BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books (13 page)

"In the corner," I murmur as I raise my own drink to my lips. "Underneath the painting."

"I see him."

Whatever Ana feels about finally setting her sights on our target, she keeps it to herself. I'm afraid I haven't properly primed her for how revolting Tannenbaum can be as a person, but she assured me repeatedly when I was having second thoughts that she could handle herself. It doesn't sit well with me to use her as bait, even though it had been my idea to begin with; when I tried to take it back on the way over, she ignored me. There was a fire in her eyes, and an excitement about her energy that I hadn't seen since the strained meeting with Lesher. I am the one she allowed to put her into this situation, and she'll be damned if she's letting me take her back out.

"You don't have to do this." I've said it before.

"So you've asserted. But you also said you don't have a plan for gaining access to Tannenbaum without me," Ana points out. "All I have to do is get him to invite me up to his room at the hotel, right? And then you'll come in, guns blazing, to save my virtue?"

"No guns this time," I promise. "And what virtue?"

"Ha." Ana scoffs a laugh and raises her drink to take a long sip. I wonder if she's chasing the taste of something nicer in advance of her forcing herself into close quarters with Tannenbaum. "Watch it, pal. I'm doing this for you."

"If that was true, I doubt you'd be doing it at all."

"Fine. If you can't accept what I'm saying, then I'm doing it for
us."
Ana drains her drink and slams it down, running a finger along her tart cherry red lips to allow the booze to soak in, to stain them. I saw the bartender pour her top shelf whiskey, and I can imagine
exactly
what she tastes like. Every inch of me burns for her, to take her back to the room we share and set the situation straight, but I know that is short-term satisfaction versus the long-term benefit of seeing Tannenbaum pay. The only problem is, I'm not sure I care any longer. I need Ana, and I need this fantasy of
us
to be a reality.

I realize, maybe for the first time, that I'm getting really tired of vengeance. It's as much a drain on my own life force as the life forces I was hoping to permanently negate. For three long years, I've thought of nothing else. I never conceived of an obstacle like her; certainly, I never thought that a woman like Ana would wind up improving, or even helping, my cause.

"Be sure to get his keycard," I growl, my sudden antagonism exposing my surrender to the original plan. "And make sure he only gives away
one.
We can't afford to have him divvying them out like business cards. I want his attention on you and you alone."

"No you don't." Ana leans back against the bar, pretending to survey the club scene before allowing her gaze to zero in organically on our target. "You want me all to yourself."

"Why don't you save the teasing for the man you're actually trying to seduce?" I mutter.

"As opposed to the one I have already?" she fires back.

I grit my teeth. "Keycard. Then you split. Meet me back by the bike and we'll make the exchange."

"Fine. But you're going down on me later," she says in parting as she detaches from the bar. Her bold comment regarding her plans for a future session makes all the blood rush to my bulge instantly, and I can feel my cock lurch in cooperation with her terms. I gnash my teeth harder and let my hand constrict around my nearly-drained glass.

My mouth waters at the thought she has so artfully planted in my head. There is no pair of lips on Ana's body that doesn't taste slick and sweet; more importantly, I know from experience that every kiss I endow, no matter the location, will have her moaning and writhing. I extract the cherry from her empty drink, recalling how she had flooded my bloodstream with Shirley Temples only the night before. I feel the woman herself burning through my bloodstream more than ever.

I pop the cherry into my mouth, rolling it along my tongue, teasing and working it with my teeth. And because I need a distraction from what is about to take place, I imagine that it's Ana, and the precious pearl of her womanhood, that I taste in my mouth. I practice rubbing slow, methodic circles around and around the tiny sphere, thrusting with the tip of my tongue, applying just enough pressure to make my ministrations ruthlessly hard but keep the fruit from bursting. Once we get out of this, she is going to be in a whole hell of a lot of trouble later, and I know she is going to love every minute of it—I can ensure that much.

