Текст книги "Fire Me Up"

Автор книги: Rachael Johns

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Leon merely nodded and then revved his bike again as he drove around the back of the building to park it. Travis lowered Baxter onto the pavement as they continued on to the gallery. The little dog stopped and lifted his leg over a pile of vomit, but Travis ignored it, wondering what the hell would happen now.

He knew what he wanted to happen. What he needed to happen. He wanted to haul Billie into his arms and use her body to help him forget his run-in with the Ministry, to forget why he was here in New Orleans and why he couldn’t just leave. Not yet. To help him expel some of the tension from his body. He wanted to rip off her jeans and lick her pussy until she begged him to take her over that damn piano. His mouth watered, his cock hardened.

He could practically taste her on his tongue, but didn’t she deserve better than him? Someone who could offer her a pretty future, not just a few fucking-amazing hours between the sheets? While Travis deliberated more than he ever had in his life about a woman, Billie got out her key and unlocked the gate into the gallery. It squeaked as she opened it. Baxter shot inside, no doubt to wash his dirty mouth in the fountain like Travis had seen him do a couple of times already.

“You coming?” she asked, her eyes wide open as she looked back at him still lingering on the sidewalk.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and swallowed. She looked so damn lovely standing there in the doorway, the few security lights of the gallery flickering behind her. There was just something special about her. She was so different from the women he usually used to scratch his itch, yet it was obvious what she was offering him and every red blood cell in his body wanted part of that.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he said, unable to believe his own ears.

She frowned slightly, and then sighed. “That’s a pity, because I was hoping you might kiss me again.”

“Jesus.” He groaned, her sweetly suggestive words making his cock physically ache. “Billie, I’m not a good person to get entangled with. Wasn’t tonight evidence enough of that?” He thought of what it would do to him if the Ministry so much as came near her again. “There’s shit going down, and it’s better you stay away from me.”

Most women listened to him, but Billie didn’t heed his warning. Instead, she took a couple of steps, closing the distance between them and joining him once again on the sidewalk. She stood right in front of him, so close he could smell her intoxicating strawberry shampoo or whatever the hell it was, and looked up into his eyes. “Travis, let me be the judge of what’s good for me.”

And then, she leaned up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his mouth.

Chapter 7

Every ounce of common sense Billie possessed told her she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t help herself. Her resolve to stay away from Travis Sinclair had well and truly snapped. It was the middle of the night and she was standing outside the gallery on the sidewalk of Bourbon Street, her tongue down a near-stranger’s throat, her insides trembling with raw need and desire, and she felt better, more alive, than she’d ever felt before. She’d known him less than three days but for some insane reason, he didn’t feel like a stranger.

Maybe it was the illusion of friendship they’d formed, talking and sharing beignets until they’d been rudely interrupted; she didn’t know. But what she did know was that despite the tough-guy act he put on most of the time, despite his association with the Deacons, he wasn’t like those Ministry guys. They’d looked at him like they wanted to kill him and her like she was a piece of pie they wanted to devour in one gulp, yet despite being one against five, he hadn’t stood by while they insulted her, and she respected that. It had been one thing fighting the attraction she felt to him when he was being a jackass, but now, when he’d given her a glimpse of the person he seemed to hide from the world, she was a goner.

All thoughts of the danger he might bring with him, and the fact that he was essentially an enemy who wanted to do something that would destroy her business, evaporated. She could worry about all that tomorrow. At that moment nothing felt more important than the yearning need he’d ignited inside her.

And, if the impressive erection she felt pressing against her belly was any indication, Travis needed this as much as she did.

“Billie,” he groaned, gripping her shoulders and snatching his mouth from hers. “Are you sure about this?” He sounded tortured, as if he were in physical pain. “Because if we cross this line, I’m not fucking stopping until we’re finished.”

Thank God for that. In reply, she slid her hand down his body and cupped his balls through the hard denim of his jeans. He sucked in a breath. Oh yeah, she’d never been more certain of anything in her life.

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, desperate to have his mouth back on hers. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is and show me you’re not all talk. Or maybe you can think of more creative uses for that mouth of yours.”

If he didn’t give her the release she needed soon, she’d explode.

