And Chaser knew that was the truth. That touch. The way he held her face in his hands. That was the only truth that mattered.
“Jesus Christ, Lara,” he gritted out at her. “It’s not like you have much of a choice, is it?”
“That’s the thing,” she said softly, those eyes of hers unreadable. “You always have a choice. That doesn’t make it a good one.” He realized he was holding his breath like a little bitch. But that didn’t make him stop. She pressed her hands a little harder against his abdomen. “But I’ll try.”
—
Surely one biker club was the same as another.
Lara was positive she had nothing to fear from the Devil’s Keepers, because she knew her way around bikers and their clubhouses and their absurd rules and regulations that they all seemed to love to follow, all the while proclaiming themselves free and wild and whatever else. She’d grown up in a dusty town that had nothing going for it but the local club. She’d known how to handle club politics before she could walk.
All biker clubs are the same, more or less. You’re fine.
That was what Lara told herself as Chaser propelled her forward into the sprawling Devil’s Keepers warehouse with a hand wrapped tight around her upper arm as if he thought she might make a break for it. Or as if he was staking a kind of claim. Or keeping her on a leash.
She couldn’t tell which, and she knew that she should probably worry more about that. That allowing him to manhandle her in full view of the entire motorcycle club was sending a very clear message she didn’t necessarily want to send at all. But as she looked around the crowded clubhouse’s big, open common room and all the people packed into it, she was perfectly happy to let him keep on doing whatever the hell he was doing.
Because she’d seen a lot more than she should have, growing up in a biker club family and dating that asshole Lowdown for a while, but she’d never seen this. It made her realize with an unpleasant lurch in her gut exactly how much the Brothers of Goliath full patch members had hidden from the outside world—even from supposed friends and family of the club like Lara, who’d lived with them. She’d thought she’d known them. But she was a civilian woman who’d belonged to the club, and that meant she’d seen only the more family friendly side of the biker life. Something she would have laughed at if someone had tried to tell her that five minutes ago.
It was one thing to know about club ass and to even know some of the girls who chose that route back home. They all giggled about it and talked about “partying” with the brothers. Lara had imagined what that meant. In some detail, actually, because she’d always been that kind of girl—or that kind of addict, if she was being honest. But it turned out her imagination wasn’t quite up to the task.
Either that or these Louisiana bikers were a law unto themselves.
Because there was sex everywhere. Everywhere.
There were naked women all over the place, and no shortage of rough, tough-looking bikers to sample them, all kick-ass beards and cruel mouths and a greedy light in their eyes. A woman was on her hands and knees, sucking one biker’s cock while another pounded into her from behind. That little show was just right there near the entrance to the warehouse, forcing Chaser to navigate the two of them around all the grunting and thrusting.
“Is this how you roll every night?” Lara asked him faintly as they walked farther into the depravity.
Chaser slanted an amused look her way. Amused and a little too warm, like she wasn’t the only one with an active imagination. “Sometimes. But tonight our president came home after a little trip. Everyone’s feeling a little epic.”
Lara told herself not to look, but she couldn’t help it. There was flesh everywhere. So much of it. A group of bikers sat in one of the seating areas, telling each other raucous stories while girls in G-strings crawled around on the floor between them, sucking on one man and then the next, as if they were sampling a tasting menu of biker cock. There was a group of men surrounding two naked girls on a table, watching with their dicks in their hands as the girls writhed around in a messy 69.
And that was the overtly theatrical stuff.
There was straight-up, no-nonsense sex all over the place. In every corner and on almost every surface. A big, bald biker was fucking a girl against a wall here. Another was letting a blonde ride him there, slapping her ass as she moved. Still another had a girl bent over the arm of a chair, slamming into her so hard he moved the heavy piece of furniture with each thrust. There were girls dancing around in various stages of undress, moving from one dangerous man to the next, and only laughing merrily when the men picked them up for a feel, a kiss, a fuck.
