Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (52 page)

I rolled my eyes. He took the Enforcer role deadly serious, playing hall monitor when he wasn't breaking up fights between brothers or drilling us to see how fast we could get our guns.

“Here, your majesty, have another drink so you can relax,” I growled, sloshing whiskey sloppily into his glass, and then hers. “One for the lady, too. It's the least I can do to take the edge off this blowhard, yeah?”

She looked at me and giggled, slapping Firefly's shoulders. “Oh my God, fireball! Why didn't you tell me your friends were so hilarious?”

“It's
Firefly,
baby, and don't you fucking forget it.” He shot her a stern look. “Here, looks like you need something to remember me by.”

I snorted as he jerked her hair tight and gave her a long, hard kiss.

Fuck if I didn't think about Meg, though, having her beautiful chestnut locks tangled around my fingers again, the other hand on the small of her back, pumping her hips up and down on my cock.

So many ways I hadn't taken her yet. So many ways I wanted to the second I got her sweet ass back here.

“Shit, Skinny Boy, don't you have some numbers to punch on a computer or something?” He looked away from me at his ditzy date for the night. “I've never been shy about having an audience 'round these parts, but it's kinda creepy if it's just you.”

Christ. That meant he was going to fuck her behind the bar, if he didn't just shove his cock into her right here. He wasn't wrong – I didn't need to see that shit.

Watching Firefly fuck a girl barely old enough to drink wasn't my kinda porn. I had plenty of that shit waiting in my room, but even the perfect Dixie girls on the screen with their ruby red lips and fake tits didn't hold a goddamned candle to the woman turning my crank.

“I'm not gonna cramp you, brother,” I told him, deciding to leave the whiskey with them. “You're right. I've got more important biz to settle. Somebody's gotta keep this club from going up in flames, after all.”

Firefly gave me a sharp look, but he decided to let it go, too obsessed with Blondie wiggling on his lap. I was halfway to my room when I heard her hit the counter and cry out as he sank into her.

Irony was an absolute bitch tonight. Before Meg, getting my dick wet was the only motivation I had to bring the club more cash. Now, there was pussy galore, and it still felt like being stranded in the desert because none of those hot, pink holes were the ones I really wanted.

They only belonged to one woman. Not even the buxom young redhead I found stretched out in my bed, naked from the waist down.

The used condom on my floor told the full story, as did the bright red hand prints left all over her ass. Snarling, I grabbed her by both hands and whirled her around, shaking her outta her stupor.

“Okay, who the fuck was in here and left their trash in
my
fucking room?” She yelped and looked at me like I'd just jumped out of her nightmares.

What the shit?
I noticed the handcuffs hanging off her plump wrist for the first time, dangling between her legs as she blushed and fought to cover up her pussy.

“Um, I'm really sorry, Skin. I'm not supposed to say. Joker told me we'd be okay in here, and he'd just gone out for a smoke or something...”

“Joker?”

Fuck me with a cactus.
I'd heard enough. The Veep was outta control, dragging his shit through my gutter. With a growl, I grabbed her wrists and led her to the corner, where I found her half shredded panties. She got the message when I pointed, picking them up and struggling into what was left of them while I watched.

The chick's ass wasn't half bad, but she had nothing on Meg. That woman was perfect, raised to perfection because she was a damned aristocrat, rather than a blue collar baby or a farm bumpkin like most of our casual fucks.

“Get that condom off my floor on your way out, too, woman. And if you see him, tell the Veep my room's not his personal landfill. Don't care if he's an officer or not.”

She nodded and flashed me a nervous smile one more time before she backed out, Joker's bloated condom in her hand, and closed the door behind me.

If there was ever a sign I needed to move the hell outta here and get my own place, now that we had a big paycheck coming in...

I rolled into bed and dozed. It wasn't easy after I'd ridden in the cold all day, scoping out the places in Knoxville for the Prez, all the sites where he wanted our girls to shake tail and bring the club more money.

Of course, it'd be a drop in the bucket, and not even good for laundering much money if we ever got the
real
cash pipeline going. But that wasn't gonna happen overnight. Dust's grand schemes meant clearing our way to the sea first, the path the Deads and other thugs were blocking through the Carolinas and Georgia.

