“Striker!” I gasp, arching my back at the pleasure that shoots straight through my body to my core. I don’t know how it’s happening, but I’m already soaking wet and throbbing between my legs, so ready to come that I know it won’t take much. His lips leave my mouth, tracing a path down my neck to my other breast, and he sucks that nipple in his mouth, gently biting down as his thumb continues to caress on the other side. Oh, God, it’s so good, I’ve never felt anything like this — it’s like my body was a total stranger to me before now, and Striker is waking it up in ways I never knew possible.
“So sweet,” he whispers as he sucks and teases the hardened bud. My legs have fallen apart, and I’m moaning now, loudly enough that I should be embarrassed but I’ve lost all ability to control myself. My hands clutch at the bedcover, then at his back, and my hips arch toward him, needing his touch so badly but not knowing how to form the words. Striker must sense my need, because his mouth abandons my breast now, and begins its slow, agonizing descent down my torso, to my stomach, kissing and licking all the way. I know where he’s going, and it’s so intimate that I almost want to fist my hand in his hair and make him stop, but I want to feel his mouth on me more, so I writhe and pant, wordlessly begging him to give me the release I crave.
When his head is between my legs, Striker slides a finger inside of me, deep into my soft heat, and I feel myself clenching, gripping him. I know I’m soaked, because the air is cold on my pussy lips. When he removes his finger and covers me with his hot mouth, I cry out and arch my neck back into the mattress, overwhelmed by how good it feels.
Striker slides his finger back inside me as he sucks my clit into his mouth, between his lips. It’s so soft, so hot, so wet, it’s unbearable, so all-consuming I go wild, driven half out of my mind as he teases and explores. He caresses me with his tongue, gentle but demanding, bringing me to the brink and then backing off half a dozen times until I’m begging him, pleas wrenching from my throat as I say his name over and over. Finally, when I can’t take even one more second of the torture, Striker lets me come, and I scream as I shatter, my whole body exploding with a force that scares me as I succumb to it.
I’m still reeling as I feel Striker’s weight shifting off the bed. A clink of what must be his belt, then the crinkle of a wrapper. A second later, the heat of him at my entrance makes me draw a sharp breath.
“Oh, God,” I moan as he fills me.
It’s so tight, just short of painful, but it feels so perfect, and when Striker’s hands grip my hips and he begins to thrust, somehow, unbelievably, I know I’m going to come again. He buries himself deeper and deeper, fingers digging into my skin, and as I listen to his groans of pleasure I feel myself contract. I pull in a shaky breath, waiting for the explosion, and then just as Striker roars his release, I come around him, awash in an ecstasy so all-consuming I’ll never find a name for it as long as I live.
26
Ember
“That was… wow,” I pant when I finally start to think straight.
“Yeah,” Striker agrees hoarsely. “That… was a long time coming.”
We’re both lying flat on our backs, but Striker rolls over, covers me with his body, and kisses me long and deep. Somehow, that kiss is even more intimate than what just happened.
It feels profound. Like this wasn’t just sex.
And it wasn’t. At least, not for me.
When Striker breaks the kiss, he rolls back and pulls me into his arms. I shiver, suddenly cold, and snuggle against him.
“Tank’s gonna be pissed at me.” Striker kisses the top of my head. “But goddamn, it was worth it.”
I feel myself blush. “Why was Tank so concerned about this happening?”
Striker chuckles. “Ah, he was afraid of me being a general asshole and pissing you off so much that you’d drop them as clients. Which, frankly, I can’t blame him for.”
I’m silent, absorbing his words. Even though I told myself I wouldn’t second-guess this, I can’t help but wonder if I’m going to get hurt as a result of tonight. Objectively speaking, getting sexually involved with Striker is a bad, dumb, no-good idea. On paper, he’s exactly the wrong person for me in every way, including being bad for my reputation and my career.
But then again, on paper, Mark looked like the exact right person for me. That’s the logic that got me into a marriage I never belonged in — with a man who only loved the idea of me as an accessory on his arm.
Striker is a mess in a lot of ways. There’s a storm brewing inside him, for sure. But he’s also kind, beneath that rough exterior. And he’s gentle with kids, and protective of me in a way that’s not oppressive. And Bert loves him. That’s got to count for something.
When I met Mark, I followed my head and got burned.
Tonight, I followed my heart — my gut — by sleeping with Striker.
I’m not sure if it will come back to bite me in the ass. But right now, lying in his arms, I tell myself I don’t regret it for a second.
“I wouldn’t drop Tank and Cady as clients.” I wriggle closer to Striker as he wraps the bedspread around me. “No matter what, I wouldn’t do that. So Tank has nothing to worry about.”
I feel Striker nod, and then for a while neither of us talks. He doesn’t say anything for so long that I think maybe he’s falling asleep. Then:
“So, that shit you said earlier,” he says in a low voice. “About why I fight to lose.”
Oh. I wince, regretting my words.
“I’m sorry about that, Striker. It wasn’t my place to say any of it. And I was probably way off base. I just…”
“No,” he says, cutting me off. “That’s the thing. You weren’t way off base. You were pretty much right on the fucking nose.”
Striker’s words shock me into silence.
And then, even more shocking, he keeps going.
“There’s something I haven’t told Tank. Haven’t told anyone.” He pauses. “I’m the reason Cady and Wren got kidnapped.”
“What?” I gasp. I pull myself up on my elbow, needing to see his face. “What are you talking about?” I ask, searching his expression for clues.
“It’s true,” he declares. “I didn’t know it at the time, but it’s true all the same.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I challenge him. “If you didn’t know, then how could you be responsible?”
But the tortured expression on Striker’s face tells me he believes it one-hundred percent.
“I told you about my brother Richie.” He hesitates. “Well, Tank is my brother in everything but blood. My best friend, for going on ten years now. We used to do the rounds in the underground fighting circuit together. Made a hell of a lot of money between us. Hell, Tank was an even better fighter than me. He’s a natural at it. Always has been.
“The money you can make in those fights is insane, if you’re good enough and you’re not afraid to take risks. We cleaned the fuck up on that shit. This was even before we joined the MC. Once we got patched in with the Lords, we both kept fighting for a while, until Tank eventually decided to bow out. Rudy, the guy who organizes the fights, was tryin’ to get Tank to sign on for a fight that could have made him rich. But the ones that make real bank are risky. And Tank didn’t like the way things were heading. So he turned Rudy down, and decided to get out of the scene.