Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology (11 page)

I snagged her hand, pulling her toward the table, turning and tucking my hands under her arms to pop her onto the end. She stared up at me, blinking rapidly as I slid my hands down her sides, wedging them between her legs and pushing her knees gently apart. Then I leaned into her, inhaling her scent once more.

Marie smelled even better now than before, with a hint of fresh bread added into the mix. I gave serious thought to biting her shoulder, just to see if she tasted half as good as that scent of hers suggested.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said, her voice quavering. She pulled away from me, glancing toward the trailer. “I mean, everyone is waiting for you, right? I can just go, let’s forget this, okay?”

I leaned back, studying her, wishing I felt half as unaffected as she seemed to be. If she didn’t want me touching her, why would she let me hold her like this? This tension between us was incredible. It couldn’t only be on my side. Could it?

The fading evening light caught on her bruise.

Fuck
.

Maybe her spirit really was totally broken. I decided to poke at her and test whether she’d fight back, even a little.

“That how you gonna play it, sweet butt?” I asked, deliberately taunting her. Her eyes narrowed and flashed. Sexy as hell.

“I’m not your sweet butt,” she snapped. “Fuck off.”

Now that was more like it—my girl hadn’t checked out entirely after all. I laughed, loving the spark in her and wanting to see more of it. That wasn’t all I wanted, though. I grabbed her waist and pulled her into my body. The hot, welcoming softness of her pussy hit my cock and it felt better than I’d imagined, which was saying something. I closed my eyes for a second, swiveling my hips and dragging my length up and down across her clit through the fabric of our pants, all but tasting the moment I’d sink into her sweet opening.

It was official.

Marie was the hottest piece of ass I’d ever met.

She gasped as I slid my dick against her again, more forcefully this time. I leaned down into her and blew softly on her ear, thinking about kissing her. Then I thought about that spark of anger in her eyes—I wanted to see it again. Marie soft and willing beneath me was great, but Marie telling me to fuck off, all cute and pissy?

Now that
really
turned me on.

“Nice ass. Sweet. Butt,” I whispered softly.

She bit me.

Hard.

I jumped back, ripping my ear out of her mouth, wondering if she’d taken a chunk with her. Holy shit—she
bit
me. A trickle of warm fluid ran down my neck. Blood. I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing because she was tiny and angry and hissing at me like a wet cat on top of the table. I wanted to fuck her more now than I had five minutes ago. Damn, though . . . my ear hurt. That wasn’t a love bite.

Who was this woman?

Marie scowled, her message coming through loud and clear.

“I get it, hands off,” I said, shaking my head, holding up my arms in pointed surrender. My dick might not be amused by this
turn of events, but for once I didn’t give a flying fuck what my dick wanted. I was having way too much fun. “Play it the way you like. And you’re right, we’ve got business. Go drive for an hour, that should be enough time.”

Marie slid off the table, darting around me as she ran to her little piece-of-shit car. I followed, bemused, wondering if she had some magic power that turned grown men into pussies. Marie opened her car door but turned back to look at me, teeth worrying at her lip. I waited for whatever the hell would come out of her mouth. After that bite, I was on uncharted ground. At least it wasn’t boring.

“Horse isn’t your real name, is it?”

I smiled. Now
that
was better . . . Playtime wasn’t over yet, after all.

“Road name,” I replied. “That’s the way things work in my world. Citizens have names. We have road names.”

“What does that mean?”

“People give them to you when you start riding. They can mean all kinds of things. Picnic got his name because he went all out planning some pansy-assed picnic for a bitch who had him twisted up in knots. She ate his food and drank his booze, then called her fuckwad boyfriend to come and pick her up while he took a leak.”

She frowned.

“That seems . . . unpleasant. Why would he want to remember that?”

“Because when the fuckwad showed up, Picnic shoved his head through a picnic table.”

Her breath caught and I saw indecision written all over her face.

“And Max?”

“When he gets drunk, sometimes his eyes go all wide and he looks fuckin’ crazy, like Mad Max.”

