Kinkaid (Bad Boys of Retribution MC Book 2) (8 page)

I fingered her slowly, two digits then three. She panted softly, grinding against me, dripping all over my hand. My cock twitched against her. I pumped harder and faster against the perfect sleek cheeks of her ass.

“Maybe I’d—
uhhh
—fuck you slow. Sliding every thick hot inch inside, circle my hips, play with your clit, then pull all the way out. Listening to you open up for me, feeling your cunt kissing the head of my cock. Wet, all over me.”

I used the pad of my index finger, drawing it up to her clit. Pulsing against the little nub and pulling at the tiny rings, I held her against me as her entire body rippled in response from the inside out.

She tensed tight as a bow and came with a loud shout. It only took the feel of her body clenching and grasping my fingers to make my cock erupt. Fast and hard and hot, my semen shot all over her ass and up her back.

I laughed and groaned against her neck, my chest and stomach sticky where our skin met.

“God, Kaid. I can’t believe you did that to me.”

“What? Made you come or—”

“Rise and shine, lovebirds!” Grampa’s dry bark of laughter reverberated outside my door as his cane clicked past.

Sadie flipped onto my chest. All that lush naked skin pressed against mine. “You said he wouldn’t know!”

Running my hands down her back, I settled them on her ass. “Didn’t exactly say that. Besides, your bike’s still outside, darlin’.”

“Oh.” She buried her head in my neck.

“And you weren’t exactly quiet just now.”

“Well, neither were you.”

“And I’ll be a lot louder and probably come somewhere besides all over your back if you don’t get off me.” I pumped my hips up.

“OH!” She sealed a swift kiss on my lips then said, “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you to see me yet.”

“After what we just did?”

“Yep.”

I only opened my eyes after a wet slap of material hit my chest. It was my T-shirt, the one she’d originally worn to bed, now messy with my come she’d clearly wiped from her body.

Fully dressed in her outfit from the day before, she strolled toward the door on her sexy high heels.

I rose up on my elbows. “Hang on. Let me get dressed so you don’t have to face him alone.”

She sauntered back. Bending over, she kissed me, her tongue playing into my mouth, coiling new heat in my groin.

She withdrew when I was just lust-stupid enough to lunge and drag her back to bed whether Grampa waited with the Great Inquisition outside or not.

Sadie avoided my grasp. “You don’t think he’ll mind, do you?”

“No. He knew yesterday before you came over that I was . . . that we were . . . ”

“Not very articulate first thing in the morning, are ya?”

I dove for her, and that time my aim was true. Snatching her around the waist, I pulled her into my embrace. “Actions speak louder than words.”

After another languorous kiss, I asked, “Come again next Sunday to dinner?”

“No.” She shook her head, hopped off the bed, and headed for the door.

“What do you mean
no
?”

“I want to go on a run. It’s been forever since we went riding together. I miss it, Kinkaid.”

I WAS RIGHT, GRAMPA Dean hadn’t minded . . . much. He’d merely shot a sharp glance at me from one eye over the morning crossword after Sadie left and asked, “Four letter word for fornicate.”

I’d stood up tall, my shoulders squared, facing him head on. “We didn’t.”

“
Hmmph
.”

“What does that mean this time?”

“Means just ’cause you got it don’t mean you have to use it and I’m glad you didn’t.”

My shoulders relaxed.

He continued. “But if you do decide to use it, probably best make sure it’s the right thing with Sadie, bein’ as you’re best friends.”

“
Hmmph
,” I’d said.

He had a point, and it was one I’d thought about. Did I really want to fuck up our friendship for the sake of fucking? Then again, wasn’t a long time friendship a good way to start a maybe-relationship?

I didn’t freakin’ know. I’d never had one. My relationships consisted of getting in, getting off, getting out—and no repeat performances unless we were talking about my routines at The GQ.

That week Glen didn’t show up again for Amateur Night. There was a new newbie—equally untalented. His jerky motions looked more like his marionette strings were being pulled in opposite directions than anything remotely resembling dancing. And we dubbed him Pinocchio. He did have a long schnoz, not much in the dick department though so that theory was shot.

Micah got out the big hook and dragged him off the stage
Gong Show
style just to give Mamie’s bullwhip a break.

Jamal did the popping and hip-hopping to the dirtiest track he could find, Hiro his aerodynamic acrobatics. Jack The Stripper worked the black leather and big flogger. I stuck with my Dom businessman routine. The chicks were hot for it.

The guys continued to lay into me about the lap dance chick from that fateful night Sadie showed up at The GQ. I continued to say nothing about her even though I was bursting inside.

