The Night Horde SoCal: Fire And Dark Part 6

"It's worse lately. The last couple of years. I stay out of Hugo's s.h.i.+t, except when I'm cleaning it up, so I don't know all he's into. But he's a taker. Like a f.u.c.king sponge. Maybe he decided to try to get over on Raul."

"That'd be pretty stupid."

"That'd be my brother."

She was done with her drink and wanted another. Connor had emptied his some time back; she stood and went to the sofa. "Want another?"

"Sure, thanks." He held up his empty gla.s.s. When her hand went around it, over his hand, he pulled back a little-not enough to take the gla.s.s back, just enough to pull on her slightly. "The Horde is in this, now. That scene tonight is gonna play out some way."

"I know. I'm sorry."

He shook his head, his eyes holding hers. "No need. We knew going in we could be beating a wasp nest. We'll deal. Your brother's safe while he's in the hospital. They won't make a scene there. But Raul's sniffing at you now, too. You need to watch your back."

Now Pilar shook her head. "I know how he works. He's not as interested in me as it looked. I'm just a puta to him. He was stirring you guys up. He saw you s.h.i.+elding me and knew going for me would get you aggressive. He was picking a fight with you."

She could see that Connor hadn't run that probability. He sat back, his gears spinning, and let go of the gla.s.s. "f.u.c.k. You're right."

"I know. And I'm sorry. I didn't know that would happen."

He gave her a wry smile. "I could use that refill."

"Yeah. Just a sec."

While she refreshed their drinks, Pilar let her brain run loose over the events of the past day. She'd spent most of it searching for her brother. She'd ended up dragging a whole f.u.c.king MC into her family's problems and had made an even bigger problem for them.

As frustrated as she'd been that afternoon, being told to be quiet and meek and let the men handle things, as angry and determined as she'd been in the High Life, she'd also noticed and appreciated the way Connor had been attuned to her, keeping his position relative to hers all the time, s.h.i.+elding her. That attention had gotten him and his club into some trouble.

But the most potent part of that whole fiasco had been the way he'd gone with it when she'd taken her gun back and pointed it at Raul's head. Connor hadn't tried to a.s.sert himself then, and he had yet to try to shove it down her throat that she'd been out of line. He'd simply adopted what she'd done into his plan, and he'd been impervious to Raul's taunts about standing behind a woman. He'd let her lead.

They'd managed to rescue Hugo fairly peacefully, at least in that moment. Now her brother was in the hospital, beaten half to death, but rescued. And Connor the Protective Biker was sitting in her living room.

It had been a very long time since she'd had a man over whom she wouldn't have already called a friend. Somebody she trusted to know her.

This was her s.p.a.ce, where she lived, in more than simply physical terms. Half her life was spent in the barn, but that was a different Pilar, or at least a particular side of her. That Pilar was a tough-a.s.s b.i.t.c.h who talked smack with the boys and could sling an unconscious man over her shoulders and carry him out of a burning building. That wasn't Pilar at all. That was Cordero.

Here, she could be more than that. Or less; maybe it was less that she needed to be at home. She could be vulnerable. She could pretty up her furniture and talk to her plants. She could watch the telenovelas she loved. She could go out to get her hair and nails done, to get a ma.s.sage, to shop for ridiculously fancy shoes she'd never wear. She could be a girl. She could be Pilar.

She didn't let many people see that person, and she wasn't sure she wanted to show her to Connor. But she did like that he was here.

She took the refilled gla.s.ses back out to the living room. Connor was on his phone; he turned to her and smiled as she brought him his drink.

"Yeah, Dad. Makes sense. Okay. I'll just see you tomorrow, then." He ended the call and put his phone away. "Interesting day, huh?"

When he took his gla.s.s, she said, "I can shoot, you know."

"I saw your stance. I believe you now. But then it was a variable, like Sherlock said. You gotta control the variables in a situation like that, as much as you can." He took a drink of bourbon. She was still standing over him, sipping her drink, watching his throat move under his beard as he swallowed. With a curious look, he added, "You gonna stand there staring down at me? You want me to go?"

"No." She didn't. And she didn't like that she didn't. It wasn't booze or adrenaline or any of that making her h.o.r.n.y. This guy right here, sitting on her sofa, big and brawny without being some he-man pig, was doing the job all on his own. She didn't like the way she liked him.

She put her knee on the sofa and straddled his lap.

His smile at that was of the melty variety, and he opened his arms to make way. "Well, h.e.l.lo."

She sat down on his thighs and finished her drink, turning to set the gla.s.s on the table behind her. "Hi. This okay?"

His smile lost no heat as he said, "I'm usually the one asking that question."

"Is that okay?"

"Sure." He finished his drink, and she took the gla.s.s from him and set it next to hers.

