Thrust/Throb: Lost Devils MC - Book 2 Page 3

  “I’m working late, though.”

  He shrugs. “Race isn’t until late. So I’ll see you after.”

  The unspoken “or else” threat I hear loud and clear.

  “Isn’t it about to pour outside?”

  He shrugs again. “It’ll clear up. We’ll race after.”

  “Won’t the track be wet and dangerous?”

  His crew snickers, and Jay, his “second in command” and a real dipshit, grins.

  “Hey, not our problem. They want a piece of that prize money; they’ll race on a wet track.”

  “Order up!”

  I realize it’s the fourth time Jerry has barked it from back in the kitchen, and I wince. I glance around and catch Scarlett’s eye, but she’s in the middle of taking another order and looks completely swamped anyways.

  “Shit, I need to go.”

  Bryce rolls his eyes. “Don’t know why the fuck you’re working here anyways,” he chuckles. He turns to elbow his buddies in the ribs. “Not like she needs for anything, am I right?”

  They all snicker and clap him on the shoulder, but I just smile thinly and do everything in my power not to roll my eyes. Or, you know, spit on him. Bryce does not “take care of me” in that sense. I’m his trophy—a status symbol, like we’re in medieval times and he’s got the ousted king’s princess daughter locked up in a tower for everyone to see. I have a room to sleep in, but that’s about it. I work because I would straight up go hungry if I didn’t.

  Not to mention, one of these days, I’m getting the fuck out of here, and it’s going to take all the pancake and burger tips in the world to pull that off.

  “See you tonight,” I mutter. I turn and duck into the kitchen, and I stay there and peep out to make sure I see Bryce and his dipshit friends leave.

  “Fucker,” I mutter.

  “Fuckin’ order!” Jerry bellows from behind me through the food window.

  “Okay! Okay! Just fucking quit already, asshole!” I bark back.

  Jerry actually grins.

  Hours and hours later, I can actually breathe. Scarlett’s gone home, Jerry’s cleaned the kitchen and headed out, and the place is finally empty of guests. I blow air out through my lips and lean against the food window back in the dark kitchen. What a fucking day. And if being on my feet all day serving greasy food for a peanut salary and crappy tips, getting verbally abused and getting ketchup dumped on me wasn’t enough, now I have to go clean up, “look pretty” for Barnes, and stand there next to him pretending to be “his girl” so that his scene thinks he’s this bad ass gangster instead of the pathetic little punk he really is.

  God, I wish this place sold alcohol.

  I rub my temples, feeling fried and ready to just go the hell to bed, when suddenly, I hear the jingle of the diner’s front door.

  Motherfucker.

  The door I definitely forgot to lock.

  With a groan, I stop leaning and trudge for the double doors into the dining area, my arms full of menus.

  “Hello?”

  I push the saloon doors open, and step out, and instantly, my world just sort of freezes.

  He’s gorgeous. I mean, he’s a little terrifying, and dripping wet, and dressed in all black. But even with the wet clothes and the darkness of the place, I can’t help but stare at him.

  He’s huge, for one. Also, that beard is freaking hot, just like the tattoo ink I can see on his hands and peeking out from his hoodie around his neck. The man looks up, and these absolutely stunning blue eyes pierce right into me, setting a fire going inside of me and taking my breath away. Like, literally taking the breath from my lungs, because I’ve never once seen eyes like those.

  He pulls his beanie off, and I swallow as I take in the long dark brown hair pulled up into a knot on his head. Good lord, the man is beautiful, in this dark, sort of rough and scary biker kind of way.

  “Um, hi,” I whisper.

  The man unzips his leather jacket, and I swallow again.

  “You closed?”

  Whoa, did not expect that. The voice that comes out is thickly British—and not like a polished James Bond voice, more like a pirate, or a character out of a Guy Ritchie movie. And it is totally and completely and uncomfortably hot.

  “No,” I blurt out before frowning. “Well, I mean, you can stay,” I say quickly. I bite my lip, my eyes sliding over him again before I catch myself and blush.

