Roped (9 page)

Tek’s head spun with the sudden shift in position, and he found himself on his back, blinking up at a grinning Jamie who was now straddling Tek’s waist. Jamie grabbed Tek’s arms while he was still somewhat dazed and stretched them up over his head, effectively pinning him.

“What the—”

“I knew you wanted to be a cocksucker,” Jamie laughed. “I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“You are such a jerk! Get off me,” Tek demanded and tried to throw Jamie off.

The strong bastard pressed down his full weight on Tek and locked his legs around Tek’s thighs. They were stretched out, pressed against each other from chest to toe; the only parts of their bodies not touching were their heads and necks, but only by a few inches.

“Make me.” Jamie snorted. “In fact, I’ll make you a little bet.”

“A bet, huh?” Tek asked suspiciously.

“Yup.”

Tek opened and closed his fists a couple of times, testing the hold Jamie had on his wrists. He also flexed his legs but again found that Jamie’s hold was pretty secure. With a well-timed head butt along with a shift in his weight, Tek might just be able to throw Jamie off.

“Alright, let’s hear this bet,” Tek urged.

“You throw me off, and I’ll suck your dick. If you can’t, well then…” Jamie waggled his brows again. “You know.”

“You’ll still suck mine?” Tek asked hopefully.

Jamie made an annoyed sound and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine,” Tek conceded. “If I can’t, I suck yours. Deal.”

“Don’t you want to hear the rules first? Every
fair
match has ground rules.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes. Rule one, no biting. Rule two, no drawing blood, and rule three, no head butting.” Jamie winked knowingly. “This is a nice friendly match of strength against strength.”

“How is this a fair wager with you already having the upper hand by being on top, hmm?”

“Because the last time we wrestled, you started out on top. And if I remember correctly, I won,” Jamie beamed.

“That’s because you cheated,” Tek mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Tek demurred. “Okay, deal. On three.”

“And no throwing the match just so you can suck my dick,” Jamie snorted.

“Three,” Tek burst out and arched his back while at the same time clenching his hands into tight fists and pulling downward.

“Fucking cheat,” Jamie growled.

Tek matched grunt for grunt and curse for curse as he struggled against the hold Jamie had on him. A quick change in position had him gaining an inch, only to have Jamie shift and the hard-fought inch was lost. Muscles strained and bulged, sweat beaded on his brow, and Tek battled hard, but no matter how hard he struggled, Jamie kept the upper hand—never giving more than an inch. The bed creaked and groaned with the weight, threatening to give way, but Tek ignored the danger and pushed himself hard, thrashing, pulling, and pushing.

“Do you give?” Jamie taunted.

“Never!” Tek roared.

Tek snapped his hips, ignoring the pain in his surprisingly hard cock as it slammed against Jamie’s. When the hell had that happened? Just moments before he’d have sworn he wouldn’t have been able to achieve an erection. Yet the slip and slide of sweat-slick bodies, the power, strength, and Jamie’s breath against Tek’s lips was one hell of a powerful aphrodisiac. He was cocked and loaded, and not just for a fight.

Jamie’s eyes darkened, the lust evident in them and in the hardness of his cock against Tek’s. If Tek couldn’t overpower Jamie with brute force, maybe he could…. Tek grinned, relaxed his arms and legs, and rolled his hips. Then he did it again and again and again.

“Bastard,” Jamie groaned.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Tek sniffed and started thrusting his hips, setting a quick, gentle rhythm.

Jamie hissed through gritted teeth and increased the hold he had on Tek’s legs, no doubt trying to stop the movement of Tek’s hips, but it only succeeded in grinding their cocks even harder together.

Another idea popped into Tek’s head, and he hid his smirk by pressing his mouth against Jamie’s and teasing Jamie’s bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Tek then sucked it into his mouth, scraped his teeth against it softly, never slowing the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Da…. Damn you,” Jamie groaned and squeezed his eyes closed.

