Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1) Read online

  He let go of her nipple and raised her hips, then brought her down over him in a slow slide. He had to clench his teeth it was so good. So perfect. “Work your tits for me, baby,” Reaper said and went still again until she put her hands on her tits and began massaging and kneading them, until she began pinching her nipples, rolling and twisting to his satisfaction.

  He forced her to ride him slowly, staying in control, letting the need envelope both of them. Letting the fire build until it felt so out of control that it was going to leap through both of them, consuming them.

  “Please.” Anya sobbed the word, her hips squirming, spiraling, the last accelerant to those flames.

  He shifted, holding her with one hand across her back, catching her leg to curl it around him. “Both legs,” he grunted the command. “Lock your heels. Wait for me. Fuckin’ wait.”

  He shifted, rising up to his knees, putting her back to the ground, ramming into her deep. Fuck. Fuck. That feeling of nothing but fire. Not nothing—he realized that as he looked into her eyes, as he hammered his body into hers, going deep. Needing deeper. There was love there, burning just as deeply between them. He felt that with every stroke.

  He rode her hard. Over and over. Her breath whispered over him in ragged pants. Her eyes had gone dazed, shocked. Darkly sensual. He picked up the rhythm of the music, that beat that pounded through his body. The crackling of the fire. The moans. The soft laughter. He lifted his head, throwing it back to look at the night sky as he let the flames streak up from his cock into his belly.

  Her pussy clenched at his shaft, squeezed the broad head until he thought he’d explode or lose his fucking mind. He glanced across the fire. Several others were closer than he’d realized, close enough that Anya might have objected had she been aware, but she was lost in him. He locked her tighter to him. It said something to him that he hadn’t been aware of anyone getting that close. They were still on the other side of the fire, but he was just as lost in Anya as she was in him. He never had lost sight of where everyone was, no matter what.

  “Honey.” Her voice was a soft plea.

  “No. Fucking no. You’ll take me with you, and this isn’t going to end. Not yet.” He kept at her, holding her hips now, pistoning his body into hers. Burying himself deep.

  She rose to meet each thrust, the breath rushing out of her, her breasts jolting with every thrust. He loved that. Loved watching her face. Her body. Loved feeling her surrounding him with the ultimate fire.

  “Reaper.” Soft. Entreating.

  “No. Fuck no.”

  He pulled out, and she let out a wail. He flipped her over, caught her hips in his hands and yanked her up onto her knees, pulling her ass back to him. He knelt behind her, slammed home into that slick, hot inferno again. She cried out, the sound better than the music pounding all around him.

  He caught her hair in his fist and pulled her head back, so her back was a beautiful line. So her ass was high and he could be even deeper inside her. He’d like to hit her belly. Claim that. Claim her fucking throat. He knew he was a little out of control, a little wild, but he didn’t let go often and she gave that to him. She never protested. She rocked back into him hard, her tits swinging, her throat making sweet little sounds that just egged him on.

  “Reaper. Honey, I have to let go.”

  He smacked her ass hard. Harder than he meant to. Liquid gold, hotter than hell surrounded him. Felt like heaven. He added more swats, keeping with the rhythm of the music, bathing in her scorching gold. Wishing he could eat her and fuck her at the same time. His cock was swollen to the point of no return. His balls were drawn up tight, hot and needing to explode. He forced himself to wait for her next plea. She’d waited for him. He could do the same for her.

  “More,” she whispered. “I’m going to go over the edge and I want more.”

  He knew what she meant. Her nerve endings were on fire, so sensitive that when he smacked her bottom, the heat spread like wildfire. He gave her more until she was sobbing with need, pleading with him, begging him to let her come.

  “Now, baby. Give it to me now.” He couldn’t take one more second in that inferno.

  Her body clamped down so hard on his it hurt, an actual pain that shimmered through him, adding to the promise of paradise. She gripped and milked and his seed exploded out of him, jetting from him in bursts, splashing the walls of her sheath, triggering multiple tremors, shocks that rocked both of them.

