(Club Chrome MC 2) All Dogs Bite (4 page)

“You’re absolutely right, Zoe,” she muttered, grabbing an iconic, retro T-shirt and a pair of jeans. “What do I have to be ashamed of? I’m successful, smart, and damn it, I might not be a size 2 but I’m pretty damn awesome.”

“That’s right, girl! You go hand in that V-card and have some awesome sex,” Zoe said, laughing, adding, “but wear some protection, yeah? No sense in getting pregnant on your first ride, like some people I know.” Zoe rolled her eyes at her own joke, referencing herself. She’d gotten pregnant so quickly after hooking up with Jax and Hunter that she’d practically been the poster child for unexpected pregnancy but now they had a beautiful baby boy named Gunnar James that at times looked like Jax and other times looked like Hunter and honestly, no one had a clue who had fathered that little cutie and that was okay by them.

Things had worked out for Zoe and Delainey was super happy for her but Delainey couldn’t help but suffer a twinge of envy. She wanted her happy ending, too.

Was that too much to ask?

***

Bronx needed a disposable phone. He couldn’t use Delainey’s land line because it could easily be traced back to her place and his cell had been lost somewhere between
holy-shit-someone-is-fucking-shooting-at-me
and
time-to-bug-the-fuck-out
when he was running for his life, which meant all his contacts were also lost to him at the moment because hell, if he could remember a single phone number without his electronic cheat. Sign of the times, he thought with a sigh. When he’d been a kid, he could remember scores of phone numbers right off the top of his head because cell phones weren’t as common as they were now and even if they had been, it wasn’t as if he could’ve afforded one.

His mother, a junkie of the highest order, never put much store in food for her kid, much less the latest gadget. His first cell phone he’d purchased himself at the ripe old age of twenty. He climbed to his feet and walked to the bathroom to survey the damage. He gingerly pulled the bandage free. Delainey had done a good job of patching him up. His first bullet wound. Frankly, he was surprised it’d taken this long to get one. And he’d survived. He grinned in spite of the situation. Yeah, that shit was going to make a damn fine scar. Good street cred. But fuck, it hurt like a bitch. He turned at the sound of the key unlocking the deadbolt and Delainey walked in, carrying two bags. His stomach growled and he grinned. “You look good enough to eat but I’ll happily sample whatever the hell you’ve got in that bag.”

“Well, nothing terribly exciting, I’m afraid, mostly fresh bandages and some antibiotic cream to put on your wound so it doesn’t get infected, and a change of clothes,” she answered, going to the kitchen to start unloading. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore as fuck but hey, I’m alive, right?”

“Good attitude,” she said, smiling but there was something about the way she kept averting her gaze that made him suspicious. Had she ratted him out? Called the cops? He joined her in the kitchen, deliberately crowding her personal space. His wound screamed with the effort but he ignored it. “What are you doing? You should be resting,” she admonished, but her hands had begun to shake. The tremble caught his eye and he met her gaze even as she began to ramble a bit about shit he couldn’t bring himself to care about but he was intrigued by the way he obviously affected her.
Kinda sexy, actually
. Everything about her was soft and squeezable, he noted with sudden interest. Her hands fluttered in some semblance of pretending to measure his hip size, saying, “I guessed at your size, I hope the jeans fit,” holding up the jeans as if they would protect her.

He pushed the jeans away, his gaze never leaving hers. “I don’t know…right about now the idea of being buck naked sounds pretty good.” Such a cute, curvy chick, he thought, his gaze roaming her body before returning to her pretty eyes. He wasn’t usually attracted to big women but there was something about Delainey that tripped his switch in a crazy way. Was that bad?
Probably
. But his cock didn’t seem to care. No, in fact, the randy thing seemed pretty on-board with the idea of getting naked with Delainey. However, business first. Why was she so jumpy? Guilt and arousal could look the same on her guileless face. He supposed there was one way to find out.

“Oh! Naked? Funny…but probably not practical,” she returned breathlessly, her pupils dilating as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I mean…kinda drafty, if you know what I mean. Not that I’m a prude or anything like that. It’s not like you’re the first naked man I’ve ever seen. If you’ve seen one guy with his man parts hanging out, you’ve seen them all, right?” Her nervous laughter had guilt written all over it — as did the way she couldn’t quite keep his gaze.

