Slate (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (30 page)

He kissed and licked again, drawing his nose through those beautiful curls, dragging in a deep breath of her scent, musky and rich. She was so soft and needy, and he loved how she moved, pressing her hips up against him.

She sighed loudly, then called his name softly as he brought his hands down, never losing touch with her skin. He slid his roughened, callused thumbs gently along either side of her clit, separating her folds and following them with his tongue, getting closer and closer to what he wanted so badly. He ran his thumbs down, circling her opening and dipping one tip inside just as his tongue found her clit.

His cock twitched as he listened to the sounds she made deep in her throat while he tasted her. He nibbled and licked the nubbin of flesh and nerves, circling it with the tip of his tongue and flicking it hard, then dragging his teeth across it and gentling the sting with a soft laving of his tongue. Keeping his mouth on her, he let her feel his lips move against her as he asked, “Do you like this, Essa? God, you taste so sweet. Does this feel good?”

He kept kissing and working at her, dipping his thumb in and out of her entrance while waiting on her response...because he simply couldn’t get enough. He could not get enough of her. He’d never enjoyed going down on a woman like this; it had always been a way to learn their responses, but this...this was different. Fuck, he loved how she tasted, and he felt like he could do this all fucking night if she would simply keep making those noises.

“Yeesss,” she groaned, drawing in a deep breath and hitching her hips up as he slid his thick middle finger deep inside her. He was thrusting deep and fast with that one finger, while his mouth continued to work her sensitive folds and nub.

Pulling back for a second, he asked, moving his mouth against her again, “Is this what you want, little girl?” He flicked hard with his tongue, then brought it down to her opening and wound it around his finger as it slid in and out of her, licking the wetness greedily. “Do you want my mouth on you? My hands on you?”

Pausing in his assault for a second, he blew a cool stream of air against her drenched heat and she groaned loudly, her hips pumping up against his face, grinding and circling. She called out to him, tightening her fingers in his hair, “Oh God, yes, please, Slate.” Her inner muscles were tightening and gripping his finger, and his cock jerked against his belly again, twitching hard as he talked to her.

“Baby, you are greedy, aren’t you? Want my fingers deep inside you?” He pulled his finger out, and slipped back in with the addition of a second finger. He pushed hard and deep, using them to spread her apart inside, feeling the tightness and grip of that so-soft flesh. Pressing his thumb hard on her clit, he teased it out from under the tiny hood as he licked the folds beside it, lapping up her taste and wetness. She was tensing under his touch, her thighs tightening on either side of his head, so he called softly, “Are you going to come now, Essa? Go ahead. Come, baby, for me.”

He waited for her release, unable to see, but feeling it through every fiber of his being. Her orgasm swept over her, hips jerking and rising against his mouth and fingers. His hair was pulled painfully as her fingers tightened and released in his hair, holding his mouth hard against her as she rounded her shoulders up off the mattress.

The sounds she made were so beautiful; she was unrestrained in her passion, and he loved everything he felt and heard. He whispered, mouth still against her pussy, “Oh, baby, yes…God, yes.” He kept the rhythm of his mouth and fingers in and against her, slowing and caressing her until she crumpled bonelessly back down to the bed. Sagging against the bulkhead wall, her fingers were smoothing his hair back from his forehead now, instead of convulsively using it to tug him tighter and closer against her.

How could he walk away from this? How could he set her aside?
Fuck me
, he thought,
I
can’t
do this to her. I have to stop. Please, God, give me strength
.

He gave her a final soft kiss against her sex, and slowly slid his fingers from inside her, licking them clean as he caressed the inside of her thigh with his other hand. His breath was slowing along with hers as he sat back away from the edge of the bunk, gaining room enough to stand. He carelessly shoved his cock back into his jeans, buttoning them tightly against his painful erection.

Stepping back towards the bunk, he pushed her legs together, shifting her sideways on the mattress. Slate climbed in behind her, snugging an arm tightly around her waist. He pulled her back against him, tucking her into him and tangling their legs together. She put her hands on top of his arm, rubbing slowly up and down. She sighed deeply and wriggled her ass, causing him to groan when she pressed against the front of his jeans and his still-enthusiastic cock.

