Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
STRIDER
I hold my breath, waiting for Jasmine to answer, but we’re interrupted by a commotion as the man who Helo disabled downstairs is brought up, trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey, but struggling despite his bindings. They haven’t thought to gag him, so he’s swearing up a storm.
It’s a stark reminder of where we are and who I am.
While Jasmine already knows more about the Soulz than Anna ever did, I have an overwhelming need to shield her from the dark side of MC life. Worried that she’d never agree to stay with me if she sees what I truly can be like.
Wanting to hide her from any further distress, I move close, pulling her to me, turning her face into my chest to protect her from the sight of him being manhandled. But I can’t block out her ears, and I shout, “Shut him up.”
Jasmine struggles in my hold. I don’t want to hurt her, so I allow her to get loose. She pulls away from me and spits on the man who Shotgun and Buzz have firmly in their hold. Turning to me, she states, “I want to be there when you question him. I want to hear about everything Barclay planned. Everything he was involved in.”
“No,” I refute softly. “Jas, you really don’t want to see or hear that.”
She regards me haughtily. “No? Strider, I’ve just heard he’s left me a legacy, and I’m entitled to know what. And don’t you think for a moment that I can’t imagine the types of persuasion you’ll use. I might even have some ideas of my own. A man says a lot when he’s threatened with the loss of his balls or dick.”
It’s not only me unable to hide a hiss, but her words have me rearranging my thoughts.
Anna never wanted to be involved in the club. She’d never set foot in the clubhouse, let alone when we had our parties. But Jasmine’s already been exposed to all that. My inner man wants to protect her like I had my deceased wife, but now I realise, Jasmine’s cut from a different cloth. She’s not lived a protected life. She’s been exposed to horrors I don’t want to think about.
She’s proving herself stronger than I ever expected. She’s proving herself as…
Shotgun puts it into words. “That, there, Prez, is an ol’ lady worth the title.”
I raise my eyes to the heavens, then look down at her. Hoping to fuck I’m reading her right and not making yet another misstep, I lean down and speak directly into her ear so only she can hear me. I offer, “I accept. Full involvement. But only if you let me fuck you first.”
She draws in air as she gasps. Her cheeks flush. She looks down, then raises her gaze to me. “Your wife only died a short while ago. My husband less than an hour ago. My head’s in no space to make decisions right now. I can’t agree to be your old lady, let alone your wife. But if your other offer is still on the table, then after months of being alone and only able to use my vibrator, then I think working out our sexual frustrations sounds nice.”
Nice? If I can only get such an insignificant rating, I need to up my game. Nice wasn’t the way I’d describe our previous encounters. Instead of being annoyed or abashed, my cock starts to thicken as I think of ways I can improve her assessment. But I’m sure not going to awe her with my prowess in an unknown clubhouse or anonymous hotel room. I need to get her back to Austin.
Shotgun and Buzz have just disappeared with the man they brought up from the basement as Rufus’s prospect had delivered the promised truck, then disappeared just as we’d requested.
“Let’s go,” I tell her, suddenly in a rush to get her back to my club, my room, my bed. I’m going to fuck her so good she’ll never again want to leave me.
She chuckles at my impatience and, taking the hand that I offer, comes out into the sweet fresh air.
Outside, Shotgun and Buzz are waiting. Sounds from the truck show our prisoner is already in the back. When I stop and gesture that she should get into the passenger side, she balks.
“You really want me to ride with him?” she asks scornfully.
Chastised, I admit, “They’re going back to Austin…”
“So are you,” she interrupts. “I want to ride with you.”
I haven’t had a woman on the back of my bike since the day I’d crashed and Anna had come off. I’m certainly not going to risk Jasmine. “No,” I reply. “No one rides with me.”
When Jassy’s hands go to her hips, I realise I’ve got a battle on my hands. “No?” Her first word sounds innocent. As I start to nod my head, she cuts off anything I might say. “You just asked me to be your old lady, but then say I can’t ride with you?”
I think that’s exactly what I just said. Gritting my teeth, I tell her, “It’s too risky.”
“Then you give up riding your bike.”
