Devil's Kiss: Widowmakers MC Part 8

I pour three shots of whiskey for me, Nick, and his friend. We clink the gla.s.ses together and toss them back, Nick keeping his eyes on me the whole time. I grab the beer I keep behind the bar and take a long sip to chase the burning feeling in my throat.

"You can't have been working here long," Nick says. "Brian and I must've been in here a month or two ago and didn't see you."

"Month and a half. Right after Lisa broke up with me," Brian adds a little sadly.

"Oh no! You got broken up with?" Stacy asks tipsily.

"Oh, yeah. Big time." Soon Brian is spilling the details of his broken heart to her while she makes sympathetic clicking noises with her tongue.

"Man, I'm glad he found someone else to talk to about her. He's been talking my ear off about it for weeks," Nick says to me, sipping his beer.

I lean on the bar and take a swig of my own beer. I notice a large bandage wrapped around his hand and lightly touch his fingers. "What happened here?"

"Oh, I'm a welder," he tells me. "Had a little accident in the shop the other day."

"Nothing serious, I hope," I say.

"Not for a big, tough man like me," he says with a smile, and I guffaw. "What about this one?" he asks, taking my hand and turning it over, pointing to the jagged scar I have on the underside of my forearm.

"Fell out of a bed," I tell him.

"Sorry?" he blinks.

I giggle at his surprised expression. "Oh, nothing that interesting. I was seven, and I was at my friend's house for a sleepover and she had a bunk bed, which I think is pretty much the coolest thing you can have as a kid, right?"

"Oh, definitely," he agrees.

"Well, I insisted on sleeping on the top bunk, and it was one of those old wooden ones, you know?" I go on, "And I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night and slipped going down the ladder, and cut my arm on a loose piece that was sticking out. Five st.i.tches."

"Eight for me," he says, indicating his hand.

"Eight? Oh man, that deserves another shot," I say with a smile, grabbing the whiskey again. I look to Brian and Stacy, but they're deep in conversation, so I just pour out a couple shots for Nick and myself. We knock them back and Nick looks around.

"You, uh, ever have a problem with all the bikers in this place?" he asks, head bent forward.

"Nah. My brother, her boyfriend," I indicate Stacy with a nod of my head, "he's one of them, so they don't give me much trouble." I see West walk slowly toward the bar over Nick's shoulder. "Except this one. He is a real pain in the a.s.s."

West stops several feet down the bar from Nick and beckons me with a small movement of his head. I bristle a little at his a.s.sumptive air, but walk slowly over to him.

"Meet me in the women's bathroom in five minutes," he says.

"Why?" I ask.

"Just do it," he growls at me, then walks away.

I walk back to Nick, who looks slightly alarmed at the size and rugged appearance of the biker that was just talking to me.

"Friend of yours?" he asks.

"I have no idea," I tell him honestly. I take a few more sips of beer, then excuse myself and duck under the far end of the bar again, carefully holding down my skirt as I do. I give a little wave to Sharon as I go, to let her know I'll be right back. What does West want now? Maybe to give my underwear back?

I weave through the crowd and push the bathroom door open. West is already inside, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed. Without saying anything, he crosses behind me to the door and throws a bar across it, locking anyone else out. I back into the middle of the room as he turns to face me.

"While you're with me, you're mine. No flirting with other men," he hisses. I'm taken aback by the aggressive tone of his voice, and his choice of words.

"While I'm with you?" I ask, crossing my own arms across my chest.

"You know what I mean," he says gruffly.

"Fine," I say sharply, "Then the same goes for you, then. No flirting with other women, OK?"

He pauses, glowering at me. "Fine," he finally agrees, his expression lightening just a bit.

"We done here?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"Not so fast," he says, a slight smile playing across his lips. My heart rate quickens a little at the glimmer in his eye. He slowly unbuckles his belt, walking toward me. I back up until I feel the cool metal of the bathroom stall behind me. West looms over me, and I can feel desire welling up inside me, just at his mere proximity.

"I know you're a working woman, so I'm not going to waste any time," he whispers, his eyes flas.h.i.+ng. His lips are quickly on mine, his tongue inside my mouth, working my jaw open. "Spread your legs," he orders, breaking away from our kiss.

I comply immediately, and he thrusts two fingers inside me. I cry out as I feel him inside me. I'm amazed by how wet I am already at his sudden touch. I reach forward and catch the waistband of his jeans, slipping my hand inside and finding his huge c.o.c.k already erect-just waiting to be released.

Gently pulling that gorgeous length out of West's jeans, I stroke it with my eager hands as a groan rises from the back of his throat. I brush my fingers around his tip and feel a drop of pre-c.u.m. I press my palm into it and spread it around the rest of his head. I move a hand down to his b.a.l.l.s, cupping them gently. His c.o.c.k is hard, and pulsating in my hands.

I keep my hands on his c.o.c.k as he tears the foil of a condom. As soon as it's on, he bends down and pulls my skirt up around my waist, immediately picking me up. Before I know what's happening, he's lowering me onto his d.i.c.k, and I moan with pleasure as he fills me up inch by inch.

