The Sinner’s Tribe Motorcycle Club, Books 1-3 (20 page)

Folding it carefully, she placed it on the seat of the bike nearest her and then looked up as she reached for his shirt. Jagger's eyes flicked to his cut and back to her. Then his gaze softened and he nodded, his silent appreciation sending a warm tingle through her body.

Within seconds she had his shirt off, and her hands on his magnificent body. She traced her fingers over his massive chest, a perfect canvas for the Sinner's Tribe tattoo, marred only slightly by that long scar, and then down over the ridges of his abs.

“Very nice.” Her voice came out in a husky rasp that made Jagger chuckle.

“Glad you approve.”

By the time she reached his buckle, she had lost patience with the game. Without hesitation, she tugged open his belt and undid his fly. Hands trembling, she shoved his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its restraint.

Huge and heavy, his shaft bounced in her direction.

“Touch me.” His voice came out in a strangled groan and Arianne wrapped her hand around him. So hot. So hard. But the skin over his shaft was soft and smooth as silk. She gripped him firmly, stroking down his length and then back up, ripping a second groan from his throat.

“Faster.”

“What happened to taking our time?” She quickened her strokes, cupping his balls with her free hand and giving them a squeeze.

“Time's up. Fuck … gotta stop.” He clasped her wrist, drawing her hand away from his thick shaft, then reached between her legs and shoved her panties to the side. Before Arianne's lust-soaked brain could process his intentions, he had thrust a thick finger into her sex. She gasped and stiffened at the delicious intrusion.

“Christ, you're so wet, sweetheart. So fucking tight. We'll have to take it slow. I don't want to hurt you.”

He added a second finger, stretching her, filling her, making her shudder with need. She gripped his shoulder with her free hand and reached for his cock again, stroking him faster than before.

“Panties gotta go.” With a sharp yank, Jagger tore her panties away, discarding them over his shoulder.

“I liked those.” Arianne firmed her grip on his shaft. “Now you'll have to pay.”

He jerked his hips, rocking into her palm as his fingers thrust deep inside her, gliding along her sensitive tissue. Arianne dug her nails into his shoulder determined not to give in to the raging need building inside her.

At least not before him.

“Enough.” He slid his fingers from her pussy, then tugged her hand away. “I want to come inside you. I want to fuck you hard and fuck you deep and fuck you until you come all over my cock.”

Arianne groaned. “Now would be a good time. There's a condom in my purse.”

Jagger stilled. “Why? You gotta man?”

“You're asking me now if I have a man?” Her voice rose in pitch. “First, I'm leaving town, so why would I get involved? Second, it's called safe sex. And if you haven't heard of it, then this is as far as we go.”

A pained expression crossed his face—so fleeting, she wondered if she'd imagined it—and then he scowled. “I don't share, Arianne. Anyone touches you, tries to lay claim to you, he'll answer to me.”

Her lips curled in a bemused smile. “Lucky for you, I broke up with my last boyfriend months ago.”

“Lucky for him.”

Jagger retrieved the condom and sheathed himself, but when he returned, something had changed. He seemed pensive, brooding, and more intense than he had been moments ago, all traces of his good humor gone. And when he kissed her, his lips were hard, firm, unyielding, as if he had a message he couldn't say in words.

“Jagger?” Was it the mention of other guys that was bothering him? The condom? Or was it the fact she was leaving town?

He lifted her, his fingers digging into her ass, his cock pressed against her sex. Arianne wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders as he backed her up against the wall.

“Say something,” she whispered.

Jagger bent down and drew her nipple between his teeth, sucking and nipping until she was writhing against him. His hand slid down, skimming over her clit to stroke along her folds.

“Are you ready for me?” There was an edge to his voice that made her heart skip a beat, and she briefly considered slowing things down, finding out the reasons for his sudden fierce intensity, but her core ached and her clit throbbed and she was close—so close, she could almost taste the oblivion of release.

“Yeah, baby. I'm ready for you.”

Jagger closed his eyes, buried his face in her neck, and groaned. “Fuck, sweetheart. Just … fuck.”

