Ride Me Hard: A Biker Romance Serial (The Devil's Host Motorcycle Club Book 1) (5 page)

My body answers with an orgasm that breaks like the tide, an angry wave against a rocky shore. Hard and fast. Inevitable. I shudder, but my cries are trapped at the back of my throat, muffled against his cock.

I’m coming. I’m coming so hard. All over my hand, on the floor in front of him. I feel ruined and perfect. Powerful, desperate and spent. I feel everything at once.

He jerks free of my mouth and pumps himself, painting hot come across my neck and breasts. Just like he promised earlier.
I’m going to come all over them.

He swirls a finger in the mess he’s made—a quick flourish that could be a figure eight even if it does feel like a heart—and swipes it over my bottom lip. “When I’m through with you, I promise you’re going to ache for days and there won’t be an inch of you left that isn’t mine.”

When I’m through with you…

Oh, the sweetness and the sorrow. I’m starting to realize Noah keeps his promises.

T
he front door
slams again, and this time it’s followed by heavy footsteps that rattle the floor under my knees. I jerk back to grab the comforter off the bed—to cover myself—but Noah stops me. With one hand he cups the back of my head and presses my face to his thigh. The gesture feels possessive, protective and almost tender. The reassuring stroke of his thumb against my scalp, up and down, makes me shiver.

It shouldn’t. I should be terrified and embarrassed. Adrenaline should be pumping fresh in my veins, but I’ve got nothing left. I’m naked, on my knees and covered in come, while someone I don’t know storms into my apartment, and my heartbeat barely trips.

Noah’s other hand is wrapped around a flat-back gun. Something stubby and squat and so much a part of him I barely noticed when he slipped it from the back of his pants and deposited it on my nightstand last night. I notice it now, even if I only see it for a second before he turns his upper body toward the door. I notice his pointer finger on the trigger, imagine that reassuring stroke.

Under my arms, the muscles in his tree-trunk legs are tense. “You following me now, brother? I don’t remember asking for a babysitter.”

Brother? I don’t think he means the blood kind. Maybe the
blood oath
kind.

“Yeah, I’m following you. Followed you here last night, sure as shit didn’t expect to find you here this morning. You got a death wish? That bitch better be polishing your wood so you can build an ark, Noah. Dev’s about to rain a world of hurt down on you for going off the grid.”

Bitch
barely touches me. I’ve been called worse by people I actually care about.
Dev
sends a chill down my spine, though. It’s Dev’s money Harry ran off with. Dev is the reason Noah sat in my section vibrating with barely contained menace and smoldering attitude.

I strain to listen.

Noah’s voice is as flat as the finish on his gun. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t bust in here uninvited using such a disrespectful tone. Otherwise I’d be obligated to teach you some fucking manners.”

“Whoa, whoa, don’t shoot the messenger. I wouldn’t even be here if you’d check your damn phone. We’ve got a job to do.”

“Following me
and
telling me my job? Damn, Stone. You want to help this honey suck my dick too?”

Honey
stings. Like a rubber band snapped against my wrist, reminding me of my place. But sweeter because it’s followed by the slide of his palm over my hair. The gesture could just be an invitation to Stone, but I don’t care.

For several long seconds silence stretches between them and my pulse finally catches up with the very real danger in the room, thumping away in a staccato beat that has me imagining the pop-pop-pop of gunshots.

“Fuck you, you fucking fuck.” Stone laughs.

When Noah laughs in response, the tension spooling in my chest unwinds. He lowers his weapon as the gruff sound, harsh and already familiar, shakes through him. The hand he’s kept buried in my hair finally stills. Had he been comforting me or taking comfort?

He draws me up, keeping himself between me and Stone but forcing me to stand. I cling more tightly to the shield of his body.

Hot breath whispers over my ear. “No turning back now, sweet girl.” His words tumble in a rush—rough, tender, just for me. “Remember what I said. You’re mine. Nobody fucks with what’s mine.”

His lips brush my forehead, so soft and sweet it almost hurts. I nod, and he steps back, exposing me. The shift from softness to snarling is a shock.

“Go clean yourself up, bitch. We’ve got business to discuss.”

This time
bitch
hits me like a slap, even though I know it’s more for Stone’s benefit than mine. Know? Assume. Shit. I don’t
know
one damn thing.

I scramble to cover my breasts with my hands, all the shame I hadn’t had time to feel suddenly slamming into me, bending my body and burning it up from the inside out.

Stone whistles through his teeth. “Niiiiice. Bringing Dev a souvenir will go a long way to getting back in his good graces.”

Is that what I am? A souvenir? A party favor to be passed around? No. The memory of Noah’s touch washes over me. Greedy and possessive. The breath from his whispered instructions still clings to my skin.
Mine.

I grab some clothes from my dresser and head to the bathroom, clutching soft cotton and denim to my front. Noah slaps my ass as I go. The heat of his palm, another sharp reminder. A reassurance.

“I haven’t decided.”

Is that a threat or a promise? My knuckles are white gripping the scuffed brass doorknob. I’m torn—frozen on the threshold by fear and desire. A terrible thought rolls over and over in my mind, a foolish and stupid thought, one I should not be having as two men with guns discuss the value of my ass to their boss.

He can’t be done with me yet.

Do I want him to be?

Stone snorts. “You think you have a choice?”

