Payback (Viking Bastards MC) Page 8

  “Hey,” she gasps. “Don’t like to point fingers, but this is the missionary position.”

  “You don’t wanna know what I just thought, then.”

  She flexes her fingers. “Are you going to let me go?”

  “Haven’t made up my mind. Are you going to be good if I do?”

  I don’t know how such a sweet smile can also be so dirty. “No. I think I might be really bad.”

  Chapter Ten

  Gage

  That’s a challenge I can’t resist. I release her wrists, and before she can do anything, I pull her long-sleeved T-shirt over her head and along her arms then toss it onto the floor. She has a sprinkling of freckles across her shoulders and chest, and I have the weird urge to kiss every one.

  “Your turn.” Her voice is husky as she tugs at my cut. I don’t usually like girls doing that, but none of my usual rules seem to mean anything when I’m with Amelia.

  She drops it onto the floor next to us, and I don’t stop to toss it onto the nearest chair. I rip my shirt off, and she sighs as she brushes her fingertips over my ink.

  “Love your tats.”

  All chicks love my ink, but for the first time I get this warm glow in my chest at the compliment. “Wait till you see the rest.”

  She laughs and eyes my bicep. “Awesome eagle. That must’ve hurt like hell.”

  I scoff. “I’m a Bastard. I don’t feel pain.”

  She’s still smiling as she traces my bald eagle. “Yeah, right. I forgot. What does it signify?”

  It’s cool she knows the ink isn’t just for show but means something, like my patches. But how does she know? I forget the question even as it forms, because who the hell cares. “It’s a family tradition. Got one when I made prospect, same as my brother.”

  “Family tradition?” She frowns as though she doesn’t get it.

  I undo the metal buttons on her denim skirt. “My granddad started it when he formed the Bastards, and my dad carried it on.”

  She tenses, and I pause midway down her skirt. Only three more buttons and I’ll finally get to see her pussy, but I want her begging me for it, not having second thoughts. “You okay?”

  “Um, yeah.” She fists her hand against my bicep and doesn’t meet my eyes. “Sorry.”

  I’ve no idea what she’s talking about. “It’s fine. We’ve got all night.”

  She gives a jerky nod. “I guess…it’s a nice tradition.”

  It takes me a couple of seconds to figure out what she means. Now who’s deflecting? I don’t say it, though. I know she wants me, but something’s holding her back.

  I only date nice guys. It clangs through my head. I might as well face it.

  I want Amelia Davis to date me.

  I’ve never had to coax a girl to sleep with me. Hell, I’ve never taken so long getting a chick naked once we were both down for it. She’s not pushing me away or grabbing my hand, but I don’t want her all tensed up because of some mind-fuckery she’s dealing with that I have no idea how to handle.

  All I want to do is rip off my jeans and sink into her, but I mentally grit my teeth and plant my fists on the floor beside her elbows. She’s biting her bottom lip and has this tragic look on her face, but I’m not about to ask her what’s up. I don’t want to know. I just want to make her forget whatever it is, until the only thing she can think about is me.

  I trail hot kisses along her stomach, and she shudders as I reach the open waist of her skirt. I nudge a little lower, and she digs her fingers through my hair, keeping me where she wants me.

  It’d be easy to go down on her right now, but there’s still an edginess about her that’s not right. I retrace my path using my tongue and my fingers, and she arches her back and lets out a soft little sigh.

  That’s more like it.

  I ease my way between her tits and regret not having ripped her bra off already. Plenty of time for that later. She shifts restlessly, her fingers tangling in my hair as I suck her nipple through the cotton.

  “Take your jeans off.” Her words are slurred like she’s drunk, and I tear my mouth from her so I can see her face.

  “You giving me orders?”

  “I want to see the rest of your tats.”

  “You will. That’s a promise.” I inch down her body again, teasing and stroking until she can’t keep still. Her last three buttons tug free, and finally her sweet pussy is laid bare to me. I give an unintentional groan because, Christ, she’s so pretty I just want to eat her up and never let her go.