Lara knew she should have been appalled. This was, more or less, everything she’d always known deep down bikers really, truly were. This was the life her uncle clung to so fiercely. This was the kind of man her brother had been trying to tell her he was. This was certainly who Chaser was—these were his friends. His chosen family. She should have been disgusted.
But what she actually was, in fact, was turned on. More than a little. And very, very wet. Slippery, even. Achy, everywhere. Her nipples actually hurt beneath the tank top she was wearing in place of a bra, and her breath seemed to only come in very shallow and very light.
What was the matter with her?
Chaser stopped to talk to someone, but he didn’t release her. And that meant Lara had nothing to do but watch a little more. She would have flatly denied that she was any kind of voyeur, had anyone asked before tonight. That she—or anyone—could enjoy watching other people have sex was nothing but weird and a little sad, she would have said.
But “weird” and “sad” were nothing close to how she was feeling at that moment.
Try “restless” and “wet” and “flushed.”
She watched a man in the chair nearest her tug a passing half-naked woman down onto his lap. The woman laughed, then moaned when the man stroked his way beneath her skimpy little thong and, clearly, straight into her. Lara couldn’t look away. She watched the woman’s hips move in excited circles. She watched the way the big, hard-looking man’s hand worked in a fist beneath that scrap of fabric. And she was breathing a little heavy when he picked the woman up and brought her down to the floor, bracing her on her hands and knees in front of him, facing away.
“That’s Butler,” Chaser said from behind her, his voice low and hot and directly at her ear, so she couldn’t control the shudder that worked through her. It was possible she didn’t even try. Likely, even. And she knew Chaser saw it and worse—that he knew what it was. She couldn’t quite care. “Who knew the prim little schoolteacher liked to watch?”
“Of course I don’t,” Lara managed to say, but the truth was in that breathlessness in her voice. It was in how weak and overheated she felt when Chaser leaned against something and pulled her flush against his abdomen so she could feel his big, hard cock against her back.
It only made her melt. More.
“Of course not,” he rumbled, his mouth near her ear, wrapping one of his hard arms around her as he held her there against him.
And then he didn’t say anything. So Lara watched as Butler yanked at his fly, then plunged his cock deep into the woman on her hands and knees before him, gripping her hips to keep her still. He went hard and deep, and the woman loved it, if her wild, keening sounds were anything to go by. It was a slick, intense rhythm that Lara could feel inside her own body, like a humming, hammering sort of greed.
But then Butler stopped, pulling back out, his dick gleaming with the woman’s juices. He reached down to line himself up with her asshole, then pressed his way in, working himself back and forth until he was fully seated inside the woman’s ass.
“You’re shaking,” Chaser told her, as if she didn’t know. As if she couldn’t tell. As if he’d just noticed. “You like that? You want a big, fat cock in your ass?”
“Certainly not,” Lara said primly, but she could feel how bright red she was. And worse than that, when Chaser’
s wicked hand worked its way beneath the waistband of her jeans, she did absolutely nothing to stop him.
She should have looked around. She should have thought a little bit about where she was standing and what this all meant—but she didn’t. The lights in the clubhouse were dim, but Lara knew damn well she wouldn’t have cared if they weren’t. This was what it meant to be an addict, she knew. Doing things she knew she’d regret because it felt too good to stop.
Hell, she didn’t want to stop.
And Chaser sure didn’t. His blunt, knowing fingers found her pussy sopping wet and wildly hot, which made her whole body clench with shame and lust and need. Above all, that blistering, unquenchable need. He laughed, and she could hear it right there against her ear as well as feel it move through the hard wall of his chest where he held her against him.
And then everything sort of slid sideways, going liquid hot and wild. Chaser’s big, hard hand between her legs as he thrust his fingers into her matched the deep, hard rhythm his friend set as he pumped himself into that woman’s ass right there on the floor before them.
