BULLET: Lords of Carnage MC Read online

  “That’s two requests.” I manage to choke the words out while my dick is yellin’, Hells, yeah!

  “Don’t get smart,” she says breathily. “Now, let’s get out of here, before I change my mind.”

  7

  Six

  I hear myself laughing as I climb onto the back of Bullet’s bike and put my feet on the pegs. I listen to my voice as I tell him my address, and hope that I’m the only one who hears the slight tremble in it.

  I want this. There’s no question about that. Being around this man — staring at his damn sexy, teasing eyes as they look me up and down, watching his muscles flex under his shirt as he aimed for a shot across the table — I should have known I wouldn’t have a chance in hell of resisting him if I allowed him to take me out. It’s been even harder to keep my cool tonight than it was when I was leaning over the taut muscles of his abdomen giving him his tattoo.

  There’s no way around it: this man oozes sex. And without the protection of the front counter at Rebel Ink, or the supervision of my boss Chance’s watchful eye, I’m a goner before I even realize it. All it took was a little alcohol to break down the last of my reserves. That, and the tantalizing sense of power I had from knowing that I was in control of that pool game just now. I could feel his eyes on me, watching my body as I moved around the table. I knew Bullet liked what he saw. The flood of pleasure overwhelmed my senses, knowing he was seeing me in control. Sure of myself. Sexy.

  It was intoxicating. It made me want to be what he saw in me: Free. Happy. The kind of girl who isn’t always looking over her shoulder.

  All of the things I used to feel about myself.

  At the same time, I’d be lying to myself if I pretended I’m not afraid of what’s about to happen between us. As much as I want it — and oh, God, do I want it — the reality is that it’s been an eternity since I’ve been with a man. It’s been so long, I can hardly stand to let myself think about it. No matter how I try to give Bullet the impression that I’m cool, calm, and in control of myself, I’m nervous as hell right now. Nervous in a way I haven’t been since my very first time having sex. My brain is crying out that this whole thing is a huge mistake, even as my body is telling it to shut the hell up and let it have a little fun for once.

  But I’ll be damned if I’ll let Bullet see this war that’s raging inside of me.

  As we fly down the highway back toward Tanner Springs, I can’t help but admire once again the sure, deft way he handles the powerful motorcycle under us. It doesn’t seem possible, but the way he maneuvers the bike, so strong and capable, turns me on even more than I already am. Between my legs, I can tell my panties are already soaked through. I push down my embarrassment and try to hold on to my cool, collected persona, even as I can feel I’m starting to come a bit unraveled.

  By the time we get to Tanner Springs, I’m a mess of hormones and barely-suppressed desire. Not a moment too soon, Bullet turns onto my street. I point past him to the nondescript apartment building I call home. He pulls up in front of it and backs the bike up against the curb. I hop off a little awkwardly, holding onto his hard, muscled shoulder for support. A second later, the bike’s engine dies and he’s standing in front of me.

  Once I’ve pulled my helmet off, Bullet’s eyes land on mine. “You ain’t changed your mind, have you, Six?” he rumbles.

  The smoldering look he gives me makes it clear he knows damn well I haven’t, but I give him credit for making sure all the same. I don’t even respond. I just look up at him through lowered lashes, then turn and on my heel and head up the front walk. I know he’s watching as he follows behind me, so I put a little extra swivel in my hips, enjoying the dance of seduction that I haven’t done with anyone in so long. Somehow, the dance calms me a little — makes me feel more like I’m the one in the driver’s seat. For now, anyway. Because I can tell just by looking at Bullet that once we’re in bed, he’ll be the one in charge.

  If he fucks the way he handles a motorcycle, I’m in for the ride of my life.

  “You just move here?” Bullet frowns as he looks around my barely lived-in living room.

  I sweep it with my gaze, trying to see it as he would. There aren’t any pictures on the wall. Objects on any surfaces are strictly utilitarian. The flowered sofa and mismatched chair are Dumpster-diving treasures. The soft, plush area rug in the center of the room is the only touch of luxury in my otherwise spartan decor.