Stone is talking to Noah, but it feels like he’s speaking directly to me.
You think you have a choice?
Every syllable strokes something inside me—scratching over a terrible itch I’ve never been able to reach. And when I dare a glance at Noah’s face, I know the answer. His jaw flexes and he gives Stone the same hard glare he gave me when Officer Wade interrupted us last night. I won’t have a choice in whatever happens next. Maybe I never really did. Not when he told me to run, not when he protected me back at the diner. Noah has been in charge from the second he filled up the doorway to the diner. Leading me toward this moment.

“Let’s go,” he says, this time softly, only for me.

What if I don’t want to go?

But I don’t want to be left behind either. I open my mouth and close it without speaking. Because there’s nothing to say. Nothing to ask. Not with words.

Our eyes lock and for a moment it feels like we’re equals. Both uncertain. Both just trying to get by. Then he shakes his head. “Too late for that. I can’t leave you here when you’re connected to Harry. You’re in too deep now.”

“So she
is
connected.” Stone whistles through his teeth again. “I thought maybe you were on a little fuck-cation. I shoulda known you were taking Harry’s debt out in trade. Dev won’t appreciate you skimming your cut off the top but he’ll be glad you were working.”

“You keep your damn mouth shut, Stone. Dev will get his.”

The room spins and I can hardly breathe.
Trade. Debt.
“I—I—can’t pay Harry’s debt. I don’t have that kind of money.”

Noah smirks. “You know money isn’t the only way we get paid.”

“Oh God. So all of the touching and grabbing and claiming? All of that was to pay a debt? How about the spooning? Was that to pay a debt too?” My face flames and I can’t control the rush of angry words pouring out of me. “How much did I earn with your fingers inside me? How much for sucking your cock? You bastard. You said you weren’t a pimp.”

“Did I say that? I don’t think I did.”

Didn’t he? I try to remember if he’d actually denied it or if I’d just assumed. How many other blanks had I filled in wrong?

“You said it wasn’t work.”

I hate how small my voice has gotten—barely more than a squeak. My throat is so tight if I tried to make a bigger sound I might rip something loose or burst into tears. I refuse to do that. I will not lose my shit in front of them.

His gaze softens. “Did it feel like work?”

All I can do is shake my head because it hadn’t felt like work. It hadn’t felt like anything I’d ever experienced before. But I know better. I swallow around a lump the size of a softball and force myself to speak. “The way things feel and the way they are, are two very different things.”

“Smart girl.” Noah closes the distance between us and grabs a handful of my hair in his fist. I gasp, shocked by the sudden movement, but his touch is nearly tender. There’s no sting at my scalp, only at my pride. “Now listen close. I said you were
mine.
That’s all that fucking matters. And you’re coming whether you like it or not because I take care of what’s mine. Now dry your eyes and get dressed or I’m putting you on the back of my bike naked.”

I hope you enjoyed
Ride Me Hard
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Star and Noah’s journey will continue on June 1, 2015 in the next installment of The Devil’s Host MC Serial:
Break Me In

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Three Nights with a Rock Star

by Shari Slade and Amber Lin

When Hailey crashes a Half-Life after party, she expects to find the bastard who knocked up her little sister. Instead she meets the sexy front-man who agrees to give her access to his crew if she gives him access to her body.

All Lock demands in return is three days of complete control over the Sunday school teacher. With a contract, because he’s been burned before. One misstep could send the band—and his tenuous sobriety—up in flames.

Hailey and Lock push each other’s limits… Against the penthouse window. Backstage. In the limo and on the elevator. But as the contract counts down, neither are ready for the party to end.

WARNING: This book contains a steamy sex contract, spanking, a smoking hot threesome, a dirty talking rock star and the sexy Sunday school teacher who brings him to his knees.

D
o you like
to hurt, Hailey?
He’d asked her, and she could only nod.

He’d hurt her so good she’d give voice to that desire before he was through. She knew it. He knew it. The subtext breathed in the air around them, a living thing, that damned contract come to life.
She wants this. She wants the lurid celeb fantasy.
The shock, the pulse-pounding vibrancy that only exists on the edge of a bad decision.

He’d take her there.

“Take off your clothes,” he said, a little too harshly, his urgency coming out as hard-edged gruffness.

It didn’t scare her away.
She wants that too.
She fingered the button of her cardigan, uncertain, and then popped them all in a rush, exposing a silver tank that dipped low over her cleavage.
Fuck.
Surprisingly lush curves on her willowy frame, and smooth, pale skin.

He shifted in his seat, imagining his cock between her breasts. Making them slick, squeezing them together, and thrusting, thrusting, thrusting until he came all over her neck. Jesus, he hadn’t even seen them yet. She put a hand to her throat as if she could read his mind. As if every dirty thought he’d ever had was flashing on his face. And she knew. Why was she taking so fucking long to undress?

Lust propelled him across the room. He grabbed her by the hip and spun her around, pressing his chest to her back. She was warm, soft, every sweet powder-scented inch he could touch. She didn’t resist his rough hands skimming under her shirt. She just raised her arms and let him lift it over her head. The silver tank lay discarded at their feet. Next, the bra.
Her favorite part of the day.
He stifled a laugh as he unhooked it, guided the straps down, the blue satin cups slipping free. She sighed into him, letting her head fall back against his chest.

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and her tights and yanked them down to mid-thigh, taking her panties with them. She rewarded him with a sharp inhale, with shock. He stepped back so he could see the top of her ass. A peach, there for the biting. Two years ago he’d have bumped lines off that ass. No. He’d never have gotten near it back then. She’d have run screaming from him in the thick of his addiction. Sobriety had its rewards.