"I'm up at five-thirty, and I have to be at work at seven. You can't stay the night."

"Understood." He slid his hands up the outside of her thighs and over her hips. "You really just go for what you want, don't you?"

"Flirting is a waste of valuable time."

"I don't know. I like to flirt. It's part of it, like verbal foreplay. If I can get a girl wet with just my voice, that's hot for both of us."

"I'm already wet. And I can tell your motor's revving." She rocked her hips over his erection to prove her point.

He chuckled and fed one hand into her hair, holding her head. "Jesus, Pilar. Slow down. It's not that late."

She didn't want to slow down. She didn't want to flirt. She wanted to f.u.c.k. And she had the answer to her earlier internal question. As much as she liked the sound of her given name in his gruff voice, it was safer to keep Pilar away. "Most people call me by my last name: Cordero."

"Is that what you want me to call you?"

"Yeah."

With his hand in her hair, he brought her close while his other hand slid up under her s.h.i.+rt. His callused fingers played over her skin. "Well, Cordero. You got a bed in this place? I want to get naked this time." Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her.

He had a great mouth and a fantastic tongue, and the feel of his beard against her skin made her moan. As their tongues slid together and his hands moved up her back, under her s.h.i.+rt, she rocked on him, dragging the ridge of his hard c.o.c.k over her core. f.u.c.k, she was hot for this guy. Too hot for him. Things were getting complicated, in her head, if nowhere else.

But she couldn't bring herself to care. She wanted him to stay, at least for a little while.

She lifted his t-s.h.i.+rt and scratched her nails over his chiseled belly until he groaned and tore his mouth away from hers. "Bed, baby. I want to strip you naked and f.u.c.k you in your bed."

He didn't wait for her to respond. He just grabbed her hips and stood up, taking her with him. "Point me in the right direction."

Not liking to be carried, she squirmed, kicking her legs free of his hold and landing on the ground where she belonged.

He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. "Most girls like that."

"This woman doesn't."

"f.u.c.k, Cordero. You're wearing me out while my fly's still zipped." He slapped her a.s.s-that, she liked. "Fine, then. Lead me in the right direction."

Grinning, she grabbed his big hand and led him to her bedroom.

Once there, she turned and grabbed at his t-s.h.i.+rt, pulling him close. He reached back to pull it over his head from behind, and once he was free of it, he bent down to kiss her again. He took her mouth firmly, and she pushed him away and then came back, taking the control for herself. In that way of give and take-or, really, take and take-they tore their own and each other's clothes off, casting pieces aside carelessly.

When they were standing naked before each other, Pilar put her hands on his chest, partly to hold him off for a second, and partly just to have her hands on him. He was her perfect type, and she ran her hands over his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his belly, loving the feel of hair and muscle smoothing past her palms.

She skimmed over his hips, his thick, muscular thighs, the glorious rod between them. Madre de Dios!

He stood and let her touch all she wanted, a small, enigmatic smirk crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Her hands dropped down his arms, and she focused on that forearm tattoo, the bracer. Smoothing her thumb over the entwined Celtic knots, she asked, "Is this a warrior thing?"

He shrugged and turned his arm in her hold. "Covers an old tat. It was big, so the coverage needed to be bigger. But yeah, I'm the club SAA. You know what that is?"

She did. There was a patch on his kutte that said as much. And that was hot, too-she understood the Protector vibe he had going. "Sergeant at Arms. Club bada.s.s, basically."

He laughed. "Close enough."

"Are you Irish?" She picked up his crucifix with her other hand. "Irish Catholic?"

"I guess so. My old man is Irish and Scottish-by way of Indiana. But he's into his roots. Me, I just like the knots. And my old man." He shook her hands off and pulled her close, pus.h.i.+ng his erection into her belly. "Baby, you said you didn't want to waste time. If we're gonna play the get-to-know-you game, can we do it later? Because you standing here in nothing but that fine body is making it tough to think about who I am."

Taking his hands, she walked backward to the bed. When she b.u.mped up against it, she dropped his hands and slid up onto the mattress, keeping eye contact as she did so.

He followed right with her, easing up along her side, one hand sliding up her body as he settled next to her. "f.u.c.k," he murmured, clutching her thigh. "You are like nothing I've ever felt before." He dipped his head and sucked a nipple between his teeth, and at the same time he slid a hand between her legs, groaning as his fingers moved slickly through her ready wet. He pushed a finger inside her, and when she moaned and rolled her hips toward that touch, he added another, pus.h.i.+ng into her with some force.

The way she liked. She spread her legs wide, encouraging him, and whispered, "f.u.c.k yeah, come on."

