Chapter 17 #2
I held his gaze until he let go. “It’s not fucking around if I’ve broken up with you.”
“You really think that biker trash is an upgrade from me?”
I let a slow smile curl my lips. “The biker I’m fucking is more of a man than you’ll ever be. He’s certainly better at giving me orgasms. I wonder if it’s skill or the size of his dick?” I mused. “Hm. Probably both.”
Luca’s eyes flared with rage. He leaned in, his voice quiet. “If I can’t have you, no one can. I’m done waiting.”
My stomach dropped, but I forced myself to hold his gaze. “You’re a psychopathic narcissist, and this better be the last time you speak to me. If you ever threaten me again, I won’t go to HR. I’ll fucking kill you.”
I pushed past him. Halfway to the elevator, I chanced a glance over my shoulder. He stood there with a scowl, watching me go.
The drive to Merrick’s cleared my head a little. I decided to park at the clubhouse beside Hatchet’s bike and walked the path to Merrick’s house. As I stepped onto the porch, I smoothed my dress and forced Luca’s voice out of my mind.
The kitchen thrummed with country music, and the smell of fajitas filled the air.
Hatchet leaned against the counter, his easy stance tensing the second I walked in.
He tracked me like prey as I kicked off my sandals and crossed the room to get a Shiner Bock from the fridge.
I brushed against him as I passed by, my fingers grazing his front.
I grinned when I heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Smells amazing,” I said to Kenna. “Do you need help?”
“I got it covered. I was just about to warm up the tortillas. Why don’t you and Hatchet set the table? Merrick should be back in a few.”
I pressed the stack of plates into Hatchet’s hands before grabbing the silverware. He followed me to the heavy oak table, eyeing me as I deliberately grazed against him to lay down forks and knives beside the plates.
“Merci,” he said in a low warning.
I shot him an innocent smile. “What?”
His gaze burned through me. “You pull any shit tonight, you’re going to pay for it later.”
I batted my eyelashes up to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I ran a hand down his chest and watched as his muscles tensed as I hit the cool edge of his belt buckle.
A creak sounded, letting us know that the screen door was opening. Heavy bootsteps followed, and Hatchet stepped away to greet my brother.
Once dinner was served, I dropped into the chair next to Hatchet and scooted mine a deliberate inch closer so our thighs pressed under the tablecloth. He pointedly ignored me.
I placed my napkin on my lap and lifted his in the air, dangling it in front of him. “Don’t be a savage. Put your napkin in your lap so you don’t end up covered in salsa.”
He rolled his eyes but obliged.
“How’s the planning coming along for the women’s center?” I asked Kenna as I piled my plate with lettuce, tomato, chicken, and salsa to make a salad.
Kenna grinned. “I think we found a location. Reaper’s going to take a look. And Eva already got a tech company to donate a bunch of computers for the lab.”
Merrick started a line of questioning about the safety of the area, and I tuned him out as I glanced sideways at Hatchet. Both of his large hands were wrapped around a taco.
I shoved a bite of salad into my mouth and let my other hand drift under the table. My fingers traced up his inner thigh in a slow, teasing touch. He glared at me in warning, but I pretended to be engrossed in Kenna and Merrick’s conversation.
I ran my fingers around the hard ridge beneath the denim and suppressed a grin. He tensed and, when a grunt sounded in his chest, Kenna glanced at him in question.
“Good?” Kenna asked, mistaking the sound of pleasure for one about food instead of lust.
“Fucking delicious,” Hatchet deadpanned. “As always.”
I watched Hatchet’s jaw flex as I squeezed the bulge in his pants. He sucked in a sharp breath as I slipped my hand beneath the napkin and slowly worked the zipper of his jeans.
He stuffed the rest of the taco into his mouth and dropped his hand under the table to squeeze my wrist in warning. I pulled my hand away, walking my fingers down, tracing small patterns on his thigh.
He reached for the salsa and topped his second taco with it. Once I was sure his hands were occupied, I reached for the zipper again. I made quick work of pulling it down and slipped my hand into his pants.
I heard his breath suck in as I began to stroke his cock from base to tip, circling my thumb over the top to spread the moisture that had already leaked out.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, biting into the taco.
Merrick shifted his gaze to him in question.
“Spicy,” Hatchet explained, taking another bite. He reached for his beer and gulped down a few swallows.
I pumped him steadily, as fast as I dared to avoid notice. Fortunately, Kenna continued to talk, sharing details with Merrick about a recent call with her friend, Haven—the old lady of Serpent and Jaguar, the leaders of the Red Rock Riot MC in New Mexico.
His breath hitched as Kenna laughed, the sound covering his groan right as a clatter sounded in the kitchen.
Kenna swore. “Brisket got on the counter again.”
She hurried to the kitchen, muttering about the oversized beast she called a housepet.
Merrick rose to help her clean up the mess. With their attention diverted, I sped up my strokes.
Hatchet’s hips twitched forward as I stroked faster. “Merci.” Hatchet groaned as he reached for the napkin in his lap and pressed it to his cock as he spilled into it, the hot heat of him coating my fingers in thick pulses.
“What. In the fuck. Are you thinking?” he growled breathlessly. Under his anger, I could hear the barely leashed lust.
I withdrew my hand slowly and licked my lips. He quickly zipped up his jeans and crumpled his napkin on the table. The look in his eyes told me I’d pay, and I couldn’t wait.
Moments later, Kenna returned to serve the carrot cake she’d made earlier. We ate as Kenna and I continued our conversation about fundraising and support for our shared project.
“You’ve been quiet,” Merrick observed, looking at Hatchet with a curious glint in his eye.
“Just tired. Going to head out in a few. Thanks again for dinner.”
“You’re always welcome at our table,” Kenna chirped.
“I’m heading out, too. I have some errands to run. Don’t wait up.”
Merrick grunted. He and Kenna had gotten used to me coming and going at all hours of the day.
Hatchet and I said our goodbyes and slipped out the door.
The sun had already settled behind the trees, casting the yard in a deep shade.
Once we hit the start of the trail and were out of the line of sight from the house, Hatchet grabbed my wrist and whirled me to face him.