Me? “Woman,” I snarl. “I’ve been riding for years?—”
“Exactly.” She prods her finger into my chest as if making a point. “You had an accident when you were still new to bikes. I don’t think there’s any risk to me by riding with you after all the years’ experience you’ve now had than behind any other man on a bike.”
She’ll never be fucking riding with anyone else.
Shotgun overhears. “You can ride with me, sweetheart. Buzz can drive the truck.”
Oh no, she won’t.
“Thanks, Shotgun,” she calls back. “I’d appreciate that.”
My hands clench into fists as a roar bursts out of me. “The only bike you’ll be getting on is mine.”
Jasmine’s face splits into a wide grin. “Well, that’s settled then.”
Fuck me. I’m totally fucked with this woman. I know Anna used to use ploys to get what she wanted from me, but the difference with Jasmine is she’s only prodding me in the direction I really want to go. I want her on my bike. I want to feel her arms wrapped around my waist. I’m just terrified of history repeating itself.
Grabbing her hand, I lead her over to my bike. Taking my helmet off the handlebars, I hand it to her.
“Uh-huh,” she tells me, handing it back. “Don’t want you breaking your head.”
“Fuckin’ wear it, woman.” I slam it down on her skull and buckle it before she can protest again.
It’s only a half-head, and while it does fine for me, it’s in no way sufficient for her. Once I set off, instead of heading straight home, I stop at the first motorcycle dealer I come to. Taking her inside, I check out the helmets on display and pick out one complete with a visor. Her look of derision makes me grin.
In the end, we do settle for a full face, but one where the whole front lifts up so she doesn’t feel claustrophobic. I then buy her a full set of leathers so she can avoid road rash if she happens to come off. I can see her laughing at me, but along with her mirth, there’s understanding and compassion. She lets me have my way, going over the top with her protection.
I’ve blamed myself for years for Anna’s condition. Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m wrong. But I’m taking no chances with Jasmine.
Having made our detour, my brothers are already way ahead of us on the road to Austin. Unusually, for once, I’m unescorted on the road, which means there’s no one to see me riding embarrassingly like an old woman. I do no more than fifty, even on the freeway. It should take me under four hours to make the journey. I end up taking five. When I stop three-quarters of the way home to top off my tank, Jasmine looks at me and laughs.
“I think I could walk faster.”
“Woman! I’m trying to keep you safe.” I go inside to pay. When I come out, she leans close to me.
“And I’m just impatient to get fucked.”
Rolling my eyes, I start the engine. I do increase the speed a little as she’s raised an urgency inside me. But there’s a bone-deep worry deep inside me that lightning, perhaps, can indeed strike twice.
When we finally reach the clubhouse, I breathe a sigh of relief. Without me having to tell her, she gets off the bike before I paddle walk it back into my space. I notice her hands going to the small of her back as she stretches and realise it was quite a long journey for someone unaccustomed to riding. But no complaint comes out of her mouth.
Instead, she pushes up the front of her helmet, winks, holds out her hand, and when I take it, she starts to drag me inside.
Oh hell, yeah, baby. My cock is already at full mast.
We enter the club room which is crowded.
“Nice lid!” Shotgun calls out. He grabs at his belly and doubles over laughing.
Unsure of herself now, Jasmine fumbles at the buckle, and I help her to get the helmet off.
“I told you it was too much,” she hisses, trying to hide the offending article behind her back.
Seeing the damage he’s done, Shotgun crosses the room to us. “If I’m ever lucky enough to find a woman half your worth, Jassy, she’ll be wearing one just like that. Prez knows he’s got precious cargo.”
Strangely, even I can see he’s sincere. Maybe my accident with Anna was a warning to us all. Not that women’s heads are more fragile than ours, but we’re just stupid asses who take risks with our lives. Wearing just skull caps, or nothing at all, as we don’t need to in Texas. Our ladies? Well, their lives are worth more than ours.
Uncomfortable with the scrutiny she’s attracting, Jasmine stands on tiptoe to speak into my ear. “I’m cooking in these leathers. I need to take them off.”
A lewd grin that I can’t prevent spreads over my face. “Being naked will help,” I murmur back.
