Love Ties (25 page)

“You want to chip her, boss?” Ace asked.

Ever’s muscles tensed to run. “What does that mean?”

“Relax,” Strother said. “We plant a microchip under your skin, probably on your forearm. This way we can track your movements on GPS. We know if they’re moving you. In the meantime, we patrol the Dark Raiders’ MC and make sure you’re safe inside.”

“How will you know?” She tore her hand away from Ace’s and launched to her feet. “I show up on a computer screen, and you think I’m inside the club, safe and sound, while I’m lying dead in the corner for days!”

Again, Strother gave her that look. The one that said he was getting his way on this, and they were doing it before Jamison returned. Why was Ace going along with this? The creed of the Hell’s Sons was to protect. They took care of women and children, but for some reason Strother had exempted Ever from this rule. The asshole was using her in any way he needed.

“You don’t believe that, Ever. You know those guys, and they aren’t going to hurt you. But you can do us a lot of good from inside.”

Her legs buckled, and she collapsed to the chair again. Ace’s touch was warm and grounded her. She stared at her fingers.

She had information of her own to get, anyway. She might as well play on both sides of the fence while she did it.

“I’ll fucking do it.” She thrust her forearm out. “On one condition.”

Strother’s eyes gleamed. “What’s that?”

“You get me ink to cover it.”

“Done.” Strother looked past her to Ace, who went to the door and called for Paxton.

The man who’d tattooed Jamison came in, a small black bag with his equipment in hand. He wasn’t as tall as a lot of guys in the club, but he was corded with muscle. His features didn’t exactly go together, yet she couldn’t look away from him. Maybe it was knowing how many bad-asses he’d inked in his lifetime. With his art, he’d defined everyone in this club.

He settled at the table beside her. Ace sat at the end of the table, and Strother gave him the chin-nod. “Hook her up.”

“Will do, boss.”

Paxton smiled at her, revealing straight white teeth. Someone had obviously loved him enough to get him braces in childhood. What the hell was he doing in this place?

“Name your ink.”

Tears jumped into her eyes, burning her nose. She pressed the back of her hand to her eyes, trying to dispel her emotion. She had to be as tough as the rest of the Hell’s Sons.

When she gained control, she laid her forearm on the table in front of Paxton. “I want an anchor.”

Ace leaned his elbows on the table with interest.

Paxton eyed her. “It doesn’t sound very feminine.”

“Well, my man is wearing wildflowers on his arm. I can have traditional man art.”

Ace grinned.

Paxton got out his tools and set some small pots of ink on the table. He fitted the machine with needles, and then paused to look at her. “You’re sure about this?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely. Jamison is my anchor, and if I’m getting pitched overboard, I need something to hold me. Now, start. And Ace, get me a drink. None of that candy apple green shit, either. I want tequila.”

Jamison’s heart squeezed as his gaze fell over Ever. She was sprawled on her stomach on his bed, her hair falling all around her and a book in her hands.

She met his gaze and closed the book. The action drew his attention to her forearm and the square of gauze there.

He slammed the door. In two steps he reached the bed and sank to the mattress. Gently, he lifted her arm. “What the—” Had she been injured? She was still bearing the cuts and bruises from her time with the Raiders. If someone had hurt her—

She sat up and eased a fingernail under the tape holding the gauze to lift the edge. Relief flooded him as he realized it was ink.

She’d gotten a tattoo.

Damn, he wished he could have been here to watch Paxton take her tattoo virginity.

She pressed the gauze aside to reveal a large anchor in black and gray. The lines weren’t as thick as Paxton would have given a man, though the piece wasn’t the most feminine.

Ever was looking for his reaction.

He shifted his gaze to hers, tipping into the depths of her eyes. They glowed.

“It’s beautiful. Paxton did a fine job. What made you get the anchor?”

She curled her fingers around his wrist and turned it so his ink for her was face-up.

The breath left him in a whoosh. For five heartbeats his mind whirled. Finally, his voice emerged, as gritty as if he’d smoked ten packs of cigarettes in a day. “For me.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Now that he knew, each line of the anchor became more beautiful. The rope curled around the inked steel, the end flipped up in a playful way. One spot just below her elbow was puffy and red, but it would heal beautifully.

