Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (92 page)

“This is the chapel?” I ask aloud, cringing and then glancing around to make sure there's nobody around. I almost expect a big, bearded biker to jump out and say
boo!
But nothing happens and I don't hear any footsteps or voices.

I take a deep breath and walk along the cement path under the pergola, pulling open the door to the porch and finding a sea of potted plants and a set of wood doors with wolf heads carved into them. Hmm.

“Hello?” I ask tentatively, stepping inside and letting the porch door swing shut behind me. When nobody answers, I grab the handle on the next door and open it wide to find a long black lacquered table, a set of mismatched chairs and Royal McBride sitting at the far end, bent over like he's in pain, his head clutched in his beautiful hands.

I stand there for a long moment, studying him, before I speak.

“Royal?” I ask, letting the door swing shut behind me.

His head snaps up, brown eyes going wide as he notices me standing there.

“Holy fucking hell,” he says, standing up and pushing his chair out with the motion. It's a high-backed beast of black and red and leather. I wonder if he put it there or if it's a leftover relic from the previous president? “Pint-Size, how did you get back here?” he asks, moving around the table with long strides, coming up close to me, too close for comfort really.

“I guess I don't look threatening enough for anyone to pay much attention to me,” I suggest as Royal stares at me like a fox in the henhouse … or maybe it's a hen in the fox den? That sounds a little more accurate. His eyes are dark and hooded with emotion, a fact that he seems almost desperate to hide from me. “I've been waiting for you for hours. We had a meeting today.”

Royal glances up and over my shoulder, like he's checking to make sure no one's on their way in here.

“You're going to bloody hate this, but—”

“Women aren't allowed in the clubhouse?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why? What are you going to do to me for coming in here?”

“Look, love, I don't have a problem with women.” Royal lets his mouth curve into a smile. “I'd rather have a table full of pussy than a sausage fest, you know what I mean? But some of the old boys are gonna have to die off before that can happen. Resistant to change and all that.”

“Sure,” I say, standing my ground. “Do what you want. I'm not here to change your culture. I just want the meeting time that I was promised.”

“You were late, sweets,” Royal says, looking down at me like he still wishes it was last night on the porch swing, my body arching over his, our hips locked, his fingers trailing down my throat. I shiver. “So I had to cancel.”

He steps closer to me, the toes of our boots touching.

“If you wanted to make it up to me, I might try overlooking your lack of punctuality.”

Royal curls his hand behind my head, leaning down and running his tongue along my lower lip.
This is not supposed to be happening today,
my logical mind chirps, but she's quickly buried in a rush of hormones as Royal steps back and reaches down to the zipper of his jeans.

My heart begins to pound and I risk a quick glance over my shoulder to see if there's anyone coming.
Oh my God, what am I doing? What am I doing? What I am doing?

I look back at Royal, at his mouth as it curves up into a satisfied smirk.

“I'll keep watch, babe. No worries.” I glance down as he frees his already hard cock from his pants and grins at me, like he expects me to just agree to this.

When I don't make any move to oblige him, his fingers come out and snatch my wrist, pulling me closer, forcibly wrapping my hand around his cock. The thick, solid length of him pushes all sorts of buttons for me, making me wet my lips and clench my thighs together as desire rides hard and heavy over me.

“Someone's bound to come in here at some point or another,” he says, his voice strained and laced with lust. “Come on, love. Do it. Suck me off and show me how much you want that meeting.”

“This better be a joke,” I say, but I don't take my hand off his dick.

Royal reaches out and tugs me to him, sandwiching his erection between our warm bodies, his fingers curled tightly in my hair. When he speaks, he puts his lips close to my ear and grinds the words out in a way that makes my entire body shudder with need.

“Of course it's a fucking joke, Pint-Size. But if any of the boys catch you in here, it's gonna be
me
that catches shit for it. Either stick my dick in your mouth or let's get the hell out of here and I'll look at your damn papers.”

He lets go of me abruptly and I can barely keep my feet, adrenaline and excitement rushing through my veins. Trust me when I say I've
never
done anything like this before. Never sucked a stranger's cock, never done anything even remotely sexual in a public place, never looked risk and danger in the eye and smiled.