  He collapsed over her, pressing her into the ground, his lungs fighting for air. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. The pleasure was too intense, shaking him. He’d had sex a million times, in a million ways, but nothing prepared him for the way it felt with Anya. He loved her beyond words. He hadn’t known it was possible to love a woman, to love anyone that much. He fought for breath when his lungs seemed to have seized, refusing to work properly. When he could finally get some air, he pushed aside her hair and kissed the back of neck. That vulnerable nape that sometimes drove him wild.

  “You okay, Anya?”

  “I don’t know. What about you?”

  “Same here. Not certain I’m really alive. Fucking hell, woman. You nearly killed me.”

  “I think that was all you.”

  “In case you didn’t hear what I was just telling you, Anya, I love you.” He hadn’t thought he’d ever say that where someone might overhear, but he didn’t care. He wanted everyone to know. He wanted them to know she belonged to him and that he loved her above all else. He needed them to know if one hand touched her, he’d kill for her.

  “I love you too, Reaper,” she returned softly and turned her head to the side. “When you get off me, I’m going to be stark naked.”

  “I love you stark naked.”

  “I know you do, but I don’t like being naked in front of another club. It’s hard enough in front of your club, but I understand their penchant for being naked and they really don’t pay attention. The Demons aren’t your club.”

  He got her. He got what she was saying. He hadn’t thought about it because he truly couldn’t care less if they saw him naked, but she’d never once complained about anything and he was giving her this. He rose to his knees, pulled up his pants with one hand, the other on her back, holding her down. When she got the message, he zipped his jeans and moved around her, gathering her clothes. Once he was in front of her, blocking her from anyone possibly looking their way, he handed her the camisole and waited for her to put it on and lace up the front. Her jeans were next. She pulled them up her legs, lifted up and dragged them up her thighs.

  “I’m a mess,” she whispered, as if everyone might hear her above the music.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “I mean with you in me.”

  “That’s the best part. Love being in you, baby, it’s fuckin’ sexy.”

  She sighed, rolled her eyes and pulled her jeans over her butt, going up on her knees to zip them closed. He loved that about her, no argument, no protesting, just keeping him in her. Smiling at him until he thought the sun might actually pierce the darkness around them.

  He dragged her to him and kissed that sexy mouth of hers. So sweet. Robbing him of his will, knowing she was wrapping him around her finger, she’d already managed to take his heart.

  “More whiskey.”

  “Are you going to get drunk? My little angel Anya is being very bad tonight.”

  “Yep. You’re going to get drunk sex when we get home.”

  “We might not make it home.” He settled her between his legs again, her back against his chest. “I’ve already picked out the spot where I’m going to fuck you.”

  “Where?” She held up her glass.

  He poured her more whiskey. “I’m going to bend you over the picnic table. Thought about that before I took you right here.”

  “There’s people sitting on it,” she pointed out. “Not a good plan, honey.”

  She drank. He didn’t. He wanted drunken sex with her, and he wanted to make certain he could
keep her safe. He studied the three men sharing a bottle of tequila. “I can take them easy. They’re pussies thinking they’re badass.”

  “I’m sure you could. But then their bodies would be laid out all around us. Might kill the mood.”

  “Or you’d think I was a great conqueror and you’d be all the hotter for me.”

  She reached behind her, wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled his head down to her, turning her mouth to him, kissing him, her lips soft and sweet, tasting of top-shelf whiskey, the best for his woman. He wasn’t going to be able to wait until they got home.

  “Where else?”

  “Where else what?” He kissed her again.

  “If not the picnic table and you don’t want to wait, where else?”

  “You got an idea?”

  She took another long sip of whiskey, allowing it to slide down her throat into her stomach, clearly admiring the wave of heat. “I’ve given it some thought. You like open spaces much better than indoors, which also gives me another thought.”

  “Two thoughts?” His woman was already heading toward that drunk phase.

