Chapter Twenty #2
She kissed him back, arms looping around his neck, body crushed against his.
“Damn, woman,” he rasped, thrusting his tongue into her sweet mouth, demanding possession.
Casey parted her lips, her hands sliding down his back to grab his ass, fingertips digging into his firm flesh.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled. He cupped her tits and dragged his mouth down her neck, kissing, biting, sucking like he was starving.
“Whoa, Rags.” She pulled back a bit. “Only kisses. I can’t go back to work with hickeys all over my neck.”
“I want every man, especially those wimpy assholes you know, to see my mark so they know to stay the fuck away from you.”
“You’re crazy.” She laughed.
“And you’re wearing my mark,” he rasped.
“Do it where no one but me can see. I have to be professional. And what will Clara think?”
At the mention of his sister’s name, Rags stilled.
“Sorry to drop the Clara word,” she said with a chuckle. “I know it’s like dumping ice water on you, but I was desperate.”
“Fuck, woman,” he said, tugging her top up over her breasts.
He unhooked her bra, and her ample bosom spilled free.
He groaned, then closed his mouth over her, sucking as she whimpered and swayed, her hands tangling in his hair.
He pinched her nipples between his fingers.
“Your tits are so soft. I love how they feel in my hands.”
“Rags,” she moaned, drawing him closer.
His hard cock pressed against her stomach, and she rocked sideways, then up and down. Rags sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as his hand slipped beneath her short skirt. He grasped the waistband of her tights and yanked them down, taking her panties with them.
“Get out of them, baby,” he ordered.
She kicked free of them and unzipped his jeans. He slammed his mouth onto hers as he backed her against the wall, pinning her there.
“Case, what the fuck are you doing to me,” he muttered, thrusting forward, his hard dick pressing against her.
“Rags,” she breathed.
He caught her lower lip with his teeth, sucking it before claiming her mouth again, tongue darting hot and demanding. They tore at each other’s clothes in frantic movements. Kissing, touching, biting—like it might be the last time they’d ever touch and taste each other again.
He lifted her leg, and she wrapped it around him, then he pulled up the other as he held her up, his hands gripping her ass. He shoved into her, her back against the wall, his mouth on hers, her heels digging into him as he drove into her hard and fast.
“So fuckin’ good,” he panted, pushing deeper.
“Faster. I’m so close,” she gasped.
He kept the pace. Hard. Deep. Over and over. Her pussy clenched around him, tight and slick, heat spiraling higher with every slam. Faster and faster. Closer and closer to the edge. He reached, twisted her nipple, then slid his fingers to her sweet spot.
He barely touched her when she shattered, her body seized around him, her cry tearing loose as she bucked against him.
“Damn, Rags,” she gasped.
It started at the base of his dick and tore through him fast. “Fuck, Case,” he grunted, spilling into her as her nails dug into his back.
They slid to the floor together, breath ragged, bodies spent. He gathered her in, chest heaving, holding her there while the world slowly came back into focus.
“Damn, woman,” he murmured against her hair. “You twist me all up.”
She pulled back and met his stare. “You do the same to me,” she whispered, her finger tracing his jawline.
“I know,” he said, leaning in to steal another kiss.
Suddenly, she scrambled to her feet.
“Zoe,” she groaned. “I have to get back to the table.”
He laughed and pushed to his feet. “I gotta get back to bartending.”
“I was surprised to see you behind the bar when I came in,” she said, tugging her tights up, then smoothing her skirt.
“Short-staffed tonight. Prez had a few of us fill in.”
“Do you get paid?” She fluffed her hair with her fingers, cheeks still flushed.
“We all chip in. We get distributions from the businesses, so I do all right.”
“I know I’m being nosy.”
“Not at all.” He pulled her close again, breathing her in. “I like that you ask.” His lips brushed her ear. “You smell incredible. Sweet from your perfume… and tangy from our fucking.”
She laughed under her breath, pressing her forehead to his chest. “You keep talking like that and I’ll never make it back to my table.”
“Hang out with me after my shift.”
“What time?”
“Around midnight.”
“Zoe wanted to go to a club.”
His forehead creased. “Dancing?”
“Mostly watching Zoe and Ryan dance.”
“You’ll get hit on.”
She smiled. “I think I can handle myself.”
“Your friend’s got a guy. You don’t need to go.” His voice lowered. “Let me take you for a ride.”
“On your Harley?” Her eyes lit.
