CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“She’s no friend of mine. She’s my old lady.” – Rider

 

 

 

      Rider recognized pretty quickly as he watched his Icy heal over the weeks, that she was a rare woman. She was addictive with a pure heart, throughout all its damage, it was pure and good ... but it came with a dirty mind.

      He smiled slowly, watching her from across the room as she laughed with big Jim, her cheeks flush from whatever compliment he was giving her today. He did that a lot. Jim was a good man, a great biker-asset to his club from the original format, one of the few Rider had kept on board, and he'd taken Zara under his fatherly wing. Same with his uncle Jed who had deemed Zara ‘girlie’ from day one and told him he liked her and to make her fucking smile already.

      Rider was trying his hardest.

      He continued to watch her. His eyelids dropping to half mast, lazy and full of desire.

      She looked like snow wouldn't melt even on the hottest of days. Still with her prom queen face and wavy prima donna hair, though her clothes were a helluva lot different now than the first time he'd seen her, Zara was a good girl with a dirty mind.

      And he was the only lucky one who knew it.

      Lucky fucking him.

      His girl was a hungry little thing for all things concerning him even to the point her libido overtook his.

     "What's got you smiling like an idiot, Prez? Or need I ask..." Rider heard from behind and cocked his head, breaking the view of Zara, turning to see a grinning Preacher giving it the jiggling eyebrows.

       “You really wanna call me an idiot today and die, Preach? That’s gonna cut into all your dick-time isn’t it? How many women you got on your hook right now, six, seven? That’s gonna be some glamorous fuckin’ wake. It’ll be tits for days.”

      Preacher barked a laugh. Shithead amused pegging the reason for Rider's smile.

      Rider slid his eyes back to Zara for a second.

      Shit was going well with her in the office, she worked with him and his treasurer.

      Texas was pleased to hand over the customer-service to her, his money man was a lot of things, he could invest in money pits and turn them into gold mines, but tactful was not one of them and if he told a cantankerous customer to go fuck themselves once more Rider was going to straight up strangle him.

      “Nah, nothing like that, bro. You have too many on the dick at once and they get to talking with each other and that’s when jealous rages happen. You ever had a chick take a baseball bat to your bike? I had to bury that old girl. The bike, not the chick.” something slick in Preacher’s grin made Rider flash his own.

     Preacher loved the women, plural, in varying shapes and colors, and they all loved him in return. “But now you’re all matrimonially hooked up to that sweet thing you wouldn’t know ‘bout that would ya?” he winked at Rider who dismissed it with an eye-roll.

     “Don’t get dead anytime soon from a crazy one who thinks you're gonna put a ring on it, Preach. I might need you to head out of town. I’ll let you know at the next church.”

     “Fucck yeah. I’m down for an out of town pussy-hunt, Prez.” He joked and Rider knew it from his tone.

      His voice might have been aimed at his boy, but his eyes were all over Zara.

      She’d been liquid soft during the night after coming home from his late-night ride, pliant and whimpering for his cock.

      The cock he couldn’t shove deep enough into her to satisfy them both for very long, they’d just kept going until she’d fallen back to sleep exhausted beneath him.

      Thank fuck because he’d been about dead, he’d collapsed at Zara’s side, perspiration covering his body, unable to rise to shower himself off, he’d gathered her in fitting her small frame into his ribs and fell into sleep with her.

      His body didn’t remember the fatigued fuck he’d had just a few hours ago, it didn’t recall how drained he was, she’d wrung his dick out and put it away wet, not when he was growing hard just watching her mingle and talk to his brothers.

      “Eye fuck much, Rider. You're gonna go blind.” laughed Preacher nudging his shoulder with his wide one. “Give us a heads up if you’re gonna get down and dirty so we can clear out, or grab a seat. I’m easy either way. Just tell me something…”

      Rider turned his head finally breaking his gaze from Zara’s laughing face, his brow arched. Whatever Preacher was about to say his smirk said it was nothing Rider wanted to hear.  He folded his arms and waited for the punchline.

      “I’m all for Z-girl being the new queen, get me, Prez? She’s a sweet little thing, I like her. But…” his dirty grin only widened. “She'a screamer, yeah?”

     Rider’s warning growl rumbled. In addition, he took a step forward to knock his teeth out. Preacher laughed and took off yelling over his shoulder he had a harem to service.

