But there was nothing nice about the way I threw my arms around her, pulled her into me, smashed my lips down on hers. My tongue sucked at hers hungrily, a prelude to where my hands were going. They went down, stopped on her ass cheeks, and squeezed.
The moan she hissed into my mouth told me we were on the same page. Shit, she knew my hunger too. Her nipples poked through her bra and the thin autumn sweater she was wearing, an outfit so conservative I couldn't wait to shred it to tatters.
“Let's get the hell home, babe. Plenty of drinks waiting if you're in the mood. The boys are celebrating.”
“No,” she whispered softly, staring up at me while I sat her on the bike and fixed her helmet. “All I need is right here.”
Her arms hooked around me. The embrace blew my mind, and threatened to do the same to the nuke hammering in my pants.
Christ. How the fuck could a woman feel so perfect riding with me?
It was like she'd been made for the back of my bike, made for my bed. I'd never bought into that soul mate horseshit before, but every second with this chick was making me wonder if I'd been wrong about it for nearly thirty years.
I loved how she rode pressed up against me while we roared down the highway, taking the mountain bends beneath the moonlight, dipping up and down the valleys filled with Smoky Mountain mist.
Dew prickled at our skin. Even the land itself was wet and teasing. If this wasn't a night to lay a woman down and fuck, then I didn't know one.
Hell, this was a night for more than that. I'd claim her, damn it, and do it good and proper. We'd have a proper reunion at this little mountain bungalow I had about twenty miles from the clubhouse, right on the edge of the big national park.
I'd never brought a girl out there before. It was the place my old man used to go to think, and sometimes he brought Mama and me along for the ride. I'd inherited it after she passed, but I kept it locked up tight, except for the times I wanted to reflect, all alone, away from the brothers and the violence.
I'd never been ready to share that shit with anybody 'til her. Not 'til tonight.
We got to the clubhouse in record time. I parked my bike and grabbed her hand, leading her inside. Loud classic rock bounced through the air, the latest tempo the brothers inside were drinking and fucking to.
A loud moan greeted us behind the bar. My eyes darted to the spot where Firefly had his bitch for the night bent over, slamming his cock into her and growling every time he went deep. The Enforcer never stopped being a hothead even when he fucked, taking his girls out in the open, and hanging 'em out wet to dry the next day.
The bastard looked up, his eyes dark with sex. I gave him a knowing stare. He snorted, never skipping a beat with the slut under him.
“Wow, you weren't kidding about the party!” Meg smiled, so excited and seductive I wanted to drag her out back right there, behind the trees, and put my mouth on hers 'til she couldn't show any teeth the rest of the night.
I didn't like the way Firefly was looking at her. The fuck had a taste for threesomes sometimes – who among us didn't? – but there was no way in hell I'd let him ask my girl.
“Something like that,” I growled, leading her toward the hall hand-in-hand. “We're just here for business. I've got a better place for us to go after this. Let's get this over with.”
The cash stuffed bag sagged in my hand. I carried it in and headed for the Prez's office, hoping he hadn't gone home yet. I sure as hell didn't want to deal with Joker after he'd borrowed my bed for his nasty fun.
Firefly sat at the bar and fixed his eyes on Meg as we stepped inside. We exchanged a look and he nodded. He wore that tired, satisfied glaze in his eyes that he always had after he'd fucked his testosterone calm for awhile. I noticed Blondie snoozing in his lap as we walked by, heading for Dust's office.
“Leave the talkin' to me,” I said between taps on the door. “This is club business, baby, even though it involves you too.”
“Yeah, about that...I was hoping we could get some reassurance from your boss about what's going to happen to me.”
“What?” I shot her a sharp look, just as the door opened.
The Prez had a beer in his hand. He squinted at us like two trick-or-treaters who'd just shown up on his doorstep on the Fourth of July.
“What's she doing back here?” His eyes instantly fell to the big black bag in my hand. “Holy Moses. Is that what I think it is?”
I nodded. All it took for the Prez to reach for Meg and pull her into his office without another word, while I followed them in.
He walked behind his desk, sucking down his beer and hurling the can in the garbage. The bag hit his desk with a plop. His thick, scarred hands landed on it and I watched his fingers give it a squeeze, shaking almost imperceptibly while he went for the zipper, looking like a man about to pull down a lady's dress.