Page 16
Bullet
W e’re a good match. Sometimes the most unlikely pairings form the strongest bonds.
I try to back that up with everything I’ve ever learned about chemistry and physics, but truth is, I was always shit at both. I don’t have to be able to name every law in the universe to know that I want to make this work. This being Lynette and a shot at making her happy, whatever that looks like. It doesn’t have to be a relationship. She doesn’t have to live here or be my old lady. She doesn’t have to fit into a mold.
Maybe we can both be who we are and still have something beautiful come out of that clash of opposing forces.
I’m not going to pretend that I’m not nervous when I pull up in front of her house. Thank fuck the tremors from the bike mask the ones in my hands, but Smoke’s snarky words as I left the clubhouse are still banging around in my brain.
“It’s official then? You’ve finally met your downfall—I mean your match? If you spent half as much time planning how you’re going to rebuild the range as you do pining for a woman who isn’t even going to work out, maybe we’d get back to our real love sometime this side of the century. Guns. But nope. Seems you’ve gone soft. Soft heart, what’s next? Soft hands? Dropping out of the club because we’re too morally gray?”
Smoke was just frustrated, and I can’t say he ever holds back, but I won’t pretend that his vote of not-so-confidence didn’t chafe like a splinter all the way here.
My first loyalty will always be to my oath and to my club brothers, but that doesn’t mean I can’t uphold that oath and still make room in my life for something else.
Even if I didn’t see it coming, I’m here now.
I want this.
I want Lynette. Long before that night she caught me jacking off and surprised me by watching, she captivated me. Awed me. Intrigued me. I want to take her in my hands and show her the pleasures she’s no doubt denied herself. I want to learn her body, her spirit, her heart, her mind. She’s a gorgeous mystery, wrapped up in layers upon layers. Smoke thinks she’s too classy for me. I know she’s too classy for me.
I want to introduce her to this life. I’ve already started. She hasn’t been corrupted. She’s just opened her eyes. She hasn’t fallen or descended or condescended to my level. I haven’t stepped up, playing a game far above my pay grade.
We’ve met in the middle. We’ve waited. We’ve wanted, denying the insane pull that’s always been there. However this plays out and whatever tomorrow brings, tonight is right. It’s our night.
Despite my little pep talk, I’m still sweating under my leather jacket as I walk up the driveway and ring the bell.
I have an extra brain bucket in one hand, a pair of boots in the other.
Lynette answers. I’ve seen her in silk pajamas, in her workout gear, but this is the first time I’ve seen her in a pair of jeans. Paired with the vintage gray and blue varsity jacket sporting a massive horse’s head on the back, her hair loose in tousled waves that frame her face, she looks so different. Different as in a different kind of stunning. The cold sweat slicking my skin heats up and my cockhead slams against my zipper with a force that nearly makes me groan. I’m going to have to ride my bike with an erection hard enough to snap if I angle it the wrong way.
Lynette glances around me at the bike parked in front of the sidewalk.
She purses her lips, which makes me want to claim them, first like a gentleman, and then in the savage kiss I’ve been dreaming about, when she warms and welcomes it.
Her forehead creases and doubt flashes in her honey eyes, darkening and hardening them.
“You can still change your mind. We could always stay in.”
Slowly, her doubts fade, overtaken by that same determination she throws at whatever challenge she needs to surmount. “While both of those are perfectly good options, I want to do this.” She takes the boots out of my hand and slips them on, one after the other. “They’re the perfect size,” she gasps after lacing them and taking one step to test them.
“I might have texted Willa to check for me right after we talked.”
“Getting my sister involved in your subterfuge now?”
“Only with the most gentlemanly intentions.”
“You could have just asked me.”
“I could have.” I’m a total heel, nervous and awkward, but then she steps into my space and brushes the back of her hand against my cheek.
“Thank you for the extra effort. I think it’s sweet, even if I’m busting your balls.”
She laughs, takes the helmet by the straps, and spins us outside, locking up. She waves to the camera and strides down the driveway, a confident fucking queen in a jacket that has to be Willa’s, and those tight-fitting jeans that cup her ass perfectly. Her only hesitation is at my bike, where she pauses and turns, tilting her face over her shoulder to await my instructions.
