CHAPTER FOUR
Starlet
I collapse in the shower, welcoming the feel of the hot water all over my body. My legs are like jelly after making love with Brick a third time. So much so, I begged for a break and private time in the bathroom. He’s a machine. Seriously. He cums and then his erection never dies. I think he missed his true calling, the porn industry would welcome him with open arms. I scoot to the back of the tub, lean my head back, and scrub off what makeup is left on my face.
My butt still stings from the playful spanking he gave me. Light, punishing slaps on both cheeks, while he buried himself deep inside me. I close my eyes and relive the moments—appreciating the fact that Brick made sure I orgasmed multiple times. Something I’m not accustomed to. My husband rarely considered my needs when we had sex. If I happened to cum before he finished, it was pure luck. Not that I’m comparing the two. Satisfaction is new to me.
It’s scary and exciting. I open my eyes and reach for the razor I set on the side of the tub. I lather conditioner on my legs and shave. Next, I stand and wash my hair and body. Once I’m out of the shower, I sit on the closed toilet seat and light a cigarette, taking a couple deep drags. I haven’t smoked since I was eighteen, but I stopped to get a pack after I fled the compound. The smoke is sucked out of the room by the overhead fan. I take another drag, appreciating the calming effect of the nicotine, but not the nasty taste in my mouth.
I know I shouldn’t pick up this bad habit again. Feeling utterly guilty, I stand, open the toilet, and throw the rest of the cigarette in the bowl and flush it down. After I get settled, I’ll give it up for good.
Steam rolls out of the bathroom as I open the door and step in front of the vanity. I stare at myself in the mirror, able to see Brick, too. He’s propped up on two pillows on the bed, staring at me. I didn’t bother wrapping a towel around my body. I want him to see me, to want me again. Tonight is the only time I’ve ever let go of my fear and indulged in my private fantasies. Seducing a stranger and not caring what happens in the morning. After I wake up, reality will bite back again. Until then…
“Starlet,” he calls.
I ignore him and continue combing my hair out with my fingers, running leave-in conditioner through the long strands.
“Starlet,” he says again, rolling off the bed and standing.
My gaze immediately drops to between his legs. He’s beautiful, thick and long. I can’t hide my smile and quickly cover my mouth with both hands.
“That’s what I like most about you,” he says.
“What?” I turn around.
“That gorgeous smile. What were you thinking about?”
“Do you really need me to tell you?” He’s so freakin’ arrogant. But it works for him, because he doesn’t come off as a complete asshole. Just a big guy who knows what he wants.
“I can guess, but I’d rather hear you say it.”
He’s only a few feet away now and my body immediately reacts to his closeness—quivering. Wet heat pools between my thighs. I’m so ready for him again. I meet his hard gaze. “I know where you got your nickname from.”
He crosses his arms. “Yeah?”
“That.” I gesture at his erection. Sexy, scary biker boy knows he has the perfect cock. And it’s mine for the night.
“Come here.” He surges forward so quickly I don’t have time to take a full breath.
Brick lifts me onto the edge of the vanity and then spreads my legs wide. His hands are all over me, fondling my breasts and slipping a finger between my legs. I arch my back, basking in the pleasure of his touch—his desire to make me feel good. I love being the center of attention. Wanted. Admired. I feel dangerously beautiful right now. He tugs me closer to the edge of the counter and that’s when I see he’s already wearing a condom.
I swallow my nervous laughter. “Do you walk around with one of those on all the time?”
He rewards me with one of his bad boy grins. As he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back, he thrusts inside me, feeding me his full length. He stretches and fills me so completely I cry out in absolute ecstasy, feeling more like a woman than I ever have. It’s difficult to explain—enjoying his complete domination yet knowing I have control of the situation at the same time. My flesh is on fire and so is my mind. I lock my ankles behind his back and circle my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss. It shocks me when he slides his hands underneath my ass and effortlessly lifts me off the vanity, then carries me to the closest wall, pinning me against it. Slamming into me again and again, all I can think about is where has this man been all of my life? I peak again, but it doesn’t stop him from taking more.
I let out an exasperated breath, fighting to keep up with Brick. He’s unbelievable—relentless and so powerful. Where does hunger like that come from? Do I even need to ask? I’m starving for a human connection. And this … well, it exceeds all of my expectations.
Miraculously, my body recovers and I find the strength to fight back—to take everything I want from him. Holding me up with one arm, he caresses my cheek with his other hand, gazing into my eyes.
“Say my name, Starlet. Say it now.”
“Brick.”
“No. Austin. Say it.”
“Oh. God.” I’m about to cum again. “Austin.”
Hearing me cry out his real name must have unleashed something raw and brutal, because he sweeps me off the wall and carries me to the bed. I’m unceremoniously disconnected from his body, flipped over, and pushed to my knees. He wraps an arm around my waist and tugs me backward—piercing me in one powerful stroke.
The sound of our bodies smacking together, the mental high I’m on, and the slickness he’s inspired between my legs is too much. He slams into me again and again.
“Tell me you want me.”
“I-I do…” I can barely speak.
“Say it.”
“Fuck me, Austin. P-please, don’t stop.”
His hips snap vigorously, and I scream—completely lost in him.
“I love your pussy,” he says. “I need it.”
I feel his body stiffen behind me, his arm tightens around my waist like a steel band. Then he goes dead-still and roars as he cums.
* * *
Brick
I spread my legs and lean back in the chair across from the bed where Starlet is sleeping. I light a Marlboro and suck the smoke in, then blow it out, making a smoke ring. I watch it break apart over my head and then take another drag. Even when she’s sleeping, Starlet is beautiful, almost angelic. That’s how I want to remember her.