“Something you need to tell me?” he asked dangerously. “You’ll feel better if you get it off your chest.” Heaven help her if she narced him out. He pushed a lock of strawberry blonde hair away from her shoulder, exposing her lovely, soft neck. “What did you do while you were out and about, Miss Jones?” Her mouth hinged on a protest but nothing came out, which seemed highly indicative that she was hiding something. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart? C’mon, we’re all friends here…just tell me what you did…did you call the cops?”

That seemed to land wrong and she immediately scowled. “No, why would I do that?” she asked. “Are you asking me if I ratted you out? I know you don’t know me very well but I have a highly ingrained sense of integrity. If I were going to call the cops, I would’ve done it the moment I found you passed out, bleeding all over my floor, not after I just spent $80 on new clothes for you.”

He believed her. Trust didn’t come naturally to him — hell, his general mistrust of people had kept him alive — but he knew in his gut that Delainey was being truthful. Relief came from an unexpected place and his arousal spiked at her show of spunk. “You’re not an easy woman to figure out,” he admitted, chuckling at her flash of indignation.

“I don’t know about that,” she disagreed. “I’m a pretty simple girl with basic needs…such as the need for a little breathing room.” She pushed gently at his chest and he laughed as he gave in to her not-so-subtle request. Well, he had been crowding her so he supposed she wasn’t off-base in asking him to back off. But you know what? He’d liked being in her space. Once he’d taken a step back, she drew a shaky breath and tried smiling. “See? Much better. Personal space bubble — good.”

He allowed a small smile. “So, what’s with the secrecy then? You have a terrible poker face, sweet girl. Whatever you’re feeling scrolls right across your cute little face. Just so you know.”

“It’s nothing,” Delainey assured him even as she looked away, guilty as hell, but whatever she was holding onto, she wasn’t up to sharing and frankly, if it was personal, he was happy to leave it there as long as it didn’t involve cops and handcuffs. She bit her lip to ask, “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat. Are you offering?”

“Well, you are my guest. I can’t very well let you starve. I can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich,” she said, seemingly relieved that he was switching tracks. But he’d had enough of small talk. Just as she started with, “The secret is to use three flavorful cheeses and sear the bread first but then—“ he jerked her into his arms and silenced her with his lips, less interested in eating than in tasting that sassy mouth. His tongue explored the seam of her lips, eager to taste her sweetness when she gasped and stumbled, slipping from his grip and going straight to the floor in a heap with a dainty “Ohh!” that immediately sent color scurrying to her cheeks even as she stared up at him, wonder and suspicion in her stare to demand, “Why did you do that?”

Her bald question made him laugh as he helped her up. “Because I wanted to,” he answered without any hint of apology because he wasn’t sorry. She tasted like summer rain and picnics spent at the lake — in other words, she tasted like a world he’d never had the privilege of knowing — and he wanted more. Her hand remained in his, a fact he didn’t miss, and he drew her close, daring her to pull away. She went without resistance and he knew she was as good as beneath him, crying out, shaking and moaning as he gave it to her as good as she’s ever had. A knowing smirk curved his lips as he made an indecent suggestion that he knew would shock the curls from her head.

“Miss Jones, how about we go work up an appetite by fucking each other’s brains out?”

Oh yeah…shock and…was that
delight
? Hell yes. This girl kept him guessing. And he liked that.

He liked it, a lot.

***

He’d kissed her and she’d gone straight to the floor like a dropped round of uncooked pizza dough. And then he’d just suggested they do
what
? “Excuse me?” she managed, trying to sound dignified and maybe even a little insulted by his bold suggestion but the fact was, she felt all slippery in her downstairs region and she knew from reading enough romance novels that that meant she was really aroused. Sidenote, how pathetic was it that her only point of reference for anything sexual was what she’d managed to find between the pages of her sultry reading material? Ugh. “I’m sorry…I’m not that kind of girl,” she heard herself say even though she was practically raping him with her eyes.
Shame on you, for not being able to grab onto your opportunity! Big talker. Pfffft
.
You ought to be giving that sexy man a tongue bath!

