Chapter Seventeen
Willow
The motorcycle soars. There’s no other way to describe it. Plastered against Gy, my heart races, keeping up with the exhilaration pulsing through my body. I’d expected it to be exciting…
What I hadn’t foreseen was the bike acting like an enormous vibrator on steroids.
The beast between my legs has me teetering dangerously close to an orgasm. Pussy clenching, nipples tingling, I try to keep my need to myself. Behind Gy, I bite my lip to hide the moan threatening to escape my lips. Did he know this was going to happen?
The ache in my core intensifies, leaving me panting. But every inhale drags Gy’s sweet caramel-apple scent deeper into my lungs.
It’s too much.
Not enough. I can’t control it…
Fuck. Fuck. Shifting, I slowly roll my hips, chasing my pleasure.
Slick soaks my panties, and every nerve in my body tingles with the steady hum of the motorcycle.
Faster. I squirm along the seat, needing more friction on my clit.
So close. So close. Feeling my wiggling, Gy’s hand grips my thigh, then he yanks me against his back.
The pressure causes the seam of my jeans to rub me just right, and my stomach clenches.
White bursts behind my eyes as I’m steamrolled by an orgasm that leaves me breathless and quaking.
I try not to cry out, but as my release rolls through me, a flush spreads over my skin.
“You okay back there?” he calls, the wind catching his words and jumbling them.
“Fine,” I squeak. But judging by the way his shoulders shake, he’s laughing at my expense. The jolting motion sets off a series of aftershocks, and I hug him tighter, using my arms to hold on since my legs are now jelly.
The hand that was settled on my leg reaches around to hold my hands, and the warmth creates an afterglow that I bask in as the world whizzes by.
I want to exist just in this moment…
My heart slowly calms, helped by Gy’s steady presence and his mouthwatering scent. The Hellbent clubhouse looms large in the distance, and for a second, I allow myself to wonder if a chance at happiness is right here in my arms.
No connections. Gavin’s warning was clear. If anyone gets close enough to compromise my alias, they’ll pull me. We can’t risk Pack Mordred finding my sisters or me.
But…
Maybe this could simply be an indulgence?
A dalliance. Not a relationship. Surely, bikers don’t do those anyway.
What if we just enjoy one another? This is my only chance at feeling the brush of our bodies together.
I scarcely know the Alpha, but my instincts are pushing me toward him.
Hard. And the enormous vibrator between my legs is not helping the situation at all.
I want Gy. In my body. In my bed. His scent in my nose, his taste in my mouth. Need yanks at every fiber of my being, begging me to give in.
We deserve this.
Dust kicks up as Gy turns his motorcycle onto their dirt road, and the gate opens immediately, allowing him to enter.
Unlike last night, there’s no line. Just a single prospect pushing the button to open the gate.
Part of me wonders why they need security like that if the Hellbent Hounds are not doing anything wrong.
Even Calloway gave them his seal of approval, though, so I know what they’re into must not be that bad.
What were his exact words? “Dangerous, but not depraved. Unless you harm someone they care about, the Hellbent Hounds won’t be on your trail. That MC’s filled with protectors, not one percenters.”
Once inside the gate, he glides smoothly toward the front of the clubhouse before cutting the engine and standing astride the bike. Ever the gentleman, Gy offers me his hand, helping me get off this motorcycle before sliding the helmet from my head.
“Baby girl, you look flushed.” He reaches out and traces my cheek. Straddling the shiny chrome, this rough biker makes quite the picture, and my body clenches in anticipation. “You… enjoy the ride?”
The roughness of his voice rolls over me like black silk sheets—the meaning all too clear. Embarrassment flames my cheeks, and I can’t even choke out my answer, but he already knows. Gy’s nostrils flare, scenting my spiking lust, and his pupils dilate.
Using my chin, he pulls me forward gently, and I go as if mesmerized, drawn into the depths of his blue eyes. There’s a heat there that’s mirrored in my own, and the moment pulses between us. Gy inhales sharply, and my desperate desire is bared before him.
“You smell delicious, little mate.” His grip draws me closer until our breath twines. There’s a mere inch between our lips, and he pauses.
