Eve
REV DROPS HIS hand and pulls the Princess Mobile back onto the road. That hand just did unspeakable things to me—and I loved it. He touched me and ate me out and now... Yeah. Now I have no clue what to do.
Bet Emily Post wouldn’t have a clue, either.
I lean against the window in a daze, trying not to squeeze my thighs together. Holy crap. The man is out-of-this-world good. Little white-hot pulses of pleasure tease me as we drive and he knows it. The smug smile on his face makes me want to hit him. Okay, and then I want to shove him onto his back and ride him until he’s the one seeing stars.
Huh. We seem to be taking the scenic route to my house.
We’re in industrial central—and my neighborhood is row after row of matching houses with one palm tree and a small grass square in front and a concrete patio in the back. The only difference is the paint color and make of the car in the driveway. Rocker always jokes people will hit the wrong house when they come home drunk or tired.
These are not my streets, not my neighbors.
Granted, Rev has a penis. He’s genetically incapable of asking Siri for directions or using the GPS, but he’s been to my place before. He’s no stranger to East Las Vegas. If he’d missed an exit or taken a wrong turn, I’d expect him to curse or to slow down. Instead, his face is cold and closed off, and the Princess Mobile is driving down the road at exactly the speed limit.
As if Rev really doesn’t want to get pulled over or draw attention to himself right now.
Something’s so wrong.
I fidget with my bag, working my phone out.
He doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Whatever you’re thinking, just sit tight.”
“This is not the way home.” I punch the seat belt free and reach for the door handle. Yes, this is the stupidest choice I could make since jumping out of a moving vehicle at thirty-five miles an hour will hurt. A lot. But something’s wrong here and I have an excellent imagination. I shove the door open and the road spools away beneath us, a lethal ribbon of hard, unyielding surface. I really don’t want to do this—but I can’t stay, either.
“Jesus.” Rev curses and slams on the brakes.
I launch myself out of the RV, duck around the RV and run like hell.
A bike pulls up in front of me hard and Vik leans forward. “Princess doesn’t get parole.”
Oh. God.
I spin away from him, but Rev’s out of the RV, stalking toward me.
Rev
This is what happens when I let my dick do the thinking.
Evie tasted so sweet that I forgot to remember what she is.
Insurance.
She bolted out of the RV like I’d held a gun to her head. She’s pulling a runner on me and Vik’s laughing his ass off. She ducks and weaves around the open car door, but Vik cuts her off easily.
“Hard way or the easy way?” I hold a hand out to her and her mouth opens. “Don’t scream if you’re voting easy.”
There’s a curse from behind her as Vik registers his opinion. He’s not stupid, though. He doesn’t touch what’s mine. Because Evie is mine, even if she doesn’t know it. Gonna make that clear real soon, along with a few other things.
“Fuck you,” she breathes. That’s not a scream, but then she turns and sprints away from me. Not sure where she thinks she’s going because she’s stuck between me and Vik. She tries to cut around the RV, feet flying. The fear radiating off her isn’t unjustified because as much as I’d like to say I’m not planning on hunting her, I am.
I love hunting.
I count to three (I’m such a fucking gentleman) and then pound after her, not trying to hide my approach. Her feet scrabble for purchase as I lunge, fisting her T-shirt. Her ass hits my dick and I snake an arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet. No way she misses the hard-on poking her. Chasing her is a hell of a turn-on.
“You pig,” she hisses. Pretty sure she’s just mentally painted an X on my dick and plans on introducing her knee to that target.
“Sticks and stones, princess,” I whisper against her ear and nip hard. I’d like to play with her until she’s screaming for me, and not because she’s hurting, either. “Are you still wet?”
She splutters incoherently, which will piss her off when she gets her head straight. Evie hates being out of control and not knowing what to say. I give her a few seconds to pull her shit together.
I toss her over my shoulder, immobilizing her kicking legs against my chest with one arm. Still, I take her point. She really doesn’t like me right now. Fine. There’s a long line of people who hate me—she can get in the fucking queue and take a number.
“Might want to be nice to me seeing as how I’m kidnapping you,” I tell her.
She goes straight for the denial. “You can’t do that.”
I pat her ass. “Don’t see how you can stop me.”
Evie’s learned something from our time together. She doesn’t bother announcing her attentions—just opens her mouth and tries to scream. I flip her around, slap a palm over her pretty mouth, and adjust my grip so she can’t bite. The neighborhood’s shit, but somebody might notice.
“Stop playing,” Vik says from behind me.
“Fucking love my job,” I shoot back. “Don’t rush me.”
I nudge Evie’s face up so I can see her eyes.
“We’ve got a problem, princess. Shit’s happened between the clubs and that means you and me have a date at the Hard Rider clubhouse.”
Fuck, that sounds dirty.
From the choking noise Evie makes, she agrees with me 100 percent, except I’m clearly the issue from her point of view.
“We’re riding out of here. You can come with us, or you can fight. Gonna end up at my clubhouse either way, but I’ll be in a better mood if you don’t fight me on this.”
She nods carefully and I lift my palm away from her mouth and set her back on her feet.
“I think you should go to hell,” she says slowly. Vik snorts.
She tries to duck under my arm, as if that shit’s gonna fly. I step closer, pinning her in place against the RV with my legs. She feels sweet as always.
“What’s it gonna be, sweetheart?”
She goes wild, kicking and biting. Fuck, it’s a good thing I’m wearing boots. Vik’s laughing his ass off, the bastard. I grab her wrists and heft her over my shoulder. Her feet drum my ass, her mouth hovering perilously close to my dick and not because she wants to deliver my fantasy blowjob.
“Knock it off.” I slap her on the ass, partly because I have a point to make and partly because goddamn she feels good. Love the soft give as my fingers mark her, putting my stamp on her skin. “Bite me and you kiss it better.”
That stops her, although we both know she’ll rally. Evie doesn’t know how to quit for good. Hell, she probably still thinks I can be redeemed or saved or some shit. I adjust her weight so my shoulder’s not digging into her stomach and open the passenger-side door. I drop her onto the seat and stare down at her.
I grip her chin in my hand and force her to look at me. “It would be a real bad idea to fight me right now. You might buy yourself a few minutes, but then I’d catch you again and I’d be pissed.”
She opens her mouth, undoubtedly to argue. Her mistake is that she thinks I won’t hurt her. I don’t want to hurt her, but the MC comes first and I’ll do what I have to do.
“Rocker fucked up. He took a brother and we want him back. You’re gonna make sure that happens.”
She licks her lips. “How do I do that?”
“Think of yourself as a bargaining chip.”
“But—”
“Nuh-uh. The other option is that I shoot Rocker dearest the next time I see him.”
Being Mr. Helpful, Vik pulls his gun out and thumbs the safety off. Evie stares at him, her panicked breathing coming way too quick as her gaze darts between the gun and me. If she hyperventilates, I’ll have an even bigger problem on my hands.
“Come quietly and we’ll save the bullets for later.”