Black and White (Storm's Soldiers MC Book 1) (3 page)

A fierce one. One solid enough to keep his head against the wind of other’s opinions. He hadn’t let his racist friend keep him from staring my way all night, had he? I trembled again at the thought of those blue gems digging into me.

Jeannie frowned as she filled up the glass. “Mea-gan,” she said, drawing it out.

“It’s fine,” I said.

“I thought you didn’t go for white boys.”

“I don’t. We’re just flirting.”

“Uh- huh. Then why do I get the feeling I could fill up this cup by squeezing your panties?”

“Gross. Ugh.”

“Yes.” She leaned over the bar, her dark hair spreading around her face like a cloak. “Home in on that disgust. That’s how you should be feeling about him. He’s white trash.”

“I’m familiar with white trash.” I loaded the lone whiskey onto my tray.

“No, you know the stereotypes. You didn’t grow up with them as family. The pretty ones are all messed up. You said it yourself – he’s probably slinging meth”

“He’s just here drinking,” I said. “And I’m just gonna go serve him that drink.”

I barely heard the sigh from her as I walked off. The sight of that powerful angular face waiting for me struck all thoughts from my mind. Who was I kidding? I was infatuated. Maybe he was trash, but at least he advertised it. That left me to be the informed consumer of his product.

Nothing wrong with junk food, if it didn’t become a habit.

“This is the best I could find,” I said, setting the liquid down in front of him.

“Actually, it’s not,” he said. “If you’ll recall my request it was very specific.”

I always played up my Southern twang – growing up in Atlanta didn’t equip me with a natural one. This man’s words though, poured out like molasses. I could almost feel him seep down my spine, feel his presence linger long after those hard lips of his stopped moving.

“I… can go look again,” I said.

“I think we can find what I need right here if we search a bit harder.” His hand landed on my bare arm. A thunderstorm raged up my body, powering up all the nerve ends that had lain untouched for months. The weight of his grip was intense, the rough strength of it dragging me down deep into him. All it would take was a curl of the fingers, a tug and I would fall into his lap.

“I’ve got to work,” I whispered - for myself as much as him.

“Fine, I’ll take this for now.” He held up the drink. “But when your shift is done, we’re gonna go get exactly what I want.”

That crystal gaze left no room for question. “Ok,” I said, meekly.

He lilted his head. “Go on. Let me see how you work. And bring me back a big tumbler of this.”

I wobbled off with my tray. I’d wanted his attention, well I had it now. It was almost too much to take. My exes had all been meek up front, prodding and poking and winding their ways around me until they coaxed me open. This man knew what he wanted, knew he’d get it and wasn’t keen on biding his time.

I took my own shot of whiskey to steady myself, then handed off the bottle to my murky pale prince. He threw me a cold smile that made me lock up. He was going to drink me up as easy as the whiskey. I hoped I was ready.

More people were leaving than coming by now, and soon the trickle turned into an outpour. I did my best to stay on the patio, away from that piercing gaze. One couple was left, pecking gently at each other. I wanted to laugh. That biker’s voice had done more to my body than those pinprick lips of theirs could do to each other. The night warmed up as I peered back at the door and imagined that hard edged face waiting for me.

Finally, the clock ticked midnight. I let the drunk lovers know they had to get frisky elsewhere. They stumbled off down the sidewalk. I took a deep breath and strode back in.

He waited for me, etched like marble in the dim corner. Jeannie flicked her head at him. He had to get out.

Lucky for her, that’s just where I planned on taking him.

I tried to still my heart walking over, but it was my breath that stopped. He played with the rim of his empty glass and threw me something that was approaching a smile.

“That wasn’t bad,” he said. “It was a fine appetizer.”

“The whiskey?”

“Watching you bounce around.”

An ache opened at my center. A longing to hear more of that voice, to feel the strength backing it. Jeannie might not have been right about my panties before but I didn’t dare check them now. He looked downright at ease with the effect he had on me.

“My shift’s over,” I said.

“You should take that shirt off, then.”

I shook my head and whispered, “Not here.”

His features hardened. He popped up and tossed a few bills onto the table.

“Where we headed?” he asked.

“I live a few blocks away.”

He nodded, but waited for my lead. I tried to put a little something in my walk for him to admire, but it was all I could do to keep one foot in front of the other. The heat of him at my back was like a furnace. It must be, what with the sweat starting to glisten my skin. Jeannie shot me several distinct looks of disapproval at the door, but I focused on Marissa wagging her fingers goodbye coyly. She knew what was up.

We marched down the stairs and I started for the sidewalk.

“Wait,” his voice rose from behind.

I turned as he checked something on the saddle of his bike. It was a big twisted beast, but looking at it, I could only imagine the strength of that engine rumbling between my legs.

“What’s the hold up?” I said. “I thought you only wanted one thing.”

“Just making sure I don’t have anything I don’t want.” He slapped the straps shut, then came around, wrapping that thick arm across my shoulder. My body was his already.

We took a silent stroll through Little Five Points. People loitered on the sidewalk outside bars, but with the weight of him at my side, they parted before us like we were an oncoming train. The biker’s intent was as solid as his body and everyone could tell.

Just a couple blocks past the main avenue, the place turned decidedly residential: big suburban homes, all dark and still at this hour. The biker’s arm slipped down, landed around my waist. His hand lay on my hips and his fingers loitered dangerously near my core. It took all my concentration to make it the last couple blocks to the big blue colonial I rented a room in.

At the door, he let go. I peeked back just to really make sure I still had my big white shadow, even though I’d heard him creak up the wooden steps. I’d always been a proper girl – never once had I taken a boy home like this, and certainly never anyone like the leather clad Greek statute searing me with his eyes.