Tek continued to lick and nip until Jamie was trembling against him and the grip on Tek’s wrists began to slacken ever so slightly.
Almost
. Jamie groaned and turned his head, but Tek wasn’t about to be deterred.

“God, I want to suck you off so bad,” he murmured seductively. He licked a path from Jamie’s jaw up his cheek to the sensitive spot just below Jamie’s ear. “Wrap my lips around your cock, suck and taste.”

Jamie’s trembling increased.
Gotcha, big guy
.

“Junior, Tek,” Jamie’s dad bellowed, followed by hard raps against the door. “Rocco has called a meeting.”

Jamie jerked sideways at the same time Tek rolled, and then they were flying, only to land with a hard thump on the floor, Tek landing on top of Jamie.

Tek instantly sat back on Jamie’s thighs and threw his hands in the air. “I won!” he hooted victoriously. “I win! I win! I win!”

“Boys! Stop fucking around, and let’s go!” Smokey demanded.

Jamie’s gaze landed on Tek’s straining cock. “Yeah, stop fucking around,” he grunted, shoving hard against Tek’s chest—sending him flailing backward. Jamie slid out from under Tek and jumped to his feet. “Fucking cheater!”

Tek could only stare up at Jamie’s scowling face and laugh. The deeper the scowl, the harder Tek laughed until he was clutching his stomach and tears streamed from his eyes.

Jamie put his hands on his hips and puffed up a little, obviously in an attempt to look intimidating. “Yuk it up, dickweed. I will have my revenge.”

“How…. Oh shit…. How can I take you seriously?” he squeaked out between snorts of laughter. The giggles took hold of him, robbing him of any more words, and he could only point and laugh at Jamie’s erection.

“Such a child,” Jamie chastised, but he barely got the words out before he fell into a laughing fit of his own.

T
HE
EASY
and jubilant feelings of the morning were washed away, leaving behind a somber disposition and angry knot churning in Tek’s belly as he sat in the club meeting room and listened to Rocco speak.

“The Bangers are pissed, and we can be damn sure they will attempt retribution. We need intel,” Rocco mused aloud. He turned to Cole. “What have you got on their recent movements?”

“Not much,” Cole admitted. “We lost our inside guy. Jester got ninety in county on a parole violation.”

“Shit,” Rocco cursed. He ran a hand over the gray scruff on his chin.

Rocco looked tired. Ever since the shit went down in the warehouse, Tek’s mom had been riding Rocco’s ass hard for putting her boy in danger like that. It seemed ridiculous to Tek since Carla had been helping to cultivate him into a leader of the MC. She’d been part of Crimson VIII since she was eighteen, knew the dark and ugly side of it. But in her own twisted way was still a mom, and in her eyes, any threat to her son was a direct threat to her—something Carla Cain-Lundy didn’t take lightly. She was one tough chick and didn’t take shit from anyone, including her husband.

“I don’t know why we don’t just go in and take the dopers out,” Sully put in. “We have the manpower.”

“That would be a clusterfuck of stupid,” Smokey retorted. “Feds are all over our asses. They know we had something to do with the warehouse explosion and are just looking for an excuse to bring us down.”

Jamie shot a questioning look at Tek, who just shrugged. Tek had nothing to add, no plan, and he just wanted to forget the whole ugliness of what happened in that warehouse. The only time he could do that was when he was alone with Jamie; the rest of the time, what he did, what he’d been forced to do haunted him.

Tek pulled his pack of smokes from his pocket and tapped one out. He slid one between his teeth and lit it, pulling a deep drag into his lungs and letting it out slowly. The nicotine helped to calm his nervousness, but not much.

He’d never questioned the dealings of the club before, blindly following every order without hesitation, but something shifted inside him in that warehouse. The dark place he could go to, the coldness, scared him. The fact that he could put a gun to an unarmed man’s head and squeeze the trigger so easily, without thought or an ounce of care for another human being, not only scared Tek, but horrified him.

“Gunner!” Rocco yelled, snapping Tek out of his musings.