  I spread her thighs with my knees and kiss her, open-mouthed, sliding my tongue through her silky slit. Her nails dig into my head, and her soft moans are the craziest turn-on I’ve ever heard in my life.

  My dick throbs, and the need to make her mine thunders in my head. Not. Yet. I shove my hands beneath her and grasp her ass. Gonna make that mine, too.

  I tease her clit with the tip of my tongue. Her breath’s ragged, her grip on me lethal. Her muscles tense, and with a choked gasp, she comes, bucking into my face like she’s lost her mind, and I fucking love it.

  She’s still shuddering as I pull back and tear off my jeans. If I don’t get inside her right now I’m gonna die. It’s sheer reflex that I grab a rubber and roll it on, as I can’t take my gaze from her wet pussy and pink lips.

  I lie next to her and haul her onto me. She collapses onto my chest, her breath rasping and eyes closed. It’s hot, but I need more. “Sit up.” My voice is raw. “I want to watch you slide down my dick.”

  She pushes herself up, her hands on my shoulders. Her face is flushed and her eyes are glazed and a weird pain shoots through my chest. Christ, she’s beautiful.

  “Inverted missionary.” She gives me a smile that damn well takes my breath away. “You ready for this?”

  I’ve been ready for two of the longest weeks in my life. “Ride me hard.” Roughly, I drag her bra down so her tits spring free. Her nipples are dark and erect, and my mouth waters. “Do it now.”

  I drag my gaze from her chest and watch as she slowly eases herself into position. She takes her sweet time about it, as though she’s deliberately pushing me to the edge of my control.

  A feral grin splits my mouth. She might be killing me, but hell, I like it. Her swollen lips stretch around the head of my dick, and I swear my heart stops beating for an endless second. I can’t tear my eyes away as she slowly sinks down my length, her tight pussy damn near blowing my mind.

  I cup her gorgeous tits and play with her nipples, and she falls forward so I can suck her hard. She squirms, loses momentum, and I push her upright again. Much as I want to own every inch of her, right now I need to see the way her pussy hugs my dick.

  It’s fucking insane. I grab her hips and take control, slamming her down my length with every frenzied thrust. Her tits jiggle, hampered by her tangled bra, and it’s too much.

  With a savage growl, I let go and pump into her, harder, more, everything. She convulses around me, another orgasm, and it’s good and right, like nothing I’ve had before, and my whole damn mind shuts down.

  She falls onto me again, and this time I wrap my arms around her, holding her close. Holding her like I’ll never let her go. I don’t fight the thought. Don’t care. It doesn’t matter.

  All that matters is she’s here in my arms, and she’s mine.

  I don’t know how long we lay there, while I suck in air and wait for my heartbeat to return to normal. Seems like hours. I don’t want to move. I’m still inside her and I know I should do something about it, but it feels too good to shatter the moment.

  She shivers, and I sigh. “You cold?” I trail my hand along her back and cradle her butt.

  “Mm.” She sounds reluctant to admit it.

  I roll onto my side, holding her close, and withdraw. It’s cold somehow, now that I’m no longer inside her, and instead of freaking the shit out of me, it makes me give a twisted smile.

  “Stay there.” I take care of business and go find a blanket. Sure, we could just go
straight to bed, but there’s plenty of time for that. When I return to the living room, she’s sitting up hugging a cushion to her chest.

  “Here.” I sit next to her and pull the cushion away, and a tat on her hip catches my eye. How didn’t I notice that before? Except I know why. I was too wrapped up in owning her pussy. I run the tip of my finger over the tiny, multi-colored unicorn and laugh. Such a girly thing, and it suits her perfectly. “Cute.”

  She hums a laugh and wraps the blanket across her shoulder. “Hurt like holy hell. My sister had to practically hold me down so they could finish it off.”

  I snort and pull the blanket over my legs. Not because I’m cold, but it just feels good to share. “Why go through with it then?”