I watch as a very different tart from the one I currently mouth moves effortlessly into the crowd of women surrounding Tannenbaum. They part for her immediately, as if sensing a far superior specimen themselves—pack dynamics at their basest. These women are seeking security in Tannenbaum’s wealth and status because they feel something in them requires it, and it is this same self-insecurity I can see them falling prey to now. They back from their mark, and we all watch as the mesmerizing woman in the red dress invites herself to sit alone in his lap—no introductions required.

I wish I was close enough to hear what they were saying. I can see Tannenbaum’s surprised expression folding into one of immense satisfaction, and see him lean into whisper something coaxingly into Ana's ear. She laughs delightedly, absurdly, and I watch as the man stirs to draw her in closer.

My throat feels tight watching this display, and there's a bitter taste in my mouth that isn't exactly jealousy. It's watching Tannenbaum so easily and effortlessly seize everything that once would have been mine: my company, my wealth, and now my girl. Even if it's all a ruse, and I can't imagine a woman like Ana ever choosing a cretin like him of her own volition,
he
can imagine it all too well, and he's projecting his fantasies with every overfamiliar movement and crudely whispered word.

Everything that I want, and the life that should have been my own, if I chose to pursue it, unfolds in a single moment before me. I feel like the sole witness to it, paralyzed to stop it, even though I know other men in the club are watching Tannenbaum with similar envy.

Ana cuts a quick glance toward me. It's only momentary, and she steals a moment when Tannenbaum is preoccupied with placing an order with a passing cocktail waitress. I can't fully describe the expression on her face—it isn't happy, and it isn't scared. It's a carefully blank mask that shifts subtly when it's turned on me. All of the forced poise, the tenseness, relaxes in an instant when sees me watching over her like some dark guardian angel. It may not be Heaven I occupy, but no matter how twisted my origins might be, the sight of the man I am now seems good enough for her.

I feel my emotional load lighten, and all thoughts of what might have been feel lost behind me on the road, like personal possessions and articles of clothing shed from a broken saddlebag and carried off by the wind. There is nothing I would take back, I realize, because there is nothing
for
me to take back.

Ana already prevented me from making the worst mistake of my life. I’m not cruelly omnipotent, and it isn't in my power to give and take the lives of others. It is within my power to see justice done, and gazing at the redhead across the room, I know I won't have to go it alone. And whatever wall there still is erected between Ana and me, I don't have to let its demolition bring the whole of everything we've built together down. I don't have to let her go, no matter how much the woman fights me. I have been fighting all along for what I want, for the happiness and freedom that I am due—it's only that my end goal, and my final prize, has suddenly shifted.

And suddenly, I don't want anything to do with what Tannenbaum has. It's only Ana, and his illusion of owning her attention, her desire, that bothers me, and that's all it is—an illusion. Ana's glance back to me has confirmed that much.

So I settle back into the bar to watch. Wearing a dress like that, I'm sure I don't have long to wait before she gets the predicted invitation. I see Tannenbaum’s meaty hands tighten around the small of her back once more, the scarlet fabric bunching beneath his sausage-like fingers. I watch as it rides up Ana's milky thigh, inch by inch, until it reveals the curve of her ass. I can't tell if she's wearing any underwear. God, I hope she's wearing underwear. I was so focused on purchasing her outward presentation that I can't remember now if I bought any for her.

I see the exchange go down. Tannenbaum lifts his glass, and draws something toward him across the table that I had at first mistaken for a coaster. I can see now, even from a distance, that he holds a rectangular piece of plastic out to Ana. I shift slightly in my seat as I watch her accept, fluttering her eyes as she does so. Her eyelashes are so long and dark that I can see their every movement clearly from here.

Ana begins to slip from his lap, when suddenly Tannenbaum yanks her back. I watch in horror, utterly helpless to stop it, as my former coworker swoops in for a kiss. Ana is faster, and turns her head at the last moment with a forced laugh, substituting her lips for her neck…which, in hindsight, is almost a hundred times worse to watch. There is nothing romantic about the gesture: it's all sexual, and all predatory. I feel revolted for Ana's sake, and I can't imagine being in a similar situation and acting as coolly as she does now.

Only a few more hours. Only a few more hours, and then Ana and I will both have the recompense that is due to us.

