Initiation (Gypsy Harts #1) (9 page)

“I don’t want to go back inside tonight,” she whispered, playing her hands through his hair now. It wasn’t terribly long, but it must get in his eyes sometimes.

“Then stay here with me,” he said, like she expected him to. “I’ll keep you safe, Little One.”

She grinned. “I know you will.”

They parted and climbed off the bike. As the evidence of what had happened ran down the inside of her leg she felt panic. “Shit,” she muttered, looking up at him as he bent to wipe her off with a shirt that must have been his. “What have we done? What if I get pregnant?”

He was laughing again. “Can’t, honey. Everyone is sterile since the bombs. Radiation.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced. “Are you sure?”

He tilted his head, slid a hand along her face and brought her forward into his hold. “All these people fucking like rabbits all the time. You see
any
babies out there?”

She had to admit, that was a valid point.

There was a sleeping bag covering up a motorcycle that belonged to a Gypsy. They could tell by what Stone called the “chick paintjob.” They took that to a far corner in the garage, bringing a couple of lanterns with them. Leaning against a plywood box they created a little nest with the sleeping bag. His coveralls served as his pillow and he pulled Oakley down into the warmth of his embrace.

“Where were you?” she asked when they’d fallen into a surreal but comfortable silence. “When the bombs dropped?”

“I was in prison, Little One. Not going to lie.”

“You were?”

“Yup.”

“What for?”

He paused, but answered eventually. “Murder.”

She went up on one elbow. “Murder? You?”

His thumb was so gentle as he ran it down her cheek. “I beat a man to death. Bar fight, he turned on my sister and clocked her. Then I just saw red. Came to as they were slapping cuffs on me. So when the bombs hit I was underground at the San Bernardino Correctional Facility in a solitary cell. A lot of us lived because of those thick concrete walls.”

Oakley couldn’t imagine beating someone to death. She couldn’t get that to jive with the man next to her.

“You scared of me now?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. You’re just…you’re too kind to be frightening.”

“Kind?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “You wouldn’t hurt
me
, I know that.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

She held his gaze for a long time. Now that the immediate passion had been sated, she wanted to know him better. However that might play out.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he whispered. “No one trusts anyone anymore. No one is kind or sweet anymore. Except for you.”

“I twisted your nipple.”

“Yeah, I deserved worse.” He chuckled and pulled her down to rest her head on his chest. “You were scared of me when you first saw me, weren’t you?”

“You were staring at me. It made me feel like an exhibit.”

“I knew you were different. I could tell you didn’t really fit with these bitches.”

“Don’t call them that.”

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. It’s just that…you’re sweet. I can tell you haven’t had the hard time they did. You’re not jaded by anything.”

She supposed that was true. “I was lucky.”

“Where were
you
when the bombs fell?”

“I was in a coma. We think my father moved me to a fallout shelter while I was still out. I came to and Coral, Em, Brit and May were there. Looting.”

“Your dad?”

“No sign of him. But I’d been there alone for a while.”

“Poor Little One,” he cooed, and she could hear the smile in his voice. Then he was serious. “And you can’t remember anything?”

“Nothing,” she answered. “Well, other than this dream I keep having. I think it’s my dad, but I don’t know if it’s a memory or just a dream. I want it to be a memory because that’s all I have. But I don’t know my name, where I came from. None of the basic things. I feel like an alien.”

“You know what’s cool about that though?”

“Absolutely nothing.” She was confident in that.

“No. You got a reset. You get to start over from right now, no past sins tying you down or making you mean. Or weak. You’re new, Little One.”

“That’s a good thing?”

He rolled them so that she was on her back, and he held his weight off her with one arm. The other swept her hair back from her face. “It’s a very good thing.”

He was already growing hard against her hip and Oakley smiled before rolling herself against him. He growled when she did it. “I’m a little sore, you know.”

“That’s okay,” he said, delivering a deep kiss before sliding down into the sleeping bag, dropping kisses down her stomach. “I plan on using my mouth on you for a while, Little One.”

