Love Ties (2 page)

He slapped the wad of cash into Jamison’s palm. When he smiled, only half of his face quirked upward. They didn’t call him Burns for nothing—half of his face had been melted off when he’d failed to pay his drug dealer.

“Thanks. I’ll get you some change,” Jamison said, which was code for alcohol. Namely, whiskey, which was preferred by the Hell’s Sons and all those who frequented The Gearhead.

Jamison caught Burns staring at Ever, who stood next to his bike. Her legs looked a mile long in those skinny jeans. She wore a simple cotton top in a cherry-red color only a true redhead could get away with.

“Ripe as a goddamn fruit, that one is. You should hear what the guys are saying about her.”

Flames of fury licked a path through Jamison’s chest. He clenched his molars together and glared at Burns. “No one better be talking about her. No one better even think about her. We square?”

His menacing tone made Burns wince. Well, part of his face winced. “Yeah, boss.”

Jamison turned back to Ever, waving the cash in the air. “I’ll get your change.”

Burns didn’t reply, but the heavy steel door to The Gearhead closed.

As Jamison approached, Ever gave him an up-down look. When he’d thrown her legs over his shoulders and licked her pussy for an hour while she writhed and screamed in ecstasy, she hadn’t even let on that she liked what she saw in him.

But that look said a lot.

“What’s that smug-ass smile about?” she drawled. The Alabama air made her hair curl around her torso. “I’m not getting on this bike with a drug runner.”

“No drugs, baby.” He swung his leg over his bike.

“I’m not your baby.”

He looked over his shoulder at her. “That’s your story? Last night you were all mine.”

Her blue eyes sparked with annoyance. At him or herself? She didn’t give him a clue.

He stuffed the cash into his inside vest pocket. Reaching out, he caught a fiery lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger. The warm, silky strands made his cock dance behind his fly. All day he’d been fantasizing about spreading all that gorgeous hair out on his sheets. Fisting it while he drove into her.

“You getting on this bike, Ever?”

The stubborn set of her jaw was just as charming as the rest of her five-feet-six-inch frame. Swallowing his chuckle, he didn’t wait for her answer, just fired up the engine.

She straddled the bike.

Female scents flooded his head as she pressed her breasts against his back. He thought he caught the word “dirtbag” but couldn’t be sure. The engine screamed as he pushed it to the max.

Ever wrapped her arms around his middle and leaned into the curve like a pro. The action made his throat tight. She’d been on the back of someone’s bike before, and goddamn if he didn’t want to hunt that man down.

Or men.

He hadn’t been kidding when he’d told Burns no one could even think about her.

Jamison stroked her thigh, and she inched closer until her pussy was flush against his ass. His cock was as hard as steel. All day he’d waited, not knowing how to get in touch with her. Hoping like hell he’d find her at The Gearhead.

The whoosh of wind as they hit the main drag in Heller’s Gap, along with the engine noise, prohibited talking. Last night they hadn’t done much more than grunt and moan. The only words Ever said was when he’d offered her soda or alcohol after their marathon sex session.

She’d chosen soda.

They whizzed past a group of five riders, and he gave them the hand signal. Hell’s Sons was a respected brotherhood. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told Ever “no drugs.” His MC fought like hell to keep the shit out of this town.

As they neared the compound he and about ten others called home, he wished for the first time he had a private place to take her. Last night most of the guys were already sacked out or shacked up with their sweet butts. But tonight all the lights were on, and music blared as Russ opened the door.

Jamison’s muscles tensed, and he drew Ever against his side. Tight against him. He didn’t want anyone looking at that gap of air between their bodies and believing he could shimmy his dickhead between them.

Nope, Jamison was this close to throwing down for her.

“Jamison’s back.” Several guys clapped him on the shoulder or back, but he didn’t break away from Ever in order to embrace his brothers.

“Whoooeeee.”

He jerked his head in the direction of that low, gritty catcall. Three guys stood against the wall, beers in hand and girls entwined around two of them. Jamison narrowed his eyes.

They looked away.