     Fucking asshole, Rider shook his head with a slight grin, knowing Preacher he probably did.

      As for Rider, he’d done enough eye-fucking, he waited until she glanced his way and gestured her over.

     Motioning with two fingers. He saw her brow arch. So fucking royally it made him hard. An untapped laugh rumbled deep in Rider’s chest. Look at her, he thought, with her chin held high, the spark of defiance in her pale eyes, so strong, and so still so unsure of their new relationship.

      The two aspects of Zara in constant battle with her every action. But that pull and tug made her what she was now, what years of hardship had molded her to be. He was enjoying seeing her emerge into herself again, one feisty bite at a time.

      And what she was, here and right now, always, was his.

      Only his.

      If it took Rider a lifetime to convince his old lady, then that's what he'd do.

      Old lady. It felt right.

      He wanted her on the back of his bike being his club queen. And maybe more one day.

     She called what they were dating friends she wouldn't accept anything else because she was damaged, in her words. He deserved more, she'd told him one heated night when he was still slicked with sex sweat.

      He’d fuck friends right off her tongue. No friend had ever been on his cock so much, his Icy needed to drop that fucking opinion already.

      Fuck that. Rider deserved his old lady.

      Zara was his goddamn old lady whether she liked it or not.

      She could continue to tell him she was broken and unworthy of him and he'd want her.

      Crave her.

      Need her.

      Want to fuck her every goddamn minute of the night.

      Funny that Rider warned his men about addictions, to stay off the drugs, keep the booze down to a dull roar, and here he was, fully fledged, inducted into the addiction hall of fame.

      His drug was five foot three and glaring at him.

      The beat of her heart matched rhythm with his, as he caught her wrist soon as she was close enough, dragging her forward to bump into his body.

     Delicate. Blonde. A fucking Amazonian of a woman.

      He'd witnessed as days went by her backbone rebuild itself, her confidence grew. And with each passing day when she understood, there was no fists coming at her from his club members she became a little bit sassier.

      And she had some humor on her, dry. Funny as shit.

      A shadow of her former self he'd brought home with him.

      But that part of Zara he’d once known was gone. The sweet virgin he'd...shit, he couldn't think of how he'd spoiled her dirty, or his dick would take all the blood supply and he needed to think.

      She wasn't the same girl. But then he was not the same guy, either. They were enjoying getting to each other as they were now.

      He'd been a jerk to her, letting her think he didn't want to see her again. Truth was, and he could admit it now, with age came wisdom and the courage to admit wrongs, he'd been knocked off his goddamn boots that night. Sex was out of this world and he'd felt too much for her all at once. Arranged for her to see him with whatshername's mouth locked around his cock.

     Stupid fucking asshat.

      She was never going to let him forget that screw-up. He didn't know then what she'd mean to him. He just had an inkling and it scared the fuck out of him. No doubt about it his cock loved her then and now, more now he’d dirtied her. It just so happened his heart was in on the action now, too.

      A hard-worn biker with dirty and bad under his belt was feeling love.

      He'd got the woman he deserved.

      The one to be at his back, in his confidence, the one to laugh with and fuck into new year until he died of orgasm overload.

      He wanted to be the man she deserved.

     "Hey, baby." his nose knocked against hers.

      In comfort, reflex now, Rider's large palm skated down Zara's back. Her sudden shudder went with the feel of her softening and she gave an involuntary mewling sound low in her throat.

      “I told Tiny I would help with dinner. Can you believe he doesn’t know how to make meatloaf? It’s un-American. I googled a recipe because don’t tell him but I haven’t made one either, but it can’t be that difficult.”

      As much as Rider had not given that one lick of a thought ever before he couldn’t care less if Tiny knew his left from his right, his hands snaked down Zara’s back, keeping her flush to his body, those same hands came to rest on the dip of her spine where she had those two adorable as hell dimples above her ass. “Couldn’t give a fuck, Zara,“ he told her smiling. “And he’ll have to manage his meat on his own.” aware of the double entendre he grinned pressing his mouth to her ear. “You’re gonna be busy.”

     “Busy with what? I told you I got all up to date with that disaster of a cabin office and if you dare leave invoices that far behind again I will scream, you were sitting on hundreds of dollars and not even known about it. I mean, Really, Rider, that’s bad management. “

      Sweet as fuck. Rider grinned down at her.