“Slate? Are you okay?” she asked sleepily.

“Shhhh, little girl, go to sleep. Everything is good; everything’s fine. ” Kissing her hair, he reached and pulled the blanket over to cover them, and then he quietly laid his head down on the pillow beside hers. He kissed her hair again, snuggling her and hitching one leg up with his. “Shhhhh.”

***

He couldn’t ever remember being this angry at anything before…not his dad dying too early, or his mom’s slow degeneration into the hell she created for herself. Nothing compared to this. Slate was standing outside the trailer the next morning and he was pissed—really fucking pissed—at himself. After caring for the gelding, he settled himself to wait and think.

He’d betrayed both Mason and Mica’s trust in him last night. Essa was just fucking eighteen, a little girl, just like he kept trying to remind himself. Beyond that, she was family, Mica’s family.

He had to tell Mason, and that would break him. If he lost his family, he didn’t know what he’d do, and this was an offence that could...should, yeah...
should
get his rocker cut the fuck off. He’d been in such a rush to taste her last night he hadn’t considered things, like what the club would say. At least he hadn’t fucked her; he’d stopped short of that.

Feeling the trailer move, he assumed she was up finally. He still had no idea what to say to her. He couldn’t let her believe this would lead to anything, but he didn’t want to make her embarrassed at what had happened. It had been beautiful, but he had to be clear this was a one-time thing, not something that could repeat. Turning to face the living quarters door as it pushed open, he tried to keep his face impassive.

She stepped out of the trailer and smiled politely at him, reaching over to pet the horse. “Did you eat yet?” she asked. He felt his mouth drop open, but couldn’t form words. She blushed deeply, the color moving swiftly up her neck and into her cheeks when she realized what she’d said and clarified, “Breakfast, I meant. Did you eat breakfast yet?” She tucked her chin down and turned, walking quickly away from the trailer, calling over her shoulder, “Gonna see what the stands have ready; I’m hungry.”

Shaking himself, Slate called, “Essa, you okay?”

She turned around, considering him for a second, and then she stalked back towards him, “Yes, I’m okay, thanks for asking. So...let’s get this out of the way now, okay?” She came to a stop in front of him, and put her hands on her hips. “Slate, that was real sweet last night, but I have to focus on my competition this season, so it’s not gonna happen again.” She lightly shrugged in an attempt to be casual. “In fact, if we could agree to not say anything to Mica about what happened, I’d appreciate it. I don’t want her to worry about me getting into trouble with the first hot guy I see. Now, I’m hungry. I’m going to get food. Do you want anything?”

She turned on her heel and walked away from him, heading to the fairgrounds. Slate walked fast, catching up to her with his long strides. He waited until he was beside her to answer, “I could eat,” he said, pausing for a beat and watching her stumble a little, “breakfast.”

His phone rang near lunchtime, and he felt the blood leave his face when he saw the caller ID come through—Mason was calling. Slate and Essa were sitting in the shade beside the trailer, having a comfortable conversation as they watched the other contestants working their horses.

He answered the phone with, “Yeah,” and heard Mason ask, “Slate, got a report for me, brother? Was it quiet last night after I left with Mica?”

Slate responded, “It was good—quiet, but good.” Fuck him, he had just lied to his Prez, his brother, his family...the only family he’d ever really had. He closed his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach. Mason was talking, but Slate couldn’t hear him through the roaring in his own ears, and he asked, “What was that, Prez? I didn’t catch it.”

Mason laughed low, and repeated himself, “Slate, I think you should stick with her, travel for a couple of weeks with her. We still don’t know where Nelms is. Steve’s looking, but he hasn’t found anything yet.”
God no, no, no
...he thought, shaking his head. He listened to Mason continue, “I’ve reached out to MCs along the route, and they are watching and will be a resource if needed.” Fuck, he couldn’t do this.

