Vindication: A Motorcycle Club Romance (27 page)

Something stirred in my chest, and it
wasn’t just arousal.

Noah pulled away and met my gaze with
his big blue eyes. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah,” I said without missing a
beat. “Like crazy.”

~
EIGHT ~

Noah

I loved the feel of Laurel next to me in my truck as I
drove us back to my place. She pressed her sweet body up against mine and
tangled up our arms and fingers like she’d been doing it for years. I had
almost considered cancelling my night out, bailing on her like she was afraid I
would… like I had done to many, many other women over the years, truth be told.
My reputation wasn’t fake.

She was right to be afraid. But then,
I couldn’t actually imagine doing it to her.

I pulled into the garage and led her
in through the kitchen. As she looked around like the curious little kitten she
clearly was, she made some joke about getting a tour, but all I could do was
stand against the closed garage door and watch her move. The entire drive back
I’d been half-hard, ecstatic to have another adventure in the wonderland of her
body. Now, I was so hard I could barely stand it.

When she leaned against the counter
near the sink to get a good look outside the kitchen window and into the backyard,
I finally gave in to my impulses. I came up behind her and pressed against her
hard, my dick twitching at the little cry of surprise that escaped her lips.

Laurel shivered and melted at my
touch. I pushed myself against her like I could meld us together, and she
responded by writhing her ass against the bulge in my jeans and leaning her
beautiful neck back to meet my face.

“I want you so fucking bad,” I
growled against her skin. My hands roamed her body, squeezing her cute little
tits and rubbing her pussy outside her jeans until her knees started shaking
and she had to lean against me to stand upright.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you
last night,” she gasped, leaning back to kiss me hard. She wrapped a backwards
hand around my head and pulled me close. Her kisses, sweet and devouring, made
me ache.

“Oh, yeah?” I couldn’t even wait to
get her to the bedroom. My hands slid around her hips and undid the buttons on
her jeans, yanking them down, along with her panties, until they were around
her knees. With one arm I bent her over the sink, and with the other, I ran two
fingers up and down her slit. With special pressure on her clit, I could see
her wetness already growing.

“Fuck, Noah,” she whimpered.

My fingers found her delicate warm
hole and pushed inside deeply, drawing a cry of pleasure and quiver from deep
within her core. “Have you been thinking about my cock as much as I’ve been
thinking about this pussy?”

“Oh, God,” she said. “I dreamt about
your cock all night.”

Reaching underneath her to grope her
tits, I pumped my fingers in and out of her once more, slowly but deeply. “Did
you dream about fucking it again?”

“Yes,” she said, grasping at my arms.

I pushed even deeper and her begging
became more desperate.

“Did you dream about sucking it?” I
asked.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation,
and I leaned down to bite her neck, fingers still buried deep inside her. She
pushed against my hand until I withdrew and turned her to face me. After
smothering her mouth with hungry kisses, I undid my jeans and pulled out my
erection.

“I want to see this cock in your
mouth,” I said as I pulled my shirt over my head. Laurel’s eyes devoured the
view in front of her, hands running up and down my chest.

My dick only got harder when she sank
down to her knees on my kitchen floor, stopping only when she was eye-level
with its pink, oozing head. A flick of her tongue stole the drop of pre-cum
from my tip as if it was a piece of candy, and the feel of her hot mouth on me
was almost too much to take.

Taking as much of its length in her
mouth as she could while stroking the rest with her hands, Laurel didn’t show
an ounce of apprehension at the size of the cock in her mouth; in fact, she
almost seemed eager to take it. Worked it like it was a challenge. I ran my
hands through her hair and pushed it out of her face so I could watch my
hardness disappear between her red lips. When she looked up at me with those
big, blue eyes, I almost came right there in her mouth, but that wasn’t how I
wanted this to end.

I wasn’t about to cum until I fucked
her again. I pulled my cock out of her mouth, wet with spit, and brought Laurel
to her feet. In one quick motion I had her bent over the sink again, and made
her wait there while I fished a condom out of my wallet.

Instead of my cock, first Laurel’s
pussy felt my fingers again. I pumped them hard and fast until she was crying
out, and then swiftly replaced them with my shaft. Laurel’s cry of pleasure
echoed against the kitchen window, and it was erotic music to my ears. In fact,
I got off on the sound so much that I didn’t last long after that, but I didn’t
give a fuck. I slammed my dick into her quickly, and as soon as I felt her
pussy squeezing me as she came, I let my own orgasm loose.

We panted against each other as our
euphoria subsided, kissing deeply between hard breaths. Laurel’s wet tongue
danced in my mouth and threatened to harden me all over again.

“Hope you had a good meal today,” I
said as I turned her around to face me and wrapped one hand around her ass.
“Because I am nowhere near finished with you.”

Laurel smiled, skin bright and
flushed. “Promises, promises,” she said with a smirk. But she could only cry
out and laugh when I picked her up and threw her naked body over my shoulder
and took her, playfully kicking, to the bedroom.

We fucked twice more before the both
of us were finally ready for a break. She wiggled her sexy ass into the kitchen
to gather us up a couple beers while I carefully rolled a fat joint on a copy
of
Planet Guitar
magazine that was balanced precariously on the
mattress. I was already leaning back on the bed and puffing smoke into the air
when Laurel returned. She immediately cuddled back up into my side with her
beer and took the joint for a few hits.

