Wild Like the Wind by Kristen Ashley
Jagger Black went through money like water. Hound had had so many words about that with him, he should tape that crap and just replay it when he had to do it again.
And he knew he’d have to do it again.
He still gave him the fifty bucks.
But he also gave him shit about it.
“Yes!” she shouted back. “Open up!”
He drew in breath through his nose and moved to tuck his gun under the cushion of his beat-up armchair.
He hadn’t seen her in two months. Not since the day Millie had been kidnapped.
He moved to the peephole, looked out and saw her there, staring at the door. Her hair parted down the middle and falling in sheets to either side of her face. Years and grief not having affected the skin on that face even a little. It was smooth from forehead to cheekbones to chin.
She was pushing the Native American gig, something she started doing when she gave up on being a biker babe years ago, and she hadn’t let that go. It was something she could do seeing as Dutch and Jag told him they were an eighth Apache since their momma was a quarter. Right then, she pushed it with the hair as well as the three-layer bone choker she had at her throat.
After what she spouted at him at the Chaos Compound, he really didn’t want to feel that sheet of hair, those big eyes, those puffy lips and that choker in his dick.
But he did.
He unlocked and opened the door.
She pushed in before he could block her way.
Once in, she did not take in his ratty-ass apartment that he’d lived in for nine years and had not run the vacuum once (mostly because he didn’t own a vacuum, but also because he never intended to buy one).
She whirled on him, planted her hands on her slim hips and announced, “So you’re alive.”
He felt his mouth get tight and threw the door shut, but that was all he got in before she came at him, both hands up, and shoved him so hard at his chest, his entire torso rocked back.
That was when he felt his whole face get hard.
She didn’t hesitate to get up in that face and fuck him, fuck him, he felt her tits brush his chest, she was that close.
“You big jerk!” she shouted. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Stand down, woman,” he growled.
“You haven’t dropped my check in two months, Hound.”
He couldn’t stop it.
He blinked at her and did it slow.
“You might miss a month but you never miss two,” she informed him of something he knew but thought she had not ever noticed.
“As you can see, I’m still standing,” he told her.
“I can see that. What I hear is that Chaos has got whatever trouble they’ve got with whoever took Millie and now they’re rubbing up against Bounty.”
Bounty was another MC in Denver.
They’d never had any problem with Bounty.
Now they did.
“Think you made it clear last time I saw you that you’re outta it with Chaos, so not sure how that’s your issue,” he stated.
“Uh, were you not there when the boys voted in Dutch as a recruit a month ago?”
Actually, he was on maneuvers so he had not been.
Though, since he sponsored Dutch, along with every man who’d had his patch when Black died, his official vote wasn’t really necessary.
He decided not to answer.
“I thought something had happened to you,” she said it like it was an accusation.
He put both arms up at his sides, which he thought pretty much said it all.
It did, but she was clearly not happy about the way he did it and he knew that with the way her face screwed up, all pissed.
“You drop my checks,” she declared heatedly.
“Gonna leave that duty to another man,” he told her.
“Why?” she rapped out.
“’Cause I got other shit I need to be doin’,” he replied, not the entire truth, not a full lie either.
“It’s because I was a bitch to you,” she said it, straight out.
“You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true,” he returned, and that wasn’t a lie at all.
What he left unsaid was that her saying what she’d said sucked dick.
“I was upset,” she explained herself.
“That didn’t go unnoticed,” he shared.
“Don’t be an asshole, Hound,” she snapped, and his brows went up as his temper caught.
“How’s that bein’ an asshole?” he asked.
“You’re bein’ flippant,” she told him.
He leaned toward her. “Woman, I don’t even know what ‘flippant’ means.”
“Then you need to spend more time reading books and less time doing Chaos’s wet work,” she shot back.
He leaned away and slowly drew a very long breath into his nose.
She glared at him.
When he had no verbal reaction to her remark, she looked around then back at him.
“For God’s sake, Hound, you live in a sty,” she declared.
“Got no woman to keep the place nice for, baby,” he drawled. “As you pointed out. And men don’t mind they live in a sty. It’s only women who give a fuck about that shit.”
Her eyes got squinty. “Why don’t you have a woman?”
He was not discussing this with her.
“That’s none of your fuckin’ business,” he returned.
She threw up an arm in front of her to indicate him. “You’re hot.”
He did another slow blink.
He was?
“It’s a waste,” she decreed.
She’d know about waste, all of what was her going without a man for seventeen years.
“You’re worried I don’t get my wick wet enough, Keely, you can mark that off your list of things you shouldn’t stick your nose into in the first place. I get what I need. I just don’t keep it.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“You obviously won’t feel this way, but you don’t know me so I’ll educate you that for a guy like me, you give it enough time to get time in, snatch becomes a drag and no man needs anything draggin’ on him.”
