Wildman
“You got a bag or something in your car you need for tonight?” Wildman didn’t wait for Justine’s response as he paused in their path to the door and bumped shoulders with Busk, a member he was friends with. “Hey, man, you still keep a spare lid here? I need one for my lady. Mine’d fuckin’ swallow her.”
“Wild, yeah, man. Hang on, I’ll grab it.” He looked around Wildman, and the instant his gaze fell on Justine, all humor fled his face. “You can keep it when you’re done. I won’t want it back.”
Busk turned to walk away, and Wildman tongued the inside of his cheek, taking a moment to decide how to handle the subtle disrespect he’d just been handed.
Justine tugged on his hand, and he angled his gaze at her, his “Yeah, baby?” not giving away his rising anger towards Busk. Justine was shaking her head, a tiny movement he would have missed if he weren’t looking directly at her. “What?”
“I’m not going to tell you how to manage your brothers”—the easy way the word rolled off her tongue reminded him this wasn’t her first rodeo around a club and the men who filled the ranks under the patch—“because that will never be my place.” She took a breath, and the unsteady nature of it revealed how uncertain she was in his acceptance of whatever she was about to deliver. “But parties mean booze, and booze means emotions are closer to the surface. I’ve got a mighty thick skin, Wild. Little dig here or there won’t bleed me, won’t even welt me. So you do whatever you need to do for you, but don’t assume I need defending.”
Her eyes never wavered, didn’t drop or slide away. She held his gaze like a champ, and he was reminded the woman she was for him in bed would never be the one she was on the floor of a clubhouse, unless she gave that to him. Chin high and shoulders back, she was strength and poise, holding confidence he knew wove through her core. That made her submission to him even sweeter, because it was a part of her nature she wouldn’t show just anyone.
“Fuck me, you’re so gorgeous, Jussie.” He gave her hand a tug. “Come on, he’ll find us on the lot. Lemme introduce you to my other girl.” From the way she rolled her eyes, he suspected she already knew what he was talking about, and sure enough, she didn’t question him as they walked through the door and outside to stand next to his bike. “This is the only other girl in my life. Tempest, call her Tempe for short.”
“Tempest, the wind.” Justine’s fingers squeezed his. “She’s very pretty.”
Hands to her waist, he lifted her onto the queen seat behind where his ass would ride. “You’re prettier,” he whispered against her lips, brushing a kiss from one side of her mouth to the other. “No competition there.”
The front door opened and closed, and footsteps headed their way. He looked up, expecting to see Busk, but instead found Pony, helmet in hand. He took it from him without a word and fit it to Justine’s head, fiddling with the strap until he could snap it into place. “Thanks, man.” There was a jingle of metal, and he looked up to see Pony dangling keys from his fingers. Wildman accepted them with a wince. “Oh, shit. Man, I’d already forgotten the car. Thanks.”
“It’s what brothers do. Make sure our friends don’t fuck things up.” Pony took a step back and then hesitated, reclaiming that space with a wry expression on his face. “I know you know this, but just don’t get sideways with folks before you have a chance to talk with them. I saw Busk, heard him, and the man will be pissed at himself tomorrow. It’s just—” He cut his gaze to Justine, then back to Wildman as he huffed out a sigh. “—not everyone got a chance to meet her yet. Between club affiliations and other things, you both are gonna have some swamp to wade through.”
“I know.” He gripped Pony’s shoulder, then pulled him in for a hard embrace, the familiar thudding of a fist directly over the patch on his back settling his anger. “I get it, I do, but brothers need to believe I’d never do anything to risk the club.”
“Memories run long. Gonna be an uphill road for a while.” Pony pushed away and ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it back. “I’ve got your back, brother.”
“Back atcha, brother. Much appreciated. Later, man.” He clasped Pony’s wrist and gave it a squeeze, then turned to Justine, Pony’s “See ya” trailing off as he walked away. “What do you need from the car, baby?”
“There’s a little bag on the front passenger seat. That has everything I need for tonight. Phone and all. I knew better than to bring it inside.” She smiled at him, the edge of the helmet shadowing her eyes, so her expression was unreadable, but her tone was open and tender, backing up the sweetness of her smile. “Thanks, baby.”
