Page 8 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

Chapter five

Blackbeard

I didn’t like this. Bringing Leigh into my home would get her one step closer to my family. This marriage was strictly club business. She was my wife in name only, for the sake of peace between our clubs.

A quick look in my side mirror showed three Forsaken trailing behind me. Leigh followed in her Jeep.

Popeye had rambled off a brief introduction of the Forsaken members before Church, but I didn’t give a shit about learning any of their names. And I certainly wasn’t happy that they were about to know exactly where I lived.

I couldn’t believe how fast everything had turned upside down in the last twelve hours. From the shootout, to breaking into Leigh’s apartment, to the Church meeting. Then signing my name on that goddamn marriage certificate.

Kingpin was right. I wanted someone to make a move. And I got my wish. I just never expected it to go sideways like this. I certainly never dreamed I’d get a wife out of the ordeal either.

After pulling into the driveway, I didn't wait for Leigh and her guard dogs to park, heading inside without them.

My house was a modernized adobe-style layout that my abuela had designed herself, to commemorate our lineage, sprawling throughout Mexico and the Southwestern United States.

Abuela grew up in a home like this, just as her grandmother, and her great-grandmother did before her. And when I had children of my own, she reasoned, I would raise them among the safety of these earthen walls that had served to shelter and protect my people for centuries.

I adored my abuela, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I wasn’t likely going to give her any of those great-grandkids she was hoping for.

My boots echoed on the tile floor as I stepped inside. Dropping my keys on the end table, I scrubbed a hand over my face, fighting to hold my exhaustion at bay. All I wanted to do was sink into bed and sleep for a whole day.

But that wasn’t going to happen while Leigh and I were living under the same roof. Something in my gut nagged at me about her. I didn’t trust her, or her father. I found myself on edge, watchful, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

After five years of tangling with the Forsaken, it seemed too simple, too easy that we had buried the hatchet with an arranged marriage.

A moment later, I heard Leigh approach. The three Forsaken followed on her heels, hauling her belongings.

“Aren’t you supposed to carry me over the threshold into your home as your new wife?” Leigh prodded.

God, she was really milking this thing to torture me.

“From where I’m standing, you have two perfectly good legs," I countered. "It won’t kill you to walk.”

She stuck out her lower lip in a feigned pout and waltzed through the door.

“Well, then, how about a tour?”

I gestured vaguely, stubbornly refusing to cater to her whims.

The living room was off to the left. Around the corner and down a short hall was the kitchen. Master bedroom and two guest bedrooms were beyond that.

Then there was the corridor that led to the courtyard with a barbecue pit and what was supposed to be a garden, but I had a black thumb so it was full of nothing but weeds, much to my abuela’s chagrin.

“Home sweet home,” I said. “Don’t get comfortable. I’m still hoping to find a way to annul this marriage.”

Leigh made a patronizing little sound.

“We’ve barely been married for an hour and you’re already thinking about divorce? Maybe we should try couple’s therapy.”

“Over my dead body,” I grumbled.

Leigh chuckled and gestured to the Forsaken behind her.

“You can leave my bags there, boys. My husband will help me unpack.”

No, he will not, I thought.

“Thanks for checking up on me,” she added. “Tell Dad that I’m settling in just fine.”

One Forsaken member lingered on the threshold while the other two returned to their bikes. He shoved his hands in his pockets and flicked a glance in my direction. Then he leaned in toward Leigh with the close proximity of someone accustomed to the familiarity of sharing her personal space.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he said. “I’ll take you home. Any hour of the day or night, doesn’t matter. You say the word, and I’ll get you out of here.”

Leigh patted his chest and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll be okay.”

His gaze dropped to her mouth for a split second. And I could have sworn he would close the miniscule space between them to kiss her, even though I was standing right there.

Then Leigh gave him a friendly push toward the door. Reluctantly, he left, but he still glanced back over his shoulder at the house before she shut him out.

“If you wanted a husband, he looks like he’d be happy to volunteer,” I said.

Leigh waved me off.

“Torch is allergic to long-term relationships. But friends-with-benefits is a different story. Besides, there’s no way in hell that I’d marry one of my father’s men.”

