Page 17 of Kingpin (Blackjacks MC #1)

“Jesus Christ, Neil,” I said.

“It’s the truth.”

“Well…”

I couldn’t argue with that. He had a point. I wanted to resent him for prioritizing the club as often as he did, even when I begged him not to. But I also knew that the Blackjacks had been there for him when the rest of the world had turned its back and shut him out.

“You should let him join,” I said softly.

Neil studied me silently, waiting for me to continue.

“If Crash is anything like you,” I said. “This club will save his life. Give him a home and a family. Give him a place to belong. He deserves that.”

Neil hummed thoughtfully.

“I’m surprised. I expected you would agree, tell me I was doing the right thing by turning the kid away. Setting him on the straight and narrow.”

I shrugged, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Did we ever really agree on anything? I thought we argued just for the hell of it.”

“We didn’t argue about sleeping in on Saturdays.”

“Because you were determined to get three rounds of sex in before noon,” I said. “We weren’t exactly sleeping .”

He rumbled a soft laugh.

“Is that a complaint?”

“Absolutely not.”

A beat of silence settled between us. Then Neil reached over and took my hand. I didn’t say a word of protest, despite knowing it was a dangerous move. Instead, I threaded my fingers with his. My throat went dry when he pressed his warm lips to my knuckles in a kiss.

I knew we shouldn’t be doing this…but I leaned closer anyway, kissing his shoulder lightly. Breathing in that familiar scent of black coffee and leather I knew so well.

Why couldn’t things be simple between us?

Why couldn’t love be enough to conquer all?

I knew the Blackjacks were important to Neil.

That would never change. I didn’t dare set an ultimatum that he had to choose between me or the club.

It would be an impossible decision. Like splitting his heart in two.

Neil turned his head, brushing his lips against my temple.

“What are you doing here, Hattie?” he whispered. “You could have just called.”

I said nothing for several seconds. Could I admit the truth to myself?

Could I admit it out loud, to Neil? Thirteen years apart should have obliterated any love between us.

But when I was scared last night, I wanted him.

Neil was the one I ran to for comfort, security, and protection.

Neil was the one I trusted with my life.

Fuck.

I still had feelings for my ex-husband.

With my heart in my throat, I tilted my chin up to look at Neil. He must have seen it written all over my face. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he wet his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

God, I needed to make up my damn mind. This club would be the death of him one day. Although I couldn’t deny that sometimes, there was a forbidden thrill to the danger and violence. Knowing Neil wouldn’t hesitate to break bones if anyone dared to lift a finger against me.

I wanted him to be safe. I wanted him to live a normal life.

But that wasn’t Neil. That wasn’t the man I fell in love with. And it never would be.

I should have known that intruder wouldn’t make it to the police as soon as the Blackjacks picked him up. I should have known he would never see the light of day again when Neil got his hands on him.

How could I possibly move on from Neil? I didn’t stand a chance of falling in love with anyone else, not when this man was willing to set the world on fire in the blink of an eye if anything happened to me.

Wordlessly, Neil rose from his bar stool while the Blackjacks continued talking amongst themselves. I trailed after him as we made our way down the corridor that led to the back rooms. He pushed open the door at the end of the hall, leading me inside.

We used to sneak off to these rooms all the time. They hadn’t changed in over a decade, still sparsely furnished with the bare necessities—a nightstand, lamp, bed, a chair, and maybe a small table, if you were lucky.

As soon as the door closed behind us, Neil crowded me against the wall, arms braced on either side of me.

Over six feet tall, broad chest, tattoo ink mapping the corded muscles of his forearms…

caged by a man who could snap me in half, yet never touched me with anything more than the utmost tenderness.

“I thought you didn’t come here to talk about sex,” he said, gruffly.

“Plans change, remember?”

I reached up and curled my fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him down to me. Neil’s mouth crashed against mine with a devouring kiss. His hands fell to my hips with a bruising grip.

This will be a mistake, I thought. A mistake bigger than signing those damn divorce papers.

I tugged Neil’s shirt free from his belt and slipped my hands under the hem, questing over hot skin. He fisted his fingers in my hair, angling my head back to meet his gaze.

“How many?” he demanded.

I blinked at him, confused.

“How many men have you fucked since you stopped wearing my ring?” he clarified.

Oh. I chewed my lower lip, debating whether or not I could get away with a lie. I didn’t want to talk about those men right now, didn’t even want to think about them.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said.

“Tell me anyway.”

I stifled a noise of frustration. The throb between my thighs was quickly becoming torturous. Neil tugged on my hair just enough to make my scalp sting with the sweetest pain. Arousal zinged through every nerve in my body, nipples hard, skin aching to be touched.

“Three,” I said quietly.

We weren’t married anymore so there was nothing shameful about it.

When I started dating again, I went in with a clear head and remained laser-focused on my goal of finding a man who would be the father of my children some day.