Impatient, she shifted against him, levering herself up to position herself where she wanted him to go. Jagger took over in an instant, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance.

“Relax for me.”

She gritted her teeth and locked her legs around his hips, forcing him in farther. “Relaxing is not what I want to do right now. It's been a while, but I'm not going to break.”

With a low moan, he thrust inside her, his size, the sense of fullness, the erotic sensation of being stretched to the point of discomfort so intense she shuddered with desire.

“You promised me hard and fast.” Her breaths came in short pants and Jagger gave her a slow, sensual smile.

“Yes, I did.”

Then he lifted her and thrust in deep, withdrawing and then pounding into her sending her arousal skyrocketing. When Arianne moaned, he slid one hand between them and spread her moisture up and around her clit. Awash with sensation, the tang of his blood on her tongue, she was totally unprepared when he pinched her clit and sent her over the edge.

Her orgasm hit in a fierce, violent wave of intensity, crashing through her body and rippling out to her fingers and toes. As she throbbed and pulsed around him, Jagger hammered into her, finally coming with a roar, the heated jerks of his cock against her sensitive inner walls sending a shock wave through her body as she writhed against him.

“I think we skipped numbers one and two from your list and jumped to number three.” She leaned against him, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her chest, as she came down from the ride.

“Lots of time for one and two,” he murmured.

“But—”

Jagger pulled away abruptly before she could tell him again she was leaving, easing her to the floor before he went to dispose of the condom. By the time he returned, Arianne had put on her clothes and hidden her torn panties in the pocket of her coveralls. She ran her hands through her hair, smoothing down the loose strands. Why was he being so cold?

His eyes hardened when he saw her dressed. Without a word, he tugged on his jeans and reached for his shirt.

“Jagger? What's wrong?”

He looked back over his shoulder and yanked on his shirt, heedless of the laceration on his chest. “You're mine,” he said simply.

“Okay.”

“Not okay.” Jagger whirled to face her, then closed the distance between them in two long strides. “You don't get it.”

The skin on the back of her neck prickled in warning, but she pushed on. “Then explain it to me.”

He twined her hair in his hand and tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You aren't leaving Conundrum. I claimed you.”

A chill shot down Arianne's spine. “I thought you claimed me to help me get away from Viper and for all the political reasons that go with it. Not for real. Not for—”

“Yes, for real.” He cut her off so abruptly, she startled.

“I claimed you as a biker and now I claimed you as a man. You are mine, Arianne. No one will fuck you but me. No one will touch you but me. I'll kill any man who hurts you and hurt anyone who makes you cry. If you need something, I'll get it for you. If you're sad, I'll make you happy. If you want to go out, you ask. Every night you will sleep in my bed. And you will not leave Conundrum.”

Shocked, speechless, she could only stare. “Seriously?” Her hand flew to her chest. “Do you seriously think I belong to you because we had sex? Or that you can stop me from leaving if that's what I want to do?”

“Yes.”

“It doesn't work that way,” she said, her heart stuttering in her chest. “Not with me. I fought too hard for too long to wind up in the exact same situation I was trying to escape.”

Gravel crunched outside, and Jagger released Arianne, spinning to hide her as she zipped up her coveralls. She had just smoothed down her hair when the door opened and Sparky stepped inside.

“We've got a lead on Axle. He knows she's here and he's in the neighborhood, likely at one of the local bars.”

Jagger waved him back. “Gimme five.”

“What's out there for you?” Jagger pulled on his cut after the door closed. “Aside from just getting away from Viper, what is it you're looking for?”

“Happiness is out there.” She tried to keep her voice even despite the ache in her throat. “Normal is out there. I'll have a normal life, where every day I get to decide how to live. No one will get shot or threaten to kill me. No one will hold a knife to my throat or claim me as a blood price. I'll feel safe when I go to bed and safe when I walk out the door. I'll be a person and not a piece of property. I'll have a house and a husband and kids and a dog and a nine-to-five job and—”

“You gonna trade the Ninja in for a minivan?” He gave her an incredulous look. “Drive the speed limit down the highway? You gonna tone down the attitude that makes a man so hard, he can't think straight?”