“I see,” she said, glancing toward the trailer. I waited, but she kept her mouth closed. Smart girl. I’d be damned if I’d let her off the hook that easy, though.

“So aren’t you gonna ask?” Silence fell between us, then she opened her mouth.

“So why are you called Horse?”

“’Cause I’m hung like one,” I replied, unable to control my smirk. She blushed hard and ducked in the car. I had to jump back and away as she jammed it into gear and peeled out of the driveway.

Now
that
was fun.

And weird.

I still wanted to nail her, probably more now than before. But that little exchange—bite and all—that’d been better than the average blow job.

Go figure.

________

“The money’s all there,” I said, clicking through the list of accounts. I glanced over at Jeff, who sat by the kitchen bar smoking a little glass pipe. He’d gone from jittery to stoned in the time I’d been outside with Marie. Hadn’t seen that coming. Pic must’ve really wanted the asshole to shut up, because normally he’d never tolerate someone getting faded before business was finished.

“Of course it’s all there,” Jeff said lazily. “I already told you. It was just a little mistake and I fixed it. I don’t know why you got so worked up about it.”

“I got worked up because I thought you were stealing,” I replied. “And you know what happens to people who steal from the club. We need to go over the rules again?”

Jeff took a long hit, then started coughing, smoke shooting out of his nose in little puffs. He grabbed his beer and sucked it down before answering.

“You don’t have to keep threatening me. I knew what I was
getting into. We’ve been working together for nearly two years and I’ve never screwed you, have I? Trust needs to go both ways.”

Max snorted and for once I didn’t consider telling him to shut up.

“Tell me about your sister.”

Jeff’s face sobered and he set down his pipe.

“Marie’s been through a lot,” he replied. “She doesn’t need any more trouble, Horse.”

“Who hit her?”

“Her husband,” Jeff said. “Always hated him. She left his ass, thank God. She deserves a little happiness. No offense, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave her alone.”

“Now you’re telling me what to do?”

Jeff straightened, and for the first time in a year he looked almost like a man instead of a weasel.

“She’s a good girl, Horse,” he said firmly. “She’s been through hell, she’s finally free, and she doesn’t need anyone new in her life. She needs to get a divorce and go to school and then meet some nice guy with a steady job who’ll treat her like a queen. Let it go.”

“Damn, that almost sounded like something a decent human being would say,” Max muttered. “I think we may have a body snatchers situation going on here.”

“Think what you like,” Jeff said, shrugging. “But it’s the truth. She’s rid of Gary and pretty soon she’s gonna realize she’s free to do anything she wants. I won’t have her wasting that freedom on some biker who’ll treat her like shit. And don’t bother waiting for her to come back. I already texted her and told her to stay away.”

I shrugged, not entirely surprised. When a chick bit my ear and told me to fuck off, it wasn’t usually a sign I’d be getting laid that night. My cock might be pissed about it, but I’d started to realize just how much more I wanted from Marie. Hot pussy crawled out of the woodwork at the club, nothing special about it . . .

A sweet girl like her was a hell of a lot harder to find.

Jeff sat waiting, apparently expecting some sort of violent outburst, so I gave him a nice big smile, just to fuck with his head.

“Tell her I said good-bye,” I told him. “I’ll be back before long to check up on things. I’ve got what I need, should be able to monitor the rest from home.”

I looked to my brothers to make sure he hadn’t missed something. Max cracked his knuckles and Picnic nodded, satisfied.

“I don’t want to breathe in any more of Jeff-hole’s secondhand smoke,” I said. “You ready, Pic?”

“Sure,” Picnic replied, and Max pulled himself up off the couch, stretching. Thankfully, Jeff kept his stupid mouth shut as we went outside.

Night had fallen, and while the air was still warm, it didn’t hold the punishing heat we’d experienced earlier. Riding home across the desert wouldn’t be half bad.

I kicked my bike to life, following my club president down the long driveway through the apple trees.

Hadn’t been such a shitty trip after all.

Hopefully, Marie wouldn’t tear up my other ear too bad during our next fight.

