RIDE (A Stone Kings Motorcycle Club Romance) (24 page)

I
heard
his footsteps coming down the hall before I saw him. The peroxide-blond bartender who had gone back to get him reappeared, her eyes flicking momentarily toward me and then looking away nervously. Behind her, Grey emerged.

He was wearing a dark gray T-shirt that accentuated the muscles in his chest and arms, and worn, faded jeans that looked so soft I wanted to touch them. Standing there watching the muscled fluidity of his movements sent my mind back to the last time I’d seen him, to what he had done to me, and I felt my face flush.
Dammit
. I stood up taller, squaring my shoulders. I couldn’t let myself think about that now.

Grey stopped about three feet in front of me. His eyes raked lazily down and then up my body, stopping occasionally to linger a second or two too long. “To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips turning up in a sexy, infuriating half-grin.

“I need to talk to you,” I said coldly.

“You’re talking already,” he observed, his grin getting a little wider.

“In private,” I said angrily through clenched teeth. I nodded my head toward the blond bartender, who was pretending not to listen to our conversation.

Grey chuckled and held up his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender. “Okay, whatever you need, sweetheart.”

“And don’t call me sweetheart.”

“Right this way, sugar,” he replied without skipping a beat. Turning, he motioned for me to follow him down the dark hallway. At the end of the corridor, he pushed open a door and motioned for me to step inside. Only once he had followed me in and closed the door did I realize that maybe it hadn’t been the best decision to ask to be alone with him.

“So.” Grey leaned against his desk and crossed his arms. He cocked his head at me with that perpetually amused smirk on his face. “What did you want to ‘talk’ to me about?” His mocking tone implied that I had other motives. I was instantly furious with him for suggesting that I was here because of what had happened between us last time, but told myself to keep my cool and not let him goad me.

“You didn’t tell me you were the club president,” I accused him.

“You didn’t ask me.” Grey pointed out.

“Doesn’t that seem like the kind of thing you would have told me?”

“I don’t see why,” he shrugged. “You’re not in the club.”

“But my
brother
is.”

“So what?” he challenged.

“So
what
?!” I cried. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” Grey said coolly. “His life is his life. Your life is yours.”

“Grey, he’s my brother. He’s practically my only family,” I pleaded.

“He’s a consenting adult.” His voice was a statement not a question. I colored.

“I know. I know,” I said. Suddenly, my emotions threatened to overcome me and I had to fight to blink back angry, frustrated tears.

Grey’s tone softened. “So… what are you saying?” he asked more gently.

I cleared my throat and willed my voice not to crack. “I came to ask you a favor,” I said, more loudly than I had intended.

His half-smile returned. “I thought you weren’t here about that.”

“Goddamnit, stop being so infuriating! I’m serious!” I cried.

He made a half-effort to stop smiling, but his eyes still twinkled with merriment. “Okay. What’s the favor?”

“I want you to…” I stumbled over the wording. “Un-prospect Cal.”

A low laugh came rumbling from deep in his throat. “You want me to do what?”

“Un-prospect him,” I repeated more firmly. “Whatever it’s called. I want you to refuse to let him into the club.”

“Seton,” Grey began. The twinkle in his eyes disappeared. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“What? Why?” I demanded, incredulous. “You can do it, right? You’re the president. You can do anything.”

“I can. I could. But I won’t.” His expression was set, his jaw firm.

“Why not?” I cried. “Why can’t you do this?” I tried not to say it, but I couldn’t stop myself. “For me?”

He gave me a long, penetrating look, then shook his head. “I’m not going to mix up the club’s business and… this,” he said. “They need to be kept separate. That’s my job as president: to keep my personal life from affecting decisions about the club.”

“Grey, please,” I begged. “He’s too young. He’s only nineteen.”

“I was seventeen when I prospected,” he remarked with a smirk.

“That’s different. You’re… he’s…” I stammered.

“Not trash?” he smirked, a challenge in his eye.

“That’s… no! That’s not what I meant!”

“What did you mean, then?” he growled.

“Just that…” I struggled to find the words. “He’s not tough enough.”