“Mmhmm.” Wildman pursed his lips in a request she easily read, leaning forwards to press her mouth to his in a soft kiss. “Be back.” He glanced around the lot, seeing an unfamiliar car parked near the end of the building. “Be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
Her declaration aside, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, glancing over his shoulder every few steps to see her smiling at him, hand lifted in a wave she renewed each time with a sweet waggle of her fingers. The lights of the car flashed when he clicked the fob Pony had given him, and it was the work of only a moment to gather her bag and make it back to the bike, locking the car as he walked away. Crowding into her space, he murmured in faux surprise, “You’re still here,” rewarding them both with a kiss that was hot, and wet, and deep.
Breathing like he’d run a mile, aware of how uncomfortable his hardening cock already was behind the folds of denim, he slowed down, smiling against her lips when she gave a little whine of disappointment. “Let’s go home, baby.”
Bag strapped on top of the back fender, he lifted his leg across the tank, settling into place in front of Justine. Her fingers fumbled with the dangling straps of his helmet as he started the bike, and he felt the click as she locked the quick-snap into place for him. Her hands came to rest at his waist, then threaded around his belly, and he didn’t wait, took her position as readiness to roll, easing out the clutch until they weaved their way through the remaining bikes on the lot, to the end of the drive, and with more care than he’d ever left the clubhouse, out onto the highway.
She rode bitch like a champ, thighs tight to his hips, arms steady around his middle, head resting against his spine, and Wildman gave himself a breath to take in the knowledge that Justine, the woman he’d wanted since setting eyes on her, was with him. She talked her way past Twisted to get into the clubhouse. No matter how the evening had started—including her trepidation at being on display for people who might have reason to hate her—Justine had persevered, stayed the course. Like a motherfuckin’ lioness, saw what she wanted and went for it. Then she’d given herself to him, completely, so naturally, exactly what he needed and wanted—he still couldn’t believe his luck. Fate, more likely. They needed to do some serious talking when they got home, but he believed she, like him, was already deep into this thing between them.
His house sat outside of town, off a small oil-topped road, where there was a mile or more between neighbors. Lights in the landscaping cast a low but welcoming glow around the periphery, and as he rolled past the sensor at the end of the driveway, the door of the detached garage began lifting. He rode inside, looped around the end of his truck parked on the right, and pulled into the bike’s parking space.
Justine wisely stayed put, and he climbed off the bike, turning to her. “Good girl.” Hands at her waist, he lifted, bringing her off the bike before letting her feet take her weight. Taking off her helmet, he smoothed her hair, grinning as she unfastened his lid, straps dangling along his throat. “Welcome home, baby.” She hummed against his lips when he kissed her, then pulled back, looking up at him with saucy mischief in her eyes.
“Tempest is well named.”
That brought a grin to his face. “Liked that, didja?” She nodded. “Was good to have you with me, Jussie.” He leaned into her for another kiss as he unstrapped the bag. “Let’s get inside before the skeeters discover us. I got some kind of sonic shit, but I never trust it really.”
“It’s too late for the worst of the bloodsuckers.”
She placed her hand in his outstretched one, and he wondered if he’d ever get used to even that small thing, hoping not. The sense of wonder was addictive. “There’s always an outlier.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was soft, and he slowed, gaze on her face, taking in the mix of emotions passing over her features, glad when a mix of amusement and pleasure remained. “Gotta plan for the edge cases.”
“That what I am, woman? Am I your edge case?” He slid his thumb across the lock at the back door, pushing on the knob when it clicked. It opened into the kitchen, motion-detecting lights flicking on under the cabinets. He paused because there was an electric movement to the air, setting the fine hairs at the back of his neck on end. Scanning the room, he asked, “What all did you plan for in your campaign to get into the clubhouse?”
Security lights are all amber. I’m imagining things. Nothing was out of place, and his suspicions were based on no more than a gut feeling. Trusted my gut enough times, though.
Unaware of his inner dialogue, Justine continued, “I wasn’t planning on getting into the clubhouse, per se. I’d only plotted out what I wanted to say once I got to see you. Tonight,” she said with a light laugh, clearly not holding any grudges against Twisted no matter what she might have said earlier, “didn’t really go anywhere near what I’d planned.”
“Do tell?” Shuffling her, so her back was to the wall next to the door, he pressed close, head angled so he could see her face as she spoke.
“Oh, once I got to you, it was off the charts beyond anything I’d hoped for. But before that?” She tried to bury her chuckle, but it bubbled out. “So not what I’d expected. Before or after, honestly.” Rolling her eyes, she amended her earlier statement. “I hadn’t braced for being on display in front of the whole club. Nor had I prepared to remind my brother I’m a big girl.” She shrugged lightly, lifting a hand to drag her fingertips along his jaw, a graceful touch that buzzed through him. “Everything in between was a far and away better outcome than I’d hoped for.”