He hesitated for all of two seconds and then said, “Let’s hope you don’t regret it.” His mouth found hers again and he kissed her hard, his hands coming down around her back and cupping her buttocks in their effort to drag her closer. As their tongues dueled, he pressed the hardness between his legs right into her and heat coiled low in her belly. She pushed herself even closer, loving the friction of her nipples rubbing against his solid chest, her panties already sopping wet.

He moved his hands from her butt and slid them up under her sweater, his hot fingers searing her bare skin as he ripped his mouth from hers and started trailing kisses down her neck. They weren’t like any kisses she’d had before—they were rough and demanding, as if he didn’t want to do this but couldn’t help himself. She guessed tomorrow morning she’d wake with his mark all over her skin, and the thought intoxicated her.

Then he closed his mouth over a nipple, soaking her sweater, and she lost her ability to think straight at all. She moaned and arched up into his mouth, all the nerve endings in her body feeling as if they’d been set alight. He sucked hard, his hands sliding up and down her bare back.

“I think it’s time to take this inside,” he muttered into her ear, and she was helpless to utter a response. Hell, she’d forgotten they were still outside on the sidewalk, making out for the viewing pleasure of all of Bourbon Street.

“Good idea,” she whispered as he grabbed her hand and started into the alley. He kicked the gate shut behind them, took two seconds to lock it—thank God someone still had the ability to think straight—and then picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

She squealed in surprise, her breasts pressed against his back, her hands landing on his tight butt to steady herself. Damn, he felt good.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since the moment I met you,” he said as he strode toward the house. His confession turned her on almost as much as his mouth did. What other fantasies was he about to enact?

They charged into the house, Baxter trotting at Travis’s heels, and as they headed down the corridor for the bedrooms, she realized…this was it.

“We’re going to have sex,” she squeaked, not meaning to voice this thought aloud.

Travis chuckled and his grip on her legs tightened. “That’s the plan, baby.”

She was about to have sex for the first time since she’d walked out on her marriage. With a man who had no qualms about ruining her business and had a number of sketchy connections. Was she insane? Had Travis slipped something into her hot chocolate? How could she go from hating the man to practically throwing herself at him within a matter of hours? Her heart began to pound against Travis’s back, her mind warring with her raging hormones. Good conscience fighting bad.

“Your room or mine?” he asked, oblivious to the storm raging within her.

“Mine.” At least then she’d be a fraction in her comfort zone.

He arrived at her bedroom door and paused. “Time for you to go to bed elsewhere, Baxter,” Travis said, and Billie looked down at the little dog who had no clue what was going on. Join the club, she thought. I’ve lost the plot.

Travis stepped into her room and shut the door in Baxter’s face. He started whimpering immediately, but Billie had only a few seconds to feel sorry for her puppy before Travis dumped her on the bed and she forgot about the dog altogether.

He ripped off his long-sleeved T-shirt in one deft movement, unveiling all the glory of his six-pack abs, nicely tanned and covered in even more tattoos. The lights were still on from when he’d stormed into her room earlier, but she barely had time to admire the art before he undid his belt buckle and tugged his jeans and underwear—gulp—down his legs. The erection she’d felt when they were outside on the street sprang free and it was more glorious than she could imagine. It was so big she wasn’t sure how it would ever fit inside her, but she very much wanted to try. Her thighs clenched in anticipation. To hell with doubts, to hell with nerves, to hell with the regrets she might very well have tomorrow.

So what if she hadn’t had sex in over a year? Wasn’t it like riding a bicycle—once you knew how, you didn’t forget? Saxon might not have lit her on fire for quite some time, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know what she was doing.

She sat up and pulled herself to the edge of the bed, unashamedly looking her fill of the man in front of her and reaching out to touch him. He sucked in a breath as her fingers closed around his cock, and she glided her hand up and down before taking his balls in her palm. She was about to lean forward and take him into her mouth, when he gripped her shoulders and shoved her back against the bed.

He leaned over her and unzipped her jeans. Her skin felt as if it were on fire, and it wasn’t the only thing as he slid them down her legs, taking her black cotton panties with them. Tossing them aside, he put his hands on her bare thighs and spread her legs wide. He gazed down at her, his expression hard, and she felt self-conscious again. Shy. Uncomfortable. She tried to close her legs—this wasn’t how things usually happened in her experience. Saxon barely ever bothered to look at her; he usually spent a few seconds stroking between her legs and then thrust into her when he felt ready, missionary position every single time. He’d certainly never stared at her sex like it was something he wanted to gobble up.