Jamison leaned close, and her eyes fluttered. Her scent filled his head, adding to the way his heart pounded. “Why the anchor, baby?”

She brushed her nose over his jaw. “You know why.”

He caught her face in both hands and raised it to look into her eyes. “Show me.”

She crushed her lips to his. Flames ignited, and the kiss was out of control before they even opened their mouths. She dragged in a breath, and he thrust his tongue at the barrier of her lips. She parted them, and he drove inside with all the need of a dying man taking his last breath.

Slanting his mouth over hers, he let her pull growls from him. His cock throbbed.

As their kiss raged out of control, she straddled his hips. Soft breasts filled his hands, and she dug her nails into his back. Dark need claimed him. This was different—this was it.

What he’d been hoping for all this time—complete surrender.

She slipped her tongue over his until they were both moaning. The volume of Steinbeck she’d been reading thumped when it hit the floor. Jamison molded her breasts to his palms, craving a lifetime of this.

When he clamped his fingers onto her nipples, she cried out. He swallowed her sound and pinched harder. He had to know just how far he could push her. Until now their lovemaking had ranged between tender to erotic to rough against a wall. But he hadn’t yet given her pain.

He pinched harder.

She stopped kissing, stopped breathing.

“Look at me,” he grated out.

Her eyes were swimming with tears, but he didn’t think it was from the pressure he exerted.

He released her, and she gasped. “Get your clothes off.”

She was wearing a sundress, a lightweight denim that conformed to her curves and almost made him jealous. He watched her pull it over her head. Her bare breasts bounced free.

Aching, his gaze skated down over her body to the mere strings holding a scrap of lace over her pussy. He skimmed a finger down her spine to her round buttocks and then hooked his finger in the thong. He tugged it, which would give her a measure of pleasure on her sensitive backside.

Holding her gaze, he ran his finger up around the string riding on her hip. With a hard flick, he popped the threads. The lace fluttered away from her mound, revealing her trim patch of red curls.

He patted his lap. “Lay across my knees.”

Her mouth fell open, the plump lower lip glistening from their kisses.

Reaching around her, he delivered a pinch to her luscious ass. She squeaked but did as he commanded. She got off the bed and moved to lie across his lap, her neck twisted so he could see the need etched on her face.

“Every slap I give you will mean something to you. Is that understood?”

“Wh-what will it mean?”

Cock as hard as rock, he caressed her smooth cheek to the undercurve, so close to her pussy. Her ripe scents filled the room, and he couldn’t wait to drive his tongue into her slit and taste her sunshine.

Not yet.

He held back on the first slap.

Air rushed from her lungs, but she didn’t cry out.

He brought his hand down on her very white cheek. God, the crack turned him on. He could listen to that sound all night.

The next smack was harder, and then harder yet. His handprint rose to the surface of her skin, pink and then red. “So fucking gorgeous.” He rubbed the place he’d hit, aware of the intense heat he’d created. He was going to warm both cheeks with his hand and then drive into her from behind.

His balls clenched tighter to his body.

She took each blow as he’d hoped. He watched her face closely as a pink glow infused her cheeks, and she bit down on her lip. But she didn’t cry out. When he paused to rub her cheeks, she squirmed on his knee.

“Fuck.” He wouldn’t be able to go on for long. He needed to feel her wet heat clamped around him.

“More,” she said in an agonized whisper.

“My baby has been a bad girl, keeping information from me. But I’m going to reward you for that ink. Show you how fucking happy I am that you’ve taken a bit of me into your skin.”

She pivoted her head hard on the bed, her eye bright. “Not just a bit, Jamie.”

He brought his palm across her ass hard. She hissed but didn’t cry out. He delivered five more slaps that raised a welt on her skin.

His cock pushed against his fly, huge with blood and leaking pre-come. Once he took her, he wasn’t going to last long.

When he delivered the next blow, she jerked.

“You’re going to go to the prescription stash and get yourself on the pill so I can come in you, baby. I’m going to feel you with no barriers. Do you understand?” Crack.

