Unfiltered & Unlawful (The Unfiltered Series) (13 page)

“More,” I yelled.

He laughed, but he increased the speed again. I wouldn’t trust just anyone like this, but Adam would keep me safe. He handled the motorcycle like he’d been born to it.

I kept one arm tightly around him, but I let my right hand drop lower so it rested between his legs. He swerved slightly for a moment, and I knew what I was doing was dangerous in so many ways. I stroked him through his jeans. Slowly.

He slowed the bike down until we were well under speed now. I was pretty sure that I could run as fast as we were rolling, but I didn’t need speed now that I had him under my hand. The Harley’s engine purred like it was a several hundred pound vibrator underneath us. Adam controlled it, had the power, and I felt like in that moment, I had the power over him.

I popped the button on his jeans and started to work the zipper down.

“Sasha,” he growled.

But I couldn’t speak. I just pressed my chest closer to his back and slid my hand inside his jeans.

He didn’t say another word, just steered the bike to the side of the road and stopped. He supported the bike with one foot on the ground, but he didn’t kill the engine.

“Tell me what’s going on here.” He started to turn back to look at me, but I couldn’t handle that.

With my free hand, I quickly stopped him with a steadying touch to his cheek. “Shhh.”

For several moments, he stayed like that, perfectly still with my hand in his jeans. His breathing grew harsh enough that I could hear the need in him mixed with the sounds of the still running machine beneath us. It was strangely perfect: the bike still but running, the straining muscles of Adam’s body motionless but for involuntary surges of his cock in my hand. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the sensations of restrained power all around me.

My panties were wet enough that I was starting to think I’d soak through my jeans too. I moaned as Adam thrust against my hand.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered.

He killed the engine and dropped the kickstand.

And just like that, I froze.

He started to turn to look at me, but I kept my left hand on his cheek. My right hand was motionless, but my fingers were still wrapped as much as they could be around the width of the delectable cock I’d glimpsed at the house.

“What do you want here?” he asked in a strained voice.

“To feel you,” I whispered.

“You are.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “No. Can I touch you?”

“No,” I whispered, already resuming stroking him.

“Damn, Sash…” he started. Then I felt him swallow before he continued, “I don’t want a mess on my bike or my jeans either. Can we—”

“Just this. No sex.” I wasn’t sure why that mattered, but right now, this was all I wanted. It was all I could be okay with. Touching Adam, pleasing him, that felt good to me. “I don’t want you to touch me.”

This time there was silence.

After a few more moments, I said, “Close your eyes.” Then I slid from behind him. “Turn so you’re not straddling the bike.”

“Can I open my eyes to do that?”

I smiled. “Yes, but then close them and lean against the bike.”

He did as I ordered, and I moved so I was in front of him. Carefully, I eased his jeans down a little and freed him. “Keep your eyes closed, Adam.”

He moaned as I leaned forward and took him in my mouth. He was big enough that I had to relax my throat to work past the gag reflex, but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t thrust forward or do anything to make me regret my choices. His hands were at his sides, curled into tight fists as if he was holding some invisible leash of self-control.

I swallowed around him, taking him further into my throat than I’d ever managed without panic before now.

Adam moaned.

I reached out and took one of his hands and led him to my hair. I wanted him to hold on to me.

He tangled his fingers in my hair as I released his hand.

I lifted my other hand to cup his balls.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”

I sped up, lacing my fingers with his where he was touching my head and caressing his balls with my other hand, until he came in my mouth with a growl.

“More than perfect,” he said in a rough voice. “You’re a fucking goddess, Sasha.”

I pulled away, leaning back on my heels. The man I’d fantasized about was staring down at me like I was everything he wanted too. For a moment, I wanted to ignore reality and treasure the look on his face.

He yanked me to my feet and slanted his mouth across mine to kiss me like every word he’d said when I was on my knees was gospel truth. I know smart girls knew not to believe the things people said in the moment, but as he kissed me like it was a promise, I came damn close to believing him.

When he paused, he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Mutely, I shook my head and closed my eyes.