“Don’t,” Travis whispered, his pressure on her thighs warm and firm, stopping her from closing them. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Let me look at you.” And then he reached out and ran his index finger—slowly, tormentingly—over her slit. She couldn’t help herself; she thrust up into his hand, desperate to have his fingers inside her. And he obliged, fucking her with his fingers, first one and then another.

“Oh,” she moaned, her arms outstretched and her hands gripping the sheets as he so easily found her clit, rubbing over it with just the perfect amount of pressure.

“That’s the way, baby. You’re so wet, so ready for me, so hot.”

The pleasure rose within her, Travis’s words and his touch more arousing, more erotic, than anything she’d experienced with Saxon or anyone before. Just when she was approaching the edge, Travis removed his hands and she whimpered. She was about to beg for his fingers back upon her, when he put his mouth there instead.

She cried out in bliss. Her hands moved to his head, her fingers curling in his hair as his tongue delved deep inside her. Any control she had over the situation vanished as she felt Travis devouring her as if she were ice cream on a stick. A few deft strokes of his talented tongue and she was a panting mess. As if sensing she was close, he added his finger to the mix again, pushing it deep inside and touching it to the most sensitive spot in her body. She lost it. Her orgasm smashed over her, shattering her completely.

But he kept going, licking and sucking and stroking, and she didn’t know it was possible to feel this good, to come again and again and again in the course of a few minutes.

“Travis,” she panted. “I can’t take anymore.”

Without a word, he pulled back and she lay there on the bed, smiling like a lunatic and wondering if she’d ever recover enough to catch her breath. Vaguely she registered the crackling of plastic. And then…oh my…Travis was looming over her. She’d thought herself utterly spent, but as she gazed at his impressive erection sheathed in a condom, energy surged within her. She reached for his cock, desperate to touch him and give him even a fraction of the pleasure he’d given her, but he pushed her hand away, instead reaching for the sweater, now the only thing stopping them being skin on skin. He yanked it over her head and then rid her of her bra with an expertise that told her he had plenty of experience. She pushed that thought aside, not wanting anything to ruin this unreal experience.

His gaze swept over her body and her nipples throbbed, desperate for his attention, but instead he flipped her over, his hands on her waist as he positioned her onto all fours.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” She wasn’t sure whether she managed to say those words aloud before he entered her and they both gasped. Despite his size, there was none of the pain she sometimes had during lovemaking. No awkwardness or wishing it would be over quick. She was so wet, he slid right in and then stayed there a second, before reaching around and grabbing hold of her breasts. He wasn’t gentle, but it felt fantastic, and then he finally began to thrust. Billie pushed back against him, loving the feeling of him filling her but wanting even more. Wanting everything.

As he increased his pace inside her, all the while touching and teasing her nipples, setting them on fire, she felt her body taking over. Travis moved his hands to her waist, gripping her hips firmly as he rode her even deeper. He uttered a guttural sound and she lost herself in the moment, screaming and shuddering as Travis brought them both to release, giving her an orgasm unlike any she’d ever had before.

Sure, she climaxed fine on her own, or when Saxon used his fingers, but she’d never really managed to do so during actual intercourse. She’d accepted this, thinking she was just one of those women who couldn’t come in that manner, but she’d been living a lie.

Travis Sinclair had just shown her the truth.

“Fuck me! I haven’t done that in a while,” he said, finally letting go of her hips and sliding out.

She flopped onto the bed, totally spent, only just finding the energy to turn her head and look at him. His dark skin glistened with perspiration, making his tattoos stand out more than usual. “What? Had sex?”

He chuckled. “No, had sex in a bed.”

“Where do you usually have sex?” she asked, before realizing she didn’t really want to know the answer. It wasn’t that she’d harbored any illusions of Travis being a monk, but she didn’t want to ruin the most amazing sexual experience of her life with the knowledge that it was nothing special to him.

He shrugged. “Boardroom tables, hotel room floors, elevators, showers, hot tubs…”

“Okay, okay.” She rolled over and held up her hand; it sounded as if he could go on indefinitely, but she’d heard enough. “I get the picture.”

