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  And just like that, all thoughts of leaving his bed disappeared. He kissed his way up her torso from between her breasts to her neck before pausing to suck her earlobe into his mouth. She couldn’t hold back a groan, not wanting him to stop

  “Feel what you do to me,” he murmured. “I woke up with a hard on the size of a baseball bat.” He grasped her hand and plunged it between their bodies, and then urged her to wrap her fingers around the thick length of his penis. He felt hot and hard, soft skin over a rigid steel interior. She remembered only too well how good he had felt rubbing against her from behind. She couldn’t help but fantasize about him sliding inside of her, her legs clutched around his waist.

  She ran her thumb over the head, causing him to moan. Damn, she loved the sounds he made.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered. “Who knew wakin’ up next to a woman could feel so damn good? Now, give it a good stroke.”

  She did, jerking her fingers up and down, making him growl, low and slow in response. His back had arched, his teeth sank into his lower lip, and his hips thrust in time with her movements. He jerked the covers from his lap and she leaned on her elbow, so she could see his cock, a thick tower of flesh. He had dark black curls at the base and it strained in her grasp, the veins bulging, and the head a purplish pink color.

  And touching him made her even wetter. She tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t. When, she couldn’t take it anymore, she reached between her thighs with her other hand, feeling her own wetness. She had never responded this way to Carl’s touch. She teased herself and, then on impulse, touched a damp finger to the head. His big blue eyes turned to gray smoke and he growled in response.

  She bent and lapped at him then. She’d never really enjoyed giving blow jobs, it always seemed so awkward, or maybe she just didn’t enjoy giving them to her ex. But Ryker? It had been sexy as hell, especially when he’d held her hands captive and thrust in and out of her mouth and thinking about it now gave her shivers.

  She worked him now with slow glides of her tongue up and down the turgid flesh. He plunged a hand in her hair and held the back of her head, driving his cock into her throat. Again and again.

  Finally, he released her.

  “Christ, you have a mouth that won’t quit, but I need in your pussy,” he gasped, pulling her away so he could pin her with his gaze. “I gotta fuck you, didn’t get the chance to last night,” he muttered.

  She gasped in response. She’d never been one for dominating, possessive men, but with Ryker? It worked. Make her crave to submit, satisfy his sexual cravings. God knows, he was a generous lover. She’d never had an orgasm like it in her life.

  Another thought occurred to her and she hated to bring it up, but she had to.

  “If we are going to…” she hesitated a moment, unsure what to call what they were about to do. Making love? Nope, too hearts and flowers. Having? Vaginal intercourse? No, sounded too clinical.

  “Fuck?” he supplied.

  If he wasn’t so handsome, she would have smacked him. She tried to gather her thoughts and get to the point. “I am on birth control, force of habit I guess, but I don’t have a condom with me. I haven’t been with anybody in a couple of years. What about you?”

  He shook his head. “It’s been a lot less than that for me, but I’m clean. I get tested regularly.” He pinned her with his eyes. “I always use condoms at the club. But, you should know somethin’, I don’t bring women here. Ever.”

  She bit her lip, pleased he’d made an exception for her, but really not wanting to be reminded of the hordes of women he probably slept with.

  He took her face between his hands, gazed into her eyes. His thumb brushed against her cheek. “I don’t know why, exactly, but I don’t want anything in between us. Not clothing. Not space. I want skin on skin. But if you really want me to, I’ll use one.”

  She didn’t know what she wanted. The way he’d put it? Sounded so intimate. But who knows how many women he’d used the line on? He’d already admitted to sleeping around at the bar.

  For all she knew, he could be a walking petri dish.

  He rolled to the edge of the bed, grasped her by the ankles and pulled her down. He pushed his hand between her legs, cupping her sex. “Tell me you want me bareback or tell me to put on a rubber,” he growled. “I can’t take much more waiting.”

  Gazing down, she saw six feet of bad ass biker standing between her legs. Naked. Aroused. So damn hungry for her. She didn’t think any man had ever looked at her that way. Like he wanted to jump on her, screw her until she screamed. She wanted to be close to him as well, wanted the entire length of him deep inside her with no barriers.