  “I always wanted a tattoo. I promised myself I’d get one as soon as…” Her voice trails away, and she gives a strange little smile, as though she’s not sure whether to tell me or not.

  “As soon as what?” I wrap my arm around her and tug her close. Now that my brain’s functioning again, it occurs to me we were lucky Tod didn’t walk in on us. He’d better not show his face anytime soon, either.

  “As soon as my first book was published.”

  “Uh, what?” I heard her fine the first time, but have no idea what she means. A book? Published?

  “Just over a year ago. I’m close to finishing my fourth now.”

  Wait. “You’re a writer?” My head’s kind of reeling. “For real?”

  “Sure. I mean I’m not making a shitload of money yet, but that’s my plan.”

  Well, fuck. “What do you write? Romantic shit?”

  Her smile goes stony. “I write Romance. When was the last time you read one?”

  I laugh out loud at that. I’m not a great reader, period, but even if I were, I sure wouldn’t read those kinds of books. “You got me, baby.” I haul her closer, since I obviously hurt her feelings even though I didn’t mean to. “I’ve never met a writer before. Do you have sex in your books?”

  “Actually, I do.”

  “So I could walk into a store and see your books on the shelf?” How fucking amazing is that?

  “No. I’m digital only at the moment, although I want them in print.”

  Not in shops then. Not that it makes any difference. I’m impressed, and I don’t even mind that she knows it.

  “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” It’s not a question. This chick’s been one surprise after another since the minute I met her.

  “Hmm.” She sounds as though she’s not sure if I mean that in a good way or not. “I guess so.”

  “What else should I know about you?” I’m grinning, even though there’s a part of me that can’t believe what I just asked her. Before Amelia, I’ve never wanted to know anything about a chick I slept with. In fact, the less I knew about her the more I liked it.

  “What do you want to know about me?” She sounds wary, as though she thinks it’s a trick question.

  Everything. I think of the guy who asked her to marry him, and it’s like a burning fist punches through my chest. “You ever lived with a guy?”

  She blinks at me in obvious confusion. “No. Why would you think I had?”

  I grunt, satisfied by her answer. “Got any older brothers I should know about?” I’m half joking, but if she does, then I’d rather know in advance, especially if they’re as protective of her as Zach and I are of Kat.

  “Oh, I get it. You’re afraid my older brother might kick your ass for screwing around with me.”

  “He can try.” I drop a kiss onto the tip of her nose. “Thinks he’s tough, huh?”

  “He’d be real tough if I actually had a brother.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  She pokes me in the ribs. “You can quit laughing. No one wants to get on the wrong side of me and my sisters. We could bring you to your knees.”

  “You bring me to my knees all by yourself.”

  “Flatterer.” She sounds as though she’s trying not to laugh. “Does that line ever work?”

  I’ve never used that line before. Never needed to, never wanted to. “You tell me.” I leer at her for good measure.

  “It’s pretty good,” she concedes. “Seven out of ten for effort.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “I’m not a pushover, you know.”

  “That’s for sure.” This is so weird, sitting on the floor buck-naked with the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met, talking shit. I don’t remember ever having a conversation this crazy with a chick before, and definitely not after we just had sex.

  “Are you serious?” She gives me a mock frown.

  “What do you think?”

  Her hand slides up my thigh and nudges my dick. “I think you need to be careful what you say right now.”

  “You play dirty, you know that?”

  “Ha. I learned from the best. Just hope you never get to see any of my self-defense moves.”

  “Your self-defense moves don’t scare me.”

  “They should. I play dirty, remember?”

  “So we’re talking dirty Davis tactics? Who taught you them, your mom?” I drag her half on top of me, but instead of laughing and winding herself around me, she tenses.

  “No. My dad.”

  I frown. She’s never mentioned her old man before, and I guess I thought he wasn’t around. Something’s not right, though. I loosen my grip so she slides back to my side, but I don’t release her. With anyone else I’d ignore her last comment. I don’t want to know about her family baggage.

