Bound: Minutemen MC (3 page)

Chapter 4: Man of Lust

Dirk Coleman was a man of many things. He was a man of action, first and foremost. He was a man of violence, from the war in Afghanistan to the war in the California desert. He was a man of loyalty—who would sooner have a limb cut off before he betrayed Stephan Walker. He was a man of culture, so in love with his modest personal collection of assorted literature.

He was
not
a man of lust. He simply wasn’t interested—not anymore, not after
her
whose name he still couldn’t bring himself to think of, let alone say out loud. Sure, he had his fair share of women, but that was just part of the lifestyle, something that came with the job description and that was expected of him. He had casual—sometimes wild—sex with women because that was what his men expected him to do, but he didn’t particularly enjoy it. He would orgasm, sure, but it was more of a physical reaction, an automatic reflex than the result of overwhelming passion.

He supposed that was one of the reasons why he and Stephan got along so well. Dirk was the only one who knew that the Minutemen’s president was secretly gay; the others would probably skin their leader alive if they ever found out. Stephan, too, had sex with women…because that was what a MC’s president was supposed to do. Under the sheets, they both played a stage role; it was a weight they shared and it had cemented their bond and friendship.

Dirk had not been genuinely aroused by a woman in what felt like a lifetime, but something about Camilla Hernandez seemed to push just the right buttons. Maybe it was her curves, or the way her eyes never stopped sparkling with defiance ever since he took the hood off of her—even in her current, helpless situation. Maybe it was her full lips. Maybe it was her long, luxurious hair.

Camilla Hernandez was an unusual beauty. Because of her mixed origins, she had Latina curves and olive skin, and Caucasian green eyes and auburn hair. She was breathtaking, and the combination of her smoldering looks and indomitable spirit was driving Dirk mad in ways that he had not experienced in ages. Over the past three days, he found himself having to suppress the urge to reach for her more often than not, and his subconscious had surprised him with some very vivid, very wet dreams.

He was sure she was noticing, too. As an investigative reporter, he knew Camilla was noticing many things in the short time she had been with them. It made him nervous, and he couldn’t wait to take her to Stephan and be done with it. He knew she was well aware of his attraction for her. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that he also noticed the way
she
looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He had caught more than a few glimpses of lust in her green irises, and every time he had to restrain himself from acting on their mutual, unspoken fascination with each other.

He walked into his shed now, balancing a large box of pizza and a six-pack of beer, as he fumbled with the lock. Camilla was sitting on the armchair reading Shakespeare’s
Hamlet
. He knew she had been surprised to find that title in his library; he could tell from the dismayed look she had tossed his way.

“I brought food,” he said unnecessarily, just so the sound of his own voice would distract him from how the light from the reading lamp made her features look all the more beautiful.

Camilla looked up. She had her bottom lip caught between her teeth, as if her whole body responded to the tension on Shakespeare’s pages.

“Thank you,” she said, rather stiffly.

That was the tone she tried to adopt with him at all times—cool and detached. Dirk still couldn’t figure out what it was that she was trying to hide exactly—the anxiety she must be feeling at her current predicament, or the unspoken attraction for him. Perhaps it was a little of both.

He placed the pizza box and the six-pack on the coffee table. He had made sure the pizza was already sliced so she could eat with no difficulties; he did not wish to humiliate her more. He uncapped two beer bottles and placed one on the end of the table in front of her.

They ate in silence for a while, and then, for some reason, Dirk simply couldn’t take the silence anymore. He could not explain why—even to himself; he had been fine with her silence for the better part of seventy-two hours. What had changed?

“Don’t you think the combination of pineapple and ham on pizza is rather strange?” he said, glancing down at his slice of Hawaiian pizza.

He could have kicked himself. It was a stupid thing to say, and he really couldn’t blame her when she looked up at him with a bemused expression on her face.

“What?”

Dirk shrugged awkwardly, and he silently asked himself when he had forgotten how to talk to women—or human beings, for that matter.

“I’m just saying,” Dirk continued, despite the little voice in his brain yelling at him to shut up, “it’s kind of an odd pairing.”

Camilla kept regarding him strangely. “Uh… yeah, I guess so.” She frowned openly. “Are you feeling all right?”

No. You’re driving me mad, and I don’t like it.
Out loud, he said, “Of course.”

“You’re a strange one,” Camilla said after a moment.

Dirk laughed and toasted her with his beer bottle. “Right back atcha’.”

Camilla gave him a small but surprisingly sincere smile. Thinking back on the past three days, it was the first time that she ever smiled at him—falsely or otherwise. She seemed friendlier tonight for some reason.

“So I’m going to finally meet your boss tomorrow?” she said, wiping her hands in a paper napkin and taking a long swig of her beer.

Dirk watched those full lips wrap around the neck of the bottle, and he shifted in his seat, hoping that she wouldn’t notice that she was already making him hard.

“Yes,” he said. “Stephan will be back tomorrow morning, so we’re leaving early to take you to him.”

“How far away is he?”

