Undone Rebel (Undone Lovers, Book One) (17 page)

When her dress fell to the floor, Addie pulled the flower from her hair, letting the soft waves fall against her face. She watched Lane watch her, felt his gaze trace the hair that fell across the top of her bare breasts.

She stood before him, naked except for a pair of black-and-red panties that tied closed at each hip, and her shoes.

Addie reached for Lane’s jacket. The moment her fingers touched the fabric he shucked it, and together they pulled off his shirt and pants. When he was down to a pair of black boxer briefs, he reached for her again.

“I like how you feel against me,” Lane said, rubbing their hips together. His erection bumped her hip, her belly.

“I like how you feel.” Addie hugged him, her breasts pressing against his chest.

Their lips met in a kiss. The kiss quickly deepened, became something rich and carnal. His tongue coaxed hers to dance until they were tasting each other.

Lane grabbed her ass, urging her up, and with a little hop Addie wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck.

“I’ve always wanted to do this.” She was grinning as he carried her to the bed.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

Lane tipped her back onto the bed. Addie landed with a little bounce, her hair pooling around her head. She raised one knee, coyly tipping it across the other leg as she slid her hands along the smooth duvet.

“Joining me?”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“So are you,
guapo
.”

Lane shed his boxers. His cock was already hard, already ready for her.

He came down on the bed, pushing her legs apart to kneel between them before propping himself up on one elbow. He circled her left breast with two fingers, drawing a spiraling circle focused on her nipple. Addie was vividly reminded of the ice he’d slipped into her bra.

The memory brought a sharp spike of arousal. She gasped and Lane looked up, his fingers going still.

“Tell me.”

“I was thinking of the ice.”

He made a noise that was half groan, half growl.

Lips closed around her nipple, his fingers holding the meat of her breast tightly so it was plumped and ready for his attention, he licked and sucked the tender bud, pulling gently with his lips before switching to the other breast.

Addie stretched out a hand for his cock but it was out of reach and his big body had her pinned in place. She settled for kissing any part of him she could and running her fingers over his back, shoulders and arms.

“Lane, now, I want you now.”

“Anything, anything you want.”

His fingers fumbled for the ties on her right hip, she undid the ones on her left. When they were loose, Lane lifted himself off her so Addie could raise her hips and he could slip the panties free.

She was wet and ready for him. When his fingers slid between the lips of her pussy she felt swollen, desperate for him.

“You want me, your body is telling me.”

“My mouth is telling you too. Fuck me.”

Cock replaced fingers. Addie slid one hand down to his ass, felt the muscles flex as he worked his cock into place.

He was slow, filling her inch by beautiful inch. She nipped his chin only to turn her face away when he came in for the kiss, asking him to lick and nip the soft skin below her ear instead.

Hands trailed up and down slowly heating flesh. Their chests were pressed together, his elbows taking just enough of his weight off her.

He paused when he was fully seated, pressing forward in a few mini-thrusts before starting to withdraw.

Together they moaned as her body clung to his, not wanting to let go. When he thrust in again it wasn’t slow, wasn’t as gentle.

Lane took up a steady rhythm. There was nothing but them. Him looking down at her, kissing her, holding her. Her looking up at him, cradling him, stroking him.

When Addie couldn’t stand it anymore she squeezed his arm. “My turn.”

Confusion fluttered across Lane’s face. Addie nudged him off. When he reluctantly withdrew and lay back at her urging, she had to repress a smile. It had clearly been a long time since Lane let anyone else be on top.

When Addie threw her leg across his hips, Lane’s eyes widened.

Reaching between them, she held his cock steady as she lowered herself. She had to bite her lip to focus as she slid down, this position allowing his cock to caress different parts of her than it had only moments ago.

“This is amazing.” Lane’s gaze was roaming over her, from her head to where their bodies met.

Addie used two fingers to spread the lips of her pussy and leaned back, bracing her free hand on his thigh behind her. Lane sucked in a breath.

As she’d expected, hoped, Lane reached for her pussy, burying a thumb in the lips of her sex to rub her clit. A shudder racked Addie and she sat forward. Bracing one hand on his chest, she started to ride him, rocking back and forth, her hips lifting ever so slightly off his, the motion causing his cock to shift within her.

Her free hand roamed over her breasts, plucking at her own nipples in an increasingly random pattern as she sped toward orgasm.

Lane’s eyes were dark as he watched her ride him. His thumb was between them, rubbing her clit with each forward movement. His free hand rested on her thigh, his grip growing ever tighter.

“I’m going to come.”

“Yes.”

“Oh fuck, Lane, I’m going to come.” Addie tipped her head back, swallowing hard. Her lower belly was knotted, her toes tingling.

Addie grabbed his hand from her thigh and brought it to her breasts. He cupped her right breast, pinching the nipple with finger and thumb.

“Look at me,” he demanded.

Addie met his gaze. She let him see her intensity, her arousal. Without the safety of the BDSM trappings, she shared that precious vulnerability that most guarded with their life.

With the next thrust she came.

Addie slammed her hips down on his, concentrating on how her body contracted during orgasm. She knew the moment Lane himself orgasmed because both his hands went to her thighs, his fingers digging in as he pressed his head back, his jaw clenched.

In the next breath, Addie was on her hands and knees on the bed and Lane was fucking her from behind, demanding that their orgasm-high bodies maintain the wild spikes of pleasure. Addie made a fist in the pillow and screamed between her teeth as a second orgasm shook her.

“Fuck, yes, Addie!”

