Motorcycle Man (28 page)

“Uh… no. You’ll tell your man and he’ll deliver a lesson.”

“Tack –”

“
Tyra,” he cut me off quietly, leaning into me, “baby, listen to me because right now I’m delivering a lesson
to you
and I’m doin’ it gentle-like so you’ll get it and not freak. This is your new world. People don’t fuck with people like us. They do, payback. This bitch might have been jealous you got promoted over her. But, my guess, she’s butt ugly, possibly overweight and you said she was older. It wasn’t about the promotion. It was about you bein’ funny and sweet and smart and beautiful and she couldn’t find a way to work with what she has and find happiness in herself so she saw all you had goin’ for you and she had to drag you down. That’s bullshit. You don’t get to walk all over people without retribution.”

He said I was beautiful.

Nice.

Further, that was the second time he said something like that today.

Very nice.

And he had my work situation figured out too even with limited information. She hadn’t been exactly attractive, though not overweight but definitely older.

Even so, I said softly, “I’m not sure we agree about this, handsome.”

“That’s all right, darlin’. If what we’re building doesn’t go south, we’re good and the job you got, you’re surrounded by men so that shit’s not gonna happen. And if it does, any man at the garage who’s stupid enough to fuck with you will answer to me.”

I could do that seeing as he was my boss so that would be his job anyway.

Still.

“And, if what we’re building doesn’t go south, something happens, an opportunity I can’t refuse, I move on job-wise and someone targets me, then what?” I asked. “I mean, if you’re my man, I should be able to talk with you about stuff like this without you going scary biker dude and laying a trail of devastation to someone’s life.”

Tack’s hand moved to my neck and his body and face got even closer. “You move outta the office and not outta my life and shit goes down, then, Red, you don’t hesitate to tell me. You talk, I’ll listen. I’ll talk, you’ll listen. And unless it’s extreme, we’ll sort it out before I take action.”

I could do that too, maybe.

“But,” Tack went on, “bottom line, no one fucks with my woman. So, if we sort shit out and my advice is you move the fuck on, that’s what you do. You sleep beside me, Red, no fears, feeling safe. You do not lose sleep over bitches. And I like your mouth but I won’t like it if you can’t brush your teeth and you’re pukin’ all the time. Further to that, I like your body. You can’t eat and you’re pukin’ all the time, you lose weight, I won’t like your body as much. That don’t work for me. So, you don’t move on from a bad situation when that’s the advice I’m givin’ you, I’ll be forced to take action to take care of you. And I will. We agreed?”

“Boiling that down, I do what you want me to do or you do whatever you want to do. Is that what I’m agreeing?”

Tack’s mouth twitched.

Then he muttered, “Yeah.”

“I’m noticing a theme to Life with Kane Allen,” I remarked.

“Yeah, and that theme is, I got your back. I take care of you. You sleep easy. You eat good. And you feel safe. Are you tellin’ me you got a problem with that?”

Well, presenting it like that, I didn’t.

That said, I still did.

Carefully, I replied, “Do you see how my concerns over your responses to the way people treat me in life would make me think twice about sharing important things with you?”

“Yeah, baby, but do you see that when you’re stuck in a box someone slammed over you and can’t see clear, I give you advice that’s lookin’ out for you, you don’t take it ‘cause you can’t see clear and the result is you come to harm in any way, I’m gonna act but I’ll be doin’ it in your best interests?”

Okay, well, presenting it like that, I did see.

Damn.

“You don’t keep shit from me,” Tack continued. “I will admit, there are times when I’ll react, do it fast and do it on gut. But I lived through some serious shit and I’m still doin’ it. I learned you don’t carry through with a kneejerk response. You think about shit and you do it smart. Eliminate blowback. Get the shit job done in a way you can move ahead free and easy.”

This took us to a new topic of conversation, one I wanted to talk about less but also one that I had been able to avoid when I wasn’t officially pronounced Tack’s woman.

One I couldn’t avoid now.

“Speaking of that,” I started, “the living through serious shit part. Now that circumstances have changed, are you going to share?”

“Yeah, I am,” Tack surprised me by replying. “But I’m not gonna do it now.”

“Why not now?”

“’Cause I gotta get my woman a glass of wine. Then I got green beans to cook. Then I want you to enjoy what you’re eatin’ and not be thinkin’ about that shit while you do it. And after that, we’ll be in your bedroom and we won’t be doin’ much talkin’.”

A number of things to look forward to.

Nevertheless.

“Although I don’t want to know, I kind of want to know and maybe sooner is better than later.”

Tack’s hand slipped down me so his arm curved around my back and he dipped his head so he could touch his mouth to mine.

When he lifted it, he said quietly, “My chops are fuckin’ superb. My stuffing, better. Those potatoes, babe, you let loose and enjoy your food, they’ll rock your world. And I made the effort to cook it because I want you to enjoy it. And I like this easy with you and I don’t wanna lose it. Not tonight, our first night of having it. What I will tell you so I can shift that worry outta your eyes is, I’ve lived through worse and I’m still standin’. This Russian mob shit is a pain in my ass and has been a good long while. That said, it’s also turnin’ out to be the means to bring cohesion back to the Club. You’re new but you’re also Chaos, new or not. No one fucks with Chaos because Chaos fucks back, as a unit. You fuck one, you fuck us all. So at least I got one less problem because the boys are at my back with that shit and not arguin’ about other shit. The kids are right now at my house and they’re happier there. That’s a Band-Aid but it’s workin’. Another problem down. And you and me have shifted to a place I like and, way you are right now, you like it too. Let’s have this. Later, I’ll fill you in. Now, let’s keep this good.”