“I’ll get on first and get it going. Let me help you get on behind me after.”
Lynette doesn’t even pretend like she’s not studying my every move as I seat myself on the Harley and kick it to life. The roar is enough to bring the whole neighborhood to their windows. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t notice the open appreciation in her gaze as her eyes roam every inch of my body, starting at my face and trickling downward like misting rain.
I extend my hand. The shiver of our palms joining travels all the way up my arm. I flash her my most confident grin, the same shit-eating one I used to give her just because I wanted to get under her skin.
Her cheeks color, but after she lifts her long leg and slides onto the bike like she’s been doing it all her life, she leans forward and yells in my ear. “Have I ever told you that you’re disturbingly hot?”
That’s all it takes for that blush to spread from her face to mine. “Not in so many words.”
I hold the bike steady while she arranges herself behind me. She slips the helmet on, doing up the chinstrap on her own. I give it a onceover to make sure she’s got it, and she flashes me a thumbs-up.
I get my brain bucket in place and roll the bike forward a few feet, waiting until her hands land on my hips, which they do, sneaking forward to lock around my abs almost like she’s afraid to touch me.
Afraid that she likes it.
I press my hand over her smaller ones, my abs tightening underneath my jacket.
I’m half afraid to let myself feel the tumble of sensation just waiting to come crashing down on me, so I try to push it off, apart from the swelling of pride and true joy. There’s no ownership in it, but having Lynette get on my bike and cling to me is a precious gift. Her giving me her time, her energy, her passion, her intelligence, and placing her trust and safety in my hands is no small thing. This is our official initiation into something bigger than both of us.
I rumble along slowly, obeying all the speed limits, and once we’re out of town, heading past Patterson’s, towards those backroads where there’s nothing at all but trees, grass, and the open sky, I start to accelerate slowly, giving Lynette time to get used to it.
She hugs me tight at first, but slowly relaxes into a less rigid posture. Her helmet has a face shield, but when I angle my head just enough to make sure she’s doing okay, her huge grin appears behind it.
Does she feel the same call I do when I’m out here? The rush of freedom, the almost animalistic song that gets into the blood, something primal and older than time?
It’s a good fifteen minutes of riding with the wind screaming all around us, the dark like a tunnel punctuated only by other car lights flashing by, before I find the back road I’m looking for. It branches off at the end, turning into a few different houses with acres of land. We pass those, and I know for a fact there isn’t anything out here for miles. Tyrant used to have a house out this way, though it was down a different road. Like the range, it was burned and he sold the land, purchasing a cabin up in the mountains past Seattle for the club to have and use.
I slow the bike down, then stop and let it rumble for a minute before killing it. The silence is immediate, the dark an indigo cashmere curtain, so large and immense that it’s almost soft against us.
“This is the place?” Lynette asks after shedding the helmet and shaking out her hair.
She turns her head like an owl, first to one side and then the other. I wait for her to protest that it’s the middle of nowhere, it’s too open, it’s strange because there’s nothing here but a field of dried corn to our right and to the left, a stubbled field with massive round bales dotting the harvested landscape.
“I choose the corn. Unless we’re going to get trampled by cows or shot at by an angry farmer for trespassing on their land.”
“Nah. We know the back roads close to home. The people who farm this land live miles and miles away. They own sections all over the place. They leave this one standing for their cattle, but they haven’t moved them over here yet. No one’s gonna bother us.”
She glides off the bike like butter, with far more grace than I do. I can’t blame that on my perma-erection either.
“It’s a nice night. Not cold, but not warm enough for the bugs to chew us a new one.”
My laughter flows through the night. I like this more relaxed side of her, the side that isn’t afraid to swear or be crass. She told me once that she thought just as much shit up in her head as I ever said and that’s why she was never scandalized at hearing how bikers talk.
“I have a blanket in the saddlebag. We don’t have to go far into the field, and I swear I’ll only damage a few corn stalks. I’ll drop some money in their mailbox at the side of the road on the way home to pay for it.”