My usual shifts at The Gentleman’s Quarters were interspersed with afternoons spent at the MC where I swabbed the decks like a cabin boy. Cole wanted to know what had set Sadie off like a bottle rocket on New Year’s Eve. Brodie evil-stared at me with his ice-cold blue eyes and his devilish blond goatee. Tuck took an unusual amount of sick pleasure drilling me about the value of the screeching electric guitars of hair bands from the eighties versus the righteous lyrics of The Grateful Dead and CCR. I imagined Tuck had little use for the whiny grunge rock of the nineties.

I took care of Grampa, paid the bills, took him to appointments, and made sure Miss Solange Curry
was all up to speed on his current medical affairs.

Life as usual with everything compartmentalized. Except now there was Sadie. Different Sadie. Remembering her in my bed, in my arms, I whistled more than I had. I definitely texted her a lot. I thought about her more than was healthy, at least for the state of my cock.

We talked a couple times during that long week from Sunday to Sunday. Our conversations were spoken in lower tones than before, hushed and intimate, like we were sharing secrets. We knew everything about each other, always had, but not the way we were now. Even the sound of her voice tantalized and teased me, making my pulse pound and my stomach tighten.

“Are you coming ’round here Sunday?” she asked over the phone late Thursday night.

“Yeah. Is your bike ready?”

“’Course it is. What do you take me for?”

“A very capable woman. Just asking.” I laughed.

“Oiled up and ready to go, Kaid.” Her voice lowered, and my body shivered from head to toe.

I rolled onto my side, looking at the pillow her head had rested on. “I wish you were here.”

“In your bed?”

“Yeah.” I smoothed the pillowcase, wishing it were her face. “Did Grampa say anything to you, last Sunday?”

“He was right talkative. He’d even set an extra place for me, you know. The night before.”

“The old codger. He knew!”

“Well, he might be old, but he’s certainly not blind.” She snickered.

“Or deaf.”

“Or deaf,” she confirmed. “He asked me if I’d slept well. Slid a cup of coffee toward me, then asked if the sheets needed changing without so much as twitching an eyebrow.”

“He did not.”

“Oh yes he did.” She let me ingest that before adding, “Know what I said?”

Flipping onto my back, I crossed an arm over my forehead. “Don’t even wanna hazard a guess.”

“I told him the sheets were clean, but your T-shirt might-could use a wash.”

“Damn, darlin’. Just lay it all out there, why don’t ya?”

“That’s my style.” She hesitated for a second. “Did he say anything to you?”

“He said I better be sure before I cross the line with you. Not in those words, ’course.”

“Are you sure, Kaid?”

“Yeah. One hundred percent.”

“I am too,” she murmured.

A soft and warm sort of peace settled over me. “Positive?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck. Why aren’t you here with me?” Need for her boiled just under my skin like the summertime sun.

“Because I don’t want Grampa Dean questioning me over coffee again.”

“He won’t, not once I’m through with him.”

“You’re not gonna harm him.”

“Might hide the newspaper on him. Same thing.” I scowled through my door to his beyond.

“Kinkaid?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight.”

“’Night, my Sadie.”

****

I showed up midmorning on Sunday with a cup of coffee for Sadie and my helmet thrust under my arm. I’d parked in her spot next to her yellow jacket Suzuki. She lived in a decent apartment in Mt. Pleasant, not too far from the bridge, about a ten-minute ride from my house. The commute to CofC was easy enough, and she paid the rent with her part-time work at John Pope Antiques in downtown Charleston.

Buzzing the call-button, I waited.

Moments later she appeared, her helmet with the racer stripe and tinted visor nestled in her arm like mine. She wore tight black jeans, laced-up Doc Martens, and the dark brown leather zipped high against the cold.

Her hair fell around her shoulders, sunshine bright in the still January air, and she’d never looked more hardcore or more pretty.

I kissed her. I couldn’t not. She had some kind of magic over me, making me weak in the knees. The only parts of our bodies that met were our cold lips, lips that heated, tongues that tasted, mouths finally, wetly, parting.

Licking my lips, I tasted her minty toothpaste and something that was uniquely her.

“Hey.” I thrust the coffee at her.

I’d already had about a gallon myself. Last night had been a busy one at The Gentleman’s Quarters, not that I was going to mention that to Sadie. Besides, I was used to being up at all hours and just seeing my girl put a spring in my step—and somewhere else.

“Hi.” She smiled, sniffed at the rim of the cup, and then closed her eyes. “Nirvana via coffee beans. Thank you, babe.”

The small endearment evoked frickin’ butterflies in my stomach, but her next actions made me downright laugh out loud.

Sadie glugged the hot coffee like it was a shot of vodka, straight up and straight down to the bottom. With a wink, a wide grin, and a wipe of her lips, she sailed the emptied cup into a curbside bin.

“She shoots. She scores!” Her helmet hoisted above her head, she danced a ring around me.

“Three-pointer basket shot right there.” I captured her around the waist, pulling her against me. “Do you want to ride with me this time? On my Harley?”