      And while some of his men and prospects milled about the club, Jed at the bar, as usual, Grinder taking on one of the hangaround's at pool, most everyone bunkering down from the howling snow outside, he cupped the back of Zara’s head bringing her in closer to his body, his thumb tipped up her chin, she had that shy look in her eyes, he loved that.

      “You gotta know, Icy. I like takin’ care of you. Like that you take care of my shit over at the office, Texas told me he watched you sweet talk big Brian over at the haulage yard into paying his bill early, never saw Tex gush before, I think you got a fan, baby, he wants me to double your pay just to keep you. He doesn’t know I’m already keepin’ you.” she sucked in her breath.

      Rider liked that as well, her feelings were right on the surface for him to see making her eyes sparkle. “Having said all that shit, you’re gonna be busy today, ‘cause even though I had you just this morning, all honey and soft wakin’ for me, my cock wants those sweet lips right now. Come with me, Icy.” Latching onto her hand he set off walking, taking her with him. His room felt like it was ten miles away, and if he knew he wouldn’t get interrupted by one or more of his knucklehead boys he’d push her into the nearest room with a door.

      “Yo, Prez!”

      Jesus fucking Christ above.

      Rider came to a stop; his ass hadn't even left the common room yet and the toddlers were screeching for him. He turned his snarl on Preacher.

      Thin fucking ice, brother.

     “What?” His growl was hateful. Cockblocked at every goddamn turn by these shitheads. At his side, Zara was giggling curled around his hand, her body leaning into his side, he liked her there.

     Preacher grinned and jutted his head out of the window. “We got some company of the kin kind. You might wanna put down your girl for a second.”

      Again, Rider cursed. Were his family here? The fuck. He spoke to his mother just yesterday and he wasn’t due to see them until the thanksgiving weekend.

      “Who is it?” Asked Zara.

      Dropping an idle kiss to her forehead, Rider’s brow bunched.

      “About to find out. Wait here, baby.” If it was his father Rider would lose his fucking shit, he had no time for him today, or ever. He saw who it was a minute later when he’d strode over to the main entrance, a half-pint size lump in a white fur lined Parka coat, the hood obscuring her face poured herself through the door, dumping her bag at her feet before launching into Rider’s opened arms, he pulled his baby sister into a tight hug.

 

 

******

 

      When Rider lifted the woman off her feet hugging her with a giant grin on his gorgeous face, Zara stood back and observed. Only a tiny little bit jealous poking at her belly. The pair had a closeness, that much she could tell, but it didn’t feel sexual. Like the kiss he’d just pressed to Zara’s forehead, he did the same to the woman as she pushed the hood of her coat back to let a long mass of black hair fall free.

      He cared for the woman, she noted.

      Zara used these minutes to get her heart back under control, sex was out of the question now, though her body hadn’t got the memo yet and was still in full throttle mode.

       The sight of him, in his tight fitted too worn denim and his leather cut over his navy Henley shirt, his hair swept up in a messy bun, and his eyes so intense, turned the blood in her veins to boiled syrup.

      Zara visibly sucked in a breath. He made her legs feel like soft noodles.

     Especially when he whispered dirty things like he had.

     Rider had no filter whatsoever and she loved it.

    The attraction was real. It wasn’t a passing fancy, a passion for burning itself out. It was real and growing out of control. She was sore between her legs, a memory of the ungodly stretching he’d made her do at two am this morning when he’d arrived back at the compound and woke her with his skilled mouth and wicked fingers showing her just how real their passion was with no end in sight.

     There’d been no grace in just how she’d came awake.

      The sob had stuck in her throat, more than ready for him so when he slammed inside she’d cried out as a plea for more even as her body twinged a little not entirely used to the size of him.

      It was true Rider had filled out more in the last three years, his shoulders were broader, his sharp rippled belly tapered down to lean hips she loved looking at, his long strides eating up the floor wherever he walked to. Gorgeous biker man, for sure.

      The woman laughed, throwing her head back, she was truly beautiful, slim beneath her coat, jeans encased her legs and she wore gorgeous winter boots, curiosity eating at Zara, who was she?

      When Rider's back was to her, she inhaled an obvious second breath, this one much longer, it held there in her lungs…oh man, his back was wider, too. The cut was stretched, formed completely to his body as if born there as part of his skin.

      Seriously. He was far too handsome. And built like a skyscraper.  And she was sleeping with him as often as she could.