She hesitates, searching my face, and then relents. Trespassing, damaging crops, going for a ride with a known outlaw. She’s bending laws left and right. Not seriously, of course, but I thought I had better break her in easy.
“If you swear that we’ll have zero encounters with anything rabid out here, then I’m good to go.”
“I can’t make promises about the aliens.”
“The what?” she laugh-gasps, hanging her helmet on the bike’s handlebars beside mine.
“They probably won’t be rabid. Just interested in abduction and experimentation.”
“Willa would probably joke about them doing butt stuff. She has a t-shirt that says something about that.”
My laughter only relaxes her further. I grab the blanket, unroll it, and offer my hand. She takes it shyly, but then links our fingers together tightly.
I lead her down the grassy ditch. They’re always steeper than they look, the grass surprisingly long even though it was cut in the late summer and baled.
We thread our way through the corn stalks, which are also taller than they look from the road.
“It’s like a maze,” she muses.
I stop not very far in, as I promised. I’m lucky enough to find a natural bald spot between the papery stalks. They rustle as I brush up against them to spread out the blanket. The wind is just strong enough that the swaying stalks provide a natural symphony.
The blanket is an old plaid thing that I use for camping out on club rides, but it’s clean. I washed it right before I went out for Lynette’s boots. The scent of fresh linen rises up to join the sweet fresh-cut hay and earthy smells around us.
Lynette sits down, tucking her legs under her, but then giggles when all she can see is dying and dried-out corn. She flops over, tucking her arms under her head. “Wow. The sky is incredible. I didn’t realize it was a full moon tonight.”
“It’s a few days off yet, but it’s getting there.”
I couldn’t have arranged for a more perfect night. It’s virtually cloudless, the moon a bright silver-blue disc directly above us, the stars shimmering brightly.
I’ve seen a lot of the world, a whole lot of ugly, but also some beauty too. Nothing compares to Lynette, with her pale skin and halo of dark hair, her normally carefully guarded edges gone soft, her face open. She stares up at me with such trust and hope. A survivor who has known the cruel side of life, the sharp blade of grief and loss, she’s all the more beautiful for having pulled herself singlehandedly through those struggles.
It’s no small thing for someone who has had to exercise immaculate control to give it up. She’d never naturally put herself at a disadvantage, but there she is, underbelly up and exposed, her fire and her ice, her past and present offered up to me so tenderly.
It’s a heady thing and I can’t move. I’m frozen in my boots, my toes touching the edge of the blanket, my heart rattling in my ribs, sputtering and backfiring, running too rich and then too lean.
Why the fuck didn’t I ask one of the guys at the club for some advice? How do you take that step from solitary into more? I want to, but all that naked trust is terrifying. I’m so worried that I’ll fuck this all up that I can barely get started.
Lynette curls upright and pats the blanket beside her, her expression bordering on concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I—yeah.”
“I know we came out here to have this special, romantic moment, but if you want to head back, I’m okay with that.”
I bend over, unlace my boots, and toe them off so damn fast. “I don’t want to head back.” I’m shitting myself over how nervous I am, but I hadn’t realized I was being so fucking obvious about it.
Lynette takes her boots off, sighing and massaging her feet. “I don’t know how you wear those clunkers all day.”
“You get used to it.”
Her index finger brushes over my hand. I have them tucked behind me, leaning hard on them in an effort to appear casual. “Are you nervous?”
It’s hard to give her an equal amount of vulnerability. I know what it’s cost her, because it’s nearly impossible to peel back all the parts of yourself. It physically hurts.
“Are you?”
She breathes in slowly and exhales, pushing her breath out like she does during yoga. I thought I’d blocked those mornings from my mind—her bent over, contorting her gorgeous body into all those wild shapes while I pretended to have my bodyguard shit together and not notice.
“Not nervous, really. More like terrified.” She tilts her head up to the stars. “Willa said we could just work out our frustrations physically, but I’m not the kind of person who can do that.”