I leave the club after she does, and find her in the alleyway leaning up against my bike. She lifts her head when she detects my presence, and opens her mouth to speak, but I quickly shed the remaining inches between us and cup her face. She stills beneath my touch, but it isn't the submissive animal petrification of a lover caught in an unwanted embrace; I watch as her eyes slide shut, and she gives herself over to the relief of our reunion.

I lower my mouth to the curve of her neck, and plant my lips where Tannenbaum had forced his own against her. I kiss away the invisible imprint, and hopefully the memory of the invasion. Ana swallows against a small noise in her throat and brings her hands up to grip the collar of my jacket, but it isn't to ward me off. I press harder, deepening the kiss, moving my mouth sensually against her skin.

"I want you, Flint," she gasps her need, and I can't repress myself any longer. My hand skates along her thigh, hiking the train of her dress up as my fingers flare across her flank and the outside swell of her tight ass. I dig in, gripping her with unmistakable force, and Ana cries out and throws her head back. I feel for myself now that she isn't wearing underwear. My cock lurches, straining against the front of my pants to be free. I wasn't planning on picking up where we left off at the rest stop, but desire has driven me too fast and too far already.

Ana's hands fumble with my pants, freeing my erection to the open air. I return to the spot on her neck and ravish her, kissing and biting and sucking ruthlessly until she's gasping and moaning and can scarcely form words. The bike rocks beneath her as I hoist her up into a sidesaddle position. She reaches out for something to hold onto and winds up latching onto my shoulder.

As soon as she's settled, I yank her forward across the leather cushion and impale her on my throbbing cock. Relief floods through me immediately as I bury myself in tightness and heat; I feel instantly as if I have scratched an unbearable itch.

I grunt in the same instant that Ana gives a heady
"Ohhh!"
and hikes her leg up. I hook my arm beneath her knee and thrust into her again, groaning at how incredible she feels. I've never been one to be vocal during sex, but here and now with Ana, I can't help it.

"Oh God, Ana," I hear myself moan. "Oh, fuck."

I buck my hips against her at slow, grinding intervals. The bike lurches beneath us as she rides both it and the rigid length of my manhood, double-teaming both, crying out and grasping for something to hold onto, but I don't stop. I can't stop.

"Oh! God! Ah!"
she pleads incoherently, her chain of words breaking in a breathless sob of passion. If I didn't fuck her here and now, I'm not sure I could have kept ahold of my sanity. She's like a drug, and I find myself needing more and more of her. I'm not sure it will ever be enough.

I take her recklessly and carelessly in the alleyway, in semi-seclusion from the street. All anyone who passes has to do is look in if one of Ana's wails draws their attention our way, and they will find us wrapped in ecstasy, a biker and his girl. There is no way anyone will mess with what is happening here. I feel a surge of power at my position, and I wrap Ana tighter in my arms. I raise my lips to her hair as I begin to thrust into her in small, quick strokes, forcing her to feel the friction of my cock as it sinks itself again and again into her passage.

"You like this?" The dark whisper is mine. "You like getting fucked hard like this? You wanna let the whole street know?"

Ana cries in response as she shudders at the aphrodisiac of my dirty talk injected into the proceedings. I'll take that as an overwhelming
yes.

"You don't get to sit in another man's lap and not get fucked by me as a reminder," I growl into her ear. "You belong to
me
now."

"Oh fuck. Yeah. Please, Flint,
give it to me."
Her voice is high and tight, and her brows knit together as she stares up at me.

"You want it, baby?" I prompt as I bend to kiss the other side of her neck. I slow my pace to rock into her slowly, pulling out almost fully before I push my slick cock back in again, wetting it further with the evidence of Ana's need. "You were just asking for it, weren't you? Slinking around in this little red number.
Mmm.
I could see how it clung to your ass when you walked away from me. Were you thinking about me kneeling between your legs, my tongue lapping along every inch of your aching pussy? I bet you weren't expecting to get
taken"—
here I punctuate the word with an abrupt arrhythmic thrust forward, which makes her head fall back on her neck with a sobbing, needy cry—"this hard. You think you get to make demands with me just because you look so fucking sexy? I'll have you however I want you."