Marie’s Bread Recipe

Ingredients

4 ½ teaspoons (or two packets) of rapid rise yeast 2 ½ cups warm water

1 tablespoon salt

1 tablespoon olive oil

2 handfuls mixed grated cheese (your choice—I often just grab an Italian mix) 1/4 cup (approximately) grated parmesan 2 large spoonfuls chopped garlic (slightly less if using fresh garlic, although I often use the prepared chopped garlic in a bottle for convenience—if it’s a squeeze bottle, I do two very large gloops) Italian herb mix 1 egg white mixed with 1 tablespoon cold water Corn meal

Preparation

Note: I use a Kitchenaid mixer with a dough hook to make bread. If you make the bread by hand, follow basic bread dough preparation instructions out of any cookbook
.

Put warm water and yeast in mixing bowl and allow to proof (3-4 minutes). Follow with flour and salt, then add in oil, two handfuls of cheese, garlic, and a generous shake of Italian herb mix. (I’ve never measured this, but don’t be afraid to pour it on—the recipe makes two loaves of bread, which means you want to put in plenty.) Allow dough hook to mix until the bread is fully kneaded. (About four minutes on my machine.) Place bread in a greased bowl and allow to double in size. Punch down, then divide into two parts. Using a rolling pin, spread each dough ball out into a rectangle, then roll up along the long side to create a skinny loaf. Place on a baking pan that’s been lined with
foil, greased, and sprinkled with cornmeal. (Be sure the seam is on the bottom.) Allow to rise until double in size.

Before baking bread, make four thin slices diagonally across the top to give it some texture, then sprinkle with parmesan. Bake at 450 for 20 minutes, then remove from oven. Brush with egg white mixed with cold water to create a glaze. Cook for an additional five minutes then allow to cool before slicing.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:
The top request I get from readers is for a short story about Horse and Marie, telling what happened to them after
Reaper’s Property.
“Skunked” is that story. If you haven’t read
Reaper’s Property
, you can still read “Skunked”—it doesn’t have any plot spoilers, aside from the fact that
Reaper’s Property
ended with them together as a couple, which shouldn’t come as a huge surprise for most romance readers
.

“
Skunked” takes place several years after the end of
Reaper’s Property.
I got the idea late one night after something rather unpleasant happened with our dog
. . .

SKUNKED

Christ, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this tired.

We’d been on a five-day run to Boise and had spent the night before camped out. I was tired, grumpy, and more than a little horny—something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the bitch who’d kept grabbing for my cock at the last clubhouse we’d visited. I’d managed to fight her off, but this celibacy shit was getting old.

I wanted my old lady, and I wanted her now.

Turning down our driveway, I saw Marie’s car in front of the house. She hadn’t answered her phone all day—this wasn’t like her. I’d assumed if something was really wrong, someone would’ve gotten hold of me. Still, it was a relief to find her at home. I wanted a cold beer, a hot shower, and a blow job.

Could only accomplish two of the three on my own.

Parking my bike, I decided to leave my saddlebags for now and head toward the house. The door wasn’t locked. I stepped into the living room, looking around for her. The lights were on and so was
the TV, but no sign of my girl.

“Marie?”

Nothing.

I passed through the living room and started down the hallway toward the kitchen.

“Babe, you in here?”

“In the back,” she replied, her voice faint. Entering the kitchen, I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she seemed out of it—almost dazed.

“What the fuck’s going on?” I asked. She jumped, looking toward me with something like fear in her expression. Jesus, had someone hurt her? A burst of adrenaline rushed through me—nobody touched my woman. I’d fucking kill them. She didn’t say anything, though. “Marie?”

She shook herself, almost as if she needed to wake up.

“Sorry, I was sort of lost in my thoughts.”

“What’s going on?”

She stared at me for several seconds, her mouth tight. “We need to talk.”

Great—words every man loves to hear. So much for my “welcome home” blow job.

“About what?” I asked warily.

“Sit down,” she murmured, glancing away from me. “You want a beer?”

Up to that point, a beer had been damned high on my list of priorities. Now? Not so much. I pulled out a chair at the big wooden block that served as our kitchen table and sat down with a thump, leaning back. Then I crossed my arms over my chest.