They were off to the side in the main room, almost at the mouth of the hallway that led into the back. Lara could have told herself that they were out of the way, standing on the back side of one of the least populated seating areas, but why bother? She knew that with Chaser’s big, hard fingers on her clit and plunging deep inside of her, she wouldn’t have cared if they were up on one of the tables with a spotlight blazing on them.
She’d had sex with this man on her desk in her classroom at school, for god’s sake. What wouldn’t she do?
The truth was, Lara was as Ashburn as the rest of her fucked-up clan. How had she ever convinced herself otherwise? She was dark and twisted down deep into her soul. Made for this life. Made for this man. Made for that wild streak inside of her that was taking her over now, when she’d always imagined it was a youthful thing that would disappear if she ignored it.
With Chaser gripping her so hard, his chest like a wall behind her, his arms caging her, and his wicked hand having its way with her, Lara couldn’t bring herself to do a single thing in all the world but give in to it. Wild and dirty and so wrong, it felt nothing but right.
It was dirty. It was insane. Lara didn’t care that this wasn’t something the normal, conscientious, schoolteacher version of herself did or would ever do—expose herself like this, where anyone could see her if they looked. Because when it came to Chaser, she didn’t care. She just wanted him. She didn’t care about a single thing except the grim, beautiful man who held her so tightly and worked her pussy so expertly. It was like they were all a part of the same intensely sexual dance, the man plunging deep between that woman’s ass cheeks in front of her and Chaser’s fingers catapulting her closer and closer to yet another wild, wracking orgasm.
The woman started bucking and crying out, her mouth twisted and wide. Then Butler found his release, in short, hard grunts to match his thrusts. And then Lara was coming, too, hard and wild, rocking in Chaser’s arms like she was being torn apart.
He pulled his hand from her pants and spun her around, looking ferocious. And something else she couldn’t quite read.
“I want you,” she told him, because she was running with this, whatever it was. Because maybe she did trust him, or her body did, and this was the best way she could think of to prove it. Or maybe that was her greedy pussy talking, but it didn’t matter. It was true either way. She told herself she’d deal with any fallout later. “Inside me. Now.”
Chaser’s dark whiskey gaze looked a hundred proof and twice as dangerous. “Here?”
“Now,” she said again, sharper this time.
And he laughed. A real laugh, low and wicked. It curled over her, into her. He pulled her closer, then fed his fingers into her mouth, making her lick herself off him.
“You like that?” he asked as she sucked on his fingers, tasting herself, the tang of her own pleasure making her pussy clench all over again. “All that hot cream? You look like a kitten, licking it up.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer and that was good, because Lara didn’t think she could speak. He swept her up in his arms, then looked around. She didn’t ask what he was looking for. She marveled instead at how big he was and how deliciously small he made her feel, tucked up against his chest like something precious. He carried her over to a nearby couch, shoved back out of the way of what at first looked like a wrestling match. It took Lara a minute to realize that the knot of people on the floor weren’t wrestling. They were all naked. A pile of them. And all that movement was sex in every possible variation.
It made her start to tremble all over again.
Chaser set her on her feet behind the couch. Then he pushed her forward, gently enough, so she was bent over the back of it and propping herself up with her hands against the seat cushions.
She started to shake even harder. She couldn’t help herself—but then again, she didn’t really try.
“Why don’t you keep watching, baby,” Chaser told her in that knowing, wicked way of his. “Your pussy will tell me what you like. You don’t have to say a word.”
His hands were on her jeans then, pushing them and her panties over her hips and down her legs. She felt his foot come down between her legs, stepping on the denim as he freed one of her legs, boot and all. She heard the tear of a foil packet. Then she felt his hands all over her, skimming over her ass and pushing her thighs apart until he was behind her, against her, and she could feel his cockhead nudging up against her folds.
Her breath was ragged. Her eyes drifted shut as she waited for that slick, hard thrust. As she yearned for it.
