G-Men: The Series (21 page)

He rolled his eyes, and shifted in his seat. “You know - it’s just that I’m not into all that bullshit about
feelings
and
caring
. I prefer to let my actions speak for themselves. I treat you good.”

Compared to what?

He reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, and pulled a small box from it. It wasn’t wrapped. He set it on the table and slid it over in front of me. I looked down at it, not sure what he expected.

“That’s for you. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

I was in shock and awe at this unexpected gesture.

I carefully lifted the lid and pulled a beautiful sterling silver, dual chain bracelet from the pillow of cotton. It had a ring and T-shaped skull ends that served to fasten it. It was pure biker jewelry, but it was lovely and I loved it because Slate had given it to me.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said softly, looking up into his eyes. “I mean, what does this mean, Slate?”

“It
means
that I want you to have it. Here, let me fasten it for you.”

He put it around my wrist and fastened the clasp.

I fingered the bracelet gently, looking back up at him. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with the tender moment.

“Now, I gotta make a pit stop. So, this is your chance to use the head before we hit the road.”

“I’m good,” I replied softly, still fingering my bracelet.

When Slate returned, he paid the bill and we said our ‘goodbyes’ to Katy. I climbed back behind him on the bike and we took off.

I felt closer to him on the ride back to Indy. Maybe it was because of the brief moment of sweetness he’d given me when he presented the bracelet to me at the café. I leaned into him closer now, resting my head against his back. I felt better than I had in a long time.

It seemed as if we were back in Indy too soon. I wasn’t sure what Slate had in mind for the rest of the day. It was only around 3:30 in the afternoon. I could see it on a bank clock as we skirted the business section close to his neighborhood.

Slate had stopped for a traffic light at a busy intersection when the sound of thunder seemed to surround us. There were at least six other bikers from OMC that had pulled up alongside and behind us. I could almost feel Slate’s back tense up as he looked over at Taz, whose bike was closest.

Holy hell, what’s this about?

Taz gave him some sort of signal. Slate nodded. When the light changed green, the bikers turned and Slate went straight ahead, pulling down the street to the garage next to his apartment. He parked the bike outside, shutting off the engine.

He helped me remove my helmet, fastening it back onto the rear of the bike.

“Sorry babe. I’ve got to go to the clubhouse. Some unexpected business issues need to be taken care of immediately.”

“What?” I stood there in confusion.

“I need to
go
. You need to go home.”

“You mean our day together is… . . . over?”

“Looks that way. I can’t wait with you until the bus comes. I need to jet now. You’ll be okay, yeah?”

“Of course. Don’t worry about me,” I replied snippily, turning from him and heading to the corner.

“Hey,” he shouted after me. “What the fuck’s the
problem
?”

“There’s no problem, Slate,” I replied, turning to face him. “I just thought that maybe we were going to… . . . ”

“Going to what?” He was becoming impatient at my holding him up.

“Never mind,” I snapped, feeling the flush of embarrassment cross my face.

“I’ll be in touch,” he replied, slamming his foot down on the pedal to start the engine again. He gave me a wink and off he went, leaving me standing there, totally confused, in his wake.

^{chapter 24}

It was two days later before I heard from Slate again.

I’d been sleeping with my cell phone placed on the nightstand. When I wasn’t sleeping, I had it in my pocket on vibrate. I was determined I wasn’t going to miss his next call or text message. Hopefully, there would be a next call or text message. Come hell or high water, we were going to fuck again, my pride be damned!

When my phone vibrated as I was doing laundry, I snatched it up to my face and answered immediately. I heard his deep voice on the other end.

“What’cha doing, Diamond?”

Why’s he calling me Diamond?

“Laundry,” I replied flatly. “What’s up?”

“Just wondering if we’re still
friends
?” His voice had some cockiness to it. I was so down with that.

“We are,” I stated honestly. “Friends with benefits.”

“What?” I could picture his eyebrow cocking with that one.

“I’m coming over, Slate. We’re going to
fuck
.”

I heard silence. I could feel his smirk over the phone. I held my breath waiting for him to tell me ‘no.’ I fucking dared him.

“See you soon, babe.”

End call.

I flew into prep mode as I showered, shaved, inserted my diaphragm, applied make-up, dressed and donned my wig that I’d just washed and put into a fancy French braid.

Slate was waiting for me at the bus stop when I arrived. I shamelessly flew into his arms as soon as I stepped down onto the curb.

“I
fucking
missed you,” I said. “And I don’t want to hear
shit
about it, either.”

He laughed softly, as he wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close against him as we walked to his apartment.

We were like two savages that hadn’t been fulfilled for months, rather than a couple of weeks. I tore at his clothes, and he tore at mine. He unceremoniously lifted me from the pile of clothes that had been shed, and placed me on his bed.

I watched as his gorgeous blue eyes studied the length of me. His desire was evident as my eyes took in every inch of him, noting his full erection bulging from beneath his jeans. He quickly finished discarding the rest of his clothing.

He lowered himself to the bed, gently gathering me into his strong arms where he kissed me softly all over. His lips grazed my lips, my neck, and then moved to capture a breast. His tongue gently and thoroughly blazed a path from my breasts to my wet pussy, where his fingers had been expertly finger fucking me to near orgasm. I writhed beneath him, my hips thrusting upward in response to his tongue and his fingers. I was now pulling at him, trying to force him closer to me, moaning softly as he brought me to the brink of climax.

“What, baby?” he asked, as he rose up and then sat back on his haunches watching me in my near-frenzy state, wanting him inside of me and now ready to scream because he’d withdrawn his tongue and his fingers, leaving me teetering on the brink.