  “I’m just cleaning up. Want something? The cook is gone, but I’m can do, like…” I shrug. “Toast or something?”

  He frowns. “Nah, you’re closed,” he growls out in that panty-melting Jack Sparrow meets Christian Bale accent. “I’ll just wait out—”

  Thunder booms, like the heavens are crashing down, and I can’t even stop myself from basically screaming and jolting like a total spaz. My cheeks burn, and I look away.

  “Um, if you wanted to stay…” I laugh nervously. “I could use the company?”

  The man grins a crooked, roguish smile that does something very electrifying to my core, making me shiver heatedly.

  “I could use the dry.”

  I smile and drop the menus on the counter and gesture towards a chair. The man nods and starts to move forward, but his eyes are locked on mine, never flinching, never blinking, and never looking away. Heat burns through me, and my legs squeeze together before I can even help it. My breath catches, and my heart races, and my eyes are just captivated by his as he stalks towards me, like he’s going to devour me.

  And God help me, I want him to.

  Chapter Three

  Delphine

  Oh fuck.

  I stare, shamelessly, as the man stands to pull his hoodie off. His t-shirt peels up with it, and my jaw drops at the body my eyes land on. He’s carved out of freaking stone—pure freaking muscle, and absolutely covered with old-school style tattoos. His abs ripple and clench, and his chiseled chest flexes as he peels the hoodie off and tosses it aside. He pushes the shirt down, and I watch with wide eyes as he pulls his long hair which has just tumbled free back and holds it with a tie in a knot on top of his head.

  He looks up, and he grins wolfishly when he catches me staring. Quickly, I whirl to pour him some coffee.

  “Cream or sugar?”

  “Got any whiskey?”

  I grin, biting my lip.

  “Yeah, I wish.”

  “Just black would be great.”

  I nod, oddly at a loss for words considering my usual chatterbox self as I pass him the mug.

  “You sure you don’t want anything? Toast?”

  He shakes his head while he sips at the coffee. “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

  “It’s really not a problem.”

  His eyes look up and hold mine again, taking my breath away as he grins. “Yeah, alright. I could do toast. Thanks.”

  “Comin’ right up!”

  I skip into the kitchen and immediately cringe at my dumb line. “Comin’ right up?” Really? I groan and grab a loaf of bread out of the reach in cooler and push two pieces into the toaster sitting on the counter. I glance over at the iPod plugged into the restaurant’s sound system.

  “You want some music on?”

  “Sure,” he growls from out at the counter.

  “Any preference?”

  He says something I don’t catch, and I push my head out of the kitchen. “What?”

  “Dealer’s choice,” he grunts with a grin.

  I smile and duck back in. The toast pops up from the toaster as I scroll through the music, finally stopping at Bill Withers. When my mom passed when I was young, it was my Grandmother who mostly raised me, seeing as my local-thug coke dealing dad wasn’t exactly father of the year material. And Grams loved classics like Bill Withers.

  “Ain’t No Sunshine” starts to play, and I smile as I pull the toast out of the toaster. I have no idea what’s compelled me to make some food for this stranger instead of just letting him walk out like he was clearly about to do. I want to say it’s because of so
me altruist need to help and not that he’s a freaking smoke-show, but I’m not sure how true that is.

  “This okay?” I say, stepping out of the kitchen again.

  “Fuckin’ perfect,” he says with that roguish grin.

  “Well, can’t go wrong with the classics,” I call out as I duck back in. I grab his plate of toast, when suddenly, thunder freaking explodes through the sky. Lightning crashes and the thunder comes again, and then suddenly the lights flicker and go out. And I scream.

  Instantly, the kitchen doors slam open, and he comes charging through, taking my breath away. God, he’s like a wild beast the way he comes barreling in like a bear or something.

  “Are you okay?” he growls.

  “Just scared of the dark, apparently,” I laugh nervously. “Hang on, there’s a flashlight up at the register out front.”

  It’s almost pitch-black though, so when I step forward, he seems to do the same, and suddenly I’m stepping right into him. I gasp, a jolt of electricity blazing through my body as I bump into his rock-hard chest. His arms go around me for a second, and I gasp again, shivering.