I couldn’t argue with that so I whispered, “Okay.” Then I set out to confirm. “But you’ll tell me later?”

“Said I would, I will.”

I nodded then pressed, “About all of it?”

“All of it?” he asked.

“You’ve lived through worse and you’re still standing,” I clarified.

His arms gave me a squeeze. “You wanna know, Red. I’ll tell you. Just not tonight.”

He’d tell me.

I let him in, he was letting me in.

And cooking for me while doing it.

I was thinking I could ride this new roller coaster. I was even thinking I liked it.

I pressed closer as I said, “FYI, handsome, I can cook too.”

“You’re up tomorrow night.”

I edged back half an inch. “But tomorrow night is at your house.”

“Yeah, my house. And bein’ a house, it’s got a kitchen. So you’re cookin’ at my house.”

“But I won’t know where anything is.”

“I don’t have kitchen utensils from Mars, babe. I found my way around yours. You’ll find your way around mine.”

Of course.

“Right,” I murmured then told him, “If you want to get on with the green beans, I can get myself a glass of wine. Do you want a beer?”

“Yeah, I want a beer and I also want you to keep your ass where it is. I’ll get your wine.”

“Tack, I can get my wine and your beer and come right back and hang with you while you finish dinner,” I offered, thinking I was being nice.

Tack’s eyes flashed with amusement as he said, “I bet you can, Red, but what’s up for debate is if you can not argue about every fuckin’ thing.”

My back went straight. “I was being nice!”

“I see you can’t,” he muttered, his lips tipped up at the edges.

“Whatever,” I snapped. “Wait on me. See if I care. I’ll just sit here and sniff chops.”

“Honest to God,” Tack kept muttering as he moved away from me and toward the fridge, “she’s pissed I’m gettin’ her a glass of wine while I’m cookin’ for her.”

“
I’m not pissed, pissed. I’m
mildly
pissed but only because you won’t let me help,” I amended.

Tack stopped, fingers wrapped around the fridge door handle, and he twisted to me. “Tomorrow, you can take care of me. Deal?”

I stared at him. Then I agreed, “Deal.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, I saw his grin right before his head disappeared in the fridge.

Then it occurred to me that I could argue about every fucking thing, including Tack getting me a glass of wine.

Which even I had to admit was ridiculous.

But, if that grin was any indication, Tack liked it.

So I looked at my lap and grinned too.

Because I was, at that moment, really glad he did.

* * * * *

My head snapped back and I gasped, “Oh my
God.
”

Then I came. Hard.

The instant I did, Tack whipped me to my back and kept pounding deep. So I wrapped all four limbs around him tight and kept coming. Harder.

“Fuck,” Tack muttered against my mouth between grunts, “my girl’s got a greedy fuckin’ pussy.”

He was right. I did. Because I was
still
coming.

When I stopped coming, Tack was still driving deep and it felt so freaking good, it started to build again.

I held him tight, lifting my hips to take him deeper and slid one hand up his back, his neck and into his thick, longish hair as I whispered against his lips, his goatee tickling my skin, “Honey, you have to come or I’m gonna come again.”

“This is a problem?” he grunted back.

I saw his point.

So I smiled against his mouth.

He slanted his head and kissed me.

About thirty seconds later, I came again.

About a minute after that, Tack did.

About thirty seconds after that, Tack’s hand slid lightly down the skin of my side, causing tingles that hit mid-range on the pleasant scale but high on the soothing scale and his lips at my neck whispered, “Like that.”

I liked it too. All of it. Going down on him and Tack returning the favor. Then, because he was so good at it, getting greedy, pushing him to his back and him letting me. Then climbing on and riding him until I came. And last, finishing when he flipped me and rode me until I came again and he did too.

Yeah, I liked it. All of it.

“I like it too,” I whispered then suggested. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk, just have sex. Obviously, that works for us.”

His head came up and his dancing eyes caught mine. “Obviously. But that wasn’t what I was talkin’ about.”

“What were you talking about?”

“You called me ‘honey’,” he answered then muttered, “Sweeter, hearing you say that when I’m buried inside you.”

His words hit me and that hit was well above the mid-range of the pleasant scale

“Though, wouldn’t know,” he went on, “since you haven’t called me that except just now when I was buried inside you.”

My head tilted on the mattress. “I haven’t?”

“Nope. You’ve called my kids that. You’ve called your girl that. You haven’t called me that.”

Boy, he’d really been paying attention.

“Well, I didn’t know I liked you until about eight fifteen this morning so that’s not surprising.”

He grinned. “You knew you liked me.”

Arrogant. Annoying. But hot.

“I didn’t,” I retorted. “Except that first night but I thought that was a fluke because, since then, you were a jerk.”

His grin got bigger.

“Sometimes a scary jerk,” I went on.

His grin turned into a smile.

“And, I will admit, sometimes a sweet jerk.”

He started chuckling and I liked
that
since he was still on me and inside me so I tightened my limbs around him and enjoyed the ride.

But, like all rides, it ended. Fortunately, it ended with Tack pulling out gently then rolling both of us so we were righted in the bed and I had one side in the covers and one side resting on him. I slid my arm along his belly, laid my cheek on his shoulder and relaxed into him.

“Now that you know I’m not a jerk, I gonna hear more of that?” he asked when we’d settled and I lifted my head to look at him to see his goatee’d chin dipped down to look at me.

“You want to hear it?” I asked back, my voice soft.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yes, why?”

“’Cause, babe, you say it to people you like and people who mean somethin’ to you and clue in, I wanna be both.”