MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories) (159 page)

Chapter Two

              A heavyset Slav with a scarred face glowered at Eliot before he bid twice against him for the silver-haired boy.  He then demanded in broken French that the manager let him take a closer look. 

Eliot clamped down on his temper as he watched the brute grab the boy and fondle him between the legs.  As the manager hovered anxiously, he told him, “I don’t want the boy damaged if he is to be mine.  Tell that dolt to sit down.”

The manager went over to persuade the Slav back to his seat.  Eliot watched the boy’s seemingly dazed expression, and saw another, faint glimmer of awareness before the blue eyes shifted to stare at the floor.

“So you do remember,” he murmured, and then briskly took up the bidding war with the Slav again. 

In the end it cost Eliot sixty thousand Euros to prevail, but the money didn’t matter.  Getting his prize out of the club before the brute or anyone else challenged his claim did.  He paid the manager, put an arm around the boy’s narrow waist, and guided him downstairs while he called his driver.

“Don’t worry,” he said as they walked out to the private car that had just pulled up to the curb.  “You’re safe now, little bird.”

“My name is Justin,” he said, slurring the words as he climbed in.  “What’s yours?”

“Please.”  Eliot ordered his driver to take them back to his hotel, raised the privacy screen and then tipped up the boy’s chin.  “I know you’re not drugged.  How did you get involved with these bastards?  Did they abduct you?  Did they hurt you?”

The submissive shrugged and inched away, huddling in the corner.  He lowered the window and reached out as if to feel the night air rushing through his fingers – or to gauge how fast they were moving.

Eliot engaged the locks.  “You’re not jumping out of the car, little bird.”

“I told you, my name is Justin.”  The submissive yawned and closed his eyes.  “You got a thing for birds, man, then you don’t want me.”

              Eliot contented himself with watching the boy until they reached his hotel.  He kept a firm grip on the thin arm as they got out and walked to a side entrance.  Once inside Eliot took his guest directly into the elevator and up to his suite, where he led him to an armchair by the fireplace.

The submissive dropped onto the seat but still wouldn’t look at him.  “So what do you want me to do, man?”

“Sit there while I contact the authorities.”  He walked over to pick up the phone, but then felt arms winding around his waist from behind.  “It will only take a few minutes, little bird.”

“It can wait.”  The boy unzipped Eliot’s trousers and reached inside to curl long, cool fingers around his thick, hard shaft.  “This can’t.”

Eliot watched as the submissive came around and dropped to his knees in front of him.  “What are you doing?”

“Please,” the boy said, and rubbed a lean cheek against him.

Before he could use his mouth on him, Eliot hauled him to his feet and gave him a firm shake.  “Stop this.”

The boy finally met his gaze, his eyes narrow and glittering like sapphires.  “This is why you bought me, man.  Don’t you want it?”             

“I’ve wanted you since you kissed me at the Tokyo Hilton’s rooftop bar.”  He watched Wren’s eyes widen.  “Very well, I kissed you.  I couldn’t resist, not after dancing with you.  You were so light on your feet, I thought we might float off into the clouds.  You can stop pretending you’re a boy now.  I know you’re a woman.”

#

              Wren knew she had to leave, now.  “You don’t know anything about me.  Let me go.”  When Eliot released her, she headed straight for the door, but he beat her to it.  “You really don’t know what you’re doing, Mister.” 

“I’ve done many things this last month,” Eliot told her.  “I’ve bribed hotel managers, and traced credit cards, and followed a hundred false leads until I finally tracked you to Paris.”

She turned to stare at him.  “You did what?”

Eliot nodded.  “I’ve spent the last two weeks here going to sex clubs, talking with deviants, and seeing things that belong in nightmares.  I do need to get away from these people, and have a long soak in a tub of disinfectant.  I should probably have my head examined as well.  What I will not do is leave without an explanation.”

              Wren opened her mouth, shut it, and then banged her head back against the door.

              “Stop that.”  Eliot pulled her away before she could do it again.  “You will give yourself a headache.”

              His move plastered her against his chest, and as much as she wanted to stay there, she had some serious business to attend to.  “Of course I remember you, Tashiro.”  She wriggled out of his arms and put some distance between them.  “I was just having some fun with you.”

              Going to the bar and making some drinks gave her a little time to regroup.  By the time Wren added the olives, she had a new plan.

              “I’ve been trying to find my brother, Justin,” she told Eliot as she offered him one martini, and sipped the other.  “He’s gotten mixed up with some bad people.  The only way I could get into that club was to dress up like a boy.  Then they grabbed me, and I had to fake the whole drugged thing, and you’re not buying this, are you?”

              “This is what I know.”  Eliot set the drink back on the bar and folded his arms.  “Your name is Wren Calhoun, your age is somewhere between eighteen and forty years old, and you are a woman.  You have traveled to nine countries since January, but you have no passport, no identification, no job, no birth certificate and, evidently, no country of origin.  Your name doesn’t appear on any public records.  My people found no records of you anywhere, for that matter.”

              She toasted him.  “But I make a great vodka martini.”