The first touch of his tongue on her clit had her groaning. The second made her fling her legs out to each side. And on the third he pushed two fingers inside, stroking hard and rhythmically in time with his tongue. It took very little time for her to come undone, whimpering and pulling at his hair, desperate for him to stop because it was becoming too much.

“You ain’t just sweet Little One,” he drawled, bringing her attention back to focus on him as he licked her from his fingers. “You’re spicy, too.”

Her blood heated at that. She wasn’t sore anymore, not in the least, and she used her legs around his lower back to pull him down onto her. It took no convincing. Before she could plead for it his cock was in her, and Oakley let him take her away.

Chapter Seven

“Again,” May instructed, motioning Oakley forward. There were four tin cans on a wooden bench a hundred yards away. There was absolutely no wind, no dust obscuring her view. It was too easy, really.

Oakley raised the gun that had become hers right from the moment she plugged that creep in the forehead. She knew now it was a Glock 17. She’d already taken ten tin cans down with eleven rounds fired.  She’d missed once because behind her Stone had shouted that her ass “looks like a snack in those jeans.”

She started at the left this time, just for variation’s sake. She exhaled while squeezing the trigger, one eye on the sight, the other pressed shut. The report was loud, but the kick didn’t affect her taking aim on the second can, then the third and fourth. All four cans sprung off the bench as though they were pulled upwards on a string. As the echoes of gunfire died out, she pointed the weapon towards the ground and smiled at May. “I think I’ve done this before.”

May was shaking her head with a smirk of disbelief. “That is just freaky, Oakley.”

“Now I get the nickname,” Harley drawled from where he was leaning on a water trough a few yards behind them. “Holy shit, Blondie. You got some skills.”

Next to him Stone pushed away and headed towards her, grinning. If she had to guess she’d assume he also had an erection. He
always
had an erection.

He pushed his way into her personal space like he always did, hand winding into the hair at the back of her head. She left her right hand where it was, Glock pointed safely down, her other arm winding around the back of his neck, hot from the sun beating down on his back and shoulders. He smelled so good when he was sweaty like this. Her body responded intimately to that scent.

She couldn’t even feel embarrassment at this display. She’d never outright have sex in front of an audience, but having him growl and grab at her like this was pretty damn thrilling. Especially when he said low, for only her to hear, “You make me so fucking hard. That is so fucking sexy, watching you work that Glock.”

She bit her lip and grinned as he pretended to snap at the tip of her nose. When he grabbed her ass with one big hand she giggled, trying to pretend like she wanted to get away. He went for the side of her neck, nipping and kissing and licking her skin.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna be sick,” May mumbled.

“It was Jo’s idea,” Harley reminded her. “Look at him. He’s nearly domesticated.”

“Bite your tongue,” Stone snapped, pulling back and turning her around, walking her forward while keeping her back to his front. He made a point of proving that yes, he had a hard on.

“So you really don’t remember anything before waking up with the Gypsys?” Harley asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

She shook her head, coming to a stop a few feet from him and May. Stone stayed attached to her hips. “I have one memory, riding in a truck with my Dad. I don’t know if it was just before the bombs or years before. It plays when I’m asleep, always right before I wake up.”

Harley rubbed his chin. “You got great aim, absolutely. It’s perfect. And you’re not rusty, which is weird since you couldn’t even walk ten days ago.”

Stone’s hands played softly across her stomach and her skin tingled, not just from his touch. “That is weird, isn’t it?”

Harley shrugged. “Walking is something we do every day. That coming back so quick isn’t a surprise. But marksmanship?  He shrugged. “I’d say we’re lucky to have you. You freak.”

Oakley laughed, caught by surprise, and Harley delivered his own brilliant smile. Not quite as wonderful as Stone’s, though.

“We should head back,” May suggested. “Dinner’s almost ready, I’m sure. Get that out of the way early then let the inmates run the institution for one last night.”

“You wanna come out and join us you’re welcome to, May,” Harley said slyly, his intention obvious without the added display of adjusting his crotch.

May smirked, watching his hand. “I don’t think so,” she said, bemused, then turned and headed back to the commune.

“You hungry, Little One?” Stone said right into her ear.

“I’m really hungry, actually. We missed breakfast, remember?”

“That’s hardly my fault. I woke up next to you, naked.”