He easily guides me up and down on his c.o.c.k, my back steadied against the stall. I feel his hands firmly grasp my a.s.s, holding tight. His pace is fast and unrelenting, his eyes half-lidded as he thrusts inside me over and over. I close my eyes and concentrate only on the feeling of his d.i.c.k inside me. I grit my teeth, trying to make this feeling last as long as I can. But the elicit nature of our meeting and his expertise soon overwhelm me. I try to keep my cries quiet as I come.

West is right there with me, and I can hear him groaning under the sound of the music blasting on the other side of the door. With a final slam, he pushes me against the stall. I curl my legs more tightly around him and he leans against me to support himself as we catch our breath.

Finally, he steps back and moves his hands to the small of my back. I slowly slide off him and he sets me on the floor, then tosses the condom into the trash. He reaches into his pocket and hands me my balled up black panties with a smile. I have the urge to step into the stall to pull them back on, but I guess that would be silly, considering what just happened between us. I carefully step back into them and pull them up. I step toward the mirror and smooth my hair, wiping a bit of smudged mascara out from under my eye. Behind me, I see West zip up his fly.

I turn to slide the bar off the door when I feel West's hand on my upper arm, stopping me. I pause and look at him questioningly. To my surprise, he steps toward me and wraps his hands around my back, slowly leaning in to kiss me on the lips. I smile up at him and he smiles back, reaching around me to unlock the door.

"Ladies first," he says. I nod and walk back into the crowded area. I look around as I make my way back to the bar and stop short as I see a figure move across the room. My heart starts pounding in my ears.

Was that Richard?

The curve of the nose was his, and the chin...But it's hard to see in the dark, and the man I spotted wore a baseball cap and turned away as soon as I looked at him. I glance around frantically, trying to spot him again, but whoever it was has disappeared. He wouldn't be so crazy as to follow me all the way out to Vegas...right?

I feel a hand on my back and jump.

"You OK?" West asks, looking worriedly down at me.

"Yeah," I smile nervously up at him. "Just thought I saw a ghost."

Chapter Twelve.

Olive I take a deep breath as I survey the view from the Pine Creek Overlook. West brought me out here this morning for a hike. I thought I was in good shape, but he sets a fast pace, and I'm totally winded.

It is fascinating to walk with him, though. His experience in the Marines trained him in desert survival, and he's been telling me about all the plants that we've been pa.s.sing, and what they can be used for. He's standing next to me now, and takes an aluminum water bottle out of his pack and pa.s.ses it to me. I take a long, grateful swig.

"Look!" he says quietly. I look in the direction he's pointing and see several beige shapes moving along the edge of the cliff. "Bighorn sheep. The males are the ones with the big, curved horns, and the females have the straighter horns."

He wraps his arm around my shoulders as we watch them move along the canyon. Eventually they walk out of sight, delicately finding their way across the rocky terrain. I lean back against West, smelling his sweat and the fresh air. I feel so...normal. Good normal. But Stick texted yesterday to let us know he'd be back soon, so this can't last much longer.

As if reading my thoughts, West drops his arm and nods back toward the trail, indicating that we should head back. I fall into step next to him, though three of my strides probably equal two of his. When we reach more rocky parts of the trail, he steps ahead of me to find the best footing, then turns and points out to me where to step, occasionally offering his hand when I need it.

He points to the side of the trail and raises his eyebrows questioningly. Before, I would have described the tangle of branches we're looking at as weeds, maybe shrubs, but now I decisively say, "Desert willow."

West nods happily. I laugh and take his hand-he looks so proud of me. It's true that I lived in Vegas for many years without really experiencing any of the natural areas surrounding it.

"So, do you think you'll be able to see Davis while he's in town?" I ask, referencing a guy from his unit that he said was visiting soon.

"Hopefully. It'll be strange to see him out of that context, I think. I hope he doesn't just want to hit the casinos. Did I ever tell you about when he...?"

The rest of the way down the canyon, he tells me stories about the guys he served with until I have a clear picture of each one in my mind. By the time we reach the dirt parking lot, my s.h.i.+rt is completely sweated through. I pull it off and use it to wipe the sweat and dust from the rest of my body.

West has pulled off his own s.h.i.+rt off and starts the Tahoe without climbing in so that we won't get blasted by hot air from the air conditioner. Once we feel it cooling off, we each get inside and shut our doors. The cold air pumping in rushes over my damp sports bra and I s.h.i.+ver a little as we pull onto the highway. West shuts off the AC and we open the windows, feeling the breeze hit our faces. I crank up the radio and loudly sing along to the Led Zeppelin song that's playing.

Suddenly, I hear the car sputter and see a bit of smoke trail out of the hood. I glance toward West. He's frowning, and checks his mirrors before pulling onto the shoulder. He pops up the hood, then shuts off the car. I glance at the clock. It'll be getting dark soon, and we're still a good half hour from home. He grabs his s.h.i.+rt from where he tossed it in the backseat and gets out of the car, wrapping it around his hand so he can open the hood without burning himself.