“Yeah. If the snow gets bad, we can join Zoe and her guy. You can wait for me. I’ll keep you supplied with free liquor until I’m done.”
“You don’t have to get me drunk to have your way with me,” she teased.
“I know.” His gaze slid over her, possessive. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and never let her go. Then doubt crept in, fast and hard, shifting something inside. He stepped back, opening the door. “Go. I’ll see you soon.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks as though she felt his internal shift. “Okay.”
When they reached the table, Zoe lifted her glass and looked at him with an unfocused gaze. “Thanks for the drinks.”
He gave a chin lift and turned to Casey. “Later,” he said, squeezing her hand once before walking away.
“Who’s the chick?” Helm asked the second Rags slid behind the bar.
“Someone I know.”
Helm smirked. “Thought you had a rule about not doubling back with citizens.”
“She’s not like that.” Rags held up a hand. “And that’s the end of this conversation.”
Helm slammed the ice bin cover shut. “What the hell’s your problem?”
Rags ignored him, his attention drifting back to Casey.
Since Julie, he’d kept things detached: one-night stands, no strings, no complications.
The club girls knew the score. So did the hangarounds.
Sometimes an occasional citizen mistook his attention for something deeper, and he’d learned to shut that shit down fast.
But Casey was different. She didn’t fit any of his rules.
Midnight came quicker than he expected. He and Throttle threw in their bar towels.
“You stayin’ with your chick?” Throttle asked.
“Taking her for a ride.”
Throttle grinned. “Have fun.”
Rags nodded.
Casey was already walking toward him, eyes bright, cheeks still warm from wine and heat.
“You ready to roll, darlin’?” he asked.
“More than ready. I thought midnight would never come.”
“Let’s go.” He grasped her hand and led her out back. The lot lights glinted off the curve of his metallic blue Heritage Classic Harley.
“It’s a beautiful bike,” she murmured, hand trailing over the leather seat. “I bet it’s as powerful as its owner.” She met his gaze, then slowly trailed hers over his face, across his leather jacket, stalling at his patches, then down to his snug jeans.
Rags yanked her to him and kissed her hard. “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and we’re gonna be fucking on my Harley instead of riding it.”
A sharp wind cut through the space and he felt her shiver. He wrapped his arms around her. “You sure about the ride? It’s cold.”
“Do you have a windproof jacket?” she asked.
A thread of surprise weaved through him. “No, but I’m sure we have some in the back. Have you been on a bike before?”
“Yeah,” she said, looking away.
Rags stared at her for a few seconds then guided her back inside. “Hang on, lemme see what I can find.”
After scavenging through biker gear in one of the back rooms, he snagged a jacket and walked back toward her.
“Here you go,” he said, handing it to her.
She beamed, her eyes dancing as she ran a hand over the thick, waterproof sleeves. She slipped it on and zipped the collar high, then took a pair of gloves from her purse and slipped them on.
“Lemme put your bag away,” he said, taking it from her before dropping it into the saddlebag. “You want a helmet?”
“No way. I want to feel the air’s sting on my face.” She laughed.
“I like a woman who’s up for an adventure,” he said, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger.
He swung a leg over the bike and fired up the engine. He held out his arm to help her on.
“Even though you said you’ve been on a bike, I just want to remind you to follow my lead and lean with me. Don’t fight the curves or turns, okay?”
“Sure,” she said, throwing her leg over the seat and settling in behind him.
Rags looked over his shoulder at her and their eyes locked. “You good to go?”
“Ready,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Once they rode out of town, he rolled on the throttle, the scenery dissolving into a gray-and-black blur. Casey felt good behind him, her body molded to his, her arms locked around his waist.
When he leaned into the first long curve, he expected her to grab him in a panic, but she didn’t.
She moved with him, loose and steady, riding the turn like she knew exactly what she was doing.
When he dropped the Harley low, she didn’t fight the pull of it.
She tipped her head over his shoulder, eyes tracking the road ahead, knees tight to his hip.
His breath caught. Casey wasn’t just along for the ride. She was in it.
He opened the throttle, the engine’s growl swallowing the wind, and felt her press closer—not out of fear, but because she wanted to be right there with him.
At that point, Rags knew she hadn’t just been on a bike a few times.
She’d spent real time on the back of one, and she hadn’t said a damn word about it.
Whose bike?
The burning question hit him deep in the gut as he realized he didn’t know as much about Casey as he thought he did.