After a few quiet minutes, I realized
I didn’t have a thought in my head. Everything just felt… right. Was this what
peace felt like?

“Is it bad that I didn’t expect you
to be so good in bed?” she asked with a giggle.

I grinned down at her and pinched her
ass. “I would say yes, but you’re not an idiot. Lots of dudes talk big without
being able to back it up.”

“You’re not kidding,” she said,
glancing at my dick that was finally getting a rest.

“You’re dirty,” I said. “I like it.”

“I’ve always been kind of a perv. I
can’t help it.”

“Are you from Seattle?”

Laurel shook her head. “Nah, I’m a
band photographer. I’m here for work. I’ve been here before, though. I always
did like it up here. It feels….” She took a deep breath. “It feels homey.”

“I obviously tend to agree. Where did
you grow up?”

“I was actually born in Texas, and my
family moved to the East Coast when I was just a kid. Did most of my growing up
outside of Boston.”

“Fuck, now there’s a scene to grow up
in,” I groaned jealously.

“It was pretty goddamn sweet,” she said
with a nod.

A memory jumped up and I couldn’t
stop myself from sharing. “Oh, man, did you know the band Bleeding Bones? I
think they were from Boston…”

With wide eyes, Laurel sat up and
playfully slapped my abs. “Shut
up.
You’ve heard of Bleeding Bones?”

“I
love
Bleeding Bones! Their
pit was the first one I ever got seriously injured in!” I turned my right
forearm over where she could see it, and traced the scar line beneath my
colorful tattoos. “Compound fracture, baby. I could not keep the pussy off of
me for two weeks after that.”

Laurel’s fingers followed the line of
the scar, her mouth a surprised open O. “You are not going to believe this,”
she said, staring at my arm. “Did you break this at El Corazon?”

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s where they
played on their 2003 tour. How did you know that?”

“Noah, I was at that show!” She
grinned. “That was the tour I went on with the band!”

This was unreal. Her smile beamed at
me and there wasn’t anything bragging or bullshit about the look in her eyes.
“No fucking way.”

“Seriously! Their merch guy was one
of my best friends in junior high, and he convinced them to bring me on as the
tour photographer. That Seattle show, it wasn’t supposed to go down at El
Corazon, I remember—the show got moved there last minute from a bigger venue.”

“Yes!” I said, sitting up to face
her. “Fuck, Quinn called me at seven in the goddamn morning and I had the
biggest hangover, and he was losing his shit because we had to go exchange our
tickets before the space at the smaller venue sold out.” I started laughing as
the memory rose fresh in my mind. “We waited in the rain for six goddamn hours
that day just to make sure we got in.”

“That place smelled
horrible
,”
laughed Laurel. “Remember that? You fuckers waiting in the rain in your cotton
jackets, and then getting all packed together in that tiny room like a bunch of
mean, wet dogs. Ugh, it was such a shit show!” She hunched over, giggling at
the story.

“Fuck, that is unbelievable,” I said,
pushing her hair out of her face. “What are the odds of that?”

“Pretty fucking small,” said Laurel.
“Though I don’t remember seeing you break your arm in the pit—I just heard
about it from the band afterwards. Ugh, their drummer was such a puss about
blood… he would
not
shut up about how gross it was.” She ran her hand
down the scar on my arm again. “I can’t believe that was you.”

“And here you are, back again in my
fair city to watch me suffer a different kind of injury,” I said. I meant it as
a joke, and it even came out lightly with a laugh, but the words cut deep
through the mood like I had dropped a rock into a lake. Laurel looked
uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” I said. “Forget it; that was
a bad joke.”

“We can talk about it, if you want,”
she offered.

“I don’t,” I said. Part of me meant
it.

“Okay,” said Laurel. She paused for a
moment, and then asked with a big grin, “Can I tell you something weird?”

I laughed. “Sure.”

She ran a teasing fingertip over the
inked muscles of my chest. “Licking your tattoos reminds me of that scene in
Willy Wonka where they lick the wallpaper.” She licked my chest. “Is this what
snozberries taste like?”

Maybe I was just way too stoned, but
I couldn’t stop laughing. “You
are
a fucking weirdo.” Laurel lost it
with me and I wrapped her in playful roughhouse hug until she squealed against
my skin. She threw a leg over me and sidled up against my side again.

“Speaking of tats, I wanted to ask
you about that,” I said. My left arm was wrapped around her beautiful body, and
I stretched the hand out to rub softly on the delicate script tattoo on her
upper thigh. It was so close to her hipbone that unless she was near-naked, the
ink would stay hidden—so much different from my approach to body art, but I
liked it. Finding it, touching it, and even licking it felt like I had found a
secret treasure. “What does it say?”

Laurel stretched her leg out and
immediately I could see why I couldn’t read the ink before—she had had it done
in such a way that only
she
could read it from her angle. “It’s lyrics.
Tracy Chapman.”

I smiled. “No shit?”

“Yeah,” said Laurel. She seemed a
little self-conscious as she talked. “
We gotta make a decision: leave
tonight, or live and die this way.
”

Chills ran down my body. I lay my
face against Laurel’s head. “Why did you get it?”