Torched Page 11

  Luckily, after years of practice, he could unwrap and roll on a condom with one hand in no time. He dropped his forehead to hers, positioning his cock at her slit, and began sliding it up and down her wet lips with slow and controlled moves of his hips. As her eyes rolled back in ecstasy, he reached into the nightstand and pulled out a rubber. All it took was a turn of his head to rip it open with his teeth and flick the wrapper aside.

  She moaned and pursed her lips, begging for his mouth. He fucking happily obliged, pretty sure he’d never be able to get enough of hers. He wanted to breathe her in and swallow a part of her she could never ask to get back. Because if she was going to take part of him with her—like he already knew would happen—he’d do the same.

  As he kissed her with wild abandon, he reached down and rolled the condom on without breaking their flow, then let his hands wander back to those sublime tits. Flawless.

  His hands must’ve felt like fucking sandpaper on her skin, but Liv’s body responded with more of that primal desire she’d come at him with. Her breathing became labored and she pushed her groin into his. Her leg curled around his back. “Torch, baby, you’re killing me. Please,” she pleaded.

  Jesus Christ, it was music to his ears. “Tell me what you want, beautiful.”

  “You know what I—”

  “Tell me,” he growled.

  “Goddamn it… Fuck me, Torch. I need your cock inside me. Now!”

  Fuck, there it was. That dirty mouth on his pretty woman. It was too much to handle, he was just torturing himself now. He wanted her. He needed her. More than he needed to breathe.

  She was completely drenched. He didn’t even have to point it in the right direction, his arrow-straight cock drove into her like a fucking missile.

  “Holy shit!” she screamed out, her other leg hooking around him and pulling him deeper into her burning hot center. With every thrust, she pushed into him, enveloping his throbbing dick in her tight walls and clawing at his back hard enough to leave marks. Every inch of her felt like heaven, taking him so deep he thought he’d never get his dick back.

  “Fuck, baby,” he grunted, sweat beading up over every inch of his body. “This pussy could make a grown man weep.”

  He wanted to keep her pinned, to possess her until she was a puddle beneath him. But he also wanted to free her from those shackles she wouldn’t talk about. Motherfucking hell, he was turning into that guy. And he didn’t even give a shit.

  He released her wrists, reached under her, and pulled her body back with his as he leaned back on his knees. She wrapped her arms around his neck and balanced herself in his lap. He didn’t know whether she’d catch the significance of him sharing the reins, but when she pulled back smiling—running those long fingers through his tangled hair—he knew she got it.

  With his cock deep inside her, he groaned and closed his eyes. She leaned forward again and pressed her forehead against his, then slowly rocked her hips, shooting waves of absolute euphoria through his whole fucking body.

  “Fuck me hard, Torch,” she demanded in his ear.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Hurricane Livia descended on him with a vengeance. She anchored herself to his shoulders and ground into him with a frenzy.

  “Come with me, baby,” Torch demanded selfishly. He just couldn’t hold back much longer, but there was no way he was getting his first.

  “I’m… almost… fuck!” After a few more blows, Liv’s pussy tightened and spasmed around him. Torch exploded at almost the same exact time, his long-suffering dick finally releasing weeks worth of pent up misery.

  “God. Damn.” Sweat dripped down his shaking body.

  She held onto him for dear life, while her chest expanded, contracted, and gasped for air. They stayed in that position, breathing up all the oxygen in the room, until all that was left of their carnal bliss was a puddle of her fluids between them.

  Torch kissed her again, before laying her down and begrudgingly pulling out. He tossed the condom away and flopped down on his back next to her. Fuck if he didn’t feel like she’d knocked more than his seed out of him. “Baby?”

  She turned her head. “Hmm?”

  “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

  Liv sat up, as if she’d gotten her second wind already, and grinned wickedly over at him. “I can think of a way to keep the Reaper at bay,” she teased seductively.

  “Mmmm,” he moaned. “How’s that, sweetheart?”