When they finally collapsed back onto the bed in a sweaty tangle of limbs, Addie was hit with the feeling that it would be all right.

Chapter Nine

“Look at that one!”

Addie laughed, grabbing Lane’s outstretched arm. “Would you put your hand down? You look like a tourist.”

“This is better than a car show.”

After Lane’s reaction to her car she should have known he’d behave like a kid if she took him someplace like this. They were at an oceanfront parking lot north of Malibu. There was no sand beach so families with their packs of paraphernalia didn’t clog up the parking lot, leaving it free for surfers and members of L.A.’s rockabilly car community. This had been a traditional weekend gathering spot for over twenty years. It was where people came to show off their cars and women, to listen to music, sometimes to dance and sometimes to fight.

The connection between rockabilly and car culture went way back, especially in the Hispanic community. Addie had first seen pictures of tough-looking dark-haired pinup girls in her uncle’s L.A. body shop where she worked summers for extra cash and to get away from California’s oppressive Central Valley heat. That had sparked her interest, and once she’d researched it she was hooked.

Addie had told Lane some of this on the drive out, which they’d made in her car. It was at the end of the lot, with both doors open so the other people there could examine the interior. She’d put business cards for her uncle’s shop, now run by her cousin, on the dash, even though she’d done most of the work on it.

“You never finished your story,” Lane said as they walked between rows of cars, a variety of music in a mix of English and Spanish drifting around them. “About how you became a part of this community.”

“Oh.” Addie had assumed that he didn’t want to hear any more, now that they were out here where there was plenty to do and see. “Well, my mother raised me to be a good wife, a good woman. She taught me to sew and cook. Those were things she knew how to do, things she did every day, so she taught me.

“But I liked fixing cars with my dad. When he was talking business, or when other men came around, I wanted to be out there with him. I wanted to be tough like he was. My father is a man that no one disrespects. Even when I was small I knew that, I could tell by the way people spoke to him, men and women. And my dad, he’d talk to anyone.

“Even though he had every reason to think people might discriminate against him, a blue-collar Hispanic man, he would talk to anyone as if they were his equal. As if they should respect him, so they did.”

The cars, the brightly dressed people, seemed to move slowly as Addie told her story. It was something she rarely spoke about, and didn’t think about much anymore. Her reasons for being who she was didn’t seem to matter anymore. She simply was.

“I thought the girls in the pictures, the pinups, would be girls who could have it both ways—cooking and fixing cars, being good wives and being assertive. The more I learned about the culture the more I liked it, the more I saw a chance for me to be both.”

“You didn’t have to become rockabilly to be both feminine and strong.”

“Maybe not for some people. For me I didn’t understand a way to do it until I saw,” Addie scanned the crowd for a type of woman she knew would be there, “them.” She motioned to a trio of women standing under an outdoor tent. They were dressed in tight shorts that stopped just below their asses, cropped tops that left their bellies bare but that had collars, pockets, buttons and ribbon edging. Each wore massive sunglasses and sported a variety of tattoos.

“To me they were pretty, sexy and tough.”

Lane turned to her and circled her waist with her arms. “I think you’re sexy and tough.”

“Not pretty.”

He shook his head. “You’re gorgeous.”

Addie raised a brow behind her own large sunglasses. “That’s cheesy.”

He grinned. “But you like it.”

She bumped her hips against his. “I do. And I don’t know why.”

“It’s because I’ve fucked you into submission.”

Addie snorted in shocked laughter. When Lane continued to grin, she devolved into giggles. “You’re
loco
.”

“I know that word. It means he-of-the-massive-penis.”

“There is something deeply wrong with you.”

“Probably.”

“Then why do I like you so much?”

Lane tucked an arm around her waist and they started walking. “Because you too are deeply fucked up.”

“We’re a matched set.” Addie said it without thinking, but once she did the words seemed to hang there, as if she’d made some sort of pronouncement.

Lane looked at her. “Yes, we are.”

“Addie!”

She turned in Lane’s arms at her name. Positioned between two rat rod trucks with exposed engines was a tent. A group of men and women were clustered in the shade under it.

“Come on.” Addie pulled Lane over.

“You know them?”

“Yeah, it’s a custom shop my uncle worked with sometimes.”

She was greeted with hugs and comments that she hadn’t been around in a while. Since it was all in Spanish she had to wait until everyone had gotten his or her hug to go back and make introductions in English.

Once those were done one of the shop hands, a friend of her cousin’s, gave Lane a slow once-over. He jerked his head in a gesture that roughly translated to “who the fuck are you and what’s your deal?” Addie had no idea if it was universal man language, or if it was unique to the men she’d grown up with. She squeezed Lane’s hand.

Lane gave an easy nod. “Gustavo, right?”

He nodded, folded his arms.

Addie glared at Gustavo. Under her glare he relented.

“You know anything about cars?” Gustavo asked Lane.

“Only enough to respect the work artists do on pieces like that.” Lane gestured to one of the rat rods. “It’s a Ford Model T, right?”

“It was.” Gustavo gestured to the car. “Let me show you.”

Addie accepted a beer and a seat, and watched Lane charm his way into her world.

* * * * *

Addie leaned on Lane’s doorbell, a grin of anticipation on her face. Lane had surprised her at her front door plenty of times. Now it was her turn.

There was the thud of footsteps and then Lane ripped open the door.

“That was fast, it’s—”

They stared at each other in shock.

Lane was naked except for a blue pair of boxer briefs and his hair was tousled. As if someone had been running their hands through it.