I watched as his hand moved from my pussy. He brought his fingers up to my lips.

“Lick,” he said, pushing his wet fingers against my lips. “I want you to taste yourself.

I took his fingers into my mouth, sucking the salty wetness from them, licking them clean of my scent. He pulled them from my mouth and I watched in fascination as his hand closed around the thick expanse of his cock.

His eyes penetrated mine as he slowly and methodically stroked his shaft in front of me, his tongue tracing his bottom lip, his eyes shuttered. He was teasing me, tantalizing me as he continued to pleasure himself with the part of him that I desperately wanted inside of me. Right now. I whimpered softly, my fingers now replacing his at my apex.

He moaned softly, squeezing his eyes shut as he continued his strokes in faster rhythm, drawing out his erection fully.

“Tell me what you want, baby?” he asked, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“I want your cock inside of me,” I murmured, my eyes pleading, now that he was again watching me as he continued stroking himself.

“Take your fingers out of your pussy,” he instructed, nodding towards me.

I did as he ordered.

“Roll over,” he said. “I want you up on your knees.”

Once again, I did as instructed.

I felt his hands bracing my hips as he thrust his hardened cock inside of me from behind. I moaned in pure pleasure as Slate rocked in and out of me. His hands traveled from my ass to my hips and up my back as I tilted myself up to receive him again and again.

His fingers found my clit from underneath as I rolled my hips and pressed into his abdomen to meet his powerful thrusts. He rolled my clit between his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure to make me come apart.

“That’s it, baby,” I moaned, not caring how bold it sounded. “Fuck me like that Slate; keep it going. This is mine and no one else’s.”

His rhythm was deep and forceful. My hands fisted the bed as I continued rocking back and forth, meeting his thrusts with my own.

I heard him moan loudly, saying my name, telling me that I was his forever. I loved it. I wanted it. I only prayed that he meant it.

“God, Sunny,” he groaned, his momentum picking up even more. “Oh, God, baby.”

He cried out, as did I, when the force of our climaxes sent us both spiraling into pure, pleasurable oblivion. Our orgasms seemed to go on forever, which was fine with me. I was moaning and telling him how good he made me feel.

“I need you, Slate,” I moaned as we transcended into complete rapture.

It took several minutes for us to wind down after the explosive climaxes we had both enjoyed. Slate had pulled me into his arms that were now wrapped protectively around me. Our breathing returned to normal. His fingers were gently caressing my post-orgasmic skin.

My thoughts were returning to normal. Then it dawned on me what I’d said to him only moments before.

I didn’t move. I didn’t say a thing, hoping that perhaps he hadn’t heard me. After all, he’d been pretty damned caught up in his own climax…maybe it had somehow slipped past him. I could only hope. I didn’t want my admission of how I felt to interfere with our relationship.

I felt his long, lean fingers cup me beneath my chin as he turned my face to meet his. His eyes were even bluer at this moment. Perhaps it had to do with the blood flow increase during orgasm. Whatever had caused it, it was hot.

I looked into his eyes and I waited for him to say what he had to say to me. I knew he was going to put me in my place once again, so I braced myself for the sting of pain I was going to feel when he did.

“I need you too, Sunny.”

He lowered his lips to mine, kissing them softly and gently over and over again. Then he pulled me closer to him and we fell asleep entwined together. We were satisfied and content. It was a great feeling for me; one that I’d never felt before.

I’m not sure how long we napped before I was awakened by Slate’s phone ringing. He mumbled a sleepy curse as he disengaged himself from me and picked his cell phone up from the nightstand.

“Yeah,” he greeted the caller. “What time? Uh huh, will Slash be there? What about the inventory discrepancy?”

Do I even want to know what this conversation is about?

Somehow I felt that, if I did, I’d be an accessory to something.

“Okay. See you in twenty.”

Slate ended the call then turned to look at me. His expression was all business; the tenderness was gone as he smacked my bare behind.

“Time for you to roll on out, Sunny. I’ve got to be somewhere in a few.”

I watched him saunter over to the side of the bed and gather his jeans up off of the floor, pulling them on over his narrow hips and muscular ass.

“Aren’t you even going to wash up?” I asked, feeling myself blush at the question.

“Why would I want to do that?” he asked looking over at me while he zipped up his fly. I was struggling to get my clothes back on.

I shrugged, feeling kind of stupid for asking.

“I want your scent on me just like I expect you to keep my scent on you, got it?” He seriously wanted an answer.

I nodded, and then asked. “For how long?”

His mouth broke into a slow smile. “You’re really a trip, Diamond Girl.”

Now I really felt stupid. I could feel my cheeks flush.

I turned away as I finished dressing. By the time I had my boots on, Slate was fully dressed. He was tying his bandana around his head like a ‘do rag.’

“Slate,” I started, “why do you only wear that when you’re meeting your buddies or on a ride with the club members?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I really don’t care for having something wrapped around my head like that, I guess.”

“Well, I mean, isn’t it a requirement or something that it’s worn all of the time? I mean I notice that Taz is always wearing his ‘do rag’ whether there are other club members around or not.”

“That’s Taz, babe. He’s living the dream.”

I thought his response was kind of strange, living the dream? Being part of a biker club was living the dream?

“Aren’t you living the dream, Slate?”

“Sometimes, babe. You’re asking a lot of questions. How about we get you going, huh? I can’t wait with you for the next bus. I need to jet.”

“I can stay up here until the bus is due at the stop. I’ll lock up behind me.”

He gave me a sardonic smile.

“I don’t think so, babe. I’m not having you snooping around my shit like chicks do and then asking me all kinds of questions. You ask too many as it is,” he teased, kissing the tip of my nose.