Her face flushes and it’s not just heat from the clothing. Not wanting to waste any more time, it’s me taking her hand now, dragging her through the brothers who part to make us a path. Chuckles and laughter follow us, not one person in any doubt as to our intentions.
It’s only when I reach my room that I realise I’m nervous. I’ve had Jasmine here many times before. She was the club girl who caught my attention, then, without me realising it, she became so much more. Sex isn’t just what I want from her. I always wanted it all. But with Anna still breathing, I had nothing to offer.
She’s rightly holding back from making a commitment. I’ve got to show her she’s my everything and nowhere close to being second best.
I know why she wants to fuck. I’ve served. I’ve seen death, suffering, and have had my lucky escapes at the wrong end of the gun or just being a foot away from a landmine. It makes you want to celebrate life in the most basic of ways. Barclay could have killed her today. If Helo hadn’t been with her, he could have given her to his men to sexually torture and fuck knows what else. The blood thrums through my veins, wanting to claim her, wanting to mark her as mine, wanting no man to ever touch her again.
But she needs this in the same way as a man who’s seen war. She wants sex, her body’s release to remind her she’s survived.
The only times she’s been in this room, the dynamic has been as a club girl and the prez. I stuck to those boundaries. My emotions only evident because after we’d had our pleasure, I hadn’t kicked her out of my bed. Many times, I’d woken up snuggling her, but I still kept my distance.
Now? Now I see her. She’s no substitute for my wife. If Anna hadn’t become ill, if I’m honest, she wouldn’t have still been part of my life. The club’s too important to me. Jasmine would never ask me to give it up. She embraces it. Loves it. And, even though she doesn’t appreciate how much, she’s earned the affection and respect of my men.
Something shifts inside me as I see her doing something she’s done a hundred times before. Taking off her clothes and getting naked, just like a club girl. My heart twists, and I move toward her. “Let me.”
She’s already taken off her leather jacket. Now I help her to remove her new chaps. Then I pause, just staring at her. She seems awkward and looks away from my scrutiny. Placing my hand on her cheek, I turn her back to face me.
“Have I ever told you how fuckin’ beautiful you are?” I haven’t. That would have been a step too far. “I should have done so, Jasmine. But it’s not just your beauty that I fell for. It’s the whole package.”
She flinches for some reason. “There’s no need for fancy words, Strider. I’m a sure bet.”
But I want to give her everything. Her being in danger, me coming too fucking close to losing her forever, had knocked sense into my head. Anna had been my teenage sweetheart. Jasmine is my adult relationship.
As if I’m taking too long, she takes hold of the bottom of her t-shirt and starts to move it up over her head. I put my hands on hers. “Let me love you,” I implore. “Let me worship you.”
I’ve fucked things up. I might never have said words that expressed my feelings, but I’d always made love to Jasmine. It had never been just sex. Her words in her book had described how the club girl fell for the prez, and how her feelings were reciprocated. Only, in real life, instead of talking to her, I’d made the misstep of taking her to see Anna. In real life, I’d been stupid. If I was as good as the fictional prez, I’d have talked to her, admitted my emotions, and explained why I couldn’t, then, make her mine.
I’ve got her rattled now. She’s not sure whether I want her naked or not. There was never any hesitation between us. There was only going to be one result when I called a club girl to my bed.
While her wide eyes stare at me, I gradually ease up her t-shirt. When I reveal her bra, instead of ripping it off, I lower my head and mouth her nipples through the lacy material. She reacts now, murmuring in pleasure.
Taking my time as if this was a woman I needed to impress, one I’ve never had in my bed before, I worship her breasts, her neck, her shoulders with kisses and caresses that leave her moaning for more. She’s still holding herself stiffly as though trying to disassociate from my tenderness. I’m determined to wear her down. Using her hair to tilt her head to one side, I nibble at the side of her throat.
A moan escapes and my road name on a sigh. “Strider.”
“Call me Colt,” I murmur into her neck. “I’m not the prez of the club when you’re with me. I’m just a man who adores you.”
“Strider,’ she repeats again, emphasising the two syllables.
I’m certain that in a short while, I’m going to hear the name that I want coming out of her mouth.