Jesus. I felt awkward. It would be even worse if she laughed at me or said no.

She considered me for a moment. It was something we’d never done before, but I could think of nothing I wanted more than to be out on the road on my motorcycle with Sadie behind me, her arms around my waist, her cheek against my shoulder.

We’d never shared more than brother/sister-like physical contact either. What we had going on now was nothing like that. I’d jumped into unknown territory, scared half out of my wits but excited enough to ignore the jitters.

“Okay,” Sadie agreed. “If you let me drive on the way back.”

“Depends. Think you can handle my ride?” I tucked my tongue into the side of my cheek while she pursed her pink lips.

The ride in question was my custom-detailed, night train Road King. It was one helluva a black beast, ape hangers, spitting fire and all.

“Well”—Sadie flipped her hair back—“I’m not saying I’ve ever had anything that big between my legs before, but hopefully it won’t be the last time today.”

Sold.
With a solid erection forming between my thighs I tried to stamp down.

A huge grin broke across my face. “Deal.” I sealed it with a hot, rough kiss.

We cruised on my Harley all the way over 526 taking it easy through Sunday traffic, but as soon as we hit the open road of Savannah Highway, I revved the engine. The oncoming wind blistered my face, but I didn’t give a shit. Sadie’s thighs rubbed against mine, and she pressed hard into me. Her lips brushed my neck every so often, light as a moth’s wing. The pleasure of her touch drove a quick heavy spike of need through me. Her hands clasped around my waist, sometimes exploring, sometimes holding tight.

Every time I took a corner, she was right there with me. The faster I went, the harder she held on, the louder she laughed, her voice sailing away on the wind.

Throttling down, I pulled into the quiet grove of a parking lot in precisely the middle of nowhere about an hour outside of Charleston. No other motorcycles or cars were there. Deep southern forest surrounded us in feathery rust colors and fans of tall ancient ferns. On one side, the marsh sparkled. It wound its deep blue waterway all the way to Savannah, Georgia. On the other side across the frost-bitten road was what I wanted to show her.

I grabbed Sadie’s hand. “C’mon.”

Aside from winter birds chirping and dry leaves rustled by the breeze there were no sounds. The road in Yemassee remained quiet and isolated. We crossed to the other side, stepped through an old wooden gate, and stopped dead still.

The ruins rose in the center of the large clearing surrounded by enormous live oak trees covered in gray tendrils of Spanish moss. The air was cold and bright, but the sun warmed me through my leather jacket. Deep shadows and wavery light danced off the high, arched brick ruins of the Old Sheldon Church. The church dwarfed my six foot two height by many majestic feet. The early era setting was haunting and graceful all at once.

“This is so beautiful, Kaid. I’ll have to bring my paints next time,” Sadie breathed out in wonder.

“Knew you’d like it.”

I thought about following her through the middle arch but leaned against the brick opening instead, content to watch her as she explored. The roof long gone, every part of the ruins opened to the elements. The sun highlighted Sadie’s hair, and it shined like a golden halo. Her cheeks turned pink from the cold and the ride. A secret smile curved the very corners of her lips.

Her head cocked to the side, she took in everything as if she already imagined painting the lush forest and the tall columns in her head. She skimmed her hands over the walls, caressing bricks in faded-to-white, and rust, and dark green, discolored by age. She touched trailing whispers of Spanish moss. She walked through the small groupings of marble tombs that sat under the mighty old oaks in the darker part of the churchyard.

Those tombs and the tranquil setting and the slanting rays of sunshine made everything at once perfectly peaceful and a little bit eerie.

I came up behind Sadie, and she jumped. I quieted her with my arms around her waist, my chin on her shoulder.

She continued reading the name and dates carved into the side of one of the tombs. Then she whispered, “Do you think there are ghosts here?”

“I don’t think they’ll bother you if there are. You’re too pretty.” I laid my lips against the side of neck and kissed her softly.

“Oh, is that so, Kinkaid?”

“Bonafide fact.”

She snuggled her butt against me, jarring my cock into instant
Hellllooo
status. “Boner what now?”

“Stop it,” I said through a grin. “You’re desecratin’ hallowed ground.”

“Feels like
you
wanna desecrate this here hallowed ground with me.”

“I do not.” I said in as stiff a voice as I could. “Well, not outside anyway, not for our first time.” I squeezed her tighter against me as she laughed.

We wandered a bit more, Sadie taking pictures when she said the light was just right. She managed to get one of me, too, when I wasn’t looking. When I tried to snatch her phone so I could delete it, she danced away from me.

“Don’t worry, babe. Sexy as ever.”

I was about to break out a little stripper move for her but thought that might be a really dumbass idea. We’d managed to completely avoid discussing my job, and I really didn’t want to bring it up on such a perfect day. Or ever, for that matter.