Page 25 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

Chapter sixteen

Leigh

To my surprise, I was granted a part-time shift bartending at the Blackjacks clubhouse on the weekends. As the room filled up on Friday night, I lost track of Blackbeard in the chaos. Too busy pouring, mixing, and serving drinks to pick him out in the crowd.

Once in a blue moon, I would get a glimpse of Crash as he passed by, or disappeared around the corner. But we never spoke, and he never ordered a drink from me.

It seemed we weren’t going to be besties any time soon.

My phone rang in my back pocket, barely audible above the hubbub. Wiping down the bar with one hand, I retrieved my phone and glanced at the screen.

Dad.

My heart leaped.

I tossed my rag onto the bar and gestured at Big G, seated at the counter.

“I’m taking a fifteen-minute break. Can you cover for me?”

“Only because you’re cute,” he replied. “And you pour a mean bourbon. Which I will expect as payment when you return.”

“Deal,” I replied, slipping into the kitchen and out the back door.

When I was alone in the alley behind the clubhouse, I glanced around to make sure no one was within hearing range. Then I answered my phone.

“Pack your bags, sweetie,” Dad said before I had a chance to speak. “Change of plans. You’re coming home early.”

Home.

For a split second, an image flashed in my mind—hazy with sleep in the morning, wrapped up in Blackbeard’s silky sheets, with my arm draped around his middle.

No, I chastised myself. That’s not home.

I shook my head, shoving that thought aside, and tried to grasp what Dad was telling me.

“Wait a minute. What’s going on?”

“The timeline has moved up.”

My stomach twisted into a knot and a lump formed in my throat.

“Ever since that kid shot you,” Dad continued. “I’ve been racking my brain, looking for a way to get you out of there. Leaving you in the hands of the Blackjacks for an entire year…I couldn’t do it.”

I raised my eyebrows. Is that why he’d been radio silent lately? Scrambling to get me out of this marriage before I was hurt again? On the other hand, was he really too busy to spare a phone call before now to tell me what was happening?

I pushed my misgivings aside. It didn’t matter. I had to make it work. My leverage with the Blackjacks wasn’t as strong as it should have been. They didn’t trust me yet, and if they got a whiff that something was off, their suspicion would turn on me.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“We’re bringing the Blackjacks down tomorrow night,” Dad replied.

I sputtered with surprise.

“You can’t be serious. Dad—”

“I know, I know. It’s fast. But I spoke to Kingpin. He took the bait, though I can’t say he did it willingly. Granted, fifty grand per man is hard to pass up. So, the Makarovs are in play now.”

“Holy shit,” I breathed, my mind spinning with that implication.

The Makarovs were supposed to be the final nail in the coffin—something that we gradually built up to, piece by piece, so the Blackjacks wouldn’t question it.

We were skipping over months of preparation and jumping straight to the big bang.

If anything went wrong, we could find ourselves caught up in the explosion.

“Blackjacks won’t see a single fucking penny of that payment, of course,” Dad went on. “Do you remember why?”

I nodded, falling into step with him now. This part of the plan should have stayed the same. I could recite it from memory without hesitation.

“Once the shipment is fully in transport, I tip off the cops and spring the trap. You and your boys hightail it out of there, leaving the Blackjacks holding the bag, caught red-handed. I open fire on the cops from a distance, giving you time to grab the shipment of guns and we deliver them, saving the day for the Makarovs.”

My knees felt weak and I leaned back against the alley wall for support. Why was I suddenly queasy over this? It never unsettled me before. I knew what I was getting into, right from the start. I couldn’t chicken out at the eleventh hour.

“Exactly,” Dad said. “The Blackjacks are put behind bars. We take their territory without a fuss. And the Makarovs are indebted to us for saving their delivery, securing the cash they would have lost when the Blackjacks were caught.”

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. Dad made it sound smooth and easy. Any number of things could go sideways with this juggling act.

“But I’ve decided to reassign your position to someone else,” Dad said.

“What? Why?”

“This is club business,” he replied. “I’ve asked too much of you already.

Torch will be the one to tip off the cops, then create the diversion we need to swoop in and take the guns back.

You don’t have to do anything except get out.

Then you can celebrate with me and the boys over some drinks when this is all over. ”

Partly, I was relieved. But mostly, it stung to be carved out of the plan so easily, without a second thought, especially after the work I'd already done so far.

