19. Stanleys Move #2
"He thinks this is going to make me run," she says, her eyes lifting from the page to lock straight onto mine. "He thinks if he ties me up in legal fees and court dates, I'll just pack my shit and leave Moonrise."
"Yeah," I say, my jaw aching from how hard I'm clenching my teeth.
Her jaw sets into a hard, formidable line. She sets the wrinkled paper flat on the iron table, smoothing it out with one palm.
"I guess Stanley doesn't know Moonrise very well," she says after a brief pause.
Colt lets out a low, appreciative grunt from the back of the bay. Knox grins, a sharp, dangerous flash of white teeth in the dark.
"Alright," Reed says, stepping up to the table and tapping the paper. "Here's how we break this bastard.”
Reed steps forward before he continues. “Rafe and I hit the courthouse now. I have a line into the district judge’s clerk. We file an emergency motion to expedite based on a fraudulent filing. If we play our games right, we can get a judge to slap a perjury warrant on Stanley’s head."
"And while you're playing with your goddamn pens," Knox says, straightening up from the drill press and tucking his knife away, "Colt and I are going to go sit on Stanley's rental. We track his car. If he tries to come near the property line or talk to her father again, we drag him into the woods."
Priest looks at me, then at Nora. "My bartenders are monitoring the local sheriff’s frequency. If Stanley tries to bring a deputy out here to serve a formal freeze notice, you'll have a heads-up ten minutes before their tires hit the turnoff."
"Move," I say.
The men don't hesitate. There are no goodbyes or useless talk.
Within two minutes, the shop empties out, the heavy, thunderous roar of the bikes and diesel engines fading down the long gravel driveway until the only sound left is the quiet, high-pitched hum of the overhead halogens and the heavy, ragged sound of my own breathing.
I turn away from the open door, my chest burning as if I’ve been swallowing battery acid. The rage is twisting my guts until I want to take a sledgehammer to the nearest engine block. I start pacing the concrete, my fists clenching until the knuckles pop loudly in the quiet bay.
I still can’t believe his guts.
"Jax," Nora says softly.
"Don't," I bite out, my eyes locked on the floor. "I should’ve handled the little shit better.”
I draw in a harsh breath. “A slimy, weak little bastard hiding behind his daddy’s checkbook.”
I fist my hand and swallow the urge to punch the nearest wall. “I should’ve broken his fucking fingers."
"Jax, look at me."
She steps straight into my path. I try to shoulder past her, my mind spinning with a dozen different ways to put Stanley in the dirt, but she reaches up, her small hands catching the collar of my grease-stained t-shirt with an iron grip.
"Look at me, damn it," she commands.
I stop dead.
I look down at her. Her face is completely pale, her blue eyes wide, dark, and wild with a frantic, matching intensity that knocks the wind right out of my lungs.
Once she sees that she has my attention, she doesn’t say another word before hooking her fingers deeper into my collar. She pulls herself up on her toes and slams her mouth against mine in a rough, violent kiss.
The impact is explosive.
The kiss is different from every other we’ve shared. I can taste the mutual rage and pure starvation in it.
I let out a loud, guttural groan, the sound tearing from the bottom of my throat as my hands slam down onto her hips. I dig my fingers deep into the soft flesh above her cotton shorts, lifting her clear off the concrete floor as I respond to her.
I march her backward three hard steps without breaking the kiss until her spine hits the heavy timber wall of the office exterior with a thud.
Nora lets out a gasp against my mouth, her legs instantly flying up to wrap tight around my waist. Her thighs press hard against my hips, burning hot through her thin shorts, the wet heat of her core pressing directly against the thick denim of my jeans.
She hooks her fingers into the hair at the back of my head, pulling my mouth down harder, her tongue slides deep into my mouth, and I groan into the kiss.
"Right here," she pants against my lips, her breath hitching as she shakes against me. "Jax. Fuck me. Right now."
The last thread of my control snaps so quickly that I see stars in my vision.
“Take everything off,” I say, and she obeys without complaint.
I drop her back to her feet when she begins shimmying out of her shorts. But before her boots can even steady on the concrete, I grab her by the waist and spin her around, slamming her front down over the low timber workbench. Her palms slap hard against the smooth, oiled wood of the table.
Her back arches beautifully, her bare rounded ass pushed straight back against my thighs as she grips the edge of the bench.
"Yes, Jax, please," she whimpers, her head dropping forward between her arms.
I step close behind her, my chest pressing flat against the smooth, bare skin of her back. The contrast is mind-blowing; my rough, grime-streaked body pinning her pristine, soft frame against the wood.
I reach down, my large hands catching the elastic hem of her cotton shorts, and drag them down her thighs fully along with her panties in one violent, impatient yank. She kicks her feet out of them, tossing them into the dirt, leaving her completely bare from the waist down.
In the dim amber light of the shop, her ass is flawless, pale and glistening with a light sheen of sweat.
I work the heavy brass button of my jeans loose, my fingers shaking with an urgency that makes my teeth grind. I push my denim down past my hips, freeing my cock. It’s fully hard, throbbing, aching with a heavy, thick pulse that demands to be buried inside her.
I reach forward, sliding one hand around her waist to grip her hip bone; my fingers dig in deep enough to leave marks. My other hand slides up to the nape of her neck, my thick fingers anchoring into her red hair as my thumb presses hard against the racing pulse point under her jaw.
"Look at me, Nora," I growl, my voice sounding strange even in my ears.
She tilts her head back, her eyes heavy-lidded, dark, and wild as she looks over her shoulder at me. Her lips are swollen, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
"You are mine," I grit out, my teeth brushing the sensitive skin of her earlobe before I bite down lightly. "Not his. Not the county's. Mine."
"Yes," she cries out, her fingers clawing at the wood of the bench. "Yours. Take it, Jax. Please, fuck me."
I don't wait another second. I align the heavy, quivering tip of my cock with her wet, swollen core and drive straight in with one unyielding thrust.
Nora screams out loud.
The sound is sharp, beautiful, and echoes loudly against the high corrugated metal ceiling of the bay. Her back arches violently, her breasts flattening against the timber workbench as my full length buries itself inside her, stretching her tight, hot walls to the limit.
"God, Nora," I roar, my eyes closing as the intense, crushing heat of her vagina grips my shaft like a vice. I stay perfectly still for a fraction of a second, my jaw locked so tight my teeth ache, just trying to survive the mind-altering friction of being inside her.
"Jax, it's so big," she whimpers, her hips twitching back against mine, seeking the movement. "Move. Please move."
I begin to pull back, sliding out until the tip almost leaves her wet lips, then I drive back in, hard and fast.