Shade's Lady
Page 30
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Next to us a man snorted with laughter. I glanced over to find Dopey, his club brother, listening in. Delightful. I decided to ignore him, turning back to stare steadily at Shade’s throat because I didn’t quite trust myself to meet his eyes.
“I think that’s the strangest thing any woman’s ever said to me,” Shade finally replied.
“I’m just being straight up. I know myself and I know what I don’t need, and that’s a man. They always cause trouble in my life. Always. History doesn’t lie.”
“Okay, then I’ll be straight up, too,” he replied. “I think you know this already, but I’m the national president of the Reapers MC. Technically I’ve got a home base—an apartment up in Moscow, at least for now—but I spend maybe eight, ten weeks a year there. The rest of the time I’m traveling, spending time with different chapters. These men are my brothers and I’ll do anything for them. I don’t have time for playing house with a woman or picking out china patterns. I just wanna fuck you again.”
Nothing he said surprised me, but the words still caught me off guard. Even after my little speech, I still hadn’t expected him to be so honest. Rebel hadn’t been honest with me. Neither had Trevor or my dad or any of Mom’s other husbands. Randy had lied his ass off to Hannah.
“All right, then,” I said, hardly believing what I was doing. Anticipation flared and I felt almost giddy as I looked up, finally meeting his gaze. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to your clubhouse and have one night of crazy monkey sex and absolutely not make any promises to each other.”
Dopey started laughing again and Shade flipped him the bird, offering me a slow smile.
Riding through the darkness with Shade was amazing.
This time I didn’t worry about whether I was holding him too tight or what might happen after we got there. I knew exactly what would be happening. We’d go to his weird little room in the bunkhouse and fuck like bunnies. So what if people gave me knowing looks and smirks? This time I wouldn’t give a shit because I was in control.
When I’d ridden with him before, I’d wondered what he would feel like buried deep between my legs. I’d felt the hard muscles of his stomach and speculated.
Even had a few sex dreams.
The reality would be even better, which I knew for a fact because we’d already had sex. Me and him. Down and dirty. Fantastic, raunchy Sexual Intercourse with a capital “I” and zero strings attached.
I’d blow him off afterward like a gangster, because that’s who I was.
A motherfucking gangster.
Well, more of a gangster/waitress hybrid, with a strong sense of responsibility, but still fairly badass as these things went. Not that I had any delusions—if I allowed myself even a hint of feeling toward Shade, he’d destroy me. This was clear. That was why I’d be keeping emotion out of it, a decision that was surprisingly liberating.
This is why men avoid relationships, I realized. Because they’re full of baggage and baggage is heavy.
By the time we pulled up to the Reapers’ clubhouse in Cranston, it was after four in the morning and everything was quiet. There were a few bikes parked out front, but not many.
“Where is everyone?” I asked Shade, who threw an arm around my shoulders. Dopey unlocked the door for us.
“Home,” he said. “Home or in bed. They’ll be back this afternoon for a barbecue.”
“Oh,” I said, vaguely disappointed. The last time I’d been here the place was a full-on den of debauchery, and I’d been scared shitless they’d expect me to join in. Now I was ready to join and they weren’t even here.
“Don’t worry,” Shade said, leaning over to give me a long, slow kiss. “You won’t be bored. I promise.”
We passed through the same greatroom I’d seen before, and then back through the courtyard. The fire was dead and the tents were gone. The lights were off in the bunkhouse, too. Dopey peeled off into one of the first rooms, clearly off duty for the night, and then we were there.
Shade’s room.
Just me, him and the same bed I’d slept in before.
“So you don’t really live here?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but now that we were actually about to do this thing, I felt weird and awkward. I needed to fill the silence.
“Nope,” he answered, carefully taking off his leather vest and hanging it on a hook on the wall. “Got a place up north, remember?”
“So how long are you in Cranston, anyway?”
Shade turned to me, his mouth quirking. “Get over here.”
“What?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
“Get your ass over here,” he repeated, taking a step forward and sliding his hands down and around my waist. He tugged me gently into his body, the thick length of his cock digging into my stomach. That awesome chemistry between us kicked in again and the weirdness disappeared. I felt a tightening between my legs—a physical anticipation of the satisfaction I knew he’d give me. Reaching down, I slipped my hands under his shirt and then tugged it upward because I still hadn’t seen his bare chest.
Shade held my gaze as my fingers slid along his skin. I found his nipples, grazing them lightly as his eyes darkened with desire. He had a Marine Corps tattoo over his pec and I traced it, wondering what his story was.
Does it matter? The two of you are just having sex. You aren’t going to share stories, remember?
“Got that in Iraq,” he said, as if reading my mind. “One tour. Didn’t see any action for the first nine months, so I guess I had something to prove. Got the tattoo on leave and felt pretty badass about it. Then things fell to shit when I went back, and I learned that tattoos aren’t what makes you a badass. Not even a little bit. Lot better men than me didn’t make it.”
“You surprise me,” I said.
“How’s that?”
“Usually guys want to brag about how tough they are.”
“Usually girls want relationships,” he countered. I blinked up at him and then smiled. Shade’s eyes darkened and he leaned down, lips tracing the side of my neck.
“Guess I don’t fit the stereotype,” I whispered.
“Startin’ to pick up on that.” His hands slid into the waistband of my skirt, pushing it down along with my panties. I kicked them off. Shade reached around my hip and down between my legs from behind, finding my wet warmth waiting for him as he slowly backed me to the bed.