Pulling his fingers out, he turned his attention to her c.l.i.t, rolling and rubbing and pinching with his rough fingers until her nerves were frayed and on fire. All the while, he suckled her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, moving back and forth, his beard lightly abrading her skin. When she knew she was on the express to an o.r.g.a.s.m and she'd thrown her arms back and grabbed her wrought-iron headboard in her hands, he released her nipple and lifted up to look down at her. She met his eyes, and at that moment, he slid his fingers back inside her and f.u.c.ked her hard and fast-so hard and fast-with his hand.

"Oh my f.u.c.king G.o.d!" she gasp-screamed, the sound practically inhuman even to her own distracted ears.

"You like it hard, baby?" His eyes glittered with heat.

"Yes, f.u.c.k yes," she grunted. And then he went even harder. He took her right up to the point of pain, her favorite place to be, and when she came, she flailed and shook so hard that the headboard slammed into the wall over and over. As the o.r.g.a.s.m finally crested and crashed, she curled into Connor, grabbing at him, biting down on his shoulder.

When it was over, she had trouble making her body unclench. With that gravelly chuckle he had, Connor eased her off of him and back down to the bed. "You okay?"

Before she could answer, there was a violent knocking on the wall, and Connor looked up at it, surprised.

But Pilar laughed. "That's Mrs. Lee. Our bedrooms share a wall. We probably woke her up."

He looked back down at her, his brow creased. "This isn't a house?"

"Duplex. She's got the back half."

"Ah. Sorry, Mrs. Lee!" he yelled.

She laughed and slapped his arm. "Stop!"

"Well, it pays to be polite." He licked the fingers of the hand he'd f.u.c.ked her with. "Mmm. You taste great, Cordero."

She liked the sound of her last name in his voice even more than her first name. d.a.m.n. As hard as he'd just made her come, she was ready to go again. But when he moved downward, headed for a more complete taste, she grabbed his head. "No. I want c.o.c.k."

Again with the s.e.x chuckle. "You got it. Just need a condom."

She grabbed his arm before he could move off of her. "In that drawer right there."

Nodding, he reached over and opened her nightstand drawer. And his eyebrows went up.

She wasn't surprised; she knew what she was letting him see, and it hadn't been a mistake to let him.

He pulled the box of condoms out and peeled one off the strip. "Oh, baby. I think I want to see more of you. Because I'd like to root around in that drawer."

That was okay by her. But for now, she simply smiled and spread her legs.

When he got the condom on, he lay between her legs and fed himself into her right away. And then he gathered her up and rolled over, putting her on top. It surprised her; he'd been take-charge in all their f.u.c.king so far. She pushed up, away from his chest, and he closed his hands around her hips.

"Ride me like you stole me, Cordero." With that, he smacked her a.s.s. "C'mon. Giddy-up."

Still take-charge, then. But she liked it. d.a.m.n. She was getting into deep woods with this guy. She knew it, but it felt too good to care.

She rode him hard, using his c.o.c.k shamelessly to bring herself off in another cras.h.i.+ng explosion that had Mrs. Lee pounding on the wall again. When Connor made an enormous growling sound and tried to sit up, she pushed down on his shoulders and held him there, f.u.c.king him harder, finding another peak for herself.

He stopped trying to sit up, and grabbed her b.r.e.a.s.t.s instead, pulling sharply on her nipples, and she did come again, this time with him. He left her b.r.e.a.s.t.s to grab her hips again, and his head bent back, and the muscles of his neck and shoulders bunched hugely. Her hips ached from the pressure of his fingers.

By the time they were both finished, Pilar was completely f.u.c.king exhausted and practically fell off of him, dropping over to the side, leaving her legs in a tangle with his. They lay there, their panting breaths loud in the room.

As they calmed, she could feel a familiar but still strange tension coiling into the air. The post-coital tension of the casual f.u.c.k. Another reason she didn't bring casual f.u.c.ks home-it was obvious that the end of the f.u.c.k was the end of the encounter when they were up against a wall in a bar restroom, or back in the storeroom at The Deck. In her own house, though, that line wasn't so clear.

But what if Connor wasn't a casual f.u.c.k? Was he? She wanted to see him more. And he'd made noises like he wanted the same thing.

"I'll get out of your hair in a sec," he said, taking a deep breath and patting her thigh.

"You can stay if you want." f.u.c.k, saying that scared the s.h.i.+t out of her. But it was what she wanted, and she made a point not to quibble when she wanted something.

He lifted his head. "You sure? I thought you had work."

"I do. You'd have to get up and out when I get up. But if you want to crash, I'm good with it."

With his head still up at that odd angle, he stared at her. She was uncomfortable and getting defensive before he smiled.

"Okay, Cordero. I'll crash with you."

CHAPTER SEVEN.