He rested his forehead against mine and murmured, “I won’t hurt you, Sash.”

I shook my head again. I wanted him. I couldn’t even pretend otherwise any more. That didn’t mean I could be what he needed. I was too messed up, and sooner or later, he’d notice. Right now, we were alone together, so he didn’t have a lot of options. Later, when he realized and left me, it would destroy me. I shouldn’t have even touched him, but I’d been dreaming of him for so long that I was weak.

“I can’t. I just… can’t,” I whispered.

He was silent, but he pulled me into a tight hug and said, “We’ll see.”

Then he set himself to rights and we climbed back on the Harley like I hadn’t just given him head alongside the road in the middle of the day.

Joshua Tree was a tiny speck of a town, perfect for being unfound for a while, but that also meant that it wasn’t a place where jobs were going to be easy to find. There were a few little stores, thrift shops, climbing supplies, and a pizza place. All told, I’d guess that the permanent residents of the town numbered under ten thousand people. My chances of many job options weren’t good.

Adam stopped the bike in front of a restaurant called The Crossroads Cafe. I slid off the back of the Harley.

He turned to face me, but I wasn’t able to look him in the eye. He stayed on the bike, but he grabbed my hand and kept me from walking away.

“Are we okay?” he asked.

“I think so.”

“Did you think I expected—”

“No!” I felt my face burn in mortification. “That was my choice, Adam. I know you don’t… I mean, I don’t know what I mean.”

He hugged me, somewhat awkwardly because he was still on the Harley.

“I didn’t, um, take advantage of you, did I?” I mumbled the words against his shoulder.

He pushed me away and looked into my eyes. “Not at all.” Then his voice turned teasing and he added. “I’m not
that
easy, Sash. I don’t do anything with my body that I don’t want to, okay?”

I nodded and quickly turned away.

The restaurant we went into, the Crossroads Cafe, was mostly charming. I liked the weathered tables and the wooden… everything. The walls, the bare rafter ceiling, the bar, it was all wood. I loved that part. The people inside were varied and interesting. A man with long grey dreadlocks sat chatting with a girl in a retro 1950s cherry-covered dress. Climbers and hikers, dust covered and sun hardened, lined the bar.

The waitress led us to a table, and I continued to think the little cafe was pretty fabulous—up until I saw the dead cat on the wall. I didn’t know my wildlife well enough to say what it was. It was bigger than a housecat, smaller than a mountain lion. I think it was a bobcat, although I wouldn’t swear to that. Whatever it was called, it was dead and standing on a ledge. I shuddered and turned away from it, quickly taking the chair that put my back to the taxidermied animal.

“Are you cold?” Adam asked as the waitress left to grab menus.

I lowered my voice and told Adam, “I don’t like dead things.” I gestured behind me. “I remember going to a natural history museum in high school. I had nightmares for weeks afterward. Seeing animals with glass eyes and slowly fading, decaying pelts seems like the stuff of horror movies.”

“So…
Night at the Museum
?”

“Right there with most horror movies in my book,” I answered.

The waitress returned, putting our conversation on hold, and we ordered drinks.

“Dave says they’re hiring,” Adam mentioned when the waitress walked away again. “They had a waitress quit yesterday with no notice. You could apply, assuming you can handle the dead cat watching your every move…”

I laughed in spite of myself. “If I have taxidermy dreams…” I started.

“You can wake me, and I’ll hold you,” Adam finished.

Whatever I would’ve said next vanished. I wasn’t even sure if I’d had a thought that I’d just forgotten or if my brain had totally fritzed. The tension flared to life between us again, but this wasn’t just about lust. Adam would take care of me; he had been in little ways for months when we were in Rio Verde—and he’d been trying well before that.

The waitress returned with our drinks, took our orders, and left. Adam and I kept staring at one another with so many things unsaid between us. He was my friend, my
best
friend. Cass had been the girl I was closest to, and most of the other girls I knew were the ones I had partied with the past couple of years. Cocaine and booze didn’t exactly engender lifelong bonds of trust and mutual respect. It sure as hell didn’t make me appealing to any friends I had before Tommy. They’d all drifted away or been pushed away as I grew closer to Tommy and more caught up in his world. Now Tommy was dead, and Cass might as well be dead to me. I couldn’t talk to her or see her without endangering us both.