  But she hardly knew the man and it just sounded too risky. Safety won out. “I need you to use a condom.”

  He stared down at her, his heated eyes focused between her legs. His body shook and he clutched her knees, but he finally nodded.

  “The prospects are supposed to make sure we all have a supply of rubbers.” His voice had a harsh, raspy edge.

  “Prospect?” she asked.

  “A guy who wants to join the club,” he answered distractedly as he searched through the nightstand drawer. “They pay their dues mostly doing grunt work for members, until we see if they are worthy to be one of the Horsemen.” He finally slammed the drawer shut. “Shit. Of course the idiot didn’t put them in my nightstand drawer. Guess it’s too fucking obvious.” He stalked off to the bathroom.

  The Horsemen screwed so many women that they needed a flunky to fill up their condom stash?! Evidently, he wasn’t the only slut in the group. She sat awkwardly on the bed, suddenly very glad she’d asked him to wear a rubber.

  He returned triumphantly a moment later with a little plastic packet in hand. “We’re in luck and its even ribbed for her pleasure,” he murmured. He stood between her legs once more, settling his hands on her thighs and squeezing them slightly.

  His eyes drifted to her sex again and he licked his lips. “Tell me you want my big hard cock in your pussy,” he goaded. “I want you to say the words.”

  She could feel herself flushing again. Dirty talk had never done anything for her before, but his rough words excited her and she got even wetter. She needed him. Now. She splayed her legs on either side of his hips, wide open for him. He rolled the condom over the length of his cock as she watched, mesmerized. “I want… I want your cock in my pussy.”

  And then he was on her.

  He prodded her with his head, glided it against her inflamed sex until she gasped. “Christ, you have a silky pussy, all hot and wet.” Then, he plunged the tip inside her, creating a maddening friction. Pleasurable, but not nearly enough to quench the ache it created. He sank into her fully then and she cradled him with her thighs, wanting him in as deep as he would go. She could feel his balls settle against her ass as he lunged into her.

  She circled her hips, meeting his thrusts. It had never been this intense for her. He slammed into her hard, claiming her body and it seemed to submit him without question, moving with his rhythm. With a grunt, he lifted her legs up to his shoulders and rocked even deeper inside her. She gasped at the further intrusion.

  Then he began to pump ferociously, wilder than she could have imagined. Ryker’s scorching gaze slid over her body. He ran his hands along her thighs, which were pressed tight against his chest. “Mine,” he growled. “All mine.”

  And that’s exactly what she felt like. His.

  He angled his body a bit, so his pubic bone abraded her clit with his every thrust. She moaned at the contact. Soon, she couldn’t take it anymore and neither could he. With a howl, he came and she followed him down. Into oblivion.

  ***

  After they both recovered, he’d scooped her up against his body once more and kissed the top of her head. “Damn, that was amazing,” he muttered.

  She laid her head on his chest, closed her eyes briefly. She hadn’t felt this good in months, so relaxed and sated. “I completely agree.”

  Minutes
later, he smacked a hand on his stomach, rubbing. “I’ve worked up one hell of an appetite. What about you?”

  “Yeah, a bit.” She smiled at him, but she felt awkward once more.

  “Excellent. I’ll make us some breakfast.”

  “You cook?” Her eyes rounded, because she couldn’t quite picture him in a kitchen.

  “A bit, although one of my club brothers, Voodoo, would tell you I don’t cook worth a damn. But I got some skills. I’m a single man and my momma raised me right.” He stood up, pulled on his jeans from last night and grabbed a clean black T-shirt from a nearby drawer. He grabbed up the gun and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans, felt like part of his morning routine. Like shaving or strapping on his watch.

  She thought about saying something, but decided against it.

  He smiled at her ruefully. “Unfortunately, I missed the lesson on grocery shopping. All I have is beer and a frozen pizza in my fridge, but Perdition is fully stocked and I feel the need for some bacon and buttermilk biscuits.”