  She threw a leg over him and pulled herself up to straddle him. The feeling of her dripping pussy sliding against his hungry cock sent it into another tizzy. “We’re not done yet, handsome,” she whispered in his ear, before taking a nibble.

  Fuck. Him.

  : : : :

  Torch was wide awake, relishing the feeling of Liv’s naked body tucked tightly in his, when the burner vibrated. He blamed her mystical cunt for turning him into a total bitch and enjoying something as ridiculous as cuddling after sex. But what they’d done wasn’t just another romp in the hay. Five fucking times they’d gone at it, in every position imaginable, every round more intense and fucking incredible than the last.

  Christ, she’d turned him inside out. Thank fuck none of his brothers were around to see this shit, he’d never live it down. No, scratch that, they would’ve tried to get a piece themselves.

  He reached over and looked at the glowing caller ID: Buddha. Torch made every attempt not to wake her as he shifted out of bed.

  Grabbing his jeans from the floor, he pulled them on and headed outside to have a smoke and call his Pres back. Buddha picked up after a single ring. “Sorry to interrupt the fuckfest,” he greeted.

  If he’d actually been sorry, he wouldn’t have fucking interrupted. “It’s all good, man. What’s going on?”

  “Where you at?”

  “Still in Ohio. Stopped at Snoop’s place for the weekend.”

  “There was an accident, son. Tin Man’s layed up in the ICU and it ain’t looking good.”

  “What? What the fuck happened?” Tin Man was Buddha’s long-time VP, notorious for being untouchable. He’d narrowly escaped death more times than a fucking cat.

  “Dropped his bike going a hundred in the rain. Missed a turn and slid right into a guardrail.”

  “Son of a bitch. Why the hell was he going so fast in shit weather?”

  “Who the hell knows. Probably took off pissed after another fight with Becky. She’s been a real bitch lately.”

  “Fuck.” Torch took a deep drag of his cigarette. That was exactly why he wouldn’t get tangled up with a bitch again. They fucked you stupid, then fucked everything up. Good pussy could kill. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, fully aware of why Buddha was calling him at five in the morning.

  “I need you back, son. Shit’s getting tense around here. The shipment was short and the Russians are threatening to pull out. With Tin layed up, I need a VP I can trust to back me up when it comes time for head’s to roll.”

  “VP? What the fuck makes you think I’m the man for that job? Didn’t exactly show leadership by going nomad when shit went balls up. Where’s Grimm at with all this?”

  “G’s doing good as Sarge. He’s got the brawn to keep the club in line and likes where he’s at. I need you for your brains, Torch. He’s clear on that.”

  “Man, I bailed—”

  “Need I remind you of the deal we made when the table voted to let you go nomad? You get your fucking sentimental ass back here. There’s gonna be another vote, but the general consensus is everybody at the table wants you by my side.”

  Torch could’ve used a few more weeks on the road, but he had his orders. The club always came first. “When?” he asked.

  “Right away. Get a little sleep and head out.”

  Fuck, thirteen hundred miles straight on a bike was going to be brutal, but he had to do it.

  “Alright. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Good. Son?”

  “Yeah.”

/>   “Watch your back.”

  “Always.”

  “Gonna be good to have you back, Torch.”

  “Gonna be good to be back, brother. See you soon.”

  He tossed his cigarette and headed back inside, pausing at the sight of the peaceful-looking creature still crashed out in his bed. So fucking peaceful that he knew he had to take advantage of it and get out before she woke up, no matter how much he wanted to get wrapped up in her just one last time. But he couldn’t risk his dick getting him in trouble, begging for one more taste. He’d never be able to leave. And even though they both knew it was coming, he really wasn’t into goodbyes.

  As he watched her sleep, he considered taking her with him. She had no family, no friends outside of this shithole as far as he knew, and would be forging ahead on her own. The club could protect her, make her feel safe, and nobody would ask questions if he vouched for her.