“Were you prepared to negotiate?” He leaned in and brushed a kiss along her cheek, flicking at the lobe of her ear with his tongue. He was rewarded by a soft hum and a movement to arch her neck. Only a small portion of his attention was on the rest of the house, listening, that gut feeling not entirely leaving. “We recognized each other long ago, maybe that first moment.”
“Lightning flashing and fighting all around, and there you were, larger than life. Hard to believe it’s barely such a short time.” She hummed again and turned her face to press a kiss at the hinge of his jaw. He let out a low groan at the initiative, liking how she wanted to touch him. “Big and powerful, it was like you sucked all the air out of that trailer.”
“Strong. Smart. Loyal.” He emphasized each word with a gentle kiss along her throat, ending with a bite he knew would sting. “Iron steel wrapped in a velvet fist.” She arched into his touch, bodies pressed together. “Topping from the bottom from the beginning. No, Jussie.” He cradled her jaw in his hand, turning her face back to his from where she’d tried to hide against his shoulder. “Nothing wrong in knowing what you want, especially if you don’t trust anyone around you to know well enough to give it to you. That night, you needed the women with you to be safe and didn’t know me from Jack. Willin’ to do whatever it took to keep them whole and healthy. There’s not a damn thing to be ashamed of there.”
“I’m not forward. Not like that.”
“Woman, you came to my room, you remember that? Bold as brass, crawled into my bed, me asleep.”
“Yeah, but there was just something about you. I knew you’d take me out of my head, keep me safe. Plus, you didn’t mind much.”
“And did I keep you safe? Make you floaty where the world no longer mattered?”
“Yes.” Her breath hitched, but she didn’t fight his hold, exposing her emotions for his approval or censure. “Oh, yes.”
“Justine.” He drew her name out slowly, pleased when the corners of her lips tipped up. “My name’s Lyle. Wanna hear you say it.” Bending his neck, he dusted kisses across her mouth and back again, lapping at her bottom lip until she opened for him. After taking a long taste, he rocked back slightly and reminded her. “Lyle Woolsey. Say it.”
“Lyle,” she murmured against his mouth, the tip of her tongue touching his. “My wild Lyle.”
He deepened the kiss, moving closer, pressing her tight against the surface behind, lips, tongue, teeth—wrecking his senses with the way she tasted, how she took everything he offered and begged for more. Tiny noises came from deep in her throat, not quite a whine but a definite plea he answered until they were both panting for breath.
Then, he deliberately slowed them down, keeping the heat but dampening his desperation, knowing she was echoing what he was feeding her. My good girl, Jussie. “Wanna take you on a tour.” Cupping his hand around hers, he drew her fingers up his chest, flattening their palms together. “There’s at least one more room I wanna see you in.” Lifting her chin, he captured her mouth again, a slow exploration that had her trembling against him. “Come on, Jussie.” Taking a step backwards, he looped their fingers together. “Come see.”
The kitchen went past in a blur, as did the living room with the large freestanding fireplace, empty of even ashes this time of year. Walking fast, not giving her much chance to look around, he pulled her down the hallway towards his room.
Once inside, he leaned sideways and tapped his code into the security panel beside the door, arming the exterior system, which protected the windows and doors, and included video inside the garage. Then he crowded back into her space, so close her breasts pressed against his chest, her neck stretching and chin lifting to keep her gaze on his face.
“We’ve gone about things halfway backwards, baby.” A tiny divot appeared between her eyebrows, the puzzled expression making him smile. “Our dynamic won’t ever be like anyone else’s, but there’s a right and wrong way to go about this, and I’ve been skirting the issues. If we’re going to play in addition to fucking, then we’ve got to have the right information about each other.”
“I’m negative.” The frown didn’t ease with her soft statement. It might even have darkened, muscles in her face tensing. “If that’s what you want to know.”