“No,” I agree. “I don’t like giving my body when it doesn’t mean something. It’s never been easy. There’s this view that people have of what makes a man manly. Even as a teenager, I never experienced needs like that. I hooked up a few times, wanting to see what the fuck everyone was talking about, and it felt good for a few minutes, but never meant anything, and I hated that. I always felt lonely and empty after. As a soldier, you learn to focus on the task at hand and deny your bodily needs. Hunger, thirst, companionship. Maybe I got too good at it. I was going to legit go and get my testosterone levels checked, but then I met you. Now I know what other people have to deal with. That night you came downstairs and caught me jacking off was the first time I’d done it in ages. It felt like I was dying, thinking about you, being so close to you, and unable to have you. It constantly feels like that now. If this is how other people live their lives, it must be awful.”
“Yes!” She scrambles up and flips one leg over mine, straddling me, staring me right in the face, her intensity radiating off her like steam. “Yes to both! It wasn’t just raising Willa that put a damper on my social and love life. I never dated as a teenager. I was so turned off by all the stupidity, and then random hookups? I mean, I’m not a virgin, but I could probably count the number of times I’ve had sex on one hand, if I’m being honest.” She chews at her bottom lip, hard. “Maybe that was too honest.”
“No.” I cup her face tenderly with both hands, overwhelmed by the fact that we’re here. Here, without it being illegal, without a mask of indifference and professionalism between us. “Your honesty is refreshing.”
She blinks. “Do you think it’s because of the way we were raised? Or do lots of people need an emotional connection, that feeling of being seen and safe, before they give themselves intimately?”
“I think other people must find comfort in trust, but when the whole world is geared towards throwing sexuality in your face, it’s hard to say that. I think we shaped ourselves into solitary people and became experts. Even in the club, I’m still my own person. I’m part of a family, but I’m also a business owner. I’ve spent a lot of hours at the range, alone, because I needed that.”
“And if I take the job with the club? It’s my profession, Bullet. That’s important to me.”
I rub my fingers over her high cheekbones, soothing her, but maintain the intense eye contact. “I know that and I respect that. I want to help you see that I respect every part of you. The woman, the lawyer, the big sister, the beautiful human being. I know what everyone thinks about bikers, that we’re men who take what we want, with our middle fingers raised to the world, but that’s not our club and that’s not me . You can love bikes, not fit into society, and still hang on to your ideals.”
She leans in, her lips just a few inches from my face. “I’m so sorry that I once called you a bad man straight to your face.”
“In your defense, you didn’t know me yet.”
She studies me hard, and then gives in to the impulse to throw her arms around my neck. She’s so soft, melting into me. My cock is not soft, and it’s trapped up against her. She can probably feel it throbbing away beneath her ass, but she doesn’t say anything about it.
“I like you, Hamish. Bullet. Whatever other names you have. I don’t even know if I like that I like you, but I can’t do anything about it. I’m lost and terrified, and alive . I want to have very public, indecent sex with you right here in this cornfield. It hasn’t been weeks, it’s been ten thousand years, and I am starved. Please, show me.”
She’s not just talking about the physical aspect. It’s everything else that goes into making life work. The romantic and the unromantic. Friendship and the building of a foundation of trust. She wants more than just my body, the same way that I want more than just hers.
I’m stripped down to the bone by her honesty, her beauty, her almost childlike enthusiasm. I know Lynette would throw everything she has behind this once she chooses me. This life. Us. She’d be loyal to the death, a strong defender, always in my corner, and that alone is almost more than I can take.
All the small details of her stand out so starkly in the moonlit night.
Her sweet scent mingles with the deeper, earthier ones. The curve of her cheek, her long lashes, her sharp cheekbones and full lips.
I cup her chin, stroking my thumb along her cheek and then down her jaw. I travel the delicate curve of her neck until I can press my thumb to her thrashing pulse.
We’re both just this. A heartbeat. Flesh and blood, air and bone. We’re made of elemental forces and shaped by them. It’s astounding to think that the trenches we’ve both carved through life have somehow intersected and led us right here.
