthy mistress for our vice prez.”

Ever snorted.

“Ah yes, very worthy.” Tommy jerked his head toward a table along the wall. “Have a drink with me.”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing.” Jamison followed Tommy to the table and seated Ever first. She crossed her legs and drew her long hair over her shoulders, concealing her cleavage from every eye in the joint.

Good girl.

As soon as they took their seats, two other MC guys dragged chairs up to the table. A hot little waitress squeezed her way between the guys, purposely touching them and showing off her body. “What can I get you guys?”

Everyone looked to Jamison, who pulled rank. “Whiskey. And a Sex with an Alligator.” He angled his head toward Ever.

Laughter rumbled around the table.

Ever straightened and looked at the waitress. “Make that a whiskey double.”

“Oooh,” Tommy said.

Oooh was right. Jamison had no idea what to expect from a tipsy Ever. He grinned at the thought of pulling information from her—or getting her drunk enough that she hung all over him. Damn, he wanted her to hang all over him.

He looped an arm around her neck. “Double for my girl,” he agreed.

The waitress took orders from the other guys. Tommy settled down to business quick. He placed his hands flat on the table, indicating there was business.

Jamison eyed him. “You can speak freely in front of Ever.”

Tommy leaned close and said, “Middleton was spotted in Heller’s Gap.”

Someone slammed his fist off the table, sending it shuddering on uneven legs. “Damn him.”

“I say we put that asshole out of commission once and for all,” another guy said.

Jamison didn’t dare look at Ever for her reaction. If she really was cut out for this, she’d stick around.

“Now wait a minute. Strother left me in charge of this debate—”

“Debate?” Tommy raised his eyebrows, making his scars pucker more. “It’s a fucking war, Jamison. They did this to me.” He drew X’s in the air over his cheeks.

Ever raised her gaze and stared at him. Looking back at her, Tommy went on.

“Ten years we’ve been fighting drug lords on our turf. We had it cleaned up for a spell.”

“Three years,” one of the guys said.

“Yeah, three good years without asswipes like Middleton handing out speedball to young pussy.”

Ever didn’t even blanch at the harsh term.

“The Hell’s Sons can’t let this asshole Middleton believe he can come into our town and deal under our noses.” Tommy’s meaty fist struck the table.

Randall dragged up a chair and straddled it backward just as the waitress returned with their drinks. She handed Ever’s to her first and then cradled a glass of green liquid. “I brought this too in case you didn’t like the whiskey.”

Unspoken: In case you can’t handle the whiskey.

The guys went quiet, waiting to see what Ever was made of.

She cupped the shot glass around the bottom, and holding the waitress’s gaze, brought the alcohol to her lips. With a smooth flick of her wrist, she poured it down her throat as if it was water.

“Thanks. I will take that.” Without gasping around the burn, Ever passed the waitress the shot glass and accepted her Sex with an Alligator.

The guys were grinning, and Jamison couldn’t have been prouder. He slid his arm from around Ever’s neck and placed his palm on her bare thigh under the table. The smooth muscle flexed under his hand.

After the waitress left and the guys knocked back their shots, Tommy continued.

“This time we put this dealer down. No hesitating. No holding back.”

“We bring in all the guys to fight,” Randall added.

Jamison looked between them. “Look, I know both of you have lost people you loved to drugs. Your sister, Tommy. And Randall…pretty much your whole family. I get that, I do. But the way of the Hell’s Sons has always been to observe first and strike smart.”

“What about you, Jamison? I was at Amanda’s funeral. I know what that did to you.”

The only indication Ever was affected by these words was a slight tensing of the muscle under Jamison’s hand. She sipped her drink through a straw.

He hung his head. “Yeah, we’ve all lost people. But that doesn’t mean Middleton is the only dealer in Heller’s Gap. And it sure as fuck doesn’t mean that if we off him that the drugs are gone.”

One guy leaned back in his seat. “I hear ya, man.”

“I’m with you,” another added.

Jamison trailed his hand over Ever’s leg, feeling that familiar lengthening of his shaft. “I hear you Tommy, Randall. I get it. But I’m saying we don’t vote on a strike yet. Let’s leave it a while longer.”

“But—”

“I know there’s more dealers in Heller’s Gap than Middleton.” He lowered his voice and glanced at Ever. “I took care of one today.”

“You did?” Tommy’s elbows came down on the table, rocking it.

“Word didn’t get out about it,” Randall said.

“Not yet, but it will. I called some of the guys to come clean up.”

Ever shifted her leg as if to remove it from his grasp.

Jamison tossed back his whiskey and stood in one movement. “That’s enough business for tonight. Keep your eyes peeled and keep the club informed.”

“Will do, boss,” and “Yeah, boss,” chorused around the table.

Jamison pulled Ever to her feet. She didn’t even sway as if she’d just drunk enough alcohol to drop a woman of her size. He spiraled an arm around her waist and moved through the club, introducing her.

Within a few minutes he saw the effects of the alcohol. She loosened and smiled at people. When the waitress stared at them, she hooked her arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Grinning, Jamison disentangled himself from her hold and led her to the exit.

Rocket was standing by the door, arms folded and his best pissed-off expression in place.

“Rocket.”

His gaze ticked over Ever. Not once, but several times. Jamison clenched his jaw, wanting to punch out his fellow Hell’s Son’s teeth.

“What’s your name, doll?” Rocket drawled.

Ever’s drawl was thicker. “Ever.”

“Hmm. Sounds like an alias to me. We Hell’s Sons protect our own, especially our VP.”

Jamison would ordinarily kick Rocket’s ass for talking to a woman he trusted this way. But he wanted to see what Ever would do more. He released her.

She angled her body toward Rocket, hip thrust out and her long, long leg extended. She fiddled with a tendril of hair, twisting it around her finger. “You don’t like me.”

Rocket’s smile was smug. “I don’t know you, doll.”

Ever went on tiptoe, leaning close to Rocket and whispering, “You wish you did.”

Rocket didn’t reply. He cut his eyes toward Jamison and then brought them right back to the luscious woman in front of him.

“You don’t have to trust me as long as Jamison does.” She dropped back to her heels and stared at Rocket.

In reply, Jamison meshed their fingers and led her past Rocket, out into the night. He trusted her enough to put her on the back of his bike.

When he handed her a sleek helmet of her own, her eyes glittered. “Just this once,” she said, fastening the buckle under her chin.

He swung his leg over the bike and kicked it to life. “Yeah, yeah.”

Taking the curves with her body pressed against Jamison’s felt so right, and damned if Ever wanted to stop. She pressed her nose against his spine, loving the leather-clad muscle.

He ran his hand from her knee upward, sending a thrill straight to her pussy.

As they navigated the dark streets, he didn’t try to talk over the engine, just rode. She was glad of the silence, because the more time she spent around him, the more afraid she became that she’d slip.

He kept asking her name, and when would that stop? She wasn’t stupid—he was trying to get a file on her. Most likely his intel guy couldn’t find anything. Between her being dead on paper and her two identities, her trace was difficult.

The club was a big compound behind gates. As they rolled through, a guard holding a rifle saluted Jamison.

The whiskey she’d slammed down still coursed through her veins, loosening her more than usual. She followed him into the building and let him introduce her to so many people her head spun.

A guy named Ace with a big black dog settled her at the bar and asked her questions while Jamison withdrew to a corner with his whiskey and a pack of smokes. He sat with his back to the wall and stared at Ever as a guy started to tattoo him.