“Don’t close your eyes, Lara,” Chaser ordered her. He hauled her hips back against him as he thrust himself inside her, deep and hard and true, and she was so damned wet he sank inside like she was made of butter. “I want you to watch.”
So Lara obeyed him. And finally, after all those years of being stonewalled and lied to and laughed at to her own face, she watched exactly what sort of thing went on inside the walls of a biker clubhouse when there were only club members and groupies around.
More than that, she participated.
And it was even better than it had been before, staring at Butler. This time she had Chaser’s marvelous cock battering at her, filling her and driving her wild. Each intense thrust sent her up on her toes, and then his big hands were on her again, lifting up her legs and spreading them wider so he was the only thing holding her as he slammed into her. Over and over and over again.
“Watch,” he growled.
Lara braced her hands against the cushions and she kept her eyes on the crowd, losing herself somewhere between the erotic scenes playing out before her and the hard thrust of Chaser’s cock deep inside her.
Changing her. Making her new.
She watched two bikers pour beer all over a woman on a low glass table and then lick it all off. She watched three bikers share another woman between them, mouth and pussy and ass. She watched a man come into the mouth of one girl, rest for the length of a single beer, then pull another woman up off his brother after he’d come, too, and toss her on the floor, ready to go another round.
It was primal and wild, inside her and out.
And somehow, it made Lara feel more connected than she ever had been before. To this madness, this life. To the sexual energy that crackled in the air and lit her up inside, like she was made for this. For a place like this. For a man like the one behind her and deep inside her, inexorably pushing her closer and closer to that same wild cliff that she wanted to leap from with every last particle of her battered little biker soul.
This time when she came, she screamed.
And behind her Lara heard Chaser, deep inside of her body like they were meant to be joined like that, shout out her name as he joined her.
Chapter 8
“Shit,” Chaser muttered when he could think again.
It took a while to get there, he was all too a
ware. As he straightened, still holding Lara against him, he had the sinking feeling that it had taken a long, long time to clear his head. To allow the possibility of letting her go when it was the last thing he wanted.
Normally getting a little ass cleared his head. It didn’t muddy it. But nothing about Lara was normal. He knew that already. He was going to have to stop pretending that she wasn’t the great big problem he knew she was.
He pulled out of Lara’s tight little cunt, which only made him want to get inside her all over again. But he gritted his teeth as he dealt with the condom and then zipped himself up, because there was too much to do. Everyone’s favorite prospect, Pony—who was overdue a vote to make him a full patch brother, something Chaser needed to make sure was remedied now that Digger had bothered to come home—had pulled Chaser aside on his way into the clubhouse. Pony had said he’d seen a big, ugly bastard riding a hog while wearing what looked a whole lot like a Black Dogs cut, way out on one of the country roads that wound through the sugarcane fields on the far side of town. Shit like that would have made Chaser restless at the best of times, but coming hand in hand with Digger’s return, it was a little too weird to ignore. It made him antsy.
Was Digger finally making his move? Was he bringing their bitterest rivals straight into the heart of Lagrange? That could only end in blood—something Digger certainly knew. And some part of Chaser still couldn’t believe it, despite all the things that had happened this year. Despite what he’d already concluded in church today. Some part of him just didn’t want to accept that a man he’d spent years admiring could turn traitor at all, much less like this.
But reality didn’t give a shit about what he could or couldn’t accept. And any way he looked at it, he couldn’t drown in Lara the way he wanted. Again and again and again. He’d already spent too much time doing exactly that.
She didn’t move as he pulled himself together. She was still slumped over the back of the couch, her sweet pussy plump and shiny and exposed to his view—and Chaser discovered he really didn’t want anyone else seeing her like that. He didn’t mind fucking in public—hell, it was one of his favorite pastimes and always had been—but he felt unduly possessive about that pussy. He could still feel her sliding all over him, clutching at him and melting, over and over.