She nodded.

Five more blows, and he couldn’t take anymore. He ran his finger down between her legs and found her pussy soaking wet.

“Jesus, you liked that.”

“Every minute,” she panted.

As he stared at her lovely face, he plunged two fingers into her cunt. She cried out at last. He curled his fingers against the spongy inner wall and pressed hard.

She flooded his hand with juices, and he began to finger-fuck her hard and fast. The wet sound filled the room. Her pussy contracted around his fingers, and he knew she was close. The spanking had primed her.

Biting back a groan, he thrust faster. Her lips fell open, and a dew of perspiration broke out on her brow. He moved his thumb and covered her clit. The pearl was distended and ready for his touch.

A long, throaty moan escaped Ever. She arched her back to give him total access. Her pussy pulsated, and her breathing grew erratic.

He withdrew his fingers. She bucked. They were slick with cream, and he stuck them in his mouth before plunging them back into her pussy.

She tightened around his digits.

He pulled them free and sucked them again, almost tasting how close she was to coming.

When he drove them deep, she shuddered. He strummed her clit with his thumb and drew out.

A whimper left her.

He sucked his fingers into his mouth. Very slowly he fed them into her pussy. Each wet inch of her channel tormented him.

The first contraction ripped through her, and they moaned together. He fucked her with rhythmic thrusts as she jerked and keened with her release. Hell, he could do this forever. He planned to.

She turned her face into the bed while he brought her down from her high. As he pulled his fingers free, she tightened around him as if holding him where she wanted him.

He grabbed her hips and flipped her into the bed, face up. She reached for him, but he pinned her hands in one of his and locked them to the bed. When he ducked his head and bit into her straining nipple, she cried his name.

He almost lost it. To focus on anything but the throbbing in his balls, he worried her nipple between his teeth, applying more pressure until her nipple was a hard bud on his tongue.

Then he moved to the other. Squeezing her wrists, he released her nipple long enough to say, “Stay.”

When he released her hands, she didn’t budge. Slowly he ran his fingers through her hair, gathering each shining strand into a bundle. Wrapping it around his fist gave him more pleasure than most things in his life before she’d entered it. And tugging her hair hard while biting into her ripe nipple put her right where he wanted her—at his mercy.

He was going to be the only one to give her pleasure. She’d never give herself to another man without thinking of Jamison.

•●•

The pleasure-pain of his teeth and the sting on her scalp were waves crashing over her for long minutes. So when he let her go, she missed his harshness.

She loved Jamison’s tender side, but this new, rougher Jamie was claiming her in a brand new way. He rolled her onto her stomach once more, delivering a slap to her sensitive backside that lifted her off the bed.

“Facedown. Don’t move.”

God, was she crazy to love him ordering her around? All her life she’d taken direction from men—the Raiders, Stone. She’d hated every minute of it, but somehow, being in Jamison’s control felt good.

His tone resonated through her soul, echoing that he’d never hurt her.

Too bad she couldn’t say the same. By daylight, she’d be gone. One last mind-blowing night together would hopefully ease the betrayal.

His clothing rustled as he stripped it off, and damn, she wanted to watch. His bulging biceps, the swells of his chest, ridged abs, and finally that ring of muscle riding his hips.

She remained facedown, her pussy squeezing with fresh want.

The next slap caught her off-guard, and she cried out. Without instruction she knew he wanted her to remain silent. She quivered, anticipating what he’d do for her infraction.

Something slick probed her ass. Then he angled it down and filled her pussy with one hard thrust. Yanking her hair, he drew her off the bed, her back bowing. Her mind and body hummed for more. She lost herself to the pull on her scalp and his cock pounding her deep.

He bit into her lower lip. “Mine,” he growled. “I’m going to fuck you as hard as I want for as long as I want.”

Did he realize how close he was to losing her to the Raiders? Was that what drove him to possess her this way?

She whimpered as his cock hit a certain spot. Her pussy walls clamped down.

“Did I say you can come?” He pulled her hair harder. Everything built inside her, until a bright flash of ecstasy stole all thought.