“Nope, guess again.” He shrugged, aiming at an easy movement, trying to hide how her instant expectations stung. Just like before, when she’d thought he’d believed her a plant with a wire. “Traffic light system works for me, if that’s comfortable with you. I’m going to want a lot of control over you, but I understand your career is at odds with any kind of a round-the-clock lifestyle. You said you’re only subby in bed, not out of it, but honey—and I hate to be the one to break it to you—you publicly submitted so sweetly back there in the clubhouse, I nearly couldn’t catch my breath. I don’t do roleplay, and dubcon is a hard limit for me. I’m not going to bleed you, but seeing your sweet ass going dark pink from my hands on you is fuckin’ hot. I fuckin’ love impact play, and I know I can make you fly.” He pressed his lips to hers, working side to side until her lashes dipped, her mouth softening underneath his attentions, a tiny gasp opening her to him. Plundering the depths of her mouth with his tongue, he cradled her jaw with one hand, the other coming to rest on her waist, steadying her as he pulled away. “That’s my starting negotiation, Jussie.”
“I…” She leaned into him, and he gave her that tiny slice of privacy, wishing he could see the expression on her face but understanding how in the past six hours he’d stripped her bare enough that not having to school herself would be a relief. “Everything’s different with you. All my rules are thrown out the window. I’ve always needed the pain to get to that place in my mind where I could just exist. Often it was without penetrative intercourse, just an application of predicament bondage, or a demanding pose needing constant attention and focus, something to push everything away. My most recent partner—” He tried to stop his muscles tensing, but when she cut-off midsentence, he knew he hadn’t been fast enough. The idea of her giving herself willingly to a man—and he had no doubt it was a male partner, since the chances of her finding a Domme she would trust were even less—churned his stomach.
“Go on.” Circling her throat with his hand, he tightened only enough to feel the slide of muscles and tendon, but it was possessive and what they both needed right now. “It’s all right, Jussie. You’re my good girl.”
The softly keening sound that broke from her throat made his arm around her shoulders tighten, folding her against him closely when she cut herself off. Fuck, I like that reaction. My good girl.
“Always gonna be my good girl. Mmhmm. Jussie’s my good girl.” And if he put emphasis on the my, Wildman didn’t think any man would blame him. “Go on, now, tell me what you need me to know.”
“He”—damn it, I didn’t wanna be right—“wanted to be intimate sexually, but we work together. Taking what I needed from him was bad enough.”
“Stop it right there. There’s nothing to be ashamed of in making sure you’re happy and healthy. The fact you worked together shouldn’t factor. Any Dom worth his water should be able to help you without it becoming a source of embarrassment.” He rested his cheek on top of her head. “Let’s take this somewhere more comfortable.” Scooping her up and grinning at her tiny yip of surprise, he stalked to the bed and knee-crawled to the headboard, twisting around, so she rested in his lap as he sat and leaned back. “There. I’m more comfortable. How about I go first after all?”
“But you already—”
“Nope, I told you what I like, not what I’ve done. Big difference, Jussie.” He took a breath. If she was going to leap into the deep end of past relationships, he wanted to get out in front of everything, give her a chance to say sayonara in a clear way, so he’d know what it’d take to get her back. “My first relationship was a matter of circumstance. She was the earliest one I explored anything I’d been thinking about, and she seemed into it, enough to fool me, anyway. I wasn’t real smart back then, or I should have probably cottoned onto her true feelings sooner. In the end, we weren’t what the other needed, and once her youngest siblings were out of the house, she left my sad ass.” He licked his lips and swallowed. “The only thing I hated was how blind I’d been through the last couple of years. Here I thought I’d been exploring something we both wanted, only to find out she believed I was sick in the head.” Justine sucked in a breath, and he stroked the backs of his fingers down her face. “Shhhh. Wasn’t her kink, would never be her kink. I get it now. Don’t mean it didn’t hurt like fuck at the time, but I get it now.”
“You said your first relationship.”
The emphasis was tiny, but he caught it, nodding once, then dropping a kiss against the top of her head.
“Yup, my second lies buried in an unmarked grave. I’ve done talked about her a little with you, but I wanna be an open book, so ask me anything.”
“You said it was club business, like my Chris being taken?” The uptilt of her tone indicated a question, but it was a statement of information he’d already given her, so Wildman just hummed in response. “And you left that club because of it?”
“I left the club because my brother was VP and talked his way into buying a paper on me while he tore up the club to get the president patch. All of which meant not only wasn’t he family anymore but those who allowed both weren’t my brothers under the patch either. I left the club after he died because of a fight. I didn’t know I was fighting for my life. I thought it was a test to see if I was still loyal, but he was gonna kill me himself if he could. Tangled himself up and tripped, clipped a corner going down, gave himself a TBI that did for him.” He took a breath. “I killed him. Didn’t mean to, but I did.”