“What does… what does an old lady mean, exactly?” Her pulse picks up, thrumming its frantic wings against my rough fingertips. “I’m sorry, I’m overthinking this. I already agreed to go for a ride with you and we’re here. I have this terrible tendency to want to control everything.”
“Asking questions isn’t control. Needing answers isn’t wrong.”
“You’re just being nice.”
I brush her hair away from her shoulder and tip her neck, bending to kiss her just below her earlobe. The taste of her satin skin hits me all at once. I was starving before, but now my cock is throbbing. She’s sitting right on top of me, and I long to be buried to the hilt inside her.
She gasps and the vein in her neck thrums beneath my lips. I trace it with my tongue. She shivers violently, her legs clenching around mine. I pepper kisses on the sensitive skin until I reach the collar of her jacket. I push it aside and nip her with my teeth.
“Bullet,” she whimpers, grinding down so hard on my dick that my cockhead rams straight into the zipper. A burst of pain splinters through my groin, but even that feels good.
I swear, she could probably kick me in the nuts right now and I’d beg her for more.
“The concept of an old lady kind of seems like something some toxic macho caveman came up with to prove that a woman was his and put his stamp of ownership all over her so no other man could touch her.”
“No.” I try to peel back the jacket’s collar again, to get more of her skin.
In sheer frustration, she wrenches open the snaps and shrugs it down, baring the little tank top underneath. I push one slender strap aside, painting her velvet skin with kisses.
“It’s a symbol of respect. It doesn’t mean that you belong to me. It signifies a partnership between two people.”
“Because calling a man like you my boyfriend would just be silly. There’s nothing boyish about you.”
I pause to look up into her face. “It also means that you accept the club and my role in it.”
I don’t want to have to ask her to say it. I don’t want to beg her. But there it is. If she can’t take me as I am, then we can’t do this. A gutting pain creeps into my blood, poisoning my next few heartbeats. I kept telling myself this could never happen, but then there was hope. It’s a painful thing, thinking that I might not be enough, or not the right measure of exactly what she needs, no matter how hard I’d try to be just that.
She makes a soft noise in her throat and kisses my forehead like a benediction. I might be as rough a man as they come, but I need that.
“I know what the club is. I’m going to be their lawyer. I’ve already made my decision. I don’t believe that their ideals can’t align with my own beliefs. I might not personally think that some things the club does is okay, but I’ve seen how they deal with their enemies. Legally, if possible, but mercifully, even when it’s undeserved.” There’s nothing in her face but tenderness. “I know you too. You’re a biker and a soldier on the outside, rough and hard, armored and impenetrable to the wrong person, but to the right ones, to the ones who call you their brother, to Willa, to me , you’re soft hearted.” She traces my bottom lip with her index finger, pushing down slightly. I want to suck her finger into my mouth before claiming her intoxicating lips. “Your hands aren’t just made for blood, or guns, or bikes. They’re made for books, for gentleness and tenderness. You’re a lovely bundle of contradictions, and that’s what makes you so remarkable.”
I’m about as flustered now as that moment I got caught masturbating. “I think everyone is a contradiction. People are complex.”
She nods. “That’s exactly why I know that we can do this. My complexities match yours. It’s been easy where it should have been impossible. I rarely give my trust to anyone, but you have it.” She tangles her fingers in my hair and rocks closer, slamming her chest up against mine. Her breasts mash against my jacket, but I can still feel how hard her nipples are under that thin tank. “Wherever we live, whatever you choose, I want this. I want you . I know who I am. Being with you will only shape me into someone I can be proud of.”
Her words warm cold, dark spots, emptying out others that have always needed to be filled. I don’t want to unleash myself like a beast, but I can’t stop myself from wrenching back, putting just enough space between us so I can work my hand up under her shirt. I wouldn’t say that it’s cold out, though the heat of summer has definitely passed, but my hands are definitely colder than her fiery skin.
She throws back her head, moaning to the night as I trace the underside of her breast. She arches her back with feline grace, pushing the pert orb into my huge hand. They’re rough and she’s like silk, but she doesn’t appear to have a problem with that.