I get down on my knees and slide my nails up under Royal's shirt and over his belly, making his stomach muscles clench and his hips buck towards my face. Up close and personal, his shaft is almost daunting. He's long and curved, the circumcised head of his cock just a scant few millimeters from my lips. I flush a little as I try to guess the length.
Seven and a half? Eight inches, maybe?

“Don't just study it, Pint-Size, put your mouth around it.”

I glare up at him and grab the base of his shaft in tight fingers until he groans, sliding his fingers through my hair until he gets a good grip.
This is so wrong,
I think frantically as he guides my face to the tip of his cock and pushes it against my gently parted lips.
But I like it.

Being with Royal is like driving a sports car down the freeway at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, taking hairpin turns and throttling the accelerator at every straight stretch. It's fast and crazy and fun, spiking the blood with adrenaline and making everything else outside the windows seem meaningless.

Do it enough times, though, and you're going to crash. It's almost inevitable.

Somehow, whenever Royal's around, I can't seem to make myself care.

This moment, it's no different.

I open my lips wider and take as much of him as I can into my mouth, groaning at the sensation of his thick, full cock resting against my tongue. The sound makes Royal curl his fingers tighter in my hair, fingertips brushing against my scalp as I push him in as deep as I can. I graze my teeth lightly against his skin as I pull back, just enough to tease but not enough to hurt.

“Harder,” he grunts, pushing me back down, making me swallow him whole as my fingertips curl around the waistband of his jeans. “Don't hold back on me, sweetheart. We aren't making love here. Just get the job done.”

I bite a little harder, still afraid of hurting him when his grip tightens on my scalp.

“More. I like it raw and dirty, babe,” he tells me, pushing himself deeper when I try to pull back. I have to breathe through my nose, bringing my left hand up to grab the base of his shaft so I can cover him completely, sheathe the entire length of him with my body.

I press down with my teeth until he grunts and bucks his hips again, sliding back and drawing a deep, guttural groan from his throat, like a wolf's low, rumbling growl. Right now, here, down on my knees like this, I feel like he's the alpha and I'm his mate, that I'm claiming him at the same time he's claiming me.

The thought's embarrassing as hell, but at least I'm the only one that knows about it, that knows how much it's getting me off.

I slide forward again, hitting my fist with my lips, scraping my teeth along the sensitive skin of his shaft while he groans and thrusts, hitting the back of my throat with each violent movement. When he comes, he comes hard, and he doesn't hold back, pinning my face to him as he finishes inside my mouth.

I slide back, swallowing hard, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

“We should get the fuck out of here,” he says, but he pulls me to my feet and shoves me over the table instead. “But I'm not going until I get some of this.”

I gasp as Royal reaches around and unzips me, yanking my leather pants down my hips before I can even get the breath back to protest.

Not that I'd want to.

I want this more than anything I've ever wanted in my entire life.

I want
him.
Inside of me. Right now.

Royal's moist cock probes my opening, sliding straight into me with a single thrust, bringing a gasp and a cry to my lips that echoes around the empty room. True to his word, he doesn't hold back, slamming into my ass again and again, his balls slapping my bare flesh as he grunts and groans, dragging a small scream from me that I couldn't keep back if I tried.

My hands splay out against the black of the tabletop, my cheek pressed firmly against the wood. My entire body is liquid right now, fluid and immovable. All I can feel is the hard warmth of Royal's bare body inside of mine, opening me up, stretching me wide. I'm definitely sore from last night, but the pain only adds to the violent heat and frenzy of the moment, the raw brutality of a fuck that's just a fuck. I don't know what the hell happened to us last night, but it wasn't this, this wild mating frenzy that's fucking my mind almost as hard as Royal's fucking my body.

When he starts tensing behind me, his hands hard and unyielding against my hips, I realize that he's about to come inside of me, no barrier, nothing. I need to ask him to stop, but the words refuse to come to my lips, my body too desperate for him to let go.