Dirk arched an eyebrow. “You really expect me to give away the location of our clubhouse?”

Camilla huffed. “I’ve told you time and time again, I’ve got no interest in the Minutemen’s business.”

“For now,” Dirk said. “But you might develop an interest in the future, and the less you know about us, the better.”

Camilla’s green eyes flashed in annoyance, but she refrained from saying anything else on the subject. Instead, she asked, “Do you think he’ll let me go?”

Dirk shrugged. “Probably.”

It was a lie, and it rolled easily off his tongue. He had absolutely no idea what Stephan was going to do with an investigative reporter who had ended up in their territory and was writing a piece on their rivals. He frowned at the vague feeling of guilt that stirred in his stomach when he lied to her. Why did he even care? He certainly had no obligations towards this woman.

“Just make sure you don’t lie to him,” he added after a moment. “It really pisses him off when people lie to his face.”
That
was no lie at all.

“I have no intention of lying,” Camilla said. “To him or anyone else from your MC. I’ve got nothing to hide from you people.”

Dirk nodded curtly. If anything, she was smart. And sexy.
So
sexy that Dirk suddenly felt like he had to get out of there. He finished his beer in a few gulps and stood.

“I’m going to keep working on my bike for a while. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Wait,” Camilla called when he was halfway to the door.

He turned around. “What?”

She hesitated. “Do you mind if I tag along?” she finally asked. “I’m going crazy in here.”

Dirk smirked. He supposed he really couldn’t blame her. “Getting a bit of a case of cabin fever, are you?”

She grimaced. “Just a touch.”

He thought about it, and in the end, he decided that he could see no harm in having an audience while he worked on his beloved motorbike. “Sure, why not,” he said. “Come along.”

  Camilla gave him a grateful smile and jumped up, and he tried not to notice the way her beautiful face just lit up.

He led her to the warehouse attached to his shed, easily reachable through a door in the back. It was completely empty, except for the men’s bikes and the necessary tools to take care of them.

Dirk walked straight to his pitch-black Harley Davidson. Unlike the others’ rides, his wasn’t embellished. It had no flames painted on the sides, no stickers, no distinctive signs. All it had was the symbol of the Minutemen on both sides. Other than that, it was pristine. Even the saddlebags were black and minimalistic. Dirk liked it that way. He always thought a motorbike needed no embellishments.

While he worked, Camilla asked him questions, and Dirk answered them. He told her all about what he was doing and what he had done, the kinds of changes he had made and the little repairs and fixes that had been necessary after his latest run-in with the Tar Monguls. He knew Camilla was just bored, but watching a sexy woman, such as her, develop an interest in motorbikes turned him on immensely.  

Maybe that was why, at some point during the exchange, he found himself forgetting all about his bike. Maybe that was why, without realizing what was happening until it was too late, he found himself pressing her against the side of his Harley and kissing her for all it was worth. The most surprising thing of all, to him, was that she was kissing him back.

Chapter 5: Orgasm in the Desert

Camilla had not seen this coming. She had fantasized about it—despite herself—and she’d had a few unexpected erotic dreams on the subject, but she truly had not seen this coming. She had not seen that she would be pinned against a black Harley-Davidson by the hottest man she had ever laid eyes upon. She had not seen that their bodies would press against each other until not even a breath of air could have gotten through. She had not seen that their mouths would lock together, his fingers shoved deep inside her long mass of hair, her hands fisting the front of his grease-stained tank top.

She had not seen any of it coming, but somehow it had. If anyone had asked her how they had gotten to that point, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. All she knew was that one moment it wasn’t happening and the next it was, and now that it
was
happening, it was the most amazing thing she had ever experienced.

Dirk kissed with an urgency that left her breathless, as though he
had
to have her, right here, right now, right away, before something happened. He was used to living fast and uncertain, and it showed in the way he kissed and touched her. More than anyone she had ever met, Dirk Coleman knew that life was a fleeting, fragile thing, and he translated this knowledge into fired-up explorations of her mouth with his tongue, his palms and fingertips exploring her skin underneath her t-shirt. He clutched her to him as though letting her go might mean letting go of everything he knew. It was an inconceivable idea, and he had to keep her close to him. Or else.

Camilla had been desired before, but never with such intensity. Never with such craving. While his whole lifestyle was self-destructive, there was nothing self-destructive about the way Dirk had sex. It was raw and naked and passionate—in fact, it was as close to pure as anything could get. Dirk’s lust was an animal instinct, and Camilla found herself all too happy to give in to it.

She moaned in protest when she instinctively tried to reach underneath the tank top and explore his powerful torso with her hands but found that was impossible to do with her wrists still in handcuffs.

“Get these things off of me,” she groaned against Dirk’s hot lips. “I want to touch you.”

He pulled back just enough to stare at her. His cheeks were flushed and his blue eyes were wild with fire. He seemed to consider the thought for a moment, but then he smirked infuriatingly.

“I think I like it better this way,” he said.

Instead of making her angry, his words caused a wave of renewed arousal to course through Camilla’s entire body. She groaned out loud.