“Don’t get jealous, princess,” he said, reaching out and trailing his hand from the hollow of her neck down over her belly and to the now incredibly sensitive spot between her legs.

“I’m not jealous,” she scoffed, trying not to react as his fingers dipped inside. How was it even possible that she’d completely lost it less than a minute ago and already her body was gearing up to take him again?

“I think you are a little bit. I like it.” He skated his whole palm tenderly over her mound, teasing her with the lightest of touches, and then he removed his hand and scooted to the edge of the bed. She stopped herself from asking him where he was going and if he was coming back, not wanting to appear needy. She didn’t want to need anyone.

“I’m getting rid of the condom and then I’m taking a shower,” he said as he headed for her bedroom door. “You can join me if you want.”

She shouldn’t. After the way he’d just made her feel—as if she was just another one of his cheap tarts—she should roll over and try to expel him from her mind. But she wanted to. More than almost anything she’d wanted before, she wanted to trail after him down the corridor and worship him in the shower. She practically salivated thinking about what all those tattoos would look like under the hot spray of water, what their bodies would feel like slick against each other with only water and soap suds between them.

Without another thought she leaped from the bed and hurried after him, her arms and legs still shaky from the sex. He’d disposed of the condom and was reaching into the shower when she arrived. She paused at the entrance of the bathroom, stealing a moment to simply stare at his naked beauty. While she had no complaints about the sex they’d had, the position hadn’t given her the opportunity to really look at him. As an artist, or a once wannabe artist at least, she was desperate to examine his ink and his beautiful body in more detail. To trail her fingers over his muscles, admiring the detail in his tattoos, imprinting them in her mind.

He stepped into the shower and dropped his neck back as the water sluiced over him. Billie swallowed, fighting a strong impulse to run down the corridor and grab her pencils and sketch pad. Travis would make a beautiful life model, and she could just imagine him permanently hanging on her wall.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” he muttered. “Get in here and suck my cock.”

She blinked. Had she heard that correctly? Maybe he thought she owed him after the amazing things his tongue had done to her. Maybe so, but she was done with men who thought they could control her or order her around. She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell, but found the words refused to form on her tongue. Instead, what felt like an invisible string pulled her toward him as if she’d lost all control of her body and her senses. Utterly mesmerized by his naked beauty, she found herself stepping into the shower, all but handing herself over to his whims. Despite the warm water, Billie shivered as Travis yanked the stripy multicolored curtain shut behind them.

His cock was already hard again, pressed against her belly, reminding her of what he’d just demanded. While her head told her to resist on principle, her mouth watered in delicious anticipation. Without another thought, she licked her lips as she dropped onto her knees. His hands came down on the back of her head, forcing her toward him, and she flicked out her tongue and touched it to the tip of his erection. Nothing had ever tasted so good.

–

Anticipation tightened in Travis’s gut as Billie swirled her tongue around his dick, her hand gripping him at the same time, heightening the pleasure. Her touch heated his skin far more than the hot water that rained down on top of them and he let his head fall back, trying to lose himself in the sensations.

He’d demanded she give him a BJ because he’d wanted to regain the control he’d felt slipping away as he’d ridden her. He hadn’t been kidding when he told her it was the first sex he’d had in a bed in a long while, and the confession had stunned him as much as it had her. In fact, he could barely remember the last time he’d shared a bed with a woman. But it hadn’t just been the location. The sex had been different, too—he’d felt a closeness to Billie he hadn’t felt with any of his sex partners before. He hadn’t just been pleasing her so that he could then get his rocks off; he’d been pleasing her because he wanted to. Needed to.

And that scared the bejesus out of him.

It made things personal, which was something he couldn’t allow. Sex for him had never been personal. It had always been about the release, ridding his body of the pent-up tension that seemed to perpetually live inside him. He got angry, and he needed an avenue to expel that anger. Sex was the lesser of two evils, better than beating up on someone, which was the other surefire way to achieve the same result. Although he couldn’t imagine pounding someone would ever feel as good as fucking Billie had. Or as good as what she was now doing with her mouth and tongue.