“So marrying one of his enemies is a better option?”

She shrugged with a smile.

“Of course. Much more advantageous.”

Leigh folded her hands behind her back and leaned against the wall across from me. A fitting representation of our marriage—opposing clubs, forced to live together, a wary chasm of space between us.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” she said in a quiet voice. Not pained, or uncertain, or disappointed that I didn’t love her as a brand new husband should.

It was merely an observation, and the tiniest smile flickered at the corner of her mouth, indicating her amusement at the situation.

“I don’t trust you,” I replied. “Given the circumstances, you can hardly blame me for that.”

“So…this is it?” Leigh gestured between us. “This is what it’s going to be like? Me, over here. You, over there. Husband and wife, sharing a home, but we never touch, never kiss, never have sex…”

She dipped her chin and looked up at me through her lashes—the perfect example of a minx, testing my self-control.

Slowly, she reached up and dragged the zipper of her riding jacket down, revealing her snug red tank top practically glued to every swell and curve of her body.

I gritted my teeth until my jaw ached. My cock surged against the zipper of my fly. I had to get used to this. Living in close quarters with Leigh would bring temptation around every corner. She was taunting me, hoping to turn me into a drooling caveman who thought of nothing but fucking.

What are you up to, princess? I wondered.

There’s no way she simply agreed to this marriage with a complete stranger because her father asked her to. Something else had to be going on. Something that would benefit her.

And I wasn’t some horny, drooling caveman who lost all common sense if given the first opportunity at a little pussy.

Leigh shrugged off her jacket and let it drop to the floor.

Then she gave an exaggerated yawn and stretched her arms over her head.

Her tits bunched up, threatening to spill over the scooped neckline of her top.

Mounded, creamy, and full, those tits were a teenage boy’s wet dream and a grown man’s nirvana.

Fuck. If she wanted to play dirty, I could give her a run for her money. Keeping my hands off Leigh would frustrate the hell out of her. Which was a tempting thought.

But this sexual tension between us had been simmering to a boiling point ever since we met before the shootout.

Part of me wanted to give in, to indulge that primal desire to be inside her, to stretch her open with my cock and taste her as she came.

It would be a fitting way to finish off the chaos of the last few hours.

As if reading my thoughts, Leigh cracked one eye open to peer at me with a smile, slow and cat-like.

“Aren’t you going to take me to the master bedroom? I need my beauty sleep.”

Goddamn it. I rubbed my aching shoulder, the texture of the gauze palpable through the fabric of my sleeve. The pain killers I’d popped a few hours ago were beginning to wear off and it burned like fire.

Say no, a voice in the back of my mind warned. Walk away. Sleep on the couch and stay the fuck away from her for your own good.

I stepped forward, closing the gap between us. Leigh’s green eyes tracked my movements as I approached.

I braced my hands on the wall, barricading her from escape. The heat radiating between our bodies was scorching to an unbearable degree.

“You barely put up a fight in your apartment,” I whispered, low, nearly kissing her mouth.

Leigh tipped her chin up, ghosting her lips against mine with the earthy afterburn of whiskey.

“Maybe I welcomed the company.”

I closed my eyes, filling my lungs with a deep, damning breath of her perfume—smoky, with a hint of salt, and bruisingly-sweet over-ripe plums.

The words were barely out of her mouth when I hooked two fingers into her belt and tugged, spinning her around. I pressed up against her back, pinning her face-first against the wall as I molded my body to hers.

Leigh gasped. She pushed her ass back, grinding against my throbbing cock. I brought my mouth close to her ear, rutting my straining bulge along the cleft of her ass.

“This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it, princess?”

She bit her lower lip, planting her hands on the wall for more leverage.

“Don’t act as if you aren’t enjoying yourself," she said. "I can tell that’s not a gun in your pocket, so you must be very happy to see me.”

I gripped the back of her neck, sliding up into her hair and twisting her locks around my fingers.

“That sarcastic mouth is going to get you in trouble one day, wife ,” I said, biting off that last word.

Leigh hummed a laugh.