  “Sorry,” he grunts and steps away from me. I miss the heat of him almost instantly.

  “Um, it’s this way.”

  He follows me behind the counter. But when I reach under the register, of course the flashlight isn’t there.

  Shit.

  “Fuck,” I grumble. “There might be one in the back office, hang—”

  I whirl, and then suddenly gasp as I slam right into him again. Only this time, it’s not just bumping, it’s like I’ve fallen into his arms—his big, muscled, inked, perfect arms. My breath catches, and my hands go flat against his chest. He growls as his hands grip my waist tightly, and my pulse thunders in my ears as I look up into his face.

  The moon bathes us both in white, and my pulse skips. Heat teases over my skin, radiating out from where his hands are on me. I don’t move mine from his chest, and my teeth rake over my lips as I look up into his gorgeous, piercing blue eyes.

  …I’ve never once felt this before. It’s not even just desire, or just physical attraction. It’s like I look up into this stranger’s eyes, and I’m in a free fall. Maybe it’s that he’s so rough and tumble looking—that he seems dangerous but holding back. Maybe it’s the accent, or the eyes, or the way he’s got me freaking melting against him.

  Whatever it is, I can’t look away, and I can’t, and don’t want to move away from him.

  “I—”

  His hands tighten on me, making me whimper, and he moves fast. His head lowers to mine, and when his lips crush to mine, I know I’m lost. I moan shamelessly into his mouth, kissing him right back and gasping as his lips open. I part mine for his tongue, and then I moan as I sink against him. Our tongues dance together, and our bodies begin to rock hard against one another.

  My hands grip his shirt tightly, his grip my waist, and then it’s like the dam just breaks.

  We slam together even harder, and I gasp as his hands slide over me. He yanks at my apron, and it drops to the ground as I slide my hands to his waist. I push his damp t-shirt up, my fingers grazing his chiseled abs and my pulse skipping as I do so. He pulls away just enough to whip it off over his head before he grabs my face and crushes his lips to mine again.

  His big tattooed hands push up over my work dress, and I moan as they slide over my breasts. His fingers pop one snap button, and then the next, his kisses growing hungrier with every button. My hands drop to his belt, fire blazing through me as I yank it open.

  I’ve never done this before. Well, not this—not this mad frantic passionate crashing together. I’ve never felt this urgency for a man before—never felt this need to just have him and let him take me any way he wants. I moan into his lips, pulling his belt open as he opens my dress and shoves it down my arms. I cringe when I remember that I’m wearing the world’s most boring plain white bra and panties but fuck it.

  …I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be wearing either of them pretty soon anyways.

  I gasp when he grabs my waist and suddenly hoists me up in the air. I moan, kissing him even harder as he sits me down on the Formica countertop and moves between my legs. I spread them eagerly for him, wantonly opening the button of his jeans as he strips my dress away. He yanks the rest of the buttons that go all the way to the hem open, and then I’m just in my underwear, my legs around his grooved waist and my tongue firmly in the mouth of a gorgeous stranger whose name I don’t even know.

  I have officially gone insane, and I don’t care for one second.

  Yes, this is dangerous, and I don’t mean because I don’t know him. I mean because I do know Barnes. I know that even though we’re not in any way shape or form a “couple” and even though he’s never touched me, he’d lose his fucking mind if he knew about this. I know his pride is everything, and he’d kill me—maybe even literally—if he caught us right now.

  But when this man wraps his huge arms around me, and kisses me like I’m his, I forget all of that. I forget the shittiness of my life, and the awful hand I’ve been dealt, over and over again. And instead, I just lose myself in him.

  He pulls my bra away as I shove his jeans down. And when I feel him press between my legs and feel the bulge in those black boxers throb against my pussy through my panties, I whimper. Good. Freaking. Lord. Does he feel big. I moan, kissing him eagerly and pushing a hand down between us. He cups a breast with one big hand, teasing my nipple as I gasp into his lips. His other hand grips my ass tight, yanking me into him. My hand pushes down, and I actually moan into his lips as I feel the size of his thick cock.