“That’s for the club to decide,” he retorted. “That’s what prospecting is about.”

I tried again. “Look, he’s… he’s too immature. He’s never thad to handle anything really tough in his life. He doesn’t have what it takes to do this.” I looked at him. “Please.”

“He’s got to grow up some time,” Grey said.

“Not this way.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t act like his mom,” he growled.

“If I acted like his mom, I wouldn’t give a shit,” I shot back.

The words came out of my mouth without me wanting them to. I stomped my foot in exasperation. He had no right to know about our personal family history. He knew too much already.

Grey’s expression changed, to something I couldn’t quite read. He stood up slowly, and came toward me until he was standing only inches away. I should have moved back, but I didn’t.

“Seton,” he said softly. His hand came up and cupped my chin. “I’m sorry.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “I know about your dad. That he was killed. That it was a Stone King who did it.”

I froze. I did not want to have this conversation. Not with Grey. Not with anyone.

“I didn’t know who Cal was when he started hanging around,” he continued. “That he was Clayton Greenlee’s son. I didn’t know that until after I met you. I promise you that.” He raised my chin until I was looking him in the eye. “I promise,” he repeated. I looked away and nodded reluctantly.

“But it wouldn’t have changed anything if I had,” he resumed. “I’m not going to make Cal’s decisions for him. If he wants to do this, then we’ll see if he’s cut out for it. Maybe he won’t be, like you say. But if he is,” he said gently, “then it’s his choice.”

I looked away from his penetrating gaze. I couldn’t speak. I hated what was happening. I hated it so much. But in spite of myself, a part of me had to admit that Grey was right. Tears sprang to my eyes again, and I swallowed and fought to keep them back. Then, with a gentleness that surprised me, Grey’s thumb brushed against my cheek. His head bent, and his lips came down on mine.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was returning his kiss. His tongue find mine, his beard rough against my skin. I moaned into his mouth as he reached back and fisted my fingers in his hair. It was as though we were devouring each other. I lost myself in him, and when he broke the kiss I was left breathless, panting.

He groaned my name: “Seton. Christ, Seton.”

I told myself to stop. I told myself to remember why I was there. But when his lips moved to my neck, everything else just fell away.

His breath singed my skin as he began to kiss and lick at my neck and the soft, vulnerable lobe of my ear. I shuddered as I felt his lips travel further down toward the hollow of my collar bone, tasting me as he went. It felt like my insides had turned to liquid, and the throbbing between my legs was so intense that I wondered in a haze if I would come just like this. I heard myself moaning, but I wasn’t in control of any of the sounds that escaped me.

Grey’s other hand moved up to my breast, cupping it. He growled in appreciation. “Fuck, Seton, you’re so goddamn gorgeous. Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about this?”

My only reply was a moan as his mouth moved lower, skimming my nipple through my T-shirt and bra. It felt like fire. I threw back my head and moaned his name. “Greyson, God, please…”

His teeth nipped through the fabric at my nipple, which felt as hard as a diamond under his touch. Each little nip sent an electric current through my body that ran straight to my core. The throbbing between my legs grew even more intense, and for a moment, I was sure I was going to come like that if he continued. But I needed more. So much more. “Greyson,” I whimpered urgently.

He seemed to know exactly what I wanted. Leaning me back against the desk, he swept an arm behind me and cleared everything off the top of it. Objects fell to the floor with a crash. I should have been worried that the noise would bring someone, but I didn’t care. I was too far gone. He reached up and pulled my T-shirt off over my head, and with a flick of his fingers the bra was unhooked, and soon that was gone, too, and I was lying there in front of him, naked from the waist up. Greyson drew back for a second to look at me. “God damn, woman,” he said in a low growl. “You are going to be the death of me.”

He lay me back on the table and moved over me. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he mutters. His eyes were hooded with desire, his half-grin animal, almost savage. My lips parted involuntarily, and then his head came down and he began to tease my nipples, first one and then the other. His lips lightly nibbled me, his tongue flicking at the sensitive nubs, and I cried out. My hands went to his hair and I held him there. The pleasure was almost unbearable. I wanted it never to stop, but I wanted… I
needed
… so much more. My moans became increasingly desperate, the throb between my legs becoming an ache that begged to be relieved.