“My brother killed my father. Then my other brother killed him.” She pulled in a ragged breath. “Chris’ dad turned traitor to his club, was involved in the death of Watcher on orders from his own father, then was killed by the man. I’m rethinking what I asked earlier. You know? Maybe it’s better Christopher stay well away from anything to do with the life. With genetics like this—” She broke off with a choked sob, her fingers clamping tight on his wrist where he once again held her throat in his hand.
“Diamond, right?” She nodded. “Deacon’s boy.” Less of a question, but she still moved in a way that was agreement. “Stories tell the tale, baby. Everyone knows how Deacon fucked the Fiends sideways. He’s the poster child of what a club president shouldn’t be. Man’s dead, too, because of his fuckery. I’ve heard stories about that takedown. You know Bones?” The “mmhmm” was nearly a lilt, and he was pleased by the fact she clearly liked Bones. “Climbed the man like a tree and took him down. Wish there were video because that’d be good as fuck to watch. Don’t care what it says about me, but the stories are epic. He didn’t go down easy, Jussie.”
“What do you think about Chris?”
The vulnerable trembling of her tone tightened his throat, made it harder to get the words out, but he wouldn’t leave her hanging like that, so he muscled through, speaking the truth as he knew it right now. “I can approach him anonymously, and we can leave it in his hands whether he wants to meet you, if you’re okay with that. But baby, I’m happy to get monthly reports and pass them along, if that’ll settle your soul about how your boy is doing. Hell, we’ll get weekly or daily if you want. I think it’s a good idea for you to wrap your head around him and his life, and if he’s open to a meet-and-greet, then that’s what we do, as long as it’s what you want too.” He tightened his grip on her throat when she swallowed hard, the thud of her speeding heart against his palm growing faster. “I can’t imagine what it was like to not know for so long if he was even breathin’, so you wantin’ to keep your eye on him now you know he’s livin’ what looks like a good life, that’s not a bad thing. That’s a good mom wanting to make sure her boy’s okay. You’re a good girl, Jussie.”
“I don’t feel so good today.” Pulling in a deep breath, she melted against him, going boneless, which told him he’d hit the mark with his response about her boy. “I don’t know up from down, seems like.”
Her shifting in his lap had his dick chubbing up, but he ignored it in favor of making this a suitable introduction for her to his home. A place I hope like fuck she spends a lotta time. “Let’s grab showers, get a bite to eat, and then slip into bed.” She shifted, and he groaned softly, the pressure on his cock enough to make it pay more attention to how close she was to him. “To sleep, Jussie. We both need it before we go back for the war meeting in the morning.”
“And if I don’t want to sleep just yet?” She pushed against his chest with one palm, and he relaxed his hold enough to let her move away a few inches, her chin coming up so he could look down into her face. “And showers, as in plural? Haven’t you heard about the world water crisis? We need to cut that down to a single activity and double up in the tub.” She flashed him a smile that wasn’t confident, wasn’t assured, but held a hint of hope he wanted to cultivate. “Unless you have a strange shower fetish you haven’t shared?”
“I’d love to share my shower with you, baby girl. Pamper you, get you all soaped up and slippery, see where things go. Then I’ll feed my baby, and we can get some shut-eye.” He thrust his hips up against her weight, ensuring she felt the hard rod of his cock as it ground against her ass. “And seems to me you know up from down just fine.”
Her laughter pulled him in, and he bent to catch it with his mouth, fitting his lips over hers, taking her tiny gasp of pleased surprise and eating it down, storing for later the happiness he felt just from that. Then he slipped sideways, curled his arms to lift her, and climbed from the bed.
“Another surprise for you. I may have a bit of a shower kink, as in I like it large, with plenty of hot water and water pressure.” He shoved the bathroom door wide with his shoulder, fitting them through the opening so she could see the room. The smile on her face reflected off the several mirrored surfaces, and he liked how the bright expression lit up the space. “And”—he turned to face the walk-in shower, sliding door pushed partly open—“it comes with accessories.” Reaching inside, he tapped the control for his normal setting, the instant on of the water making her jerk in surprise, moving back against his chest as he let her feet settle on the floor. Steam rolled out of the shower already, and he again thanked his brothers for the tankless water heater idea. “See that?” He pointed to the handheld wand. “That’s going to be your new best friend.”