Keeping his eyes closed, Slate warned Mason, “Not sure I’m the right one for this, Prez. I got something to tell you.” He felt Essa land a hard kick to the side of his leg, and opened his eyes to see her shaking her head frantically at him, her wide eyes in her white face silently willing him to not say anything else.

Mason barked out a clipped, “What?” and Slate closed his eyes again before continuing.

“Last night, I messed up, Prez, with Essa.”

He heard a heavy, disappointed sigh on the line, then just one word, “Bad?”

“Enough,” Slate responded in kind, knowing Mason would get what he was saying.

There was a ringing silence on the line for the longest time, then Mason asked, “Not telling Mica then?”

Slate gritted his teeth and took in a sharp breath; Mason wasn’t asking for his colors, and that was fucking
amazing given his transgression. “Not if I can help it.”

Mason spoke again, using the familiar club address intentionally, making sure that Slate knew the full extent of his responsibilities, “
Brother
, if you don’t go, if we send someone else, she’ll know something is up. You better get it the fuck under control and fucking keep it that way.”

Slate opened his eyes and saw Essa looking at him with tears welling in her beautiful eyes, slowly shaking her head back and forth as her mouth and face tightened in sadness. “I got this, Prez. I won’t fuck up again,” Slate was reassuring all three of them with that statement. “It won’t happen again.”

As fast as he hung up the phone, Essa’s sense of betrayal and sadness turned into anger, and she yelled loudly at him, “I cannot believe you did that. You are such an asshole.”

He expected more from her, and so he waited for a second before he responded. He needed to explain, and wanted to be sure she was listening, “Are you finished? It was Mason, and he doesn’t want to say anything; he won’t say anything, but he’s my
Brother
, the president of my club, and I have to respect that. He has to know when I fuck up, when he can’t depend on me, but no one will tell Mica unless you do. I promise. Sorry, little girl, it seems you are stuck with me for a while. I’ll be traveling with you for a couple of weeks.” He shook his head, stood, and took a long step away from the trailer, thinking this would be a long ass trip.

***

Fourteen long days later, Slate smiled grimly as he remembered that prophetic thought. It had indeed been a long couple of weeks, long and hard in a myriad of ways. Essa quickly got over her anger about him still traveling with her, and she determined that in order to run him off, torture was her best weapon.

Every single night they spent in the trailer, he took the floor, lying on top of the blankets as he had that first night. But unlike that night, he didn’t tease conversation out of her, because she was otherwise occupied. He would hear the shifting of her clothing against the sheets, and then that soft gasp when her fingers first found her clit.

Every night, he had to listen to her touch herself while she was only a few inches away from him. He would hear her breathing change and quicken as she moved towards her climax, feeling the trailer shift slightly as her legs stirred restlessly against the mattress. Her soft panting as she rode the wave back down, and then he would hear Essa’s husky voice taunt, “Sweet dreams, Slate,” making sure he knew exactly what she was doing.

Several nights, they stopped at a hotel and he paid for a room. He would escort her to the room, and then return to the trailer, claiming the bunk for the night. That first night, he hadn’t counted on how the pillows and mattress would s
mell of her, the soft, sweet scent from her shampoo, and the musky scent of her sex on the sheets. He had not slept well that night...not at all.

She found every opportunity to torture him, even in simple things, like when he used the hotel bathroom for a shower. There were a number of times he’d exited the bathroom to see her in the middle of the bed, sitting cross-legged in a tight, little tank top and sheer panties. She would simply sit and grin at him, knowing it aroused him to see her so nearly unclothed, her shoulders and arms bare, her legs and hips spread open for inspection, barely covered.

He’d finally gotten wise and now confiscated both room keycards before showering. That lack of access kept her somewhat at bay, and gave him a few minutes of peaceful solitude. He shook his head, at least until she figured out a new way to play with him. He spent half of every day painfully hard, and the other half, he was angry with frustration. Mason called regularly to get updates, but had shown continued trust in Slate by not questioning his behavior again. When Essa brushed past him in the trailer, or pushed between him and the gelding, he held onto that trust in his mind, trying to do the honorable thing. She was often amused by his restraint, and would grin at him in a way that told him she knew how close to the edge she could bring him.