“You did not just say that to me,” she bit out.
“Jesus, woman,” he boomed, looked side to side and back to her. “You’re the one stormed in here, gettin’ up in my face and my space, puttin’ your hands on me, stickin’ your nose in shit that’s not yours to have. What’s your problem?”
“You bring me my checks,” she declared.
“Not anymore,” he fired back.
“You bring me my checks,” she demanded.
He leaned again toward her.
“Not anymore,” he snarled.
And then, Jesus, fuck . . .
She was on him.
She was all over him.
Plastered down his front, hands clenched hard in his hair yanking his head down to hers, she had her mouth to his and her tongue in his mouth.
God, nectar.
Fuck, heaven.
He ripped his mouth from hers, planted a hand in her chest and shoved her back a lot harder than he’d ever touch any woman (or any woman who had not done Chaos wrong) so she reeled away five paces.
He couldn’t apologize.
He needed to draw a line.
For her.
For him.
For her boys.
For Chaos.
“Get your shit together, Keely,” he growled.
“Fuck me, Hound,” she whispered.
His cock, stirring to attention the minute he heard her voice outside a damned door, got instantly hard.
She was watching him and fuck him, fuck him, that needy look on her face . . .
Christ.
It cost him but he replied, “You need it, woman, hook up at a bar or get yourself a vibrator.”
“You know how I need it and you know that won’t work.”
“How did I become your dick to play with?” he asked and did it mean.
He’d hid it from her.
He’d hid it.
He stared right back at her and knew he hadn’t.
“Get the fuck outta my house,” he ground out.
She didn’t get out of his house.
She also didn’t lose eye contact.
Not once, even though he eventually only felt her gaze on him because what she did next, he didn’t have it in him not to watch.
She took off her clothes.
Every stitch.
Standing right in front of him.
Then she turned and he watched her round ass and long legs with her sheet of hair swaying down her back walk out of his living room, down his hall where she disappeared at the end in his bedroom.
He drew in a big breath.
Then he drew in another one.
After that, he prowled down the hall and it took everything he had not to stop dead in the doorway, or turn around and walk right out of his house, never to come back, when he saw her curled on her side on top of his dirty sheets, clutching his pillow to her front, her eyes to him walking through the door.
Her hand was between her legs.
He stopped at the foot of the bed and whispered, “Baby, you need to get the fuck out.”
Again with her gaze latched to him, she pushed the pillow aside, rolled to all fours, crawled to him, and it was a miracle he didn’t come in his jeans when she got close, rose up to her knees and put a hand to his stomach.
“Baby, you need to do me,” she whispered back, running her hand down his stomach, over his belt, cupping his hard crotch.
Hound clenched his teeth.
He’d told her boys time and again, he did not care if they were drunk. He did not care if they were with a tease. He did not care how far it got.
There was no excuse to lose control.
He believed that. Every word he’d spouted at them, drilling it in. Making it pure, fucking gospel that they never took advantage of a woman.
In that instant, he knew he’d lied.
With a low animal noise he didn’t know he had it in him to make, he grasped her at the back of her thighs, yanked forward, making her fall to her back in his bed with her legs open.
And then he dropped to his knees and buried his face in Keely’s pussy.
More nectar.
Sheer heaven.
She wrapped her legs around his head, not his shoulders, his head, her calves drawing him deeper and he ate her, beautiful, fuck, gorgeous, sucking her clit hard, fucking her with his tongue, licking her glistening black curls until they gleamed.
She didn’t groom, not much, enough she could wear a bathing suit.
Other than that, natural, thick, lush, dark, forbidden, Keely.
She panted and she gasped and she bucked under his mouth, and it took way too short of a time to have her wild, writhing, panting, her fingers tight in his hair, her cries piercing the room, coming.
And doing it hard.
He surged up, wiping the back of his hand on his mouth before he grasped her ankles and flipped her to her belly.
She shifted to her side and his hand darted out, spanking one cheek of her round ass.
She stilled except her eyes slid up to him.
“I put you where I want you and I take it like I like it and you give it that way, Keely,” he rumbled, and then watched as the slaked look went out of her face and her hungry one replaced it.
“Yes, Hound,” she whispered.
He put his hands under her arms, yanked her farther into the bed and followed her there.
Once in, he hauled her ass up so she was on her knees, seeing the mark of his hand standing out red on her cheek.
And again he almost came in his pants.
Instead, he reached long to his nightstand.
“No condom,” she breathed. “Just you, baby.”
“Condom,” he grunted, tugging open the drawer.
“Hound, I’ve got it covered so just you and me.”
He gave her his attention and landed a hand sharp on her other cheek.
She quivered visibly.
Fuck, she was undoing him.
“Stay like that,” he ordered, pulling at his belt, undoing his fly, yanking down his jeans, feeling the sweet relief of his dick springing free, watching her the whole time, her cheek in his bed, ass in the air, red from his spankings, the print of his hand marking her . . . both sides.