I must have waited too long, signaled that the porch itself was our destination. He reached out and cupped my chin. His fingers were gritty, but they rasped gently at my soft skin. He twirled me around and pulled my mouth to his. Traces of the whiskey I’d poured him seeped into me, making our kiss smell of smoke.

I tried to sink back to my feet, but he would not let go. His arm curved around my rear and squeezed me up onto my toes. We were all up into each other now and I hadn’t even a lick of control. He crept his hand around my head and pulled my face harder to his. His lips sucked at mine, and he played at them with his tongue like they were exotic sweets. He gave my butt a fuller squeeze and I moaned. Bit by bit, this boy was working his way through every inch of me.

I tried to speak, to tell him we should go in, but his tongue dove into my mouth. He pressed me back against the trembling screen door, letting me feel the hard line of him burning out of his pants. My jeans felt damp. I wished they would just dissolve so his fire could plunge into me.

He must have read my mind, because he slickly started undoing the buttons of my jeans. My brain had been melting into a puddle, but the fabric pop woke the last bit that remained. I jangled my keys in his face. He grunted and traced his fingers down my panties. I gasped at that strength burning closer and closer to that gaping ache. I wouldn’t last if he found it – I would let him take me right here. Using every last bit of power I had, I kissed him clean off of me. His face sat hungry in the moonlight, but I quickly turned and unlocked the door.

We slipped in. Tara was out for the week, lucky me. I edged up to make sure she hadn’t made a surprise return, then flipped around and presented myself in a pane of moonlight. I was all his now.

He strode forward carefully, letting the jacket fall back off him. When he entered the light, he was down to a sleeveless dark tee. I ached at all that pale gleaming strength unburdened and on display. That was more than enough to rattle any remaining funk out of my system and now it sat steaming the air just inches away. He prowled down at my face, his hot breath washing over me.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” he said. “You like taking orders.”

“I do.”

“You gonna do everything I tell you tonight?”

My mind wasn’t around to question what those things might be. “I will.”

“Show me.”

He wove his hand through my dark hair and gave me a vicious kiss. I could barely stay on my feet, but then his hands were on the small of my back, holding me into his advance. One crawled around my waist and slipped under panties. My body ached like a magnet, drawing him in, but he just teased my entrance.

We staggered backwards down the hallway under his strength. My bedroom was upstairs, but I didn’t give a damn. I clenched the doorway of Tara’s bedroom, and my new beau swung us in. The room sat pitch black but for the moonlight from the hall. He threw me onto the white sheets and kicked off his jeans as he followed me on.

“Baby, I hope you got bleach,” he said. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, the black is gonna shake off of you.”

It was so fucking wrong, but the idea of being ridden that hard made me freaking hot. My jeans barely held my legs shut.

His fingers found where they’d left off. They curved in under my panties and pressed into me and my world went white. I clenched as he thrust in and out.

“You wanna fuck more than I do, don’t you?” he said.

“Mm-hmm,” I whimpered.

“Say it.”

“I want you to fuck me so much.”

“Good girl.”

He ripped my jeans off and kneeled in over me. His hard face cast wicked shadows on itself, hard edged with hunger. I wanted him to feast on me.

“Hold on tight, sweet thing.” I heard the crinkle of foil and smelled the faint cloud of latex as he slipped on a condom. It was oddly thoughtful - I would have forgotten.

I reached for his shoulders and he slid into me.

“Oh god,” I poured out. My eyes were shut but my vision exploded with light. I might have actually seen heaven. I looked again and he was going through his own rapture, all the hardness etched away to lust.

He started to thrust in me and I gasped as every inch of him coursed deeper and harder than anything before. Weren’t white boys supposed to small? Had this one hit the lottery to plunge over every point of pleasure inside me?

“Sweet Jesus,” I moaned.

“No baby, it’s just me.”

Through the wall of ecstasy, I found room to giggle at that. Still moaning, I pulled him down for a kiss. He looked confused when I let go, like I’d violated some unseen agreement. It was only a moment though, he peeled back my shirt and bra and sank wet onto my lush breast. I clawed into the back of his head and moaned as my body became his play thing.

He rode me long through the night, taking his time on the joyride. I exploded around him again and again, until I was sure the bed lay drenched in a torrential downpour. After longer than seemed possible his pounding thrusts eventually hardened and he started to spurt. I groaned as he grew inside me, and then jetted line after line of thick mess deep into the rubber. He pulled out, whipped it off and plunged on a fresh one. Where had he thrown the first? Whatever, I’d deal with that tomorrow – if there was anything left of me.

That boy took me in ways I never dreamed possible, and then after one last screaming climax from both of us, he slammed down on the sheets next to me.

I didn’t tuck into him, but I turned his way and moved to the edge of my pillow. We were bare and dribbled with sweat and I could see the lines of ink scrawled all over his rippling, heaving chest. Exhaustion billowed around my eyes, but I smiled to see how much I’d taken out of him.

“How do I stack up?” I asked.

“Against what?” He stared at the ceiling.

“Your bike.”

“Not even in the same league, darlin’. Your pipes rumble so loud, Harleys should just play you on speakers.”

I chuckled deep into my pillow and he seemed to like that. His sound was warm even without the lust burning at him.

“That’s sweet.” I murmured. “How about against white girls?”

“White girls?”

“I’m your first black chick right?”

“Yeah.” His gaze went dull. “Yeah, you stack up just fine.”

It wasn’t the sweetest thing I’d heard, but thankfully, sleep robbed me of any fleeting embarrassment.

CHAPTER FOUR