“C’mon, baby.” With his arm around Ever, he steered her out of the common room, past the pool table and people fucking on the leather couch. Ever didn’t flinch at this sight, which was more telling than her leaning into the curves. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the Life.

He couldn’t get her alone fast enough.

As vice prez his room was one of the bigger ones. He kept it neat, but the furnishings were spare. Chest of drawers, desk, gun rack. He didn’t bother watching TV here and instead had a small bookshelf filled with Hemingway and Emerson.

As soon as Jamison closed the door behind them, he plunged his hands into Ever’s thick hair and looked into her eyes.

The dark blue depths gave nothing away.

“Welcome back to Chateau Jamison.” He swayed with her in his arms as if they were dancing.

A hint of a smile played around the corners of her full lips. He stared at the bow of her upper lip for a long minute, drowning in the need to taste her.

“Would you like candlelight?” he asked instead.

Her eyes widened. Her lashes were thick, and under the black mascara, would be red. He’d spent enough time checking out the “rug,” and it definitely matched the curtains.

Stepping back, he turned to the dresser, where a big three-wick candle stood on a metal plate. He pulled out his Zippo and lit each wick. Then he turned off the overhead light.

The faint yellow glow on Ever’s skin did things to his insides. Shadows played over her features, accentuating her big eyes and fine cheekbones. He lightly pinched her chin and tipped her face up.

She was more than a beautiful woman. There was something to her—an underlying grit. An attitude he wanted badly to tap into, even if it meant being on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

When he brushed his lips across hers, the kindling banked inside him burst into flames.

He angled his head and plunged his tongue between her sweet lips. She tasted like candy—like those green drinks at The Gearhead. It took him all of three seconds to be fully erect.

Ever opened her mouth to accept his tongue and gave a full-body shiver.

Walking her backward, he pressed her down on the bed. Covering her with his body was one of the best feelings in his life. It rivaled the day he’d gotten his VP patch.

Too fucking deep.

Damn if he wanted to stop.

Ever ran her hands over Jamison’s shoulders. The smooth leather of his cut felt too right for words. She hitched her ankle around his thighs and rubbed her aching pussy against his groin
.

They shared a moan.

Need spiked in her core. Since leaving the Life—and her ex—she hadn’t had much sex. Sure, she’d picked up a few guys over the years. One-night stands that had meant nothing but the end to her loneliness, at least for a night. That’s what Jamison was.

Even as she thought this, her mind accepted it as a lie. He angled his head and plunged his tongue into her mouth, stirring something deeper.

She twisted out of the kiss but continued to dry-hump him.

His eyes were dark and serious. “Don’t pull away from me.”

The roughness in his voice heated her. With a mew, she threw her arms around him, yanked his head down, and kissed him. The flavors of mint and whiskey dialed up her desire.

With his broad chest pinning her and his hips doing a slow grind against hers, she lost herself to sensation. His five o’clock shadow scraped her sensitive skin, and his kisses were almost bruising. Just as she liked them.

He dotted kisses down her throat and sucked the indentation between her collarbones. She arched into his caress, tugging at his leather. When he slipped it off his shoulders, she gasped, “Get naked, then put it back on.”

Hell, she really did have it bad for bikers.

He withdrew enough to shoot her a look that curled her hair, if it hadn’t already been affected by the humidity. “You like motorcycle guys, Ever?”

God, he knew. She’d taken so many steps away from this Life. But she’d fallen right back into it as if five years of schooling, a nine-to-five job, and paying bills with money that wasn’t gained through some dark trade wasn’t behind her.

Digging her fingers into Jamison’s shoulders, she clawed at his T-shirt. The cotton was worn to softness. Too easily she pictured herself wearing it in the morning, walking into the kitchen, and getting coffee.

He moved to allow her to remove his shirt. It caught on her hand, and she flicked her wrist to remove it, sending it flying across the room.

Jamison’s laugh rumbled her breasts. “Watch the candle, baby.”

“Not your…” she sucked in sharply as he latched onto her neck with a sucking pull of his mouth, “…baby.”

“You’re mine tonight.”

That was enough.

His sculpted pecs and the ridges of his abs pressed her deeper into the mattress. When she realized he was sucking the same spot on her throat long enough to raise blood to the surface, she jerked her knee up.