No rebounds. No one-night-stands to get my mind off Neil. It was all perfectly normal.

I still felt a little guilty though, knowing Neil hadn’t been with anyone else.

He searched my face now, pinning me with those stormy eyes that saw right through me and never looked away.

“Did they make you come so hard that your legs trembled, like I did?” he said.

I shook my head, tongue glued to the roof of my mouth.

“Did they eat you out until you couldn’t remember your own name?” he added.

I shook my head again, biting the inside of my cheek as the throb between my thighs bordered on painful.

Holding Neil’s gaze, I slid his cut off his shoulders, draping it over a nearby chair.

I knew it could never touch the floor, even in the heat of the moment.

That would be disrespectful, a sin that the President’s woman would never dare to commit.

When Neil stripped off his shirt, I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. Touching the tattoos on his chest, some faded with familiarity, others crisp and new.

There was my name, still inked over his heart. I had warned him not to do it.

What if you change your mind? What if you get sick of me ten years down the road and you don’t love me anymore?

Within an hour of saying our vows, Neil got the tattoo anyway. No hesitation. No doubts. He didn’t even wait for his red, inflamed skin to heal before he had my skirt up around my hips, panties pulled to the side, coaxing me down on his cock.

He took me by the wrist now and pressed my hand to the bulge of his jeans, half hard already from just one kiss.

“This is yours, sweetheart,” he said. “Always has been, always will be. And you’re long overdue for a ride.”

I exhaled, butterflies filling my stomach with anticipation. Hooking my fingers into his belt, I unclipped the buckle, dragging the zipper of his fly down.

“ Fuuuck, baby,” he hissed, soft and low, as I wrapped my fingers around his cock.

He had more girth than any man I’d ever been with—before or since. My body must have remembered that wicked stretch, judging by the surge of need that jolted through my core, begging to be filled.

Neil wasted no time sliding his hands under my shirt to cup my breasts. I whined, pressing into his palms. There were too many layers of clothing between us. If he didn’t touch my bare skin everywhere in the next thirty seconds, I would lose my mind.

Reluctantly, I broke away. Shedding my shirt and shoes as fast as possible, I tried not to worry about what his reaction would be when he witnessed the changes to my body now that I was in my mid-forties.

The last time he saw me naked, perimenopause and the stress of teaching hadn’t affected my figure yet.

I didn’t have that flat, washboard stomach anymore that I’d taken for granted in my twenties.

My breasts had lost their perkiness, too, and my thighs were dimpled with cellulite.

To make matters worse, I was wearing the most unflattering beige bra I owned.

But Neil’s pupils dilated full black anyway. Just like they always did when he saw me half-naked in my bra and jeans.

Some things never change, I thought.

Neil dipped his head, sucking a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the top of one breast, then the other. I fumbled at the clasp of my bra, desperate to get it off. He set to work on my jeans, peeling them down my legs along with my panties.

I gasped as he slid two thick, callused fingers between my thighs, curling upward.

“Goddamn, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Why are you so tight? Have you been fucking dudes with grass blades for dicks?”

“Fishing for compliments?” I shot back.

He arched an eyebrow and twisted his fingers deeper. My body bowed, muscles tense, pleasure rushing all the way down to my toes. I clutched his bicep for support, digging my nails into his skin.

Grabbing me by the hips, Neil dropped onto the mattress, with his back propped against the wall.

He coaxed me up to straddle him, manhandling me into place.

The thick curve of his cock sat heavy on his stomach as he leaned back.

I finally managed to get my bra unhooked, shrugging it off and tossing it aside.

In an instant, Neil sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. The weight of his rough palms settled on my ass with a squeeze. I closed my eyes, cradling his head against my chest. Wishing this moment could last for eternity.

The slick heat of Neil’s tongue traced my nipple and I stopped thinking entirely.

“Condom,” he mumbled into my cleavage. “In the nightstand.”

“Don’t care,” I said. “I tested clean last month. I’m still on the pill, too.”

And I don’t want a damn thing between us right now.

Neil pulled back to look up at me, searching my face. In response, I grasped the base of his cock and guided the blunt head to my entrance. With his jeans barely down to mid-thigh, the stiff denim scratched against my legs. He flattened his palm against my lower back, pushing me down onto his cock.

I closed my eyes with a sigh. He was right—it was a tight fit. I had to pause after an inch or two, adjusting to his size. But he was finally inside me again. And dear God, it felt fucking incredible.

When I anchored my hands on his chest, a glint of gold caught my attention.

His wedding ring, with the silver chain pooled in his collar bones. I hadn’t noticed it before, distracted by his chest and tattoos.

Neil circled his fingers around my wrist and brought my hand up to his mouth, kissing my palm. His stubble scraped my skin—a stark contrast to the heavenly glide of his cock.

This tough, tattooed biker with the stormy eyes and the grumpy demeanor still loved me. And he always would.