I scrub my face with my hand, her soft, lingering scent still on my fingers. That’s another unforgettable thing about her—she smells good everywhere. I grin and treat myself to a long, slow whiff. Fucking amazing.
If I were any other man, I’d probably stick around for a while and get to know her. She’d be worth the time and effort. But I have pressing obligations and no desire to get involved with anyone. Not even her.
I’m already overdue in Shreveport. I don’t do schedules very well, unless there’s an emergency. When I received my orders in Philly, directing me to a new chapter opening in Louisiana with the possibility of a vice presidency, I almost refused. Blame my fucked-up childhood for the lack of commitment, spending two years on average in one location, then suffering the consequences of my father getting stationed somewhere else.
I lived in seven states and four countries in eighteen years—my father dating a different girlfriend wherever we went. England was my favorite spot, Elise Davidson, a girl my father almost married, the closest thing to a mother I ever had. She left after he broke her nose for burning his steak. That killed any hope for a normal life. Dad blamed me, his retaliation lasted until I moved out.
Now I pretty much have the same lifestyle, jumping place-to-place without making lasting connections. It serves me well. I don’t give a shit about anyone or anything, really. Just surviving. Just leaving my mark behind.
Starlet stirs. I wore that little body out. I’d like more, a lot more, but I’m not heartless. She needs rest, and I need some time to think.
My cell vibrates and I fish it out of my vest pocket. It’s a text message from one of my brothers in Philly.
Call Pauli. There’s been no word of your location in weeks. WTF?
Giant Jim is the closest thing I have to a real friend. He’s a brother I take the time to keep in touch with. The man took a bullet for me, which means something in my world.
I text back. In Louisiana. Caught in a storm. Will report to the clubhouse tomorrow.
Good to know.
Night, asshole.
There’s no reply.
I put my cigarette out in the glass ashtray on the table, then get dressed. I need to check my bike before I get some sleep. I grab the room key and trudge outside, glad the rain has stopped. The motel is surrounded by thick vegetation, the kind you expect to see in a South American jungle. And the heat is thick enough to cut with a knife. That will take some getting used to.
I stare up at the cloudy sky, a sliver of the moon visible. All of this will take some getting used to. I miss the sounds in the city, that unique Philly noise. The vendors and food. The sports fans. But I like the open spaces here—riding for miles on a backroad without seeing a car. That’s why I’m late, I camped on the way, even did some hunting and fishing. Every man needs to get back to nature to satisfy his most primitive instincts.
In the morning, club business will dominate my life again. I sigh, deliberating whether or not I should wake Starlet up for a last ride. I’d like to have her on top this time, see what she can do. I smile. Just as I’m about to head back to the room, I hear a woman cry out from around the corner of the building. She’s obviously distressed, and I’m pissed because I know what I’m likely to find. Following the noise, I spot her wedged between a late model truck and some asshole who won’t let her go.
“Leave me alone, Jordan.” She tries to push him away.
“Always blame everyone but yourself, Dee.”
“I didn’t ask for the drink, did I? Is it my fault the guy sent the waitress over? I didn’t even look at him.”
“Get in the truck, Dee.”
“No. I’ll call a cab.”
“Get. In. The. Fucking. Truck. Deanna.”
This time, the tiny blond manages to duck under his raised arm. Before she gets a foot away, he grabs her by the hair and tugs her back to where she was standing before.
Motherfucker… “Hey.” I stalk over, pissed my quiet night has been interrupted by a piece-of-shit woman beater. “Let her go.”
Jordan spins around, a scowl on his ugly mug. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Who do you want me to be?” I edge closer, inches away from both of them. I turn my attention to the girl, she’s crying and trembling. “You okay?”
She nods.
“Here.” I hand her a twenty. “Go back inside the bar and tell Martin to set you up with a couple drinks and a room. I’ll settle up with him in the AM.”
She doesn’t move—only stares at me unbelieving.
“Take the money, sweetheart,” I say gently.
“Don’t walk away from me, Dee.”
Short on patience, I grab Jordan by the throat. “Did she ask for your opinion?”
He starts to struggle in my grasp, but I pinch his throat tighter. He’s the stereotypical redneck, wearing a dark colored T-shirt and dirty jeans, a cowboy hat, and boots. Why would a girl as pretty as Dee date a sonofabitch like him? I shake my head. “Go on, Dee.”
“T-thank you,” she whispers. “I-I don’t even know your name.” She gazes at my patches on the front of my vest.
“Brick.”
“What if I want to find you?”
“The clubhouse is in Shreveport,” I say. “Ever need anything, reach out.”
She hurries away, never looking back.
Jordan tries to break free to stop her, but I whirl him around and slam him against the truck. “You don’t want to do that.”
His eyes go wide with understanding and I let him go. “Do you know who I am now?” He couldn’t miss my patches, there’s streetlights everywhere around the bar and motel.
Straightening his shirt, he opens his mouth to say something.
“Think before you speak,” I warn, cracking my knuckles, ready to take the asshole down if I have to.
“She’s my fiancé,” he says. “I don’t want her…”
“You lost any right to tell her what to do the minute you laid violent hands on her. The best thing you can do is climb in that Chevy and go home. If Dee isn’t here and safe in the morning, I know where to find you, Jordan.” I gesture to the company logo on his truck, Aces High Landscaping.
Gaze shooting to the bar, he stares at it for a long time, then looks at me again. “When did the Iron Norsemen start interfering with people’s personal lives?”
“The minute I rolled into town,” I say.
He swallows hard and fishes his keys out of his front pocket. On a huff, he walks around to the driver’s side of his truck and gets in. I step back a few feet and watch as he revs the engine, backs out of his parking space, and screeches out of the lot, speeding down the road.