She smiled, closing her eyes as he kissed the back of her ear. They’d made love three times last night and twice again this morning. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wished she hadn’t been so scared of him. They might have had more than thirty hours to actually enjoy each other.

“My girl’s hungry, she’ll eat,” Stone decided, pushing her ahead of him.

“You guys want more company tonight?” Harley asked, and Oakley turned, something dark in his voice. She found his gaze the slightest bit disturbing, but before she could react Stone was already answering.

“Fuck no. Find your own.”

“Just saying. You claim a woman as your own—” the rest didn’t come because Harley was on his back in the sand, Stone’s hand on his throat.

“Don’t even fucking finish that.” Stone growled. “There’s plenty of pussy around here. This one’s mine.”

Oakley bristled at that, but then that feeling was gone as Harley yanked Stone down by both shoulders, rolling his weight onto him to deliver a nasty-sounding hook to his jaw.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, running forward then stopping. What the hell could she do? She weighed a hundred pounds in her combat boots.

Stone got a few shots in from his position too, kicking both legs up so that Harley sailed head over heels to land hard on his back with a grunt. In a ninja-like move Stone flipped himself over too, making sure his knees landed on Harley’s chest. Even
Oakley
felt her breath get pushed out, but Harley was wiry. He rolled them again, and he had his forearm pressing down on Stone’s throat. With his weight and the force of it Stone couldn’t gain purchase, couldn’t reach to get a good clean shot at Harley’s face. His hands were scratching at Harley, ineffectual.

Oakley didn’t know if this was something they normally did, but she didn’t like it. It was stupid. And as Stone’s face went from red to purple she knew it was a little too dangerous to be for fun.

“Stop it!” She shouted. “Get off of him! Harley! Stop it!”

No one was listening to her. Well, fuck
that
.

She stepped into the thick of it, bringing the barrel of the Glock to Harley’s temple. “Let him the fuck up.”

Harley eased up somewhat, frozen in place. “You got the nerve to pull that trigger honey?”

“Let him up,” she repeated.

Harley took his arm off Stone’s neck, hands out to the side as he got to his feet.

“Oakley,” Stone wheezed out. “Put the fucking gun down.”

She was lowering it, but she didn’t see Harley’s hand come out. Her head was flung to the side with the force of the slap and she gasped, tasting blood. Then he somehow had her against his chest, arm around her neck, Glock in her side. She froze, even her blood stilling in her veins.

Stone got to his feet, hand out. “Fuck off Harley, let her be.”

“You think to put a firearm to my head again sweetheart, you better pull the trigger or I will put a hole in you. You got me?”

All his playful tone was gone. He sounded cold, dangerous, the first time she’d heard this voice from him. She nodded, eyes closed.

“Say it out loud,” he coached, condescending.

“If I put a gun to your head—”

“What happens?” he cut in, digging into her side with the Glock.

“You’ll put a hole in me,” she squealed, feeling real fear now.

“Good girl.” He nuzzled her cheek and she flinched. “You
do
smell like that soap, Oakley. It’s nice.” Then he shoved her towards Stone, tossing the Glock to her feet. He was grinning now, the prick. Oakley hated how she clung to Stone, but she was trembling and he felt infinitely safer. A swipe of her hand on her lip confirmed she was now bleeding.

“You all right?” Stone murmured quietly, turning her away from Harley, his jaw tightening when he looked at her lip.

She just nodded, knowing her voice would squeak.

“You split her lip, asshole,” Stone snapped, looking over her head.

“Tune that bitch in, Stone. She had a gun to my fucking head.”

“I know,” he shot back, pulling her to his chest. They were quiet, and Oakley had to assume that Harley was walking away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered eventually. “That was really fucking stupid.”

He tilted her chin up to look into her eyes. “I had it handled, Little One.”

“He was choking you,” she insisted, feeling her eyes water up. “That scared me. I don’t know why. I just didn’t want you hurt.”

His face softened visibly. “You protecting
me
?”

She nodded, sniffling. “That’s stupid, huh?”

He was at a loss for words. Oh jeez, she’d really done something weird this time.