“My sarcastic mouth got you hard as a rock in the first place, husband . Admit it, you’d be bored with a demure woman who never challenged you, never made your blood boil.”

Fuck, she was so goddamn aggravating.

I reached around and unbuttoned her jeans, yanking them down to reveal her black lacy thong. My breath caught in my throat at the dark fabric framing her milky white cheeks. A younger man with less control than me would have folded at the sight of her and completely lost his addled mind.

I smoothed my palm over the slope of Leigh’s ass, savoring the way she squirmed for more. She knew she had a hot body, knew how to use it to her advantage.

Then I cracked my hand against her ass hard enough to leave a red welt that had to sting.

Leigh flinched and swore, shoving her jeans down further to widen her stance.

But she’d have to take off her boots and her pants if she really wanted to spread her legs for me, and neither of us had the patience for that.

Her pussy was probably sopping wet by now, walls desperately pulsing around emptiness, aching to be filled.

“Do you know why I broke into your apartment, princess?” I murmured against the back of her neck.

She was so hungry, so turned on that I could feel her trembling, pinned between me and the wall.

“To teach me a lesson,” Leigh said, turning her head to speak. “To make my father pay after his club shot up your brother’s garage.”

“Smart girl.” I slid my hand between her thighs, tracing her slit. Her panties were utterly soaked, clinging to the stiff peak of her clit. “Kidnap, torture…it wasn’t going to be anything like this.”

Leigh bit her lower lip, trying to angle her hips against my hand for more friction. I pulled away. She huffed in frustration.

“So you thought a little cock would shut me up instead, is that right?” she challenged.

I unbuckled my belt with a metallic clank, unzipping my fly. Gripping her thong, it didn’t take much to tear the lace in two and strip it off, tossing it aside.

I fisted my cock, coaxing it between the warmth of her thighs. Her breath hitched when the blunt head snagged on her sensitive clit, teased at her slick entrance but didn’t go in.

“Does it feel little to you, sweetheart?”

Before Leigh could reply, I nuzzled into the crook of her neck and shoulder, sinking my teeth into her flesh. She swore like a sailor and her knees turned watery, threatening to buckle.

“I know for a fact it won’t shut you up,” I said. “But it might fix that attitude problem of yours. The only way you can get the high you crave is to behave yourself.”

Leigh took a breath to protest but I didn’t give her a chance to say a single word. In one smooth thrust, I buried my cock inside her.

God, she was searing hot and smooth as silk, walls spasming like she was about to come from one stroke.

But she was too stubborn to give in that easily.

“It’s about fucking time,” Leigh rasped.

“I thought you would never stop talking and get down to business. Please tell me you actually know how to use those eight inches. Otherwise, that would be a waste of perfectly good cock if all you’re going to do is stick it in and blow your load after five seconds like a teenager. ”

I huffed with amusement as I pulled out, anchored my hands at her hips, and drove in again—harder, deeper, at an angle that made Leigh sag with molten pleasure.

She scrabbled at the walls, nails fruitlessly searching for something to hold onto. I pinned her in place with my weight, hammering at her pussy with every thrust. My balls slapped against her clit, drawing a deliciously wrecked sound from her throat.

I looked down, watching my cock plunge in and out, coated with her cream. Her ass was fucking perfect, especially with my handprint so stark red against her smooth, pale skin.

Leigh attempted to gouge her red nails into the meat of my thigh. But I caught her wrist in an iron grip and twisted her arm behind her back.

“Keep those claws to yourself, kitten,” I murmured against her ear. “Your Forsaken boys already drew blood from me once today. That’s more than enough.”

Before she could reply, I punched my cock deep, grinding and grinding. Leigh shattered, juices dripping down her thighs. The hot grip of her pussy sent me into a primal mode, chasing my orgasm over the edge after her.

This wasn’t sex for love—it was a power play for dominance and control, fueled by a heady rush of adrenaline.

I closed my eyes, surrounded by Leigh—her scent, the slick heat of her pussy, the soft curve of her ass fitted snugly against my groin. My lips were a breath away from touching the juncture of her neck.

This woman was fire. And if I wasn’t careful, she would burn me alive.