“Sasha?” He sounded worried.

“You’re my best friend,” I said. “I don’t know why you put up with me, but I’m grateful. I don’t know if you knew that, but you should. When I was trying to get clean and when I had the flu and now… you’re a good man, Adam.”

He shook his head. “I don’t ‘put up with you.’ There’s no one I’d rather be around.”

I sipped my drink, both to buy a moment and because my mouth was dry, before saying, “I feel the same. I’d be lost without your friendship.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” he replied. Adam didn’t say anything else, but he seemed tense.

We finished our meal, and I asked to see the manager while Adam walked outside. It didn’t take much to get a shot at the job. Apparently, there weren’t dozens of people moving into Joshua Tree at the end of May. It wasn’t an actual hire, but they were willing to have me come in for a shift or two and see if I worked out.

That plan fit my needs perfectly. It meant no paperwork right now, and that was exactly what I needed. If we decided to stay in Joshua Tree, we’d figure out how much of a paper trail we wanted to leave, but as a temp, I could stall on that dilemma.

After that was sorted out, Adam and I meandered through the town, checking out a fun looking pizza shop, an outdoor supply shop, and picked up a few brochures. His theory was that if we were in the area for a few weeks we ought to enjoy it. That was apparently how he traveled: settle in for a little while, check out what the area had to offer, and then move on.

“Why didn’t you leave Rio Verde then?” I asked after he explained how he’d lived before coming to check on Tommy.

Adam shook his head. “I was needed there.” He stared at me, like he was daring me to ask the question on the tip of my tongue. When I didn’t, he said, “Let’s head back to the house.”

The drive back was uneventful. I kept my fingers laced together, arms around his waist, and did my damnedest not to press my body too tightly to him. I wasn’t sure what we were doing, but after talking, I realized exactly how devastated I’d be if I messed up our friendship and lost Adam over a bit of sex. The risk wasn’t worth it, even though I was sure being in his arms would be something more than special.

When we got to the house, I all but leaped off the bike and hurried inside.

Adam must’ve decided to give me a moment because he took his time outside, checking something or other on the Harley. It was a much needed reprieve. Riding with him was harder than ever after our interlude along the road.

My reprieve ended when he walked through the door.

“Let me finish your tattoo.”

I didn’t know what to say. He was like the serpent in the garden, knowing exactly what to offer to break the resolve I’d been steadily building up. I wanted to say yes, but instead I said, “I can’t.”

“I’m here; you’re here. Why not?” Adam watched me like he expected me to run.

He wasn’t wrong to expect it either. I wanted to run. I just wasn’t sure whether I wanted to run to or from him. It was probably a bit of both.

“That’s a bad idea,” I said.

“Because…?”

What was I to say? “Because I’m running out of reserves of self-control”? “Because I want you so bad I wake up from dreams that make me moan in my sleep”? There was no way I could admit that without doing the very thing that I was trying to avoid—damaging our friendship.

“Let me tattoo you,” he urged. His beautiful blue eyes widened, and he added, “Please?”

And I had no other answer I could give him. “Sure,” I whispered. “But be… like you would with a stranger, not like you… not those things you said before.”

His mouth curved in a dangerous smile before he asked, “So I shouldn’t use the vibrations of the machine to try to make you come? I could, Sasha. You can trust me.”

I nodded, agreeing to all of it—the fact that I was saying he shouldn’t, the fact that I wanted him to, and the fact that I trusted him.

“Let me get set up.” He turned away, suddenly the professional I’d asked him to be.

I wasn’t sure what to do, other than wait. I paced to the tiny kitchen and got a drink of water. I tried not to watch him as he pulled out the case that held his traveling kit. He used it for conventions, but when Tommy and I had visited him at a show in Phoenix, he’d had a temporary set-up that looked a lot like it would in a shop. There was a table, a chair for him, and of course, a counter where all of his supplies were.