No. Yes. It was wrong, but it would feel so right. I pushed on his hand, driving his finger deeper inside me.
“Fuck,” he growled, removing his hand from my crotch, he sucked on his finger and stood, jostling me forward. Before I could protest, he threw me over his shoulder, no doubt showing my ass off to the entire bar.
Raucous cheers followed as he carried me around the bar, down a hallway, and into an office. Closing the door behind us, he set my ass down on the desk and undid his pants. Those icy blue eyes stared into me again as he dropped his pants and grabbed his cock, stroking his shaft.
“That’s it. Touch yourself,” he said, his voice low and husky.
I hadn’t even realized my hands were kneading my breasts. I gave each a squeeze and then pinched my nipples through my bra, throwing back my head as I reveled in the sting.
“Let me see you,” he said, plucking a condom from his wallet. “Take off your shirt and bra.”
I did as he commanded. Air kissed my nipples, making them even harder. Every inch of my body felt sensitive, sexy, free. As he rolled on the condom, he dropped his head to attack my breasts. He sucked and nibbled as he grabbed my hips and slid me forward until my ass was hanging off the edge. Then, he slammed his cock inside of me.
The pressure, the fullness of it all, was too much.
“Your pussy is so damn tight. I’m gonna tear the shit out of it.”
I hated myself for enjoying the friction he offered. I hated Breaker, everything he and his family stood for, all the evil shit they’d done. I was supposed to be the one seducing him, but he’d flipped the script, and now I didn’t want him to stop. I needed him to douse the fire raging inside me. Digging my nails into his arms, I hung on, wringing every ounce of pleasure I could from the asshole.
Breaker had taken the reins, and now I needed to be the best lay of his life so he’d ride me all the way to the missing girls.
Tap
Current Day
RUNNING MY THUMB over the embossed gold lettering of a passport, I silently reminded myself I had options. Contingency plans were my specialty, and I’d spent years building the sort of exit strategies that would cover my ass and destroy my tracks in case the shit hit the fan.
I always had multiple ways out.
Opening the little blue booklet, I flipped the front page to find my image staring back at me. The name listed—Michael James—was one of many aliases I’ve used over the years. As for my given name, I’d buried that shit so deep, not even my own mama dug it up anymore.
I returned my attention to the email on my laptop screen. Titus Blackoak, yet another alias, had been requested for a gig. I never went anywhere blind, so, like always, I’d screened the shit out of my potential client, finding not only a legitimate job but also a golden opportunity.
And a huge fucking risk.
My gaze swept over the collection of listening devices sitting on top of my desk. So many options, just waiting to be utilized: pens, USB drives, power strips, cell phone bugs. Some had ranges exceeding twenty feet, some could use cell towers to upload data remotely. Each device had the potential to infiltrate unnoticed and help us stay one step ahead of the threat to our club.
Our club.
The words sounded possessive and sentimental even in my own mind. I’d never been much of a team player, but my career path had turned me into a solid lone wolf until I threw my lot in with the Dead Presidents Motorcycle Club. It was foolish to trust anyone after the shit I’d seen and heard, but my club brothers had gotten under my skin like a rash that no cream would cure.
Most people would say I had trust issues, but it’s not paranoia if they really are out to get you and I knew at least a dozen homicidal assholes who’d move heaven and earth to find me if they so much as caught scent of my trail. Link, the club’s president, had given me the road name “Tap” because of my skill with wire taps, but I accepted it because I knew the truth: When shit got complicated, I tapped out and disappeared.
After all, I had responsibilities to consider.
Those responsibilities should have made me follow my self-imposed protocol the second the Seattle Serpents kidnapped Link’s sister, Naomi. I shouldn’t be sitting at my desk considering an op that could put me and everything I cared about in danger. No, it was past time to get the hell out of Dodge and start a new life for myself. That would be the smart, safe thing to do. Yet here I sat, staring at the screen and thinking about risking it all to help my brothers. Why? It had been almost a year since I’d patched in, and being part of something with a purpose and a mission had planted a seed of loyalty in my soul.
I refused to water that little motherfucker, but it just wouldn’t die.
Concepts like brotherhood and loyalty should have bounced right off me. I lived in a complicated minefield where one wrong step could destroy everything I’d built. The last thing I needed was to strengthen the ties keeping me in Seattle, but I wasn’t ready to take an evac quite yet. Locking the passport back in my desk drawer with the others, I scanned the email one more time before accepting the job and sealing my fate.
No giant anvil fell on my head, no squad busted in with M16s, tear gas, and truth serum to take me down and uncover all my secrets, but I knew that shit was coming so I had to prepare. Leaving my basement office, I headed upstairs to my bedroom and exchanged my sweats and T-shirt for khakis, loafers, a polo shirt, and glasses. In this getup, I looked like any other nine-to-five stiff preparing to hit the office and join the grind.
The smell of fried bacon called me to the kitchen where I found my mother plating breakfast as she watched the news. She wore a long purple and gold skirt and blouse, her skin the color of dark chocolate and her complexion as perfect as the tight curls on her head. Mama always held her head high and her standards higher. Her smile was genuine, brightening her entire face, as she added eggs to platters. “Good morning, Alex.”
Alexander Watson had been my identity since we’d moved to Seattle almost two years ago. A common enough name, it helped me blend in without sounding fake, especially now that Mama mostly remembered to use it.
“Mornin’, Mama,” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheek as I reached around and snagged a slice of bacon.