  Except that’s not true. Not when it comes to Amelia.

  Fuck it. So, what? All my rules have died since meeting her. What does one more matter?

  “What’s with your dad?”

  For a second I think she’s about to leap to her feet, and I tighten my hold on her again. Not going anywhere, baby.

  She sucks in a jagged breath. “Nothing’s with him.”

  Just leave it. She obviously doesn’t want to talk about it, but strangely I do.

  “You can tell me.” I’m so fucking relieved no one’s ever going to know about this conversation.

  She swallows and stares at my chest. “He’s dead.”

  Fuck, is she going to cry? I hate it when chicks turn on the waterworks. Except they generally do that when I tell them our hookup is over, or it was nothing serious.

  This is different. I should’ve kept my big mouth shut, except she’s the one who brought him into the conversation. Does that mean she wants me to know about him?

  “You were close, huh?” Inside I grimace, because I don’t do all this emotional, touchy-feely shit, but what else can I do when she’s looking at me with those big, tragic eyes?

  “Yes.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. It happened a long time ago but…I still miss him.”

  I don’t know why she’s saying sorry. That should’ve been my line. I give her another hug, wishing there was something I could do to make her feel better. But at least I can let her know I understand how she feels.

  “Yeah, same here. My old man died ten years ago, but sometimes I still expect him to walk in through the door.”

  She looks as though I’ve just stabbed her through the heart. Jesus Christ. I need to shut the fuck up.

  “He never laughed at me when I was a kid, when I told him I wanted to be a writer. Always said I could do whatever I put my mind to. I miss him so much.” She bites her lip and looks down at her lap. “I’m sorry, Gage. I didn’t mean to…”

  “It’s okay.” I pat her shoulder. It’s awkward, and I’m not sure whether I should get up and give her some space, but the point is I don’t want to leave her alone to get over it, the way I would with anyone else. “Still hurts, huh?”

  “I know he wasn’t perfect but—don’t laugh—he was like my knight in shining armor. I’d just—I’d do almost anything to see him again.”

  I grunt and rub my jaw across the top of her head. I rarely speak about my dad, even to my own family, a
nd don’t talk about him to anyone else. What good does it do? But for some reason, here with Amelia, it doesn’t feel so bad.

  “Sounds like the way my dad used to treat Kat. Like a little princess.”

  Amelia shivers, and I wrap the blanket more securely around her. She slides her palm across my chest, and it’s a strangely tentative gesture, as though we’re strangers and haven’t just had the greatest sex ever.

  “It was all such a waste.” Her voice is muffled against my shoulder, and I sigh heavily. What would she say if I told her how my dad really died? That he was murdered inside by a crazy son of a bitch Wolf?

  She’s smart and knows about the MC lifestyle, but the truth is I don’t want to scare her away with my bloody family history. I frown and rest my cheek against her hair. What’s with that? It’s hardly a secret. My dad died a hero, doing time to protect the club. I’m proud of him, no question, but the way he died screws my guts into knots whenever I think about it.

  I let out a long breath. Weird, but with Amelia snuggling me in a way I don’t usually allow, the ache is somehow fainter. As though, finally, I’m coming to accept it.

  “I know.” I breathe in her elusive scent of roses, and even though my dick stirs with appreciation, a strange sense of peace threads through me. She shivers again, and I pick her up in my arms and take her into my bedroom.

  Never gonna let you go.

  Chapter Eleven

  Amelia

  With Gage’s arm around me, holding me close in bed, the last thing I want to do is leave. It’s warm, and I feel strangely safe and protected, and I screw my eyes shut in an attempt to halt those crazy thoughts.

  This is just a hookup. He’s gotten what he wanted—well, two out of three, anyway. My face burns, and my insides melt as I recall his dark promise. I totally expected him to follow through after he brought me to bed, but instead he just stroked my hair and kissed my face, as though he thought I needed comforting—nothing like my prejudiced idea of how a big, bad biker behaves with a girl, which I’ve clung onto for so many years.