  “No,” I admit, self-conscious. “I’ve been here a while. I just… don’t care a lot about knick-knacks and artwork and stuff, I guess.”

  The more stuff I have to pack, the harder it is to leave quickly if I have to.

  I shrug off the oversized leather jacket I’m wearing. It was a parting “gift” from my ex-boyfriend that I shamelessly stole from him when I skipped town in the dead of winter a couple of years ago. I should really get rid of this thing, given all the bad memories it carries with it. I almost have, a couple of times. But something has always ended up stopping me. In a way, I wear it almost like a shield. I feel like it reminds me to always stay alert and on my toes. Another layer of secrecy between me and the world.

  Bullet takes a step toward me. “You’re a woman after my own heart,” he jokes, seemingly satisfied with my response. In spite of myself, I tense up. Bullet doesn’t seem to notice, though, as he pulls up on the hem of my shirt and slides it up my stomach and over my head. Tossing it on a chair, he takes a step back to look at me.

  “Nice ink,” he murmurs appreciatively. His rough, callused fingers start to trace the serpentine lines of the artwork that covers most of my right shoulder and arm. They’re patterns I designed — mostly abstract, but still full of meaning for me. He reaches around and undoes my bra, and I let him, shivering slightly as the cool air hits my breasts.

  “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that, Mystery Girl?” he rasps. Bullet’s right hand comes up to cup one breast, to tease the already hardening nipple with his thumb. When I suck in a shuddering breath, his eyes slide up to meet mine.

  “Good?” he asks.

  I nod, swallowing around the nervous lump in my throat. “Very.”

  He leans down to graze my lips with his. “Shame we waited so long to do this,” he says, taking me into his arms. “We’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

  My skin is alive, clamoring for more of his touch, but a far-off alarm bell is sounding in my head. “Wait!” I let out a little yelp, putting a hand on his rock-hard chest to hold him off. “You, um, know this is just a one-time thing, right?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Six. I ain’t gonna cry into my beer if you don’t call me afterwards.” His laughter reassures me, and I feel myself relax as he backs me up against the wall. “But remember what I said about your name.”

  Bullet’s hands slide around my ass as he pulls me to him. He’s already hard as steel, and I stifle a moan, my eyes fluttering half-closed. “What’s that?” I gasp, even though I know what he’s going to say. I just want to hear him say it again.

  His lips brush against my neck before moving to my mouth. “It’s the number of times I’m gonna make you come. So buckle up, Mystery Girl.”

  The first time I come is right up against that wall. His hand slips under my skirt, between my legs, and finds my soaking core. The low growl of his voice resonates through my entire body as his lips continue to tease and devour mine. “Fuck, Six,” he groans. “Jesus, that’s sexy. You’re wet as hell, you know that?”

  I start to stiffen up at his words, but then dimly through the haze of my own desire I remember he said the word sexy and make myself relax again. “I… It’s been awhile,” I admit in a strangled half-whisper.

  “Then let’s make it count.” His finger moves aside the fabric of my panties, expertly locating my clit. As his tongue finds mine, he begins to stroke, in slow lazy circles that make me dizzy. The rhythm of our tongues follows suit, establishing a connection that starts my whole body vibrating. Something about the way he’s touching me paralyzes me, and all I can do is clutch onto his shoulders as he holds me against the wall and continues his assault. I’m helpless to do anything, my entire body a prisoner of the pleasure he’s giving me. I hear myself whimper softly, my hips rising and straining toward his hand on their own. Before I realize how close I am, I’m already coming, shuddering against his chest as I ride the waves.

  Then I’m in his arms, and he’s carrying me through the hall. I fight through the haze of my orgasm and try to find the words to direct him to my bedroom, but by the time I do he’s already there, shoving aside the tangle of sheets and bedcovers to set me down on the mattress. Then my panties are off and the skirt is at my waist, and he’s lying down on the bed below me, his head between my legs.