I watch him as he pushes the hood up, s.h.i.+elding his face from the smoke. The metal obscures him as I pull out my cell phone to make sure I get service. A couple bars. I watch the dark green of the hood, the fading light reflecting of off it and back into the car. It shuts, revealing West's s.h.i.+rtless body. He wipes his hands on his s.h.i.+rt as he makes his way back to the driver's side door.

"Everything OK?" I ask as he sits back down.

"Yeah, it's fine," he replies, though there's some tension around his mouth. "We'll be fine to make it home, but I'm going to take it slow." He starts the car and pulls back onto the highway. "Could you just dial Ratchet on my phone and then hand it to me?"

"Sure," I say, taking his cell and tapping in Ratchet's name.

"Hey, West," his deep voice answers as I hold the phone to my ear.

"Oh, actually, it's Olive, Stick's sister. West just asked me to call you. Here he is," I say, placing the phone on West's ear, where he holds it with his right hand.

"Hey, could you meet me at Stick's house in about forty minutes?" West asks, "I'm having a little car trouble." I hear Ratchet's voice mumbling on the other end, but can't hear what he's saying. "Yup. Yeah. Exactly," West says, glancing sidelong at me a little, then hangs up the phone and hands it back to me. "Thanks."

"You sure everything's OK?" I ask.

"Yeah, I just need his help with the filter," he says, smiling at me. "Unless you want to do it."

"No, thank you," I reply, "I'll stick to mixing drinks."

We drive slowly in the right lane the rest of the way back to the house. When we pull into the driveway, Ratchet is already sitting on the low front stoop, his bike parked out front.

"Thanks for meeting me," West says.

"No problem," Ratchet says. "Olive, you think you could excuse us?"

"It's just going to be boring shop talk," West adds.

"Sure, no problem," I say, though I'm a little taken aback. "Have you had dinner yet? I'm marinating some chicken if you'd like some."

"That'd be great," Ratchet says. "Thanks."

I walk inside as they walk over to the Tahoe. I peer out from the living room window, and see them bending over the hood together. It seemed like there was something they weren't telling me.

Dumping my bag by the door, I head into the kitchen. I'm still in just my sports bra and don't know if I have time to shower, so I head into my room and grab an old work out s.h.i.+rt and throw it on. Then I head out the sliding gla.s.s door and turn on the grill to heat it up. Back in the kitchen, I boil some water and take the chicken out of the fridge where it's been marinating in a soy-based sauce. After I lay the chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s carefully across the grill, I head inside to put the fresh corn in the pot of boiling water.

I feel too dirty to sit inside to eat, so I clean off the outdoor table next to the grill and set out a few candles and some silverware. West and Ratchet come inside just as I'm removing the corn from the pot.

"Smells good in here," Ratchet comments. West grabs a fresh s.h.i.+rt from his room and they both wash their oily, black hands at the sink.

"Thanks. West, you mind checking the chicken?" I ask as I bring the corn outside.

A few minutes later, we're chowing down around the table. That hike really made me hungry. "So, everything's good with the car, then?" I ask again.

"Yup, just needs a new filter," Ratchet says. "Might have to keep it at the shop for a few days. Stick goes away and you wreck his car, West," he adds jokingly.

Ratchet's a lot nicer than I thought, based on his stern appearance. Soon he's telling me about his two daughters, and asking if I'm available to babysit for his nephews. We each have a couple beers, and two hours later, he hits the road. West cleans the grill as I rinse the plates off and put them in the dishwasher. He walks in just as I'm shutting it.

"You look like you could use a shower," he says, with mock disapproval. Suddenly he jumps toward me and scoops me up, slinging me over his shoulder. He slaps my a.s.s and I shriek in protest as he carries me down the hallway. He kicks the bathroom door open and leans over to turn the water on.

"West, don't you dare!" I squeal, but he deposits me in the tub as the still-cool water rains down on me, and my clothes.

"You're a dirty girl," he shrugs, barring my way out of the tub. I try to dodge around him, but he blocks the whole s.p.a.ce easily with his long arms.

"Fine," I say, relenting and standing back in the shower. I start to peel my wet clothes off as he watches, smiling. When I'm standing in front of him completely naked, he pulls his own s.h.i.+rt off, undoes his belt, and takes off his pants and boxers, stepping out of them and into the shower. As he pulls the shower curtain closed behind him, I step into him, rubbing my hands over his hard abs. I watch as the droplets cascade down his face, clearing away the last of the dust from the trail.

"I always used to wonder about this, you know," I confide.

"About what?" he says, closing his eyes.

"This," I say running my hands along his bare torso. "You were always my older brother's hot friend. I always just felt like some dumb kid around you."

"I remember when we wouldn't let you play with us," he says with a grin. "We had that boys-only clubhouse."

"You still have a boys-only clubhouse. The Widowmakers," I point out.

"Oh, yeah," he realizes, and throws his head back with a laugh. I run my fingers along the muscles of his neck.

"And do you remember when you kissed me?" I ask, suddenly nervous.