“Damn.” He deflected her blow, and she hit his inner thigh, inches from his balls. “What’s that for?”

“Leaving a hickey on me. What are you—sixteen?”

He braced his arms on either side of her head and stared down at her for five heartbeats…six. The candlelight roamed over his features, shadow then light, cutting new paths of worry lines over his skin. He didn’t have an easy life. There was no Monday night football on TV or golf for Jamison. What the hell was she doing with another goddamn MC guy?

“You don’t want my marks on you. Is that it?”

His words licked over her, fanning her need. The ache in her pussy spread. As he continued to stare down at her, his eyes softened.

“Fine, no more marks.”

He rolled off and reached for the hem of her shirt. Tingles of awareness shot through her system as callused fingers met her skin. How long since someone had taken the time to learn the contours of her ribs, the dip of her belly?

Jamison did it oh, so well. He traced brand new paths over her body. When he flicked her bellybutton ring, he gave her a crooked smile.

Hell, he was a beautiful man. Cleaned up, he’d look like a soccer star, all lean, ropy muscle and chiseled jaw. His disheveled hair and a few grease smudges on his jeans only made him more desirable.

Cupping his jaw, she kissed him. Full-on fuck-me kisses that sent her up in flames. She bucked her hips against his, seeking an end. But he wouldn’t let her go too fast. Was that a good thing or not?

She encircled his thick wrist with her fingers and guided his hand to the waist of her jeans. The denim was so tight she’d have to shimmy out of them while he pulled them off, but she’d liked the effect on him. He had a hard time looking away from her legs.

“Easy, baby. We’ve got all night.”

She shot a glance at the high window. It was too high for anyone to crawl in—or out of. A gray blind covered it, but she made out the glow of a streetlight through the slats.

He followed her gaze. “Do you turn into a pumpkin at dawn?”

“You aren’t going to find out. You’re taking me home before dawn.”

He narrowed his eyes. They were a myriad of colors some idiot would label as hazel, when really they were so much more. Green ringed an amber iris, but small gold and gray flecks dotted the inner ring. Beautiful eyes for a man, made more so by the heavy fringe of lashes.

Without meaning to, she tangled her fingers in his too-long hair. The brown was streaked with dirty-blond. As a child, he was probably totally blond.

Her heart softened another fraction.

Sensing this, he took total advantage. Snaking his tongue around hers for dizzying minutes while he stripped off her jeans as if they weren’t almost painted on. When they got caught on her leather boots, he leaned onto his knees to tug them off.

“Good leather.” His tone suggested he knew why she was a pro at choosing boots that would protect her—from road rash or in a fight.

A light dusting of hair coated his arms and chest. If she put her nose to it, she’d smell sunshine and musk.

Once her boots and jeans hit the floor, he continued to gaze at her. In the past few years since escaping the Life, she’d put on a few pounds. It filled out her frame, which had once been too thin. Her breasts spilled from her lace bra, and the strings holding up her panties strained around her thighs.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He dived into the mattress, grabbed her, and flipped her atop him. “Ride me so I can look at you.”

She settled her pussy against the bulge in his jeans, rocking to test herself. Could she walk out now and forget about feeling his cock deep inside her?

Her pussy quivered against his erection. No, she couldn’t. She plastered herself to his chest and kissed a line down to his waist, over the trail of hair leading to the denim. He fluffed her hair, so gentle. Sweet shocks of want pushed her on. She nuzzled his leather belt.

When she popped the buckle with her teeth, he issued a growl. “Where’d you learn to do that?”

“YouTube.”

He shook with laughter, eyes heavy on her. When she caught his zipper in her teeth and drew it down, his breath hitched. She parted his fly and reached into his boxers. As her fingers met scorching, velvety skin, her heart sped up.

Last night she hadn’t taken him in her mouth, but he’d spent plenty of time licking her to orgasm. Half the day she’d thought about doing this. Sucking him into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks around him.

The other half she’d dreaded him finding her again.

She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. The cloth loosened around her torso and fell away. She let the straps slip down her arms, giving him a show as she removed his jeans and boxers.