  But club life wasn’t rainbows and unicorns either, especially for the women. They were expected to stick to their roles, and the law was always trying to get to them for information. Even if he took her on as an old lady—something he’d never do again—she’d get a whole new set of problems just by being associated with the MC.

  It would’ve been selfish to take her from one shit situation to another. She deserved a good life. For a woman who’d already been on her own for years, she wasn’t naive. She had his number. As far as he was concerned, it was her choice whether or not to take advantage of that.

  He glanced over at Liv’s purse and saw the pouch containing Emily’s bracelet sticking out. He crept over to it and then back to the bed, where he gently clasped it around her wrist. He couldn’t help but touch her cheek and soak her in for a minute.

  He decided to leave her a note, she deserved that much at least. He found a pen and piece of paper and jotted it down:

  Baby,

  I have to go, my club needs me. I’m sorry. You have my number, use it.

  -Torch

  Short and to the point. It was all he had in him. He placed the note on his vacant pillow and took one last look at her. This stunning woman had single-handedly brought him back to life. For that, he would forever be in her debt.

  He quietly closed the door behind him and loaded up his saddlebags. Not giving himself time to change his mind, he tore out of the parking lot and headed west.

  : 9 :

  Denver, Colorado

  Eight years later

  “Your pussy’s so good, baby,” Jared grunted in my ear, pounding away from behind.

  This was pretty much all he knew how to do. The guy had the stamina of a horse, and the girth of one too, but nothing extraordinary in the way of technique. It was partly my fault, only ever letting him hit it cowboy style for fear of getting irritated if I stared at his face too long. Out of sight, out of bored mind. It was only when I couldn’t see who was giving it to me, that I could picture the man whose touch I actually craved.

  Jared was not that man, nor were the ones before him. They’d all been nothing but stand-ins for the one who I’d only had once, but predictably ruined me for all those who followed.

  I purposely sought men like Jared—easy to please and easier to quit. Men who didn’t incite a destructive and passionate chemical response that I couldn’t brush off. I couldn’t handle it. Not because I was incapable, but because I was unwilling.

  Love wasn’t in the cards for me. Lifelong commitment? Forget it. Why bother? It would just end in heartbreak the next time I skipped town. I was a self-inflicted romantic leper, a seasoned professional when it came to keeping men—well, people in general—at arm’s length. Sometimes even further than that.

  It was for the best, I’d convinced myself. Who in their right mind, would want to take on my baggage for the long haul? If he existed, he’d have to be batshit crazy. Not that any man would even have a chance to consider it, I hid the truth of my life behind countless layers of carefully-crafted lies.

  “God, babe, so good,” Jared continued as he buried his face in my hair. At least he thought so. My body wasn’t having any of it, she was truly a fickle bitch. Or maybe she just knew what she wanted and he wasn’t it.

  Sure, sex felt nice and met my need for occasional intimacy and physical contact with another human being, but when it came to the final act, it always ended in an unsatisfied lie. I could’ve won all kinds of fake orgasm awards. The only consolation when feeling like a total fraud was the fact that I’d left several men feeling like sexual studs. At this point, I was probably destined to go through life buying batteries in bulk at Costco just to get off.

  Don’t get me wrong, aside from a lack of explosive fireworks in the bedroom, Jared was a fine specimen—handsome, charming, and funny. He was also a genuinely nice guy. But as with most genuinely nice guys who had the misfortune of being attracted to not-so-nice women like me, his positive attributes were more of a negative. Quite simply, he bored me.

  But he did meet the prerequisites I always stuck to when vetting: clean life, clean ties, and not the type to ask too many questions or try to fix me. I had two rules, both of which I’d always been upfront about. Don’t fall in love with me, and don’t expect me to fall in love with you. Go figure, the men had more difficulty with my conditions than this cold-hearted bitch did.

  I honestly had no idea why I was even at Jared’s place this afternoon, because I’d already started noticing those tell-tale facial expressions that indicated an imminent breach of our booty call contract.