“I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot—”

He cut her off in the best way possible; he kissed her. His shoulders curled over her, shielding her. His lips passed over hers, feather-light, but his grip was tight and almost brutal. She lost all train of through, kissing him back and moaning as his tongue slid along hers, sliding and pushing for dominance.

When he stopped he was out of breath, resting his forehead on hers. “What am I going to do with you, huh?”

She shrugged. “I’m sure something will come to you.”

His smile went devilish. “Oh yeah, it will. Garage, now. I’ll go get us supper, then I’m having you for dessert. Yeah?”

She was smiling, a quiver running through the core of her. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“I know you will.” He gave her a quick kiss then a swat on the ass. “Take your Glock. You’ll have to clean it now. Only a real prick throws a piece in the sand like that.”

She turned to pick it up, shaking the thing like that’d make a difference. Then she tucked it into the back of her waistband. Stone watched the whole while, grinning.

“What?”

He shook his head. “You’re just hot, that’s all.”

She snorted. “You’re weird.”

“Get to the garage,” he repeated. “I’ll meet you there.”

With a huff she set off to the building he indicated. She stepped through the door and into the dark, moving by memory to the lantern hanging just inside on a nail. She fumbled with a match to light the wick, but once it was glowing she moved deeper into the Quonset. She placed the Glock on the work bench out of the way, and made room for them to eat on the scarred plywood top.

She heard his footsteps approaching, then a tray of food was placed next to her. Before she could look at it she was turned around by force, making her squeal, and Stone pressed her into the workbench so it bit into her back.

“You shouldn’t have threatened Harley like that,” he was saying, but since he was also kissing her it didn’t sound like a scolding.

“He was choking you,” she reminded him, gasping as he plunged a hand up under her shirt, unhooking her bra and rubbing her back with his rough hand.

“He’s our leader. He wouldn’t kill me.” Stone stopped kissing her neck now, trying to show he was serious. “It’s just...territorial bullshit.”

Oakley frowned. “You were fighting over me like property?”

Again with that damn smile. “Just showing I meant it when I told him I wanted this one for good.”

She just stared at him as he unbuttoned the few fasteners at the front of her shirt, then tried to pull upwards. But she wasn’t cooperating. She was too shocked. “What…what do you mean for good?”

Stone paused then, hands returning to her hips. “As in, there’s no one else for me and no one else for you. This is it.”

She had no recollections of past relationships, but something was telling her this was unusual. It wasn’t men who were so quick to decide something like this. “But…you’ve known me a day.”

“A week,” he corrected. “I’ve been sleeping with you for one night.”

“A week? All the teasing? That’s getting to know me?”

His grin came back. “Of course it is. You were tough, you’d barely react to anything. You didn’t put on a show for attention. You kept to yourself.” He reached up and pulled the string tie that was holding her hair back from her face. “And being with you last night, talking with you…you may have no memories, but you’re the most complete person I know.”

“What?”

“Crazy about you, Oakley,” he whispered, lowering his face closer. “I want it to be like this, every time we come back. Just you and me, on our own until I have to go again. Having you to come back to…” He shook his head. “Can I have that?”

Oakley pressed her hands to each side of his face. His thick beard tickled her palms. He closed his eyes and she pulled his face closer for a soft kiss. “You can have that,” she assured him. “You can have me.”

He returned the kiss roughly, mouth mashing against hers, catching her lip between their teeth but she didn’t feel it, not really. His hands were like a wall on her back, pressing her to him, as much contact as possible. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair, letting go when he yanked her shirt off over her head, then she pulled up on the hem of his. He was quick to yank that off, too. Her bra hit the ground, then she was back in his arms, against his skin
hot
, soft. Their mouths met much softer this time, and when she was whimpering he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to what she was thinking of as their “bed.” Before they settled in the blankets they pulled off their clothes, clumsy in their frenzy. Under the cover of the sleeping bag they were close again, his hands so caring as they smoothed along her skin. Her stomach, her hips, her legs, her neck. He kissed her like he was trying to make it last, like he was nibbling at her. For her part Oakley explored him with her nails. She felt every bulge, every hard flat plain, squeezing and trying to goad him along. He resisted.