He groaned and steadied his hands against the wall of the shower cubicle, the cool tiles a sharp contrast to the heat inside him. Her grip tightened on the bottom of his cock as she sucked him whole into her mouth. She swirled her tongue and then started to suck as if she were as desperate to get him off as he was to get off. He glanced down and the sight of her head moving back and forth in rhythm as she increased her speed almost pushed him over the edge, but he clamped down on his lower lip, wanting to prolong this as much as he could.

But holy fuck, she was good. It was without a doubt the best head he’d ever had, and as she glanced up and met his gaze, he realized he wasn’t in control here at all. She might be the one on her knees, but he was entirely at her mercy.

Billie wasn’t anything like the kind of woman he usually fooled around with. She was fun, sweet and naturally beautiful without the need for makeup and slutty clothes. She was softer than the women he sometimes worked with and fiercer than those he usually took to bed. Yet she wasn’t like a biker bitch, either. He couldn’t imagine her ever wanting to wear a patch that read “Property of Cash.” But damn, what a thought…He’d never wanted anyone to wear such a patch anyway and he still didn’t. He was a one-man band, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t indulge in a little more monkey sex with the little gallery owner while he was in town. Didn’t he deserve a distraction from all the other crap?

If it was possible, she smiled around his cock, licking and then gently nipping the tip before once again swallowing him whole. He lost it. Unable to fight it a moment longer, any grip he had on control spiraled into oblivion. He pressed his hands harder against the tiles as he arched into her mouth and exploded.

“Fuck! Billie!” Her name echoed around the room, but he almost didn’t recognize his own voice. She swallowed and then he reached down, dragging her up and holding her against him. He pressed his mouth to hers—if anything, his need for her growing stronger—and tasted himself on her lips.

“Was that okay?” she asked, when they broke apart for air.

He gazed down at her, admiring the perfect curve of her shoulder, the beautiful swells of her breasts. Was she kidding? How could she imagine that was anything but?

“Yes,” he told her. “It was fucking spectacular.”

She rubbed her lips together and then put her hands on his chest. She stared down at his tattoos and he stilled as she traced her fingers over the massive eagle with its wings outstretched across his chest, perched atop the Harley-Davidson logo. But her gaze moved to the fleur-de-lis on his arm. She touched a finger to it.

“If you hate New Orleans so much, why this?”

He stared down at her finger. “I didn’t always hate it,” he admitted. “Growing up it wasn’t exactly a fucking paradise, but that wasn’t the city’s fault. And then when I joined the MC, I really felt like this was where I belonged.”

“So what changed? Why did you leave the club?”

He sucked in a breath. For some fucked-up reason he felt like telling her about the job they’d done ten years ago and the spiral of events that had followed—that it hadn’t exactly been his choice to walk. But he didn’t talk about his time in the Deacons or what had happened with anyone. He shrugged. “It was time. I wanted a different life for myself. A fresh start.”

She nodded as if accepting this. “You don’t mind the branding on your back?”

He shook his head. “No matter who I am now, the MC is a part of me. Always will be.”

“Which is why you’re still here?”

“Yes, that’s why I’m still here.” And the only good thing about that was the woman in his arms. If she agreed to it, he might as well make the most of the electricity between them while he was around. He’d just be careful that he was the one calling the shots.

“Are you any closer to finding out who murdered Mr. Lombard?”

Travis froze, his cock, which had already been perking up again, softening. “What the hell do you know about that?”

Despite his tone, she didn’t even flinch. “If you and your friends wanted it to be secret, you should have kept your voices down the night they were over.”

Fuck! He’d been so focused on the situation, he hadn’t thought about Billie overhearing.

“Relax,” Billie said, running her hands over him again. “If his death wasn’t an accident, then the murderer needs to be brought to justice. I just hope you find the right guy. Or guys. And maybe consider handing them over to the cops instead of enacting justice yourself. Do you think that other biker club could be involved?”

Travis captured her mouth again with his. This conversation was over. Even if she wasn’t about to report them to the cops, he didn’t want her in any way involved with the investigation of Priest’s death. Another reason to find the culprit ASAP and get the hell back out of NOLA.

She forgot about her questions pretty quickly and they stayed in the shower, playing dirty until the water ran cold. Then, against his better judgment, Travis followed Billie back to her room, climbed into her bed, spooned up against her naked body and went to sleep with Baxter curled up on the floor beside them.