“Please…” I whispered again.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled, his lips brushing against my nipples as he spoke. “Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“Greyson, please,” I said urgently. “Please make me come. I can’t take anymore.”

He raised his head and moved up until we were face to face. Instinctively, I spread my legs, thrusting my hips upward to meet his hardness. It felt so good that I gasped, and thrust again, desperate for relief. He was huge with need, hard as steel, and his dark eyes told me beyond a shadow of a doubt how much he wanted me.

“Remember what I told you last time?” he growled.

“Yes,” I said breathlessly. If only he knew how many times I’d brought myself to orgasm thinking about it.

“I told you I was going to lick your pussy until you came, and then I was going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Yes,” I said again. I needed it so badly.

He laughed, a low throaty sound. “Buckle up, sweetheart.”

He unbuttoned my shorts, pulling them roughly over my hips, then stepped back to look at me. “Blue,” he said, a slight grin playing across his face.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Nothing,” he said, chuckling. Then, in one motion, he reached down with both hands and ripped the fabric of my panties, tearing them off of me. My eyes widened as he growled in satisfaction. He traced one finger slowly up my thigh, the softest touch possible, and I gasped and writhed at his touch. My legs widened involuntarily as his finger found my center. “Jesus…” he hissed. “You’re so fucking wet. You’re so wet for me.”

I almost felt embarrassed, but then his finger began to trace a pattern from my opening up to my desperate clit, and I cried out in pleasure, lifting my hips toward his touch. He grabbed my thighs and pushed me back on the desk until my legs were spread and my feet were on the surface. He stopped and looked at me, and his tongue licked across his lips in anticipation. I started to close my legs, momentarily self-conscious, but he barked, “Stop. Don’t move.”

I froze like that as I watched him undo the top button of his jeans, then the next, until the soft, worn fabric fell away to the floor. Underneath, he was not wearing underwear, and his erection snapped to attention before me. My eyes widened at the full glory of him: the muscular, tattooed chest, the hard, taut abs, his gorgeous, thick cock. I wanted so much, I wanted everything, right now. I reached for him but he shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

Then he spread my legs and leaned down, and I lost what little control I still possessed. His tongue began to lick a path up my inner thigh, slowing as it reached my clit. He teased me, drawing circles around it but avoiding the spot that he knew I wanted him to touch, and I whimpered and tried to move toward him. With an impatient sound, he grabbed my hips and braced me so I can’t move, then continued his torture, tongue flicking and teasing until I was afraid I’d lose my mind.

Then, when I was about to cry out in frustration, his tongue moved to the spot I so needed it to find. I gasped as he began to tease my clit, lapping at it, sucking it into his mouth, loving it. I moaned and thrashed, needing to come so desperately but at the same time wanting it to go on forever. He pulled away for a moment, sensing I was on the edge, then after a second resumed teasing me. I was panting, my breasts rising and falling rapidly as I hurtled closer and closer to the edge. A low groan escaped him, vibrating against my skin, and I cried out again. I felt his hand leave my hip then, and from the motion of his arm I realized he had begun to stroke himself slowly as he licked and tasted me. The image of his hand stroking his rock hard cock was too much for me to bear, and I shattered, calling out his name as I came in wave after wave.

I was still coming when Grey stood and reached into the desk drawer. I was dimly aware of the rustle of a condom wrapper, and then he was inside me, filling me as I continue to come. Grey groaned sharply as he entered me, and my hips raised to meet his as he began to thrust, hard, violent thrusts that made me come harder. He groaned my name and thrust a final time, and then I felt him pulse inside me as he came. I clung to his arms as they held my hips. It felt like the world had stopped spinning.

I have no idea how long we remained like that, breathing heavily, waiting for our hearts to stop pounding. Eventually, Grey reached down and gathered me up in his arms. His lips found mine and he kissed me, deeply, almost tenderly. I returned his kiss, wondering even as I did what in God’s name I had just gotten myself into.