“I can handle myself—”

“It’s not about that, Leigh,” Dad said. “When I give the signal, you grab your bags, and leave immediately. Got it?”

A pause echoed on the phone, weighted by something he wasn’t telling me. But I didn’t get a chance to probe for answers.

“Leigh?”

I whirled around at the voice.

Blackbeard stood at the mouth of the alley, silhouetted in light from the open door behind him.

“What are you doing out here, princess?”

I hung up on Dad and shoved my phone in my back pocket. My heart hammered against my sternum. I twisted my fingers together to stop them from trembling.

Had he overheard any of my conversation? Did he know that my father was about to stab him in the back?

No, I couldn’t see any indication in his expression that he’d been listening in.

Then again, Blackbeard had kept the Makarov deal from me, and I never suspected he was hiding anything. Maybe I was losing my touch to sniff out a lie…

“Just needed some air,” I replied, nodding toward the clubhouse. “It’s crowded tonight.”

“How much time do you have left in your shift?”

“About two hours.”

He nodded and gestured to the door.

“The sooner you get it over with, the faster I can take you home and work that stress out of your system with an orgasm or two.”

I arched an eyebrow, warmth blooming in my lower belly at his promise. After tomorrow, he wouldn’t be making that kind of offer anymore.

One last ride, I thought. I’d take him to bed for a farewell fuck, before all hell broke loose.

Blackbeard and I stumbled in the front door of his house, hungry mouths locked together. I unbuckled his belt as he reached for my shirt, yanking it over my head.

Hooking his hands behind my knees, he hoisted me up, guiding my legs around his waist. I hurried to unhook my bra and tossed it aside, savoring the feel of his worn leather cut against my bare nipples.

“I’ve needed to fucking taste you for hours,” Blackbeard grumbled. Sucking an open-mouthed kiss into my neck. Trailing his lips down between my breasts.

I gripped a fistful of his hair, savoring the indulgence of his silky locks spilling between my fingers.

God, he was so damn good with his tongue, his hands, his cock.

No one else made me come as many times as he did.

And it was a crying shame that I had to walk away from the best sex of my life, all because of a stupid biker war.

My back hit the wall, and the next thing I knew, Blackbeard and I were sliding to the floor, too wrapped up in each other to give a shit.

He tugged off my jeans, peeled down my panties.

I stripped off his cut, curling my fingers into his shirt with a gasp when he pried my legs open and licked a hot stripe up my pussy.

I clutched his head, grinding shamelessly against his tongue. Blackbeard hooked my legs over his shoulder and cupped my ass with his callused palms, kneading the flesh with his deft, agile fingers.

My orgasm ripped through me within seconds—blinding and bright. Stars danced across my vision as my body bowed off the floor. Blackbeard’s tattooed fingers gripped my pale thighs, sucking at my clit like a dying man in the desert.

I pushed weakly at his head.

“Let me breathe ,” I panted.

Blackbeard sat back on his knees, wiping my slick from his chin. The tile floor was cool against my back and goosebumps rippled across my skin. I pushed myself up, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.

He swept my hair aside as I released his cock. God, it was fucking beautiful. I never got tired of seeing it—the thick, flared head, the meaty girth, and that fat vein running along the left side. I followed it with my tongue, flicking my gaze up to him.

Blackbeard’s expression was unreadable, but I couldn’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. I grinned up at him, delivering a teasing lick to the tip.

His thighs clenched, hips thrusting toward my mouth. His cock jutted out, rock hard and pulsing.

Before I could make another move, Blackbeard gripped the back of my neck and kissed me so hard that our teeth clashed. I sucked in a gasp of surprise. He took advantage of the opportunity, sliding his tongue past my lips.

Good. I wanted it hard and fast tonight.

Blackbeard took my wrist and pulled me to my feet, guiding me through the house. We barely made it to the living room before he dropped onto the couch. I climbed over him, with his hands at my hips, and my breasts swinging into his face.

“You know,” I said, lining his cock up at my entrance. “If you hadn’t been such a prudish stick-in-the-mud, we could have been having fun like this every day since our wedding.”

Blackbeard chuckled as he cupped my tits, squeezing them together, licking over one nipple then the other.