  His tongue finds my sensitive nub, already swollen from coming, and swipes gently at it. I cry out, the sensation riding the edge between pleasure and pain. Bullet backs off a bit, but grabs my hips, pulling me to him. He starts to lap at me again, softer this time, careful to build the pleasure again by teasing just enough to make me want more, then more still. Somehow, he seems to know my body already — just how much to push me before backing off, just how to help me climb the mountain of my need — until I’m whimpering and straining toward him, desperate to fly over the edge once again.

  This time the orgasm is deep, earth-shattering. It feels like my whole body is exploding, the pleasure radiating outward to every nerve ending, engulfing me in its power.

  My head is still thrown back against the mattress as I feel it move underneath me. Bullet’s eyes are dark and hooded as he kneels between my legs. He’s naked now, his cock full and hard and pulsing. He reaches down and strokes the head against my throbbing pussy. I gasp at the heat of it, the slickness against me. I
nstinctively, I start to angle my hips up to him, then I freeze.

  “Do you have protection?” I whisper. I pray the answer is yes, because at this point I’m not sure I can stop myself either way. I need to feel him inside me.

  His only response is to hold up two fingers. A shiny square foil package is between them.

  I watch in fascination as he opens the wrapper and slides the condom down his large, thick shaft. Just seeing his hand on himself like that sends a jolt of pure desire through me.

  Then, he grabs my hips again and pulls me toward him. The thick head of his cock pushes inside me and I moan as the rest follows, my walls stretching to meet him.

  “Fuck,” he grits hoarsely. “Jesus fuck, you feel good, Six.”

  Six. It’s good when he calls me that. It reminds me that there’s still some distance between us. That there are still things he doesn’t know about me. It reminds me that this intimacy between us is just physical, nothing more.

  This is just sex. Just amazing sex. It’s okay.

  A moment later, he starts to thrust. He begins slowly, the length of him going so deep it’s almost painful. But the pain, just like before, turns more to pleasure with each pull and push. My eyes open to take him in — the full, manly beauty of his body — and our eyes lock. I start to look away, but he stops me with a sound.

  “Stay with me,” he orders. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he rasps. “Stay with me.”

  I do as he says. He begins to ride me harder, pumping faster, his eyes never leaving mine. I’ve never felt more naked, never more exposed. Having sex with him feels like a trust fall from the top of a cliff. He doesn’t know my name, knows next to nothing about me, but right now he sees so far inside me that I’ve never been more bare to anyone else in body or soul. It’s terrifying, thrilling. And from the look of sheer lust on his face — the instinctive, animal need in his eyes — I can tell he feels it, too.

  The slickness of his cock tortures my already tender clit. I stifle the first moan, but the second one rips through me, my voice joining with his as he groans my name again. From deep inside me something starts — something unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I know what it is, but it’s different. Deeper. Almost scary in its power.

  “Bullet,” I whimper softly.

  “I got you, babe.” He’s thrusting harder now, slamming into me with a force that’s driving both of us forward. “You’re close, aren’t you?” I can only nod as my whole body starts to shake. “Come with me, Six. Give it to me.”

  It’s as though his words unleash a flood. I half-scream something that’s not quite a word as I tense and then let go, bucking and writhing as the impact starts deep inside me and hits me like a bomb. A second later, I feel Bullet hiss my name and erupt inside me. My walls clench around him as he lifts me in his arms, and I throw mine around him and hang on for dear life. I’ve never imagined anything like this — the force of it as strong as a time bomb. We’re both shuddering together, the two of us coming as one, and I hold onto him like I’m in danger of being swept away forever.

  The blood is rushing in my ears. I’m gasping for air, my chest rising and falling. I cling to Bullet and wait for the wave to slowly recede. Eventually, my breathing starts to slow, my heart still slamming in my chest. My arms and legs feel like rubber. My whole body feels as weak as a kitten.

  “That was three,” Bullet rumbles, laughter in his voice. He pulls his head back to look at me, eyes twinkling. “I know you said this was a one-time thing, babe. But I gotta tell ya — I think your body has other ideas.”