Her laughter rang out, and he spun her, again capturing it with his mouth, kissing her hard and fast, tongue thrusting into her mouth in imitation of what he’d be doing in a fast minute, soon as he got her wet. No condom in here. Can’t forget to pull out. He’d seen a couple of tiny scars on her stomach, old incisions from some kind of surgery, but it could have been anything. She wasn’t too old to conceive, not by a long shot, no matter how old her boy was. She’d been a child when she’d birthed him, and until they had that conversation, he’d take care of her even if she didn’t know he was.
Backing her into the shower, he angled himself, so his back caught the bulk of the spray to test the temperature. “Too hot, Jussie?”
Breaths coming fast and heavy, she gusted air across his lips when she answered. “Just right.”
With the door closed, he twisted them sideways and reached for the wand, flicking the control to a light, pulsing spray with a practiced movement. He took her mouth again, one hand holding her nape tight, angling her head like he wanted; then he placed the tip of the wand at her clit, eating down her squeal of surprise, then doing the same with the low, rattling moan that escaped her throat. Working the pulsing jets of water in tiny, unpredictable circles, he had her crying out against his mouth time and again until she went rigid in his arms. Wand back in its holder, he replaced it with his hand over her mons, fingers finding that glorious slipperiness the raining water couldn’t wash away.
Two fingers tucked inside her, he swiped the tip of his thumb over the hooded part of her clit, feeling the softness returning as she turned boneless against him.
“My good girl.”
***
Justine
She rocked side to side, movement of the surface underneath her subtle but enough to rouse her to the edge of being awake. Without opening her eyes, without him saying a word, she knew it was Wildman slipping into bed beside her. He smelled clean with a citrusy edge, the same scent of the body gel he’d used to clean her after whiting out her mind in the shower with an unexpected orgasm.
The memory swelled, and Justine’s breath caught in her throat.
It had been nothing but pleasure.
There’d been no pain.
No pain, and still he’d wiped her brain of all conscious thought, so much so he’d had to support her as he cleaned her up, keeping her hair dry as he could. Then he’d wrapped her in a towel and laid her on his bed, chasing stray water droplets before chucking the towel towards the bathroom and tucked her under the covers with a gentle kiss against her forehead. Hand braced around her throat, he’d stayed bent over her, face close enough his mouth was only a breath away, and he’d watched her go to sleep.
She had no sense of time passing, so it could have been five minutes or five hours, but from how tired she still felt, Justine thought she’d lean more towards a shorter period.
Wildman curled himself around her, his arm slipping under her head before he wrapped his other hand around her hip, erasing the distance between their bodies.
“You awake?” The rumbling of his voice transferred through her back and into her belly, where it set up a shop of butterflies from the fluttering.
“Barely.” Her words came out hoarser than she expected, and she lightly cleared her throat. “You good?”
His arms tightened, and his lips brushed the back of her neck in a soft kiss, light as those butterfly wings. “Got my Jussie right here. I’m right as rain.” The tip of his nose trailed across her nape. Then his mouth was on her ear, nibbling and sucking gently. “Need some juice or a snack before we sleep? We kinda skipped the meal I’d intended to feed you.”
“Nah, I’m good.” Her fingers curled around the edge of his bicep naturally, and she nestled her cheek against his warm skin. “This is nice.”
“Mmhmm,” he agreed. “More than nice, Jussie. This is what I want.”
“Well, good. That’s one goal knocked off.” She yawned, and his hand on her hip slipped down to cover her belly, making her feel surrounded by him, something she was coming to love. “Sleep.”
She must have taken her own advice, because the next thing she knew was the mattress shifting underneath her again, Wildman’s hip on the other side from where he’d been lying. She blinked up and watched as he rested two mugs on the table beside the bed. A discreet sniff confirmed he’d brought her coffee. She flicked a glance around without seeing a clock and concentrated on the edge of the curtain covering the window, seeing light filtering in around the bottom.
“Morning?” She caught herself before shoving off the covers, realizing she was naked underneath the sheet. Instead, she tucked them underneath her arms as she pushed to a seated position and held out one hand. “Hand me the magic potion and no one gets hurt.” His chuckle was unpolished, rough as gravel, and sounded tired. Lines of tension gathered around his eyes and mouth, and she frowned. “Everything okay?”
He lifted a mug and surrendered it to her grip before grabbing the other one. “Yeah, Jussie, just long nights catching up with me. Slept better with you than I have in a long time.” Sipping noisily from the mug, he cut his eyes to her. “You sleep okay?”