“What kind of girl would that be?” he asked, pulling his shirt free from his body, teasing her with all of that hot, muscular manly goodness that she’d only ever seen on television. He grinned when her mouth dropped open a little. He began plucking at his jean buttons and she squeaked as she covered her mouth, too afraid of what might fall from her lips. “A girl who knows what she wants and goes after it?” he suggested, tugging the button free with a pop.

“Oh!” Her cheeks flamed but her eyes were riveted to what was hidden behind that button-fly. “No, I mean, yes. I
am
a go-getter in certain circles but I’m not…well, like a loose woman…I mean, I can’t sleep with you — you’re a perfect stranger. I don’t even know your full name!”

“Bronx Eugene Harris. What else do you need to know?”

She stared, her brain stalling to the point that she nearly gave in but her pride — or maybe it wasn’t pride but that tiny sliver of sense that screamed she absolutely couldn’t sleep with a total stranger without losing whatever shred of morality she had left that had her asking, almost desperately, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.” He kicked his jeans off, revealing a bulge in his underwear that left no question as to what was going on behind those cotton Fruit of the Looms and her mind went blissfully blank. “Anything else?”

“Um, yes, well, uh, um—“

“You’re so cute when you stutter,” he said in a low, teasing tone as he began unbuttoning her blouse. “While you’re thinking of the next question, why don’t I help you with these buttons.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her throat strangled by excitement and fear. Was this actually happening? Or was she suffering some terrible illness that was eating her brain and she was just hallucinating because honestly, this sort of thing didn’t happen to girls like her, right? Logic told her that she was dreaming but Bronx’s fingers felt pretty damn real on her buttons and she could smell the spicy scent of his skin, practically feel the heat from his body.

If this was a dream or hallucination, then she was pretty damn good at it. But assuming this was real and it was actually happening…that meant within seconds she’d be naked as a jaybird in front of this incredibly sexy and virile man and there’d be no hiding that she had a bit of extra padding —
from her wide ass to her DD boobs
— and then what? Would he freak out and push her away? Would she see the disappointment in his eyes when he found her too soft and squishy for his tastes? Good God! She couldn’t take it if that were the case. She’d rather die than experience that kind of reaction from him. Anyone but him! Suddenly, she stilled his eager fingers to give voice to that terrible feeling inside of her, saying with complete vulnerability, “Bronx…what if you don’t like what you see?” holding her breath as she awaited his answer.

He stopped and held her gaze, something so stark and wretchedly honest staring back at her that she thought, for one brief moment, that he suffered from something similarly damaging as low self-esteem.

But that was crazy. Bronx was the hottest guy she’d ever laid eyes on. He could have any woman begging to touch him, to be his willing slave. There was no way he ever went to bed alone. Her eyes threatened to squeeze shut to avoid the devastating moment but she held his stare by the grace of God because she couldn’t look away.
This was it
…the rejection…the pain of being found wanting.
No, please no
….but just as her heart rate had zoomed to a ten on the O-M-F-G scale, he shocked her by slowly withdrawing her hand to place it on his rock-hard erection, pressing her palm against the thick steel hiding in his underwear.

The breath that she’d been holding came out in a whoosh and a gasp, her eyes widening like a scandalized nun as she realized without a doubt, she was touching his cock — and she quite liked it. She met his gaze as he asked in a low tone, “Does that feel like I don’t like what I see?” She shook her head, unable to help from curling her fingers a little around the stiff member that felt bigger than a baby’s arm. Would that fit? Well, there was one way to find out she supposed. “Good,” he growled, moving in to whisper in her ear, “Now, you have two choices, my sweet girl…you can choose to get fucked right here over your kitchen counter or I can take you into the bedroom and fuck you there but either way, I’m going to be inside you. I’m going to make you come so hard, you forget about any other man who’s been between your thighs and then I’m going to make you beg for more.” He pulled away, his carnal promise echoing in her ear and her knees trembling as he said, “Make your choice.”

She didn’t take time to question and fled for the bedroom. Her first time couldn’t be up against a counter top where she made dinner, right?