The yanks in the Prairie Devils or the Grizzlies wouldn't even sit down with us 'til we had something to offer 'em. I dreamed like a goddamned geek, numbers and logistics, the only distraction my brain knew when I wasn't thinking about Meg's perfect little lips wrapped around every inch of me.

The heat of her mouth was still burning up my brain when my burner phone screamed to life. I jumped up and grabbed it, doing a double take when I saw her number.

Thank fuck. It's gotta be about the cash.

“Yeah? Where should I meet you?” I growled into the receiver, the instant I heard her soft little breathing on the line.

“Wow, so much for hello.” She paused, and my dick swelled as I imagined her smiling. “You can pick me up right outside my house. Just after eleven, maybe? Will that work?”

“See you then, babe.”

I snapped the phone shut and checked the clock. I had about an hour, maybe a little more, just enough time to shower off the stink of motor oil and sweat from my pussy withdrawal.

I grinned, thankful I was sober. Just when I'd started missing the booze too. Good thing I'd decided to dump the whiskey off with Firefly and his whore for the night after all...

I had something better coming. And I was gonna fuck her so hard she'd never go anywhere else again.

* * * *

“I
t's all there,” she whispered quietly, stuffing the big duffel bag in my trunk. “Every last dollar. You can count it when we get to the clubhouse and –“

“Enough. The first thing I'm doing once we're back there's the last thing we did before I took you home. Fuck, I've missed these lips.”

Somehow, I kept it polite. I managed not to rip her clothes off right there, or tell her how bad I wanted to shove my tongue up her pussy 'til she cried.

But there was nothing nice about the way I threw my arms around her, pulled her into me, smashed my lips down on hers. My tongue sucked at hers hungrily, a prelude to where my hands were going. They went down, stopped on her ass cheeks, and squeezed.

The moan she hissed into my mouth told me we were on the same page. Shit, she knew my hunger too. Her nipples poked through her bra and the thin autumn sweater she was wearing, an outfit so conservative I couldn't wait to shred it to tatters.

“Let's get the hell home, babe. Plenty of drinks waiting if you're in the mood. The boys are celebrating.”

“No,” she whispered softly, staring up at me while I sat her on the bike and fixed her helmet. “All I need is right here.”

Her arms hooked around me. The embrace blew my mind, and threatened to do the same to the nuke hammering in my pants.

Christ. How the fuck could a woman feel so perfect riding with me?

It was like she'd been made for the back of my bike, made for my bed. I'd never bought into that soul mate horseshit before, but every second with this chick was making me wonder if I'd been wrong about it for nearly thirty years.

I loved how she rode pressed up against me while we roared down the highway, taking the mountain bends beneath the moonlight, dipping up and down the valleys filled with Smoky Mountain mist.

Dew prickled at our skin. Even the land itself was wet and teasing. If this wasn't a night to lay a woman down and fuck, then I didn't know one.

Hell, this was a night for more than that. I'd claim her, damn it, and do it good and proper. We'd have a proper reunion at this little mountain bungalow I had about twenty miles from the clubhouse, right on the edge of the big national park.

I'd never brought a girl out there before. It was the place my old man used to go to think, and sometimes he brought Mama and me along for the ride. I'd inherited it after she passed, but I kept it locked up tight, except for the times I wanted to reflect, all alone, away from the brothers and the violence.

I'd never been ready to share that shit with anybody 'til her. Not 'til tonight.

We got to the clubhouse in record time. I parked my bike and grabbed her hand, leading her inside. Loud classic rock bounced through the air, the latest tempo the brothers inside were drinking and fucking to.

A loud moan greeted us behind the bar. My eyes darted to the spot where Firefly had his bitch for the night bent over, slamming his cock into her and growling every time he went deep. The Enforcer never stopped being a hothead even when he fucked, taking his girls out in the open, and hanging 'em out wet to dry the next day.

The bastard looked up, his eyes dark with sex. I gave him a knowing stare. He snorted, never skipping a beat with the slut under him.

“Wow, you weren't kidding about the party!” Meg smiled, so excited and seductive I wanted to drag her out back right there, behind the trees, and put my mouth on hers 'til she couldn't show any teeth the rest of the night.