  8

  Bullet

  I knew — or at least I was pretty sure — that fucking Six would be good. I’ve waited long enough for it that my dick has been primed for her pussy for weeks.

  But Jesus fucking Christ if what just happened hasn’t thrown me for a fucking loop. The second I touched her, the second my mouth closed on hers, it was like a fucking inferno consumed us both.

  Until tonight, I could never quite figure out why I was working so hard to get Six to give me a chance. I’ve never been one to chase pussy, since pussy tends to chase me. There was just something about her I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I found myself going back to Rebel Ink just to see her — to hear her voice, to watch the little flush in her cheeks when I flirted with her. It was almost like my cock was leading me there, like a missile locked on its target.

  Turns out my cock must have known something I didn’t. Because even as I lie here with Six, still trying to catch my breath after an orgasm that almost blew my fucking head off, I know it’s not just my dick that wants her. There was something in the way she looked at me as I moved inside her — something raw, and bare, and true — that reached deep inside me. I don’t know how the hell to describe it. It’s never happened to me before, and I have no fucking idea where it came from.

  I want to know more about her. Not just her name. I want to know her. I want to get inside that pretty little head of hers. I want her to trust me with her secrets, as much as she trusted me with her body just now.

  It’s a thought that should scare the shit out of me.

  But for some reason, it doesn’t.

  I’m almost positive Six is gonna kick me out of her bed and her apartment after sex. But she surprises me by falling fast asleep while I’m still holding her in my arms.

  And even though I’ve made it a rule never to stay overnight with women I fuck, I’ll be damned if this one doesn’t feel too good to let go.

  I roll her over gently onto her pillow and reach down off the bed to grab the covers that got pushed off onto the floor while I was fucking her. She doesn’t even stir as I pull them over us.

  As I lift up the sheets over her shoulder, her blond hair falls to one side, revealing a small tattoo on the back of her neck. It’s usually hidden because Six wears her hair down most of the time, but I noticed the outline of it earlier. I push a lock back further and lean forward to examine the ink.

  It’s a rose, small and delicately drawn. The petals are slightly open, but the thorns on the stem below are long and sharp. I blow out a soft breath through my nose as I stare at it. That’s Six, all right: beautiful and tough, and trying her best to hide her light from the world. I wonder if there was a reason she got this tattoo — some particular event that made her want to mark the memory of it on her skin forever.

  I wonder if there’s a chance in hell I’ll ever find out.

  I lie back against the unoccupied pillow, my arm brushing against hers. Instinctively, she curls toward me, her body pulled by my warmth. I gather her into my arms again, something catching in my throat as I do. I know there’s no way she would have done this if she was awake. Her body trusts me, even if she doesn’t.

  I wouldn’t admit this to Six — or to anyone, for that matter — but I’ve been wanting to hold her like this for a while. I was lying to her when she made me promise I knew this was just a one-time thing. I’ve been hoping that once I got inside the fortress, I could stick around a while. Try to knock down a few more walls.

  And judging from the way she’s holding onto me now in her sleep, maybe I’ve got a prayer of doing just that.

  I don’t usually sleep very well, for the most part. Too many sins in my past, I guess. But that night I sleep the sleep of the dead. My body is exhausted and satisfied after fucking Six like our lives depended on it. The next morning, I wake up before she does. We’ve both moved around during the night, but she’s still curled up in a little ball beside me like a cat.

  My first instinct is to sneak out and give her her space. But something stops me.

  Instead, I slide out of her bed, making sure not to wake her, and grab my jeans. Then I go into the kitchen to see if there’s anything to eat.

  When I open the fridge, I almost bust out laughing. This girl’s got even less food on hand than I do. There’s almost nothing I can see in here that’s edible and not expired, unless you think a breakfast of dill pickles with mustard on them sounds appetizing. I close the refrigerator door, shaking my head, and start rummaging around in the cupboards. It’s pretty fuckin’ sparse in there, too, but eventually I find a few things I can throw together and pretend it’s a meal. Thank Christ she has a coffee maker and a bag of coffee. Otherwise, I might have ditched her then and there and gone out for bacon and eggs.