“Did I snore? I snored, didn’t I.” The coffee was hot and rich, filled with flavor and blessed caffeine. “I’m sorry.”
“Jesus, Jussie. No, woman.” He chuckled again. “You didn’t make a peep at all. Just curled up against me and took your rest. Made me happy to see.”
“Oh, well, then that’s a relief.” She shook her head, huffing air up to fluff her bangs. “What time is it, Lyle?” She knew she was taking a chance using his name, but the way he’d demanded it last night gave her confidence it would be what he wanted.
His smile was blinding, his entire focus on her as he leaned in close to brush his lips across hers. “We’ve got about an hour before we need to head out. I’ve got breakfast warming in the oven, so finish your coffee—” He twisted away, setting the mug down before reaching down to the foot of the bed. “Slip on my shirt, and come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”
“You want me to wear your shirt?” She thought she understood the gesture but wanted to verify his motives.
“Fuck yeah, woman. You in my shirt? Gonna be hot as hell. Rile me up right before a war meeting, and I’ll do my best work. Then when we’re all done there, we’ll come back here and make our way through a couple sets of sheets before we hit the road.” He smiled broadly, not as brilliantly as before, but close. “Now, give your old man a kiss.” She reached for the shirt as he leaned close, fingers wrapping around the fabric, so she had a handful of material and a hot mug of coffee in her hands when he pulled the covers down around her waist, his hands immediately going to her skin. One broad palm skated along her ribs, his work-roughened thumb scraping across the side of her breast in a titillating caress. His other hand cupped and lifted a breast, fingers and thumb tweaking the nipple until she felt the burning sting of pain from the pinch. Breaths coming out choppy, she stared at him as he watched her face. “My Jussie.”
Closing the distance between them, she offered her lips as he’d demanded, and he instantly took control of the kiss, using tongue and teeth as his mouth worked against hers.
“Kitchen, honey.” He pulled back, tweaked the stinging nipple a final time, picked up his mug, and sauntered through the door.
Justine watched him stride out of sight, those damn jeans clinging to his ass and thighs like they’d been made for him. His broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his T-shirt thin to give a great show of the muscles moving underneath.
“Man’s a menace,” she muttered, gulping at the cooling coffee. She set it on the table and spread the shirt out over her lap, casually bringing the covers back up to cover herself because the sight of her one nipple red and puffy was distracting. It wouldn’t have been as bad if he’d given both the girls the same treatment, but he’d apparently picked a favorite. She snorted a quiet laugh.
Support your local Incoherent was on the back with iron-on vinyl, and the same material displayed SYLI on the front.
Something he’d just said struck her, and her brain reeled back to last night as she stood next to him in the clubhouse, shoulder to shoulder. My old man. Justine pulled in a shaky breath because this wasn’t something she’d ever wanted. In fact, this was something she’d actively avoided, moving away from her father’s club as a teen, staying at arm’s length from Davy’s club. Hell, even her job had been selected as the most opposite thing. Sure, she’d told herself—and still mostly believed it—that she’d gone into law enforcement studies because she’d wanted to help women like herself, those who had their loved ones stolen, those whose lives were made impossible by criminals—like my dad—but joining the agency? That had been the biggest stick she could push into her father’s eye. A virtual scream of “I’m not like you, not at all.”
“And here I am.” She looked at the doorway, wafting scents of eggs and bacon beginning to make their way in through the air. “I’m an old lady.”
Wild—Lyle isn’t like Daddy. Not at his core. She had no illusions that if there’d been money to be made running flesh back in the day, her father’s club would have been all over that. Davy’s not like Daddy, either. She’d understood as soon as she’d realized who Davis Mason was, her half-sibling, but one who had also angled his path well away from the line their father had trod.
There were no hard and fast rules about this relationship with Lyle. He’d claimed her in front of the men who mattered in his life, but hadn’t she done the same thing? We’ll do this get-to-know-you tour on his bike, and then I’ll have decisions to explain.
But she didn’t have to turn her mind to those changes yet.
She flipped the covers back, picked up the shirt, and shimmied into it. He wants to see me wearing his shirt. When she stood, the hem swung midthigh, so she smiled as she picked up the nearly empty mug and very deliberately stepped past her panties on the floor.
The only thing she had to do in the next hour was tease and please her old man.
And that sounds pretty damn fine to me.