“Fuck, yes,” she moans as I roll her nipple between my fingers and pinch lightly.
Her hand falls from my hair to grasp my shoulder. She digs her fingers into my leather jacket, making soft whimpers of pleasure as I palm her other breast. It’s not enough.
I lift her thin top and latch my mouth to her breast. She immediately slams a fist against her mouth and bites down, stifling a scream. I imagine what it would feel like if she did that while I was buried to the hilt inside her, her tight walls clenching around me.
She rocks in my lap, mewling like she’s thinking the same thing.
“Get me out of these jeans,” she whispers frantically, already attacking the button and unzipping them.
I flip her over, my hands bracing her so she doesn’t hit the ground hard, my obvious strength and the size of me against her sensual femininity enough to send me reeling. She stares up at me like she’s equally wonderstruck, which sends my heart to thundering.
I peel the tight jeans down her legs. Long and fine, shapely and so elegant. Every bit of her is utter perfection.
She sucks in a breath as my eyes land on her panties. A light gray, they’re dark all around her center, soaked with her arousal.
“I’m sorry I don’t own a single sexy pair. I should have just gone without, but jeans seem like they’d chafe, or like I’d accidentally zip a lip into them.”
Lord, only Lynette would say something like that. I throw back my head and laugh, trying not to really start roaring, but I can’t stop. “Zip a lip? My god.”
She laughs with me, but then blushes and slams her legs closed. “I know practicality isn’t sexy.”
I smooth one massive palm up her shin, to her knee. “Who says? I find your underwear incredibly hot.” I part her thighs gently, exposing her to me again. “Do you trust me? Do you trust me enough to taste you?”
“Out here? If you promise there’s no one around.”
“I would never, ever share you with anyone else. Your body is for you and you alone. You’ve given me the gift of your trust and your vulnerability. I promise, no one is out here. Just the corn and the stars.”
Her blush only deepens. “It’s hard to feel all of this, especially when I’ve spent so long not. If you really want to do this… you’d be the first.”
That information is like a rock bashed straight into my skull. “What?”
“I’ve never known any real intimacy. I hated it. I hated it so much. I knew it wasn’t supposed to be like that. I knew one day, if I ever found the right person, it wouldn’t be. But it’s just kind of new, you know? And embarrassing. Are you sure you really want to put your mouth there?”
“Yes! Yes, I’m very sure. I’m sure I’ll die if I don’t taste you. Just like that night it was either touch myself or die. I want to taste your sweetness; I want to eat you like a fucking animal that’s been unleashed. I want you screaming and arching, writhing and moaning, losing your mind and coming completely undone for me. I know how vulnerable you’ll feel, but you’re beautiful. Every inch of you is gorgeous.”
“You don’t know that! What if I taste bad?” She parts her legs though, a subtle invitation that means everything .
“That’s not possible. But if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll leave your panties on. I can taste you through them, lick your sweet cream straight off the drenched fabric.”
“Oh my god.” She reaches for me, curling her hands into my hair and dragging me between her spread legs, making room for my massive shoulders. “I don’t know if I should shove you away or bury your face in me. I shouldn’t, but I love those dirty words.”
“Just for you.”
“A gentleman on the streets, a freak in the corn field?”
I grin at her unexpected burst of humor. It’s unbelievably sexy that she can talk out her feelings, that she can share her doubts and fears with me instead of keeping them locked inside. That level of openness is nearly unbelievable. When we met there was just a single thread holding us together, but every word she gives me from that well inside her is a thousand other stitches binding us together.
“That’s right, Lynette. Yours .”
I give myself over to the lack of logic, the passion flooding my bloodstream. It’s like the adrenaline of going into battle, or getting on my bike and riding off into the horizon, but even at those times, I was always able to separate myself. I can’t do that right now. I can’t let logic rule because there’s nothing in my mind except Lynette. I’m hollowed out of everything but pleasure, and in my heart, a bubbling joy that I have never once experienced. It’s a unique joy, an emotion so strong that the name does it an injustice.
Maybe that stillness, that round, aching, gorgeous happiness, is what peace feels like.