“Some things will stay the same.”

“Is that really what you want?” He softened his tone. “You're not normal, and you never will be. You were born into this world. You adapted, survived. The skills you have, you don't need out there. But the skills you need out there, you don't have.”

“There won't be any bikers around. That's all I need to be happy.”

“Happiness is in here.” He tapped her chest just above her heart. “Not out there.”

Arianne brushed his hand away. “There's nothing left in there. Everyone I loved is gone, and everyone I trusted betrayed me. And now Jeff…” Her throat constricted, cutting off her words. “But I'll find it again once I leave Conundrum. I know I will, and I won't let anyone stop me—not Viper, not Leo … not you. I don't give up when I want something. Even at the worst of times, I never gave up. “

“Neither do I.”

“Jagger—”

“Later.” And then he turned and walked away.

*   *   *

The Sinners found Axle at a bar only a few blocks away, and sharing a table with Mac “the Blade” Lombardo, one of Montana's most infamous hit men. While Cade and Sparky took the Blade outside for a “chat” and Zane cleared out the civilians, Jagger settled himself at Axle's table and sent Wheels to scrounge up a couple of drinks.

He said nothing while the bar was being locked down, the owner paid off, and the lights dimmed, enjoying Axle's increasing discomfort and the fear only silence could bring. Instead, he checked out the pictures on the walls: Harleys mostly, and women, and women on Harleys, so scantily clad, his mind wandered to the little Black Jack he'd left behind in Sparky's shop.

Arianne. On his bike. Naked
. Now that was something to lighten his dark mood.

The bar was small—fifteen worn wooden tables—and narrow, smelling of yeast and stale beer. Just enough room for Cade and Sparky to walk on either side of the Blade as they dragged him to the back door. The bar counter was scratched and the walls covered in Giants' pennants. But that's what happened when you lived in a state with no professional sports teams.

By the time Wheels returned with the drinks, the civilians were gone, and sweat beaded on Axle's brow. Axle reached up to take the beer from Wheels, and his trembling hand made Jagger smile. He could see Axle's fear, smell Axle's guilt, and by the time the night was over, his knife would taste Axle's blood. But first, a little fun.

“Wheels, we need some tunes for this happy occasion.” Jagger forced a smile. “Not every day we meet up with a long-lost ex brother.” He took a beer from Wheels' outstretched hand, and motioned to the speakers in the corners. “Find the sound system. Put on something fitting.”

Ever the obedient prospect, Wheels headed for the back while Tank and Gunner took up guard positions near the doors. Zane joined Jagger at the table, a smirk on his face. He loved interrogations. Maybe too much.

“Heard you'd issued a vendetta against me.” Jagger took a long sip from his bottle then reached behind his hip and pulled his knife from its sheath. “And against Vexy.” He toyed with the knife, holding it up as if inspecting the blade under the light.

“Don't know anything about a vendetta.” Axle's voice rose in pitch as he stared at the knife. “Never made any threats against you or that little Black Jack wh—”

Jagger slammed his knife through Axle's hand, pinning it to the table just as George Thorogood's “Bad to the Bone,” blasted through the speakers. He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Axle's screams to die down.

“Also heard you were looking to patch in to a new club.”

Axle gritted his teeth, his entire focus on the knife in his hand. He would be desperate to remove it, but he knew if he touched it before Jagger gave him permission, the consequences would be severe. “You kicked me out, so there's no reason I can't patch in to a new club.” He grimaced and looked up. “Who's been talking about me?”

One thing about Axle, he'd never lacked balls. Not many men would be throwing questions back at him, but Jagger, now secure in his claim over Arianne, was in a mellow mood.

“Weasel. True to his name.”

“Fucking bastard.” Axle balled his free hand into a fist. “I don't know why he would fucking lie, but since he's a disloyal, dishonorable, lying
scumbag,
I'm not surprised. If you want to have a talk with him, he's staying with his mom. Blue house on Fir Street.”