  She scrounged her dress from the floor, feeling more than a little conspicuous, particularly because he had ripped the back of it. She didn’t want to go back to the bar, wearing her clothes from last night. “Oh, I can easily grab a coffee somewhere.”

  “No arguments, Pinky. I’m going to feed you.” He slapped her bottom. “But, you can’t wear the dress. I might have some clothes that would fit you.”

  He rummaged through a drawer and came up with a Queen tank top. It had been cut with pinking shears to further lower the neckline, which left a little saw-toothed design. He also held a pair of nearly threadbare women’s jeans.

  What a choice. She glanced at the pink nightmare in her grasp and then at the obviously skanky girl’s cast-offs. She quickly decided anything would be better than putting on the stupid dress, so she held out a hand for the clothes.

  “These belong to an ex-girlfriend?” she asked, fishing for information. He said he didn’t bring girls from the bar home, but maybe he’d had a relationship sometime in his past?

  “Yeah, I don’t do girlfriends,” he muttered. “Those belong to my mother.”

  She stared at him, open-mouthed. His mother wore these?!

  “Get a move on,” he said. “I’m starving!”

  ***

  Yep, I’m hanging out at a biker bar. Again. The last twenty-four hours hadn’t been exactly normal. Ryker had pulled out a stool for her while he and Fetch, the bartender from last night, went to the kitchen to make some “man food”.

  Thank God for coffee.

  He’d had left her with a Texas-sized mug loaded down with sugar and cream and a pot full of freshly brewed coffee for when supplies ran low. She drank it down gratefully. While not exactly hung over, she did feel a bit tired.

  She couldn’t help but smile about, make that deliciously tired.

  Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her painted on jeans and she barely managed to slide it out. Dipshit calling. Well, texting.

  Carl: Are you busy or something?

  She hit delete. Find a new hobby, Carl. Then, she updated his contact name to Dipshit. Petty? Sure, but it made her laugh.

  He’d been weird at the wedding last night. She hadn’t seen him in months and suddenly he wanted to talk. He had even followed her around the reception, moving with her from table to table and then eventually asked her to dance. At one point, she thought he wanted to kiss her. She’d mumbled some lame excuses and tried her best to avoid him the rest of the night.

  Maybe it had been the bridesmaid dress?

  The neckline had been way too low, not as showy as Lisa’s but still, very provocative. She had been worried her breasts would accidently bounce out of it when she promenaded up the aisle. Or maybe he had a case of wedding jitters and wanted the familiarity of his old girlfriend? Whatever the case, it had been a crappy night.

  She took another sip of her coffee and watched as another biker walked in. Like Ryker, he had the same leather vest, patched with the club logo. He rocked a pair of impossibly tight blue jeans and a red shirt. He poured himself a cup of coffee, then eyed her over the rim of his mug. The biker had scruffy appearance, a very pronounced five o’clock shadow on the lean planes of his face and dark hair fell below his ears, which barely peeked out beneath his ten gallon hat. He wore a pair of cactus cowboy boots to complete the look and she placed him in his early thirties.

  He winked at her. “Mornin’, honey. Ain’t seen you here before.”

  She blinked, startled out of staring at him by his voice. She hadn’t even realized she’d been giving him the once over. She placed her cup on the counter. “Well, I’m new.”

  “I thought so,” he said, getting closer and nudging her shoulder playfully with his elbow. “You’re up early. You a new hellion?” He cocked his head to the side. “Yes, indeed. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.” His voice got lower as he said the last bit.

  She narrowed her eyes at him, not sure exactly what to do in this situation. “I’m not sure what a hellion is, but somehow I can safely say no.”

  To make matters worse, the cute blond biker from last night strolled in, the one who’d been videoing her playing pool. What was his name? Oh, yeah, Shepherd. He stopped to stare at the man seated beside her. “Watch yourself, Cowboy, she’s spoken for. Ryker got his panties in a bunch when I just tried to talk to her last night.”

  Cowboy exploded off the stool like he’d been hit by a cattle prod. “Holy shit!” he bit out. “Sorry, honey. Didn’t know you belonged to anyone. No hard feelings?”