  She gave him a look of pure reprimand. “Yes. Since you like sleeping outside …”

  “And fucking outside.”

  “That too. But we could put a bed on the deck. The side overlooking the ocean. It’s way wide, big enough and we’d have the roof overhead if it rained or misted. What do you think?”

  He thought it was a damned good idea. “I think you’re fuckin’ brilliant.”

  Anya looked pleased. “I am, aren’t I?”

  Reaper nodded. “You are. What’s your idea on finding us a place to have drunken sex?” He poured another finger of whiskey into her glass.

  “Standing? Bending over? Knees? Back? Which?”

  “I want you standing but bent over. I’m going to do all sorts of dirty things to you first though. That’s just a warning.”

  “Drunken, dirty sex?” Anya squirmed. “Love the idea. Okay, we have to find the perfect place.” She turned back to survey the yard, glass to her mouth. One hand fiddled with the ties on her camisole.

  He took over the fiddling just so he could brush his fingers over her tits. Over those nipples he loved to suck on and pull.

  “Right there, Reaper,” she said, excitement in her voice. “Look, honey, the perfect place.” She pointed to the small bench someone had stuck out in the middle of the flowers in the meadow. Probably Alena or Lana. The girls had worked to plant flowers and trees around to make the compound seem nicer, although they hadn’t gotten to the flower beds close to the building.

  The bench was out in the open, but a good distance from the fire. The ocean was behind it. There was enough of a moon to light the surface of the water so that light reflected onto the field of flowers. It looked perfect to him. He would be able to see all that soft skin.

  “The bench it is, baby,” he agreed, and watched the happy smile on her face. He loved that smile, but not nearly as much as he did drunken sex when they got around to it.

  * * *

  The barbecue was in full swing. Reaper leaned against the wide porch column and watched his woman as she ran after Emily, her laughter filling the sky with warmth. He could listen to her laugh for the rest of his life. Beyond even. Each time he heard her, no matter what he was doing, he had to turn his head and look. Each time it happened, she took his breath away.

  Darby, Czar’s oldest, joined the chase, a streamer of colors, pink and green and blue swaying like a snake behind her as she ran. Emily’s streamer was of red and pink and a second shade of red. The little girl loved red. Anya had a trail of colors, yellow, gold and white, all colors of the sun, streaming behind her. He loved that. Loved that her colors were bright and hopeful.

  Storm came out of nowhere, lowering his shoulder and catching Darby right in her stomach, bending her over his shoulder. He stood and ran to the far end of the backyard, all the way to the fence, with Czar’s daughters screaming with laughter. Just before he made it, Ice blocked him and he had to turn. He ran right into Maestro, who caught Darby and in one smooth move lifted her off Storm and onto him. He turned to run, and Anya and Emily tackled him. They all went down in a heap, a pile of bodies, laughter ringing through the yard.

  Reaper sauntered over, taking his time, making it clear he wasn’t part of their ridiculous games, but that he was enjoying watching. He reached down with one hand, pulled his woman up and locked her to him, while extending the unopened beer to Maestro.

  Darby and Emily both pushed Maestro back so he was lying in the grass, the beer out of reach. “He lost us points,” Darby proclaimed. “He doesn’t deserve a beer.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Emily declared firmly, echoing her sister’s sentiments.

  “Zoey,” Maestro called. “Help me. They’re being mean to me. I was following the rules.”

  Zoey stood on the sidelines, close to Blythe, watching, a smile occasionally flickering across her face. She was in counseling at Blythe’s insistence, but the trauma she’d suffered prior to being with Blythe and Czar stayed with her.

  Blythe leaned down, her arm around the child. “Are you going to help him? Whose side are you on?”

  “Maestro’s,” Zoey replied firmly, shocking all of them. She rarely spoke. “He said he’d follow all the rules and if he remembered, he’d get me ice cream later. He remembered.”

  Rules were important to Zoey. Maestro broke the rules of the game often, and apparently, he’d bargained with Zoey, the rule keeper.