              “This means you are likely working deep undercover for a very powerful organization.  One that has gone to great lengths to erase your existence, no doubt to provide you with ever-changing false identities.”  He studied her face.  “Not Interpol or the CIA.  Something more elegantly underhanded.  The DGSE?  MI-6?”

              “Perverts without Borders,” Wren said, giving him her best woeful face.  “Well, it’s been lovely, Tashiro, but I really must be on my way.”  She drank down the rest of her martini, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then struck him in the solar plexus – or tried to. 

The world whirled upside down, and then the floor slammed into Wren’s back.

“You should never try to strike a seventh-dan kendōka,” Eliot advised her as he scooped her up into his arms.  “You could get killed.  Did your karate instructor not teach you this?”

She groaned a little.  “I think he forgot to mention it.”

Eliot sat down in the armchair with her cradled on his lap.  “So much trouble for such a small woman.”  His forearm brushed the front of her trousers, and he frowned.  “I know you are not happy to see me.  What is that in your pants?”

“Prosthetic penis, in case I got groped.”  She batted her eyelashes at him.  “Want to see?”

  “I told myself that if you were a lesbian you would not have kissed me the way you did in Tokyo.”  Eliot traced a fingertip along the curve of her bottom lip.  “But I am a fool in love, and you may be a very good actress.”

“I am whatever I have to be, Tashiro.  Usually gender-fluid, although for sex I lean more toward guys.”  She sighed.  “But you aren’t in love with me.  Infatuated, okay, obsessed, maybe, but you can’t love someone who doesn’t exist.”   

He threaded his fingers through her platinum locks.  “I can try.”

Chapter Three

As Eliot looked all over her face Wren had to fight back the urge to relax against him.  The way he held her made her feel precious, and oddly complete, as if sitting in his lap was the only place she was ever supposed to be.  That sense of rightness only intensified when he brushed his lips over hers, not in a kiss but the briefest whisper of a caress.

“Don’t fly away again, little bird,” he murmured, and brought her palm to his mouth to press a kiss in the center.  “Stay with me.”

Wren felt an ache begin pulsing between her thighs.  “Even if I wanted to, Tashiro—”

“For days after that night, I thought I’d imagined you.”  He touched her face, sweeping his thumb over the curve of her cheekbone.  “As if you were some ghost who came to forever haunt my heart.  You made a promise to me with that kiss, Wren.  Do you know what it was?”

“To be your lover,” she said, startling herself with her own candor.  “That’s why you came after me, Tashiro.  For the sex, not love.”

“I want to make love to you, Wren,” he admitted.  “I have thought of little else since that kiss.  But if that is not your desire as well, then I will wait until it is.”

Suddenly she wanted to slap him.  “And if I leave right now, and you never see me again, will you keep waiting anyway?  Waiting for a woman you’ve known, what, six hours total?”

“It could be six minutes, or six seconds.  It would not matter.  I knew the moment we touched.”  He brought her hand to his chest and pressed it over his heart.  “And yes, I would wait for you.  I would wait until my last breath.” 

She swallowed against the lump in her throat.  “That’s crazy.  Crazy and stupid and reckless.  I could be anyone.  Strike that.  I
am
anyone.”

“I know who you are, Wren Calhoun.”  Eliot set her on her feet, and then stood and bowed to her.  “And you know me just as well.  You are free to go, little bird.  Or stay.”  He kissed her brow, and then retreated into the master bedroom.

Wren stood staring after him.  She had an op to finish, and a human trafficking ring to smash.  Yet she also knew that when she finished in Paris she would go to her next assignment, and then the next, and so on.  Field operatives like her worked until they were too old, too crippled, or someone killed them.

She almost made it to the door before she spun on her heel and marched into the bedroom. 

“You can’t say all that stuff to me and expect me to go, Tashiro.”  Wren stopped short and watched his back.  He stood at the window looking down at the city.  In a softer tone, she added, “Not when I’ve wanted you just as much, unless . . . have you changed your mind already?”

“Come here.”  He held out his hand.

When she went to him Eliot turned and brought her hand down between them to lightly brush her knuckles against the bulge at the front of his trousers. 

“I’ve been like this all night, little bird.”  He left her hand there and slipped his under the boyish T-shirt she wore, his long fingers gliding around to stroke the taut muscles of her back.  “But then, so have you.”

“Not for long.”  Wren grimaced as she unbuttoned her trousers, and reached into the boxers she wore beneath.  A minute later she pulled out the prosthesis and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.  “I’m officially a girl again.  Well, except for breasts.”

Eliot glanced down at the flat front of her T-shirt.  “You are slightly built.”

“No, Tashiro, I’m almost completely flat-chested.”  She pulled her shirt up over her head to show him her tiny breasts.  “I don’t have body hair, either.  As females go, you’re getting the no-frills model here.”

“You don’t need frills.”  He trailed his fingers over her slight curves.

Wren expected Eliot to kiss her again, or fondle her, but instead he scooped her up in his arms.  Linking her hands around his neck, she giggled as he carried her back to the suite’s enormous master bedroom, where he lowered her as carefully as if she were made of glass.