  Ryker had warned the other men off her last night? It’s not like they were dating or something. Odd. But she didn’t see the point in correcting his assumption because it served her purpose. She could play along. For now. “Um, sure.” He took his coffee to the far side of the room.

  Shepherd grabbed a Coke from the industrial steel fridge behind the bar and nodded in her direction. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

  “Morning,” she replied.

  Shepherd leaned over the bar and winked at her. “I haven’t seen Cowboy haul ass like that since the brothers stole his horse as a prank.” She placed him be in his late twenties. He had a rangy build and instead of the leather vest, and he wore a hoodie with Think on Your Sins on the front like the bar mural.

  She smiled in reply.

  “I got to congratulate you on your victory last night. Very nice work, sweetheart. My brothers and I all watched the video. Do you remember me or were you too drunk?”

  “I remember,” she murmured.

  “Anytime you want a beer, it’s on me. In fact, all the brothers will buy you one. Ryker’s been fleecing us for years.” He took a sip of his soda. “Good to see him eat it for a change.”

  She grinned. Always nice to have her pool skills admired. “Thanks.”

  He studied her a minute. “Gotta say, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You seem like a nice girl and you gave us all a good laugh at Ryker’s expense last night. So let me give you a little advice. Ryker doesn't date nice girls. Ryker doesn’t ‘date’ at all. Save yourself some pain and don’t get attached.”

  She had already assumed that once she left the bar, she’d never see him again, despite his assurances this morning he wanted more than a one night stand. He didn’t strike her as the boyfriend type and they lived in two very different worlds. It’s not like he would hold hands with her at the Annual Red Bud festival this week, win her a teddy bear and share some cotton candy or something.

  Leaving him shouldn’t have caused a little pain, but somehow it did. She hardly knew him, had only spent a few hours with him, but she liked him.

  She forced herself to speak. “Got it.”

  “It’s not you, it’s him,” Shepherd assured her, lips tugging into a wry smile. “You might say he’s got no staying power when it comes to the ladies.”

  Yet, he had seemed so warm last night, so giving when she’d been having a ser
ious meltdown and he’d sat with her, talked her out of a deep funk. Maybe that’s why she felt close to him. They had bonded superficially, over a very difficult situation.

  She could feel herself flushing. She really didn’t want to discuss her sex life with a stranger. She raised her chin a notch. “Seriously. You don’t have to give me the brush off for him. I’m not attached or anything. Your message has been received.”

  “Oh, he didn’t send me, sweetheart. This is what I do,” Shepherd assured her. “And don’t take it personal. You’re not the first girl to hear this song.” He looked her dead in the eye. “You won’t be the last either.”

  “How kind,” she said, with only a trace of bitterness. She took a sip of her coffee and decided to ignore the blond biker.

  The sooner she got out of this place, the better off she’d be.

  ***

  “Breakfast is served!” Ryker threw open the double doors to the kitchen, neatly balancing two big plates in his hands. But he nearly flipped his lid when he saw Elizabeth talking to Shepherd.

  “Something I can help you with, brother?” He thought he’d made it perfectly clear she was strictly a no bone. Shepherd flipped him off, then made his way out the door. Cowboy scooped up his coffee mug and followed Shep without so much a glance in his direction.

  Good riddance.

  Shit. He hadn’t expected anybody to hassle her while he’d been cooking or he wouldn’t have left her alone. Most of the guys were still sleeping off booze at this hour.

  “Did he give you any shit?” he asked, setting a plate down in front of her.

  “Nope. Actually, I found it to be an, uh, illuminating talk.”

  Yeah, I bet it was.

  He sat down beside her. The room had gotten decidedly chilly since he left. Spending time at the club had its hazards. His family and friends had a way of blowing right past any boundaries you set, particularly Shepherd. As VP, the guy vetted all prospects and old ladies. He also had some serious sixth sense mojo when it came to reading people, which came in handy at times, but it could be irritating as hell when he put his nose smack dab in the center of your business.