      He'd been big before. Engrained in her brain. Now he was just … there. Before she was caught ogling like he was a side of chocolate dipped in chocolate served on a bed of chocolate, Zara cleared her throat and wrenched her gaze away before the jealous monster growing in her belly got out of control, if Rider wanted her to know who the woman was he’d introduce her, standing here marking him as hers with eyes all over his eyes was a little bit ridiculous.

     Her body swerved to the right out of sight of the animated conversation taking place across the common room, only to be hit with a pair of pale, almost crystal, blue eyes and a dark sinister smirk

      Her entire body recoiled from Hawk’s look of contempt. She took a step back, feeling her Vans slide on the rug.

      The Vice President was equally imposing in stature and just as wide, but where Rider was undeniably handsome, she had no idea and truly didn’t want to know what Hawk had going on under all his facial hair. The man had invented scary, he was CEO of terrifying and held a lifetime’s membership to ‘don’t get in my face and I won’t kill you’ club. She wouldn’t be applying to that anytime soon.

     Something slithered coldly under her skin as she met his eyes, her head back, chin up defiantly though her fight or flee instincts were screaming at her to head in the opposite direction.

      All the elements around her became starkly heightened under his watchful stare.  She guessed already he didn't like her, she didn't need a long raving conversation to tell her that. Some things you picked up quick on someone else’s body language.

      A dark glare, a sneer, avoidance, ignoring. All glaring road signs.

    Whatever was Hawk's issue, not her problem, she had enough on her mind, without borrowing worry she had no control over.

      Hawk avoided being in her company any time she ventured into the main living area, said as few words as possible, and she was good with that, frankly, he made her teeth on edge, not a hard effort, she was jumpy, to begin with, but Hawk was different.

     Though Zara had stayed on the periphery within the club most of the time, she'd always felt those astute eyes on her, assessing with silent scorn as though he'd been judge jury and executioner and deemed Zara his club’s enemy.

      Well, whoop-dee-do for him. Hawk and his Jesus' hair were so wrong. If she'd read anything with her time at the Rebels, it was when to recognize want in a man's gaze. Thank god, she didn't see it from Hawk. That would be plain weird and creepy.                

      She was not desirable to the scary man. Thank god.

     "Something you want?" She asked tersely looking for an exit, the way he was glaring who could blame her tone.

      Zara couldn't recall seeing the VP crack a smile let alone laugh.

      But as fast as he stared at her, his gaze slid slickly across the room, she watched him stiffen from head to toe, all his attention was on Rider and the woman.

     Scratch that, Hawk wasn’t looking at Rider at all, he was all about the woman laughing at whatever Rider had said to her.

      Curiously, Zara’s brow rounded up.

      Did Hawk know the woman as well?

      She observed his chest inflate hard under his cut stretching the material right as the woman looked over at Hawk, smiled at him with a short wave and said “Hey, Hawk.”

      Hawk’s face went from dark to...darker.

      He ignored Zara’s question altogether, turned on his boots and stalked away.

     Weird, she mused.

      But he was a weird man. Scary and fucking weird.

     “Icy.” Rider called out, doing that finger motion thing to her again, did he think she was a dog? Good thing she liked him.

      He was smiling so she smiled back shyly noticing the woman’s curious eyes on her now.

      “Get over here and meet my pain in the ass sister who didn’t tell me she was coming into town.”

      His sister. Ah. Her jealous beast retreated, no cat fights today for her man.

      Her man? God, Calm down, possessive much.

      “If you won’t tell me you have a girlfriend you’ve been hiding, Ambrosio! Then I guess I have to come and see for myself don’t I, big brother?“ His sister declared with a swat to Rider's arm though she sent a friendly smile Zara's way. “Hi. I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Gia. If Ambrosio is the black sheep of the family, then I'm the-----“

      "Princess in waitin' Yeah, we know, squirt, you just need a crown." interrupted the black sheep in question.

     “Never mind him. Whatever he's told you about me is complete lies. And let me tell you all the crap I have on him, some of it is a doozy! you’re going to love it, great for blackmailing him" Zara laughed as Rider shook his head.

      She liked Gia instantly.

      She barely heard Rider grumble about "Gossipin' fuckin' outlaw’s"

      No big deal or anything.  Just Zara was being introduced to his family as his girlfriend.

      So much for being just friends.

      Who sleep in the same bed with their intimate parts locked together. No big deal or anything.