“Royal.” I manage to moan his name, but it only comes out as a groan, a plea for more. “Royal.” Again.

“Say my fucking name, Lyric,” he growls, shoving his body into me over and over. “Say it.”

“Oh God, Royal,” I cry as he manages to come again, even harder than before, filling me up and bringing tears of pleasure to my eyes as he leans over and finds my clit, rubbing it hard with a few final thrusts, making me come around him in a violent spasm.

I'm standing there panting, his body still sheathed inside of me, his hands on my hips, taking deep gasping breaths to fill my lungs. My head is spinning and my body's trembling with the surge of hormones.

“Shit,” he curses, pulling out slowly, like he's trying to torture us both. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I stand up, warm wet heat between my legs, and try to fix my pants with trembling hands. I can't even look at him. I don't want to look at him right now.

“Maybe we should reschedule our meeting for another time?”

“You fucking think?” he asks me, the flicking sound of a lighter preceding the scent of cigarette smoke. I turn around and glare at him, at his tense jaw and clenched teeth. I think his hands are shaking, too.

“Don't talk to me like that. I didn't do anything wrong.”

“Nothing except violate the sanctity of the club's chapel,” he says, turning those dark brown eyes on me. I can't tell if he's joking or not. He better be.

“Are you taking the piss with me?” I ask, hoping I'm using the slang right. If not, oh well, he can deal with it.

“I might be.” Royal's face relaxes, some of the anger leaking out of his expression. I think he almost smiles. But something about what just happened between us is bothering him. “But I still think you should go.”

“What about our meeting?”

“Take my truck and I'll come see you tomorrow.” He moves over next to me, reaching past me and ashing his cigarette in a tray. We're so close, I can feel the heat radiating off his body. I don't even know him, but I wish with all my heart in that moment that he'd wrap his arms around me and hold me.

Royal pauses, his body going suddenly still, like he can read my thoughts.

“Royal,” I start to say his name, but he pulls away, taking a step back to put some space between us. Good. This is for the best. Back to business. “What time should I be expecting you?” I say cooly, my pussy still throbbing, wetness teasing the insides of my legs, a fervent reminder that he was just there, that
we
were just together in the most intimate way possible. “Sometime around ten?”

“Sure thing, love,” he says, moving back over to his chair and pulling it out. I watch as he scoots a stack of papers in front of him and pretends to be engrossed in reading them. His eyes don't even move from their fixed spot. If that's not a cue to get lost then I don't know what is.

“Fine. Ten o'clock,” I snap, my voice colored with emotion that even I don't quite understand. Royal's head snaps up at that, but I'm already turning away, my boots loud against the wood floors of the chapel.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Royal

I lean back in my chair, watching Lyric storm out of the room like her ass is on fire. I don't fucking blame her. I know I'm being a dick right now. A
royal
fucking dick. Literally the first woman I've ever wanted like this, and I can't have her.

Life's a bitch.

My cock stirs in my jeans, reacting to the slick wetness that still clings to my skin, making me run my hand over the bulge with a groan.
The hell did I just do? I banged the girl without a rubber.
That's a huge no in my world. But I did it anyway. Couldn't help myself.

I run a hand over my face, fingers scraping against the stubble on my chin and cheeks. I blame Landon for my sudden lack of self-control, for the bottomless pit of anger and frustration and want that I've become in the last few days.

Landon knew, fucking
knew,
that Brent was dirty, that he was trading favors with Clayton Moore.
That was Glacier's news, a big heaping pile of shite to dump on me when I came in this morning. The revelation erased any sort of joy I might've had at catching FBI Douche with his fingers in the cookie jar.

The hell were you thinking, brother?

No self-respecting MC would take a snitch into their ranks, welcome on a man who turns his back on his own brothers. I close my eyes and think back to his last day, to that frantic motorcycle chase that ended with Landon's blood on my hands. He didn't give me any choice, no room to maneuver or bargain or deal. Instead, he attacked me with a vengeance I'll never understand, would've killed me, too, if he had the chance. I could see the ugly truth of it written into every line of his face.