“I can take care of that ache for you.” Gy’s scent intensifies, sweet caramel apple, and oh so enticing. Yes. Kiss me. The wait is excruciating. Time stands still until my inner omega takes over.
Pressing forward, I make the space between us disappear, allowing our lips to meet for the first time.
Sweet caramel and crisp apple burst along my taste buds, and a groan pours from my throat.
More. Unable to control myself, I slide my tongue into his mouth on the hunt for more of his flavor.
He gives me a moment to explore before a strangled moan pierces the air.
Gy’s hands drop from my face, falling to my hips, and pull me closer.
He’s still astride his motorcycle, yet he manages to press our bodies against one another.
My legs straddle his thick thigh, the heat pouring into my already molten core. And he takes over the kiss, devouring me, mind, body, and soul.
Home. His scent cocoons me in warmth, and he kisses me with reverence, as if recognizing the enormity of this moment.
Wrapped in his strengths, the rest of the world disappears.
All my problems float away on a sweet tide of caramel.
Even my fear of the piano key becomes irrelevant.
If Pack Mordred has found me, at least I have this to remember: this one perfect kiss, to hold deep inside.
Whether we lock lips for a minute or an hour, I don’t know, but a loud cough startles us apart.
When we separate, a woman is glaring at us with her hands on her hips, while a large biker with silver hair stands behind her. Neither looks all that familiar from last night, but it was a blur anyway.
“Ain’t you a little old to be making out in front of the clubhouse like that? You know the rules—all PDA is saved for your own homes,” the woman grouches at us, eyes narrowed on me. The annoyance coming from her has me wondering if she has some kind of claim on my scent-match.
The roar of jealousy rises, my omega surging forward, and it takes all my willpower not to hiss at her. Sensing it, Gy pulls me closer.
“Mama C, you know this is not that kind of PDA. We’re both completely presentable.
You’re just nosy and wanted to meet Willow.
” He chuckles, still holding onto my hips as he swings his leg over the bike to get off.
He doesn’t let go of me for even a single second, and my inner omega and I can’t help but preen, pleased at his touch and the wall of strength he projects.
“Fine, you caught me. Hello, little chica. What are you doing here at the clubhouse?” Her eyes rake over me, but there’s no judgment in her gaze. And the big biker behind her smirks, watching the woman with adoration.
“I’m here about a dog.” Not quite a lie, but not quite the truth, since I have no idea what’s going on between me and the man firmly pressed against my back.
The woman’s lips quirk into a strange smile as her gaze flicks between the two of us. “Well, you certainly found the doghouse, if that’s what you’re looking for,” she says. “Gy’s closer to house-trained than most of ’em, though.”
Her words confuse me, and my brow furrows as I try to make sense of them. Noting my confusion, the big man with her finally speaks in a deep rumble that makes tiny nerves flicker in my belly. I don’t spend much time around unfamiliar men, and his scrutiny is uncomfortable.
“She’s talking about the Hellbent Hounds.
Our road names are famous canines. Gy is short for Gytrash, a spectral dog who leads people astray.
A beast with glowing red eyes who looks more wolf than dog.
” The image makes me shiver, and I can’t help but glance at the man behind me.
Although he is large and may be dangerous to others, my instincts tell me he’s safe for me.
“What’s a road name?” I look between them, unfamiliar with biker lingo.
“It’s what we call ourselves between our brothers, kind of like a code name,” the big man explains with a shrug. “It’s a biker thing, like Church and cuts and ol’ ladies.”
None of those terms make a lick of sense to me.
The only word clearly definable is “Church,” and for the life of me, I can’t imagine a ton of bikers hanging out on a Sunday in a large Gothic cathedral with floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows.
The image it conjures causes me to want to giggle, but instead, I shrug.
“I don’t know what any of that means.” Something I can be honest about.
Considering our strange scent-match predicament, I want Gy to be aware that, when it comes to MC life, I’m a complete newbie.
The only thing I know about this lifestyle is what I learned from the single episode of Sons of Anarchy I saw before my daddy put the kibosh on that.