And he watched her watch him with a need that drew her beautiful features tight as he rolled on the condom.
“Hurry, honey, fuck me,” she begged.
He moved around, positioned, grunted, “Spread,” and watched her do it, his dick jerking. He then grasped her hip in one hand, his cock in the other. He positioned and then thrust in, watching her pussy take him, her body sway with the force of his drive, and he was buried to the root in Keely.
He closed his eyes at the flawless agony of having her wet tight all around, and he couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried when he mounted her, fucking her rough and fast and deep, curving his body over hers, hand in the bed beside her, face in her neck, buried in her hair, listening up close to her excitement, to what he was doing was giving to her, how much she got off on it, as he dove his other hand between her legs and worked her.
Relentless.
It took everything out of him to hold it back as he pushed her through her second orgasm, her third, then heard her beg for him to stop.
“Too much, baby. Too much, Hound. I’m coming apart,” she whispered.
So he pushed her to her fourth and went with her.
It was savage. There wasn’t a woman he’d fuck that hard and that rough.
And there was not a woman that had made him come that powerfully, making him feel his cum didn’t drain from his balls, but from his goddamned soul.
His face was shoved deep in her neck, his cock buried deep in her pussy, his breath coming fast and uneven, when he came back to Keely on his dirty sheets in his shitty bed in his ratty-ass apartment.
It was all he had left to pull out, fall to his back and lift his hips to hike up his jeans.
He didn’t do them up. He didn’t even fully tuck his cock inside.
He stared at the ceiling wondering how in the fuck he’d let that happen.
He’d fucked another brother’s old lady.
He’d fucked Dutch and Jag’s momma.
He’d fucked Keely.
Before he could get his shit together to do whatever he had to do to talk that out with her, get her ass out the door and make plans never to see her face again, she rolled into him and did not hesitate even a second to dive her hand inside his jeans and cup his balls like they were hers to claim.
His eyes slid to her.
“That was not smart,” he growled.
“Wrong,” she returned, giving him a squeeze that made him grunt and honest to fuck, his cock wasn’t even soft yet and it started to get hard as a rock. “What it was, Shepherd ‘Hound’ Ironside is about fucking time.”
“Keely—”
Her hand stayed latched to his boys, she lifted up and her other hand yanked up his tank. “Mama’s gonna take care of you this time,” she whispered, putting her mouth to his chest.
“Keely—” he bit out.
She bit his nipple and threw a leg over him, straddling him and moving her hand to stroke his dick over the spent condom.
Fucking hell, the bitch was in heat.
“Quiet, Hound, got work to do,” she muttered against his skin.
“Woman—” he started, but it was another grunt because she was tugging at him hard.
Her head came up and her beautiful eyes in her flushed face were lazy and excited and hungry and goddamn it, he started fucking her hand.
She grinned.
He let out a muted roar, pulled free but only to roll to seat himself at the edge of the bed, dragging her belly down across his lap.
“Spread
She complied immediately.
So that was when Shepherd “Hound” Ironside taught a latent biker mama an important lesson.
And it would be a tough call to say who got off on it more.
He was on all fours, neck bent, watching himself fuck her face, watching more how much she got off on it, feeling her nails digging into the crack in his ass, when he couldn’t take anymore, pulled out and dragged her up under him.
“I’m on the Pill,” she gasped.
“You take me gloved,” he bit out, reaching for the fourth time to his nightstand.
“Next time, you better have been tested,” she groused.
He wasn’t thinking about the next time.
He was tearing a wrapper off a condom.
He got it on and then buried it.
When he was up in her to the hilt, her back arched off the bed, hitting his chest.
He dropped down and pounded her.
“I want top this time,” she panted.
“Nope,” he declined.
“Baby, no fair, you’ve had top every time.”
“Not the second go,” he reminded her through a grunt.
“You let me ride you about ten seconds.”
Her little, firm tits bouncing, her head thrown back, her pussy clutching him.
That was all he could take.
He drew up a knee and drilled her.
“Just get fucked and quit your bitchin’,” he muttered.
“Hound—”
He locked eyes with her and said, “You keep bitchin’, next time you’re not takin’ me on your back. You’re takin me on your belly and I’m comin’ up your ass.”
He saw she wanted that before he lost her eyes when they closed, she arched her neck and he knew it was time to go in.
He was at her clit for about half a minute before she exploded under him.
He took in that magnificent show and kept fucking her for about two minutes more before he exploded inside her.
Hound was flat on his back.
Keely was flat out at an angle on top of him, her tits, ribs and belly to his chest, her cheek in the bed beside him.
When he turned his head, he saw that last part and that her head was turned away.
He stared at the ceiling again wondering if she’d taken a dick since she lost Black.