  Blythe gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re the referee.” That had been Anya’s suggestion, trying to bring Zoey into the fun without making it too difficult for her to participate. “I guess you’d better go help him.”

  Zoey hesitated and then she put her chin up and marched over to the group on the ground. Reaper held his breath, his arm tightening around Anya, locking her to him. Zoey pushed her older sister off Maestro. Darby let her, happiness on her face and tears glittering in her eyes. Emily resisted, but in the end, Zoey was able to distract her enough that Maestro could lift the younger child off him, set her aside and let Zoey help him to his feet.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Maestro proclaimed. “Come on, kid, let’s go make some music together.” He swept Zoey up and transported her across the yard to the small deck where the band had their instruments.

  “I love the barbecues,” Anya said. “Almost as much as I love drunken sex.”

  Reaper laughed. “I’m going to turn you into a bad girl yet.”

  “Don’t count on it. I didn’t ask you, because I usually don’t want to know, but is everything okay between Torpedo Ink and the Demons?”

  “Yeah, baby, it’s all good.”

  “I’m very glad the floor in the bar was replaced before we reopened. Saying we were doing renovations was smart. Jonas and Jackson came in the other day. They’re still looking for the men they say disappeared.”

  “Sounds like harassment. How many times have they been in now?”

  She shrugged. “I never handle it, that’s all Preacher. They ask me a couple of questions and then they talk to him.”

  “If it bothers you ever, you tell me.”

  “I would. In any case, someone is always on the monitor, and most of the time you’re there. You were in a meeting when they came in. That was last night.”

  The club meeting where they’d taken a vote on whether or not to try to find the boy being auctioned off by some slimeball. They took jobs, but most of the time, they hunted pedophiles. Of course they voted to locate the kid. They’d do it too. Code was already trying to find out any information on him available. Reaper wasn’t about to talk to Anya about it. Not yet. She needed time before she realized they were never going to stop hunting. Never. They were predators and they needed the hunt, but more importantly, those children needed them. Someone had to find them. Someone had to help.

  “Do you think the Ghosts are looking for us?” Anya asked.


  Reaper glanced down at her. She sounded scared. He never wanted her afraid, not if he could spare her, but he was always going to tell her the truth. “We shut down their cameras. If they connect Alena and Lana, that might be a trail back to us, but no fingerprints. No faces. We have no connection to the Diamondbacks. The Diamondbacks destroyed their nightclub, burned it to the ground. They did the same with the casino. They left behind their calling card.”

  “A snake.” She’d heard of that before. Everyone had. “Isn’t that like asking the cops to come after you?”

  “Anyone can leave a snake behind. No one saw anything. It’s done, baby. I think we’re clear of the Ghosts.” He knew the Ghosts would come creeping back. They targeted motorcycle clubs. They knew their hit men and investigator looking for Anya had disappeared after being in the Torpedo Ink bar. The Ghosts were probably busy right now, refocusing, deciding what to do, how to handle their losses and the fact that someone had tracked them, but they’d come around again. As would the Swords, the motorcycle club whose leader Czar had brought down. They also had to worry about the Mayhems who wouldn’t take kindly to Reaper beating the shit out of their president, if they ever discovered who he was. Torpedo Ink had the Demons on their side and possibly the Diamondbacks, but they had to be careful. They were garnering too much attention too fast.

  “Hey, you two,” Czar called. “Stop gazing into each other’s eyes and come over and help out. Need someone to flip burgers, Reaper.”

  Reaper kept Anya’s front to his side as they walked over to the group of men standing around the barbecue. His brothers. They moved to the side to make room for him and his woman. He never thought he would have this kind of life, but she’d given it to him. His Anya. His everything.

  TERMS ASSOCIATED WITH BIKER CLUBS

  1%ers: This is a term often used in association with outlaw bikers, as in “99% of clubs are law abiding, but the other 1% are not.” Sometimes the symbol is worn inside a diamond-shaped patch.