“Huh….” He scanned the faces around the table, all eyes on him. “What?”

“I said you need to hook up with that little blonde you were with the other night,” Rocco informed him. “What was her name?” Rocco snapped his fingers repeatedly as if it would help him remember.

“Donna,” Cole reminded him.

“That’s it! Donna. She used to run with one of the Bangers. See what you can get from her. Fuck it out of her if you have to,” Rocco ordered.

Tek felt Jamie stiffen next to him, and he stole a glance to see Jamie scowl. Tek placed the cigarette back between his teeth and nodded at Rocco, knowing full well he wouldn’t break his promise to Jamie. But Tek could tell from the way Jamie stayed tense at his side, he had his doubts. The idea that Jamie didn’t trust his word both hurt Tek’s heart and pissed him off in equal measures. They would need to talk about that later.

“Buck, Junior, I want you two to scope out the Bangers clubhouse. I need numbers, see if they have hooked up with another club, pulled in rogue members.”

Buck—whose real name was Eugene Buckler, one of the best hog mechanics in the club—and Jamie both nodded.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Tek questioned. “The guy you sent back with the knife in his nuts will be able to recognize Junior here,” he said, stabbing a thumb in Jamie’s direction. “Why not send one of the new prospects?”

“Boy, are you questioning me?” Rocco challenged and slammed his hand down on the table.

“I just thought—”

“You don’t think the Bangers already know what each and every one of us look like, including the new prospects? They may be dopers, but you’re a fucking idiot if you underestimate an opponent, especially a greedy one. I guaran-fucking-tee you they are scoping us out.”

Tek bristled at being chastised like a child in front of the other members, but he clenched his jaw shut, keeping the protest from escaping.

“Alright, let’s get this shit done,” Rocco added and brought his gavel down on the table, effectively ending the meeting.

As they shuffled out of the room, Jamie pushed up close to Tek and whispered, “You need to stop trying to protect me in front of the others.”

“And you need to learn to trust me,” Tek countered and walked away.

I was so eager to please, to fit in. I wanted to be like the others, accepted. I was ignorant in my youth. Fitting in meant becoming cold-blooded. The cold is unforgiving. It wraps itself around a man, penetrates his very core, freezes the very blood within his veins.

Heat is required to forge anything. Without it, life cannot exist.

Tek Cain

J
AMIE
ROLLED
his shoulders and tried to do his best to stretch his aching legs in the confines of the VW bug. He’d been sitting inside the cramped space for the last two hours staring at the front door of the Lucky Strike Saloon that the Westside Bangers used as a clubhouse, watching doper after hooker after junkie going in and out. A man his size was not made to be in such a small vehicle.

Jamie turned and frowned at Buck. “Did you have to borrow the smallest car you could find?”

“Borrow? Hell, this is my car,” Buck sniffed.

“Seriously, dude? You bought a yellow bug on purpose?” Jamie shook his head. “Where are your balls, my man?”

“I have to keep them in the trunk,” Buck chuckled.

Jamie glanced toward the back of the car and arched a brow.

“No, dumbass, up there,” Buck corrected him and nodded toward the front of the car.

Jamie shifted in his seat, wincing at the pain in his ass, and resumed watching the front door of the bar. “Another reason to hate this car. Not only is it small, it’s bassackward,” he huffed.

“It’s cute,” Buck defended.

Jamie snapped his head around and gaped at Buck. Buck wasn’t as big as Jamie—standing around five ten—but he was stocky, well built. His long scraggly hair hung to his waist when he didn’t have it braided, which he often did along with the beard that hung halfway down his gut. His arms were covered in tattoos: skulls, pinup girls, devils, weapons, manly shit. All that, plus the fact the man could tear down a car engine and put it back together in record time, and he drove a goddamn bug?

Jamie gave up on trying to puzzle it out and slumped down in the seat. “You are seriously one weird dude,” Jamie stated and turned once again to his target.

“I can live with that.”