“I think that’s the strangest thing any woman’s ever said to me,” Shade finally replied.
“I’m just being straight up. I know myself and I know what I don’t need, and that’s a man. They always cause trouble in my life. Always. History doesn’t lie.”
“Okay, then I’ll be straight up, too,” he replied. “I think you know this already, but I’m the national president of the Reapers MC. Technically I’ve got a home base—an apartment up in Moscow, at least for now—but I spend maybe eight, ten weeks a year there. The rest of the time I’m traveling, spending time with different chapters. These men are my brothers and I’ll do anything for them. I don’t have time for playing house with a woman or picking out china patterns. I just wanna fuck you again.”
Nothing he said surprised me, but the words still caught me off guard. Even after my little speech, I still hadn’t expected him to be so honest. Rebel hadn’t been honest with me. Neither had Trevor or my dad or any of Mom’s other husbands. Randy had lied his ass off to Hannah.
“All right, then,” I said, hardly believing what I was doing. Anticipation flared and I felt almost giddy as I looked up, finally meeting his gaze. “Let’s do it. Let’s go to your clubhouse and have one night of crazy monkey sex and absolutely not make any promises to each other.”
Dopey started laughing again and Shade flipped him the bird, offering me a slow smile.
Riding through the darkness with Shade was amazing.
This time I didn’t worry about whether I was holding him too tight or what might happen after we got there. I knew exactly what would be happening. We’d go to his weird little room in the bunkhouse and fuck like bunnies. So what if people gave me knowing looks and smirks? This time I wouldn’t give a shit because I was in control.
When I’d ridden with him before, I’d wondered what he would feel like buried deep between my legs. I’d felt the hard muscles of his stomach and speculated.
Even had a few sex dreams.
The reality would be even better, which I knew for a fact because we’d already had sex. Me and him. Down and dirty. Fantastic, raunchy Sexual Intercourse with a capital “I” and zero strings attached.
I’d blow him off afterward like a gangster, because that’s who I was.
A motherfucking gangster.
Well, more of a gangster/waitress hybrid, with a strong sense of responsibility, but still fairly badass as these things went. Not that I had any delusions—if I allowed myself even a hint of feeling toward Shade, he’d destroy me. This was clear. That was why I’d be keeping emotion out of it, a decision that was surprisingly liberating.
This is why men avoid relationships, I realized. Because they’re full of baggage and baggage is heavy.
By the time we pulled up to the Reapers’ clubhouse in Cranston, it was after four in the morning and everything was quiet. There were a few bikes parked out front, but not many.
“Where is everyone?” I asked Shade, who threw an arm around my shoulders. Dopey unlocked the door for us.
“Home,” he said. “Home or in bed. They’ll be back this afternoon for a barbecue.”
“Oh,” I said, vaguely disappointed. The last time I’d been here the place was a full-on den of debauchery, and I’d been scared shitless they’d expect me to join in. Now I was ready to join and they weren’t even here.
“Don’t worry,” Shade said, leaning over to give me a long, slow kiss. “You won’t be bored. I promise.”
We passed through the same greatroom I’d seen before, and then back through the courtyard. The fire was dead and the tents were gone. The lights were off in the bunkhouse, too. Dopey peeled off into one of the first rooms, clearly off duty for the night, and then we were there.
Shade’s room.
Just me, him and the same bed I’d slept in before.
“So you don’t really live here?” I asked. I already knew the answer, but now that we were actually about to do this thing, I felt weird and awkward. I needed to fill the silence.
“Nope,” he answered, carefully taking off his leather vest and hanging it on a hook on the wall. “Got a place up north, remember?”
“So how long are you in Cranston, anyway?”
Shade turned to me, his mouth quirking. “Get over here.”
“What?” I asked, suddenly nervous.
“Get your ass over here,” he repeated, taking a step forward and sliding his hands down and around my waist. He tugged me gently into his body, the thick length of his cock digging into my stomach. That awesome chemistry between us kicked in again and the weirdness disappeared. I felt a tightening between my legs—a physical anticipation of the satisfaction I knew he’d give me. Reaching down, I slipped my hands under his shirt and then tugged it upward because I still hadn’t seen his bare chest.
Shade held my gaze as my fingers slid along his skin. I found his nipples, grazing them lightly as his eyes darkened with desire. He had a Marine Corps tattoo over his pec and I traced it, wondering what his story was.
Does it matter? The two of you are just having sex. You aren’t going to share stories, remember?
“Got that in Iraq,” he said, as if reading my mind. “One tour. Didn’t see any action for the first nine months, so I guess I had something to prove. Got the tattoo on leave and felt pretty badass about it. Then things fell to shit when I went back, and I learned that tattoos aren’t what makes you a badass. Not even a little bit. Lot better men than me didn’t make it.”
“You surprise me,” I said.
“How’s that?”
“Usually guys want to brag about how tough they are.”
“Usually girls want relationships,” he countered. I blinked up at him and then smiled. Shade’s eyes darkened and he leaned down, lips tracing the side of my neck.
“Guess I don’t fit the stereotype,” I whispered.
“Startin’ to pick up on that.” His hands slid into the waistband of my skirt, pushing it down along with my panties. I kicked them off. Shade reached around my hip and down between my legs from behind, finding my wet warmth waiting for him as he slowly backed me to the bed.