I didn't like the way Firefly was looking at her. The fuck had a taste for threesomes sometimes – who among us didn't? – but there was no way in hell I'd let him ask my girl.

“Something like that,” I growled, leading her toward the hall hand-in-hand. “We're just here for business. I've got a better place for us to go after this. Let's get this over with.”

The cash stuffed bag sagged in my hand. I carried it in and headed for the Prez's office, hoping he hadn't gone home yet. I sure as hell didn't want to deal with Joker after he'd borrowed my bed for his nasty fun.

Firefly sat at the bar and fixed his eyes on Meg as we stepped inside. We exchanged a look and he nodded. He wore that tired, satisfied glaze in his eyes that he always had after he'd fucked his testosterone calm for awhile. I noticed Blondie snoozing in his lap as we walked by, heading for Dust's office.

“Leave the talkin' to me,” I said between taps on the door. “This is club business, baby, even though it involves you too.”

“Yeah, about that...I was hoping we could get some reassurance from your boss about what's going to happen to me.”

“What?” I shot her a sharp look, just as the door opened.

The Prez had a beer in his hand. He squinted at us like two trick-or-treaters who'd just shown up on his doorstep on the Fourth of July.

“What's she doing back here?” His eyes instantly fell to the big black bag in my hand. “Holy Moses. Is that what I think it is?”

I nodded. All it took for the Prez to reach for Meg and pull her into his office without another word, while I followed them in.

He walked behind his desk, sucking down his beer and hurling the can in the garbage. The bag hit his desk with a plop. His thick, scarred hands landed on it and I watched his fingers give it a squeeze, shaking almost imperceptibly while he went for the zipper, looking like a man about to pull down a lady's dress.

Fat stacks of twenties and hundreds wrapped in bands spilled out the opening. He pursed his lips and whistled, so sharp and unexpected Meg barely suppressed a laugh.

“It's all there, Prez. You can count it down to the dollar. She says it is, and I trust her.” Smiling, our eyes met, and I tried to lay off thinking about how bad I wanted to be inside her just then.

Come on. Hurry the fuck up. You've got your business here, man, and we've got ours.

The excitement in Dust's cool gray eyes raged louder. Then he said the words I dreaded.

“Skin, have a seat. Help me count this loot and get it inventoried for the vault.”

Megan took one look at the sparks in my eyes turning to smoke. This time, she couldn't hold it. She laughed, high and sweet and beautiful, and kept on doing it when the Prez looked at her like she'd lost her mind.

* * * *

A
bout an hour later, I couldn't get the stink of fresh money off my hands. “It's all there, Prez, see? Just like I told you. Right down to the final dollar.”

“Yeah, yeah. You weren't bullshitting. We've got our second chance for this club right here, and it's all thanks to turning your mistake into a miracle.”

“Mistake?” Meg spoke for the first time in forever, sitting in the corner, next to the club's old filing cabinet.

“My words, not his, beautiful.” Dust thumped his chest. “Our boy's got too big a hard-on for him to realize you're trouble, sweets. You oughta be thankful.”

“Yeah, trouble...about that.” She stood up and walked over.

I grabbed her hand, trying to stall her out. She wanted her assurances, but there was a right way to approach the Prez and a wrong one. I didn't want him chewing into her, no matter how good his mood was from our newly fat cash supply.

“Now that you've got your money, I need to know that you're never going to come after me again, Dust.” She walked past me and stared at him like a wildcat. “I want assurances that we're good on both sides. I need to know I've paid my debt, and whatever trouble Skin caused is done.”

“Assurances?” The Prez glared at her, considering her request.

The girl had courage, I had to give her that. 'Course, she didn't realize what he'd done. She hadn't seen him throttle bastards to death with his bare hands, or take rival prospects out back when his old man led the club, making them scream louder than anybody else could, 'til they sang and gave us whatever we wanted.

Dust didn't get to be Prez thanks to his daddy. He'd gotten the patch because he was as hard, uncompromising, and relentless as he was reasonable.

“Yeah, sure, I'll give you my word. Here, girl, reach out your hand and shake.”