“Oh, God,” she breathed, and Dirk grinned wider.

He leaned in and shoved her hair aside, and he traced a fiery pattern down the side of her neck with his mouth. He sucked on her collarbone, leaving a bruise there that Camilla knew she would sport proudly—no matter how inappropriate that was.

“Fuck, I want you,” he growled, low and guttural at the back of his throat.

Camilla swallowed and shivered in anticipation. “I want you, too,” she admitted, surprising herself with just how breathless, how eager she sounded. “Is that crazy?”

Dirk chuckled hoarsely. “Yes,” he said. “All of this is, and I love it.”

He didn’t give her any chance to reply further, as he captured her mouth in yet another hungry kiss. As their tongues danced passionately around each other, Dirk slid a hand all the way down Camilla’s torso, his palm splayed over the firm, flat surface of her stomach before it reached past the waist of her jeans and the elastic band of her panties. She moaned against his mouth, as his warm palm cupped her mons.

Dirk broke the kiss and emerged for air, but he didn’t give her any time to catch her own breath as the fingertip of his index finger began to tease her clitoris.

As it turned out, Dirk’s hands weren’t only skilled when it came to fixing motorbikes.
There are many, many ways to stimulate a clitoris, and he seems to know them all,
she thought. He created swirls and spires, flicked and stroked, until Camilla lost all perception of space and time and found herself having absolutely no idea where was up and where was down anymore.

“Oh,
God
,” she moaned again, throwing her head back in ecstasy.

Dirk Coleman was a constant wonder. Camilla arched into his touch, her whole body begging him never to stop—then again, it didn’t seem like he had any intention of stopping anytime soon. He continued to tease and tantalize her until she was almost over the edge, and then, abruptly, he pulled his hand away. Camilla was about to protest, but the next thing she knew he was unzipping her pants.

“I want to be inside you,” he said, his voice hoarse with want. “
Now
.”

It sounded like an order that Camilla had no trouble obeying. She tried to think of something intelligent to say, a way to put her own longing into words, but all that came out was an eloquent, “Uh.”

Dirk grinned. It was obvious that he was all too aware of the power he had over her. She was completely at his mercy, and he knew it. And he loved it. And she knew and loved it, too.

Camilla wanted to reach out and return the favor; she wanted to free Dirk’s powerful erection from the jail of his blue jeans, but the handcuffs prevented such elaborate movements. The frustration that came with this impediment only increased her arousal. She felt as though her whole body—hell, her whole
being
—was on fire.

“Hurry the fuck up,” she heard herself say. She would have been shocked by her choice of words if she still possessed the ability to string together a coherent thought.

But that was a skill she had lost.

Ever since Dirk had grabbed her and shoved her against his motorbike, Camilla was just instincts and lust and raw, unadulterated passion. She was always a passionate woman in bed, but never like this. She was never this unhinged, this unrestrained. This passive. She always had to be in charge, even under the sheets. But there was no taking charge with a man like Dirk, and to her surprise, she found that excited her to no end.

She watched in eager anticipation as he unzipped his own pants and pulled them down just enough to free his engorged cock. Camilla couldn’t help but stare—even that part of him was gorgeous.

He pulled a condom out of his back pocket, and she briefly wondered just why it was there. Had he been planning this? Or did he just walk around with condoms in the pocket of his jeans in the middle of the desert? She quickly decided that it didn’t really matter; she was just glad he had protection. He ripped the package open with his teeth and slid on the condom with practiced movements.

Dirk didn’t warn her. There was no need; she was ready and they both knew it. He entered her with the same kind of fired-up urgency that had been driving him throughout their entire encounter, but at the same time, he wasn’t ungentle. Camilla gasped at the sensation of his hard cock inside of her, and she felt herself clench down around him almost immediately. It was rare that her body responded with such readiness, and she felt all the more empowered by it.

Dirk reached down with one hand and pulled her thigh up. Camilla followed his lead and wrapped her right leg around his waist. She moaned with pleasure at the deepened penetration and heightened friction brought on by that one adjustment.

Dirk steadied them both, and then he began to truly move. And Camilla’s world exploded in a white light of ecstasy. Jesus, but the man knew how to move! He set up a pace made of varied rhythms, from long, languid strokes to fast, urgent pushes. Everything about the way Dirk moved inside of her spoke of just how much he wanted her. Soon, Camilla found herself accompanying his movements, her hips swinging back and forth to meet him halfway. She rubbed her pelvis against his, and they both groaned at the increased friction.

Camilla loved the long, languid strokes, where she could feel every inch of him sliding against every inch of her, but soon enough they had abandoned the slow rhythm in favor of a far more urgent pace. It was as though both of them just couldn’t get enough of each other, as though both of them just couldn’t wait to reach that point where they would tip over the edge and explode.

Camilla lost herself into this raw world of theirs, and when the moment came that she felt her climax coming on, she didn’t resist it. She abandoned herself completely, and she heard herself cry out as an outlaw gave her the best orgasm of her life in the middle of the Mojave Desert.