“Couldn’t make it easy for you,” he countered. “A spoiled little princess like you had to learn how to work for it.”

I sank down onto his cock, earning a moan from both of us. His belt buckle bit into my thighs, and the rasp of his jeans on my bare skin only heightened the sensation of his searing thick cock buried so deep inside me.

Blackbeard reached up, cradling my face in his palms, and tilted my head down, locking his gaze on mine. I could have sworn he throbbed even bigger with the eye contact.

He thrust his hips upward, hitting an angle that had my legs shaking. I couldn’t come from it—not yet anyway—but with one stroke after another, he kept me on the edge, trembling with my orgasm just out of reach.

“Do you love me?” Blackbeard rasped.

The breath punched out of me. My walls clenched, and I curved my shoulders inward, trying to pull away at the unexpected intrusion of that one, simple word.

Love.

Only four letters, and yet the word rose between us, big and bold as the mountains outside Blackbeard’s window.

I couldn’t answer that. My tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of my mouth.

“Wh-what?” I stammered. “What are you—?”

“You heard me, princess,” Blackbeard said. Softly. But there was an undeniable edge to it.

I was pinned. Trapped. With the exquisite throb of his cock inside me, and his hands holding me in place. I couldn’t look away from him. Couldn’t escape the skin-to-skin contact.

This arranged marriage had been built on a foundation of lies in order to rope the Blackjacks into it from the very beginning. And lying during sex never made me flinch, let alone hesitate this long before.

But I found myself choking on the truth now.

I couldn’t allow myself to love Blackbeard.

It had happened anyway though. I could feel the root of it, aching, in my chest. Spooling around my heart like the first green vine after a gray, barren winter that seemed eternal.

My throat grew tight and my skin felt prickly. I fought to take in a wheezing breath.

“Say it,” Blackbeard whispered, his mouth an inch away from touching mine. He wrapped his hand around my throat, smoothing his thumb over my pulse. The metal of his silver rings were cool, but his palm was warm, fingers resting beneath my jawline. “Go on.”

A heartbeat of silence filled the room.

I can’t, I thought.

If I said it, if I dared to let those words leave my lips, I knew they wouldn’t be a lie.

“Diego, we haven’t even been married two months yet—”

“So what?” he protested.

I floundered, fighting to think up a way out of this. The truth came spilling out before I could stop it.

“I don’t—I don’t know how.”

I'd been looking for love my whole life. In flings and hookups that were meaningless. Chased after my father’s approval, doing anything he asked of me in the hopes that one day he would see me—his daughter, his only child—instead of his damn club.

A sob welled up and my eyes burned with tears, but I blinked them back.

“I don’t know how,” I repeated, my voice cracking.

Blackbeard kissed me—gentle, but deep, all-consuming, until he filled my lungs with every breath. Gripping my hips, he guided my movements, slowly riding his cock, making me feel every inch.

“It’s okay, princess,” he murmured, his eyes soft and dark. “You’ll learn.”

I lost myself in the rhythm of our bodies working together—his hips thrusting up to meet mine, his fingers caging my throat with enough pressure to make me giddy and light-headed. My orgasm wrapped around the base of my spine like a hot coil and tugged.

“Fucking gorgeous, mi vida,” Blackbeard growled. “Don’t stop. You’re close—”

I looped my arms around his neck, pressing my forehead to his, stealing a sloppy kiss. Blackbeard groaned into my mouth, cupping the back of my head.

“Right there, sweetheart, come for me,” he murmured.

I bit my lower lip and slammed down onto his cock with a slick sound. Circling and grinding my hips as sparks of pleasure radiated like bolts of lightning along every nerve.

Blackbeard locked an arm around my waist, crushing me against his chest. Thrusting up into me hard enough to make my thighs tremble and my body shudder.

I buried my face in his neck, teeth sinking into his skin with a moan as I tipped over the edge. I couldn’t get close enough, wishing I could interlock my rib cage with his, so we would never have to part.

Pleasure coursed through me in one wave after another with every thrust Blackbeard shoved into me. His cock twitched as he came, growling through gritted teeth. I could feel the strain in his body, the clench and release of his orgasm mirroring my own.

It felt endless. Muscles cramping—gasping for air—

Then it was over.

And we were one step closer to the end of our marriage.