  As he moaned and increased his speed, I could tell he was waiting for me to get mine before letting himself go. But it wasn’t happening, and tonight I couldn’t even get myself lost in some kind of far-off fantasy.

  Just give him a few more seconds of enthusiasm and wrap this shit up, I coached myself.

  “Come on, baby,” I cried out, “I’m almost there.”

  I gave him a few more thrusts of the hips and forced squeals, before clenching my pussy walls rhythmically. I arched my back, fisted the sheets, and threw my head back with one last fake scream.

  Jared immediately followed and rolled over in bed, the condom full of liquid evidence that I’d fooled him again.

  “Well, that was quick,” he muttered between heavy breaths. “Guess someone missed me.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed, hoping he didn’t hear the disappointment in my tone.

  I couldn’t even give him enough time for his heart rate to settle before climbing out of bed and picking up my clothes from the floor.

  He gave me the inevitable sad eyes that made me feel more annoyance than sympathy. “Come on, Liv,” he pleaded, “get back in bed.”

  I hated when men played these games. While I could fake an orgasm to perfection, I really couldn’t fake a post-sex afterglow for much longer than it took to get dressed and out the front door.

  “Not tonight, Jar. I’m sorry, I have a lot of work to do.”

  As I got dressed, he rolled out of bed and cozied up to me. “You’re your own boss. Just take the night off,” Jared pleaded as he stroked my cheek and tried to make eye contact. “I’ll make you dinner, we’ll find some cheesy movies and stay in bed until the morning. Doesn’t that sound good?”

  There must have been something incredibly wrong with me, because no, that didn’t sound good. It sounded exhausting. God, I really was a bitch. He deserved a hell of a lot better than me.

  I gently pulled his hand away from my face. “You know how this works, sweetie. I don’t do sleepovers.”

  Jared rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated breath. “You really know how to make a man feel like shit, you know that? At least hookers get paid.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I groaned, “don’t try to lay a guilt trip. We’ve talked about this.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You like sleeping alone in your own bed.”

  “That and we have an agreement.”

  “Right,” Jared snickered, “I guess hanging out after sex violates our little fuck buddy code, huh?
”

  I sighed. “Pretty much.”

  “You ever get tired of it?”

  “Of what?”

  “Of this bullshit setup.”

  There it was, the line being crossed. “No, Jared, I don’t. I told you at the very beginning of this setup that there wouldn’t be anything else to it. Friends with some side benefits. Don’t tell me you’ve developed feelings for me. Please.”

  He grunted and turned around to walk out of the room.

  “Hey,” I called out, reaching for his arm.

  He jerked away. “What? You want me to lie and say I’m fine with feeling like a fucktoy that you pick up once in a while and then throw in a corner until you get an itch to play with it again?”

  “Jared—”

  “No. Just leave it. I’m perfectly clear on where you’re at. I tried. God knows I tried to be cool, but it’s getting too hard. Tell me what red-blooded man wouldn’t develop feelings for you?”

  “I just… I can’t go there. I don’t do relationships,” I attempted to explain. Again.

  Jared shook his head. “Yeah. You don’t do much of anything, do you? Work, work, and work some more, only calling me up for some familiar dick when you remember that you haven’t gotten laid that week. You know what, Liv? I’m tired of it. You’re so goddamn smart, sexy, and fun, but you keep it protected better than a nuclear reactor. I don’t even know where you live. I mean, really… why are you so opposed to any kind of meaning in your life?”

  Now he was just trying to push my buttons.

  Truth be told, I’d heard this line so many times it didn’t even sting anymore. I had entirely too much on my plate to sit here all day arguing in circles, only to reach the same conclusion because I’d obviously never budge.

  Nope, not doing it. Waste of time.

  I reached the front door and pulled it open. “I’m sorry,” I reiterated.

  He scowled. “Don’t be, not like you didn’t warn me. Catch you later.”

  I stepped out and turned around to face him. “I’ll call—”

  “I’m sure you will.” He slammed the door in my face.