“Despite my shortcomings in the sexual characteristics department I am a grown-up.  You can do anything to me that you like.”  She watched him unbutton his shirt and remove it before he sat down beside her.  “I won’t break.”

“I might.”  He encircled her neck with one hand, and then stroked it down over her chest.  “May I remove the rest of our clothes?”

“That will probably make this easier.”  Wren felt her small, flat nipples pucker under his caress.  “I thought you would be in Berlin this week, overseeing the construction of that children’s hospital.” 

“I am doing that by Skype.”  He took off her trousers and boxers, and then removed his own.  Tashiro had a long, lean body that decades of studying kendo had honed to a gracefully lethal perfection.  He stood beside the bed looking down at her for so long she squirmed a little.

“It’s not a very sexy body, Tashiro,” she admitted.  “But it works fine.”

Eliot bent to silence her with a kiss.  A moment later he lay atop her, his weight pinning her to the mattress as he took her mouth like a marauder.  The taste of him made her head spin.  When he shifted down to tenderly suckle her nipples, she arched under him and cried out.

“Shhhh.”  Eliot reached down to fist the thick shaft of his erect penis, and guide it between her thighs.  “I can’t wait another second either.  No more emptiness for either of us.”  He hesitated.  “We need protection.”

“I’m clean, and safe.”  Wren stared up into his enigmatic eyes, almost afraid he would change his mind now.  A heartbeat later she felt the broad head of his shaft press in, and her softness went liquid.  Once he breached her all of her senses went into overdrive.  “Tashiro.”

He kissed her brow.  “I am here, little bird.  I have you now.”

Wren gave herself over to the merging.  The stretching sensation of her wet sex enveloping him as he pushed into her sent new, dark streaks of excitement through her belly.

Eliot’s jaw tightened as he went deeper.  Once he’d filled her completely, he released a low, heartfelt sigh.  “You fit me so well, my lovely one.  I knew you would.”  Carefully he drew out of her, and then forged back inside, the slick friction making her gasp.  “Oh, yes, there, now you feel it, don’t you?  Did you think it would be like this?”

“You talk too much.”  Wren suddenly couldn’t catch her breath.  “Please, Tashiro, I have to – oh, like that, yes.”

Eliot never looked away from her face as he fucked her, his deep, hard shafting fueling the desperate ache inside her.  Wren curled her hands into fists and planted them against his chest.  She felt the climax building inside her, but it seemed so large and strong that she resisted it.  She couldn’t fall apart like this, not with him, not with anyone . . . but if she didn’t, she’d never know.

“More.”  She arched her back as his thrusts grew harder and faster.  “Yes, like that.” 

“Take what you need from me, Wren.”  Eliot bent his dark head to cover one small nipple with his lips.  He lifted his head only to do the same to her other little mound.

The feel of his tongue on her pushed her almost to the brink.  “Eliot.”

He moved off her, shifting back and dragging her hips to the very edge of the bed.  Once he moved between her slim thighs and joined their slick sexes again he smiled down at her.  “Now we finish this dance.”

Eliot’s thrusts into her body grew harder and deeper, and soon it felt as if his hard, thick penis had become a piston driving the engine of her pleasure out of control.  Wren curled her fingers into the bed cover as she spiraled even higher, her body so taut now she thought the coming delight might just snap some of her thin bones.

It was at that moment that Eliot drove deep and clamped her nipples between his fingers, pinching them gently as he said, “Let go, little bird.  You can trust me.  I will always catch you.”

Rather than the violent shattering Wren expected, a waterfall of pleasure poured through her.  It cascaded over all her fears and doubts, sweeping away everything but the delight of dancing with Eliot again.  Dimly she heard him groan, and felt the delicious jet of his seed bathing her from within, warm and silky.  She cried out as his climax pushed her through her own orgasm and into another. 

Wren wrapped her arms around him, holding him as tightly as her softness contracted around his shaft.  She felt his penis hardening again inside her, and Eliot make a strange sound.

A soft moan of bliss left her lips as she felt him spurt inside her a second time.

After that Eliot kissed her and held her for what seemed like hours as their bodies cooled and sanity restored itself.  When she finally tilted her head back she saw in his dark eyes the same glow of dazed wonder she felt.

“I really like the way you dance,” she mentioned, running her hand down the length of his arm.  “And that . . . was pretty amazing.”

“Now you see why I came to Paris.”  He looked all over her face before he gave her a soft, lingering kiss. 

He shifted to nuzzle the side of her neck while she combed her fingers through his thick black hair.  “You can’t expect that to happen every time, you know.”

“I expect nothing.”  Eliot rose from the bed and covered her, shaking his head when she tried to sit up. 

She blinked drowsily at him.  “But I want to sleep with you.”

“You will.”  He trailed his fingers along her shoulder, and then gave her an odd look.  “I will never leave you, little bird.”

Since she couldn’t make the same promise, she turned her head and kissed his fingers.

Eliot walked out only to shut off the lights in the front of the suite before returning and climbing back into bed with her.  Wren sighed with pleasure as she cuddled against him, and let the sound of his breathing lull her to sleep.