  This is primal. This is necessity. This is happening, and not even the storm raging outside could stop us now.

  He growls savagely as his mouth falls from my mine to slide down my jawline. The gorgeous, hot as hell bearded and tattooed stranger groans into my neck, making me whimper as his teeth rake my skin. He bites down, and I gasp, moaning in pleasure.

  “Oh fuck yes,” I whimper.

  And I realized how much I want it this way—I want him hard, and rough, and filthy. I want him fast and freeing, and I might even want him without a name.

  I want this escape—I need this escape, and I need it now.

  He growls and kisses his way lower, biting and sucking at my collarbone before he drops lower. His lips tease over the slope of my breasts, and I moan when he sucks a nipple into his mouth. He swirls his tongue over it, and I moan deeply when he pushes one big hand between my legs. His thick finger strokes my slippery, eager pussy through my soaked panties. He makes a valley in the material, pushing it between my lips to stroke my clit through them.

  I gasp, rocking my hips against him before he suddenly drops down between my legs and grabs the sides of my panties in both hands. He looks up at me, his eyes blazing with blue fire and desire, before he yanks them down. Heat washes over my face as his eyes slide down between my thighs to lock onto my pussy.

  I’ve never done this with a stranger. I’ve never even really had the desire to. But no man—none—have made me as eager, and wantonly wet as this man.

  “Fuck me,” he purrs out in that pirate voice. “This is the fucking prettiest little pussy in the world.”

  He moves in, and I cry out when his tongue slides over me. He parts my lips, pushing his tongue deep inside and making me squeal in pleasure. My hips rock against him wantonly, my mind melting as his mouth drives me wild. He tongues my clit, swirling around it over and over as he pushes a thick finger into me. I’m so wet that he slides right in, and I gasp in pleasure as he starts to stroke it against that spot just inside. His mouth covers my pussy, and his tongue swirls over my clit, and I start to freaking melt for him.

  I grip the edge of the counter and throw my head back. I feel wild, and free, and maybe a little slutty, but in the most empowering, arousing way possible. It’s been years since anyone touched me, and even then, I’m pretty damn sure nothing I’ve ever known before this can even compar
e to my stranger.

  He growls and licks me hungrily, dancing his wicked tongue over my clit and stroking his finger in and out, in and out. And soon enough, I can feel the fire rising inside. I moan, thrashing on the counter and bucking my hips against his mouth. He pins me down, holding my hips in place as he drags the orgasm out of me, driving me higher and higher with his finger and his tongue until I know I’m going to explode.

  And then, I do.

  The orgasm hits me out of nowhere, slamming into me like the storm outside has smashed its way inside to claim me. My hips break free of his grip, pushing against his growling mouth as I moan in pleasure for him. His tongue never slows, teasing me right through the climax and into another instant second one. Pleasure whines from my lips, and I’m gasping for air when he finally slides up between my legs.

  He kisses me fiercely, and I moan when I feel him pushing his boxers down. His huge—and I mean huge—hard, thick cock springs free to slap my thigh heavily. I whimper, feeling the heat of him and feeling his sticky precum drip down my skin. He growls into my mouth, wraps a hand around his length, and I gasp when I feel him push the swollen head against my eager lips.

  He pauses, pulling away, and our eyes lock.

  “Fuck me,” I gasp.

  He starts to open his mouth, and for a second I’m worried he’s going to shatter this whole incredibly hot “stranger” fantasy by telling me his name. But instead, he just growls and leans in to kiss me hotly.

  “With pleasure,” he purrs as he pushes his hips forward.

  I gasp, my eyes going wide and the breath leaving my lungs as the sheer size of him slides into me. I’m so fucking wet that he glides right in, and I moan eagerly as his thickness stretches me to the fullest. He pushes deeper, his huge cock absolutely filling me as he sinks inch after inch into my slippery pussy, until finally, with a deep moan, I can feel his balls against my ass on the counter.