“Well, a cut is the vest that we wear. A road name is what we call each other, and an ol’ lady is a biker’s girl. Kinda his property, and it means the rest of the club gives them respect.” Gy fills me in quickly, but my brain is stuck on that last part. Property? What the fuck?
“That’s quite interesting.” I pause, not ready to get into an argument about the whole property thing. Probably worth seeing where this goes before taking any kind of strong stand. “Does that mean your name isn’t really Gy? So, what is it?”
I hit him with an annoyed glare, not pleased that I’m in the dark when it comes to my scent-matches’ real names. Then again… they don’t know yours, either. Hypocrite. I should have guessed that at least Cujo was not a proper name. Is he the Dean who Calloway referred to? It doesn’t really suit him…
“My real name is Lincoln, Linc for short, but Gy to pretty much everyone.” He shrugs, completely unaffected.
“Gytrash, when he is in trouble,” the woman he called Mama C pipes up with a laugh.
“I like Lincoln better… sounds less like garbage,” I quip, and Gy, now Linc, lets out an amused squeak that he quickly hides behind a cough.
“So, you’re really here about one of the rescue dogs?” Mama C’s eyes drift between us, locking on Lincoln’s hand splayed along my hip.
I’m not ready to talk about this thing between Gy and me, so I keep it simple. “Yeah, Bigfoot. He has the potential to be a great protection dog.” I make an attempt to step away from Gy’s hold, but he doesn’t immediately release me, so I give his arm a little pinch.
“Brat,” he mutters, but lets go.
“Oh, that one! He’s batshit crazy,” Mama C declares. “Almost took a chunk out of my Cerberus here.” She goes to stand beside the tall man, tucking in under his arm like she belongs there. He smiles down at her fondly before pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“He is really dangerous. That dog is a killer. Even though we’ve tried to rehab him, I don’t know if there’s any chance of that happening.
Everyone who’s spent any time with him has the scars to prove it.
Bigfoot’s too big a challenge for a little omega like you.
” Cerberus might be cute with his ol’ lady, but he’s also a dickhead.
I open my mouth to tell him just that when Linc’s hands fall to my hips and squeeze in warning. Nope, still gonna give him a piece of my mind.
Seeing that I’m not going to let it slide, his hand comes up to cover my mouth. Oh, no, you didn’t.
Acting on impulse, I bite down on the fleshy part of his palm.
“I’ll make sure she stays safe, Pres, nothing to worry about.” With that promise, Cerberus nods and leads Mama C away, heading toward the other side of the clubhouse, where there’s a steady but low stream of music.
As soon as they’re out of sight, Lincoln lets go, shaking out his hand.
“Jeez, baby girl, you almost drew blood.” He’s amused, but I’m not.
“I was going to speak,” I hiss, perturbed at having my voice stolen.
“I know, that’s why I stopped you. He’s the Pres. What he says goes. So, if you piss him off and he orders you off the property, you’ve got to leave.” Fury builds within me, my earlier relaxation disappearing.
“What the hell is a Pres? And what does that have to do with me? No one’s going to tell me how to train a dog, or what is safe or unsafe for me.
I get to choose what happens in my life.
I get to decide!” The venom and frustration spew from my lips.
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, it’s obvious that it has very little to do with Mr. Pres Cerberus and a lot more to do with WITSEC.
But fortunately, Lincoln doesn’t know anything about that.
Lincoln’s head tips to the side, considering me and my body language for a moment, before reaching out and offering his hand to me, palm up. “Come on, let’s walk,” he says, “I’ll tell you more about the MC. But you’re right, you are the professional here. I will do all I can to respect that.”
“That’s not an apology,” I snap, hackles still raised.
“I’m not sorry. Protecting you is more important than anything else in my world.
You’re just going to have to forgive me for that.
I’ll try my best, but I can’t make any promises.
We’re scent-matched, and my instincts are already in overdrive.
” Brutal honesty. Fair. Sighing, I slip my hand into his larger one.
“Okay.” I’m still a little annoyed, but his attitude is acceptable.
And I really do want to see if Bigfoot is a viable protection candidate for Oakley.
My sister has been through so much, and so has that dog.
I know it—my intuition is never wrong when it comes to dogs.
And something about the pairing feels right.
Just like being beside Lincoln.