Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds Motorcycle Club): Vegas Titans Series (8 page)

He nuzzles my cheek with his nose, searching for my mouth. I
turn my head and open my lips to his. Our tongues meet, gently massaging each
other, as I feel him circle his hips around, getting me used to the feeling of
him inside of me. I feel a slight twinge of pain as he does so, but also
pleasure as he pushes against my g-spot. He begins to pull out, but keeps his
mouth on mine. I gasp as he slides back in, pleasure now mixing more with the
pain. I explore his back with my hands, feeling his muscles clench as he stops
and thrusts in and out again.

He pulls the top of his body up and away from me, reaching
one hand down and playing with my clit again with his shaft all the way inside
me. I groan as I watch his cock slide out of me up to the tip, and then as it
presses back in. I bring my knees up next to my shoulders as pleasure builds up
inside me again. He removes his hand from my clit, but it doesn't matter, I'm
getting an unbelievable amount of pleasure from his dick hitting me inside at
all the right places. He lies back down on me, my breasts pillowing against his
chest, and takes one of my legs in his hand and brings it next to my face,
increasing the pressure on my g-spot.

"You are so fucking tight," he murmurs, thrusting
in and out faster now.

"Oh, Holt, you feel so good inside me," I moan,
and he groans and slams into me, now completely unleashing himself. His cock
drives against my g-spot again and again and my body begins to spasm.

"That's it, come with me, come with me," he
breathes, and his words undo me. I come apart around him as I feel his cock
pulsing inside me and his cries in my ear. I feel completely outside of my body
and completely present all at once as pleasure ravages my body and leaves me
empty.

He stills on top of me and I wrap my hands in his hair and
hide my face in his neck as my legs relax on either side of him. Our sweat
slicks our bodies and we let it mingle between us as we breathe hard against
one another. Finally he stirs, pulling himself out of me with one hand to keep
the condom on, and plops next to me on the bed with a sigh.

I turn into him, reaching across his chest with one arm and
hooking a leg over him. If there's anything to say, I can't think of it. My
brain is as exhausted as the rest of me and I fall into a calm sleep.

Chapter Eight

Holt

I slide one arm carefully out of bed, dangling my fingers
across the carpet until they make contact with a t-shirt. I sit up and lean
away from Jo as I slowly pull it on. I had to be careful last night not to
allow her to see the Hell Hounds tattoo that covers my back. Not that caution
is what's sticking out in my mind about last night. Shit, I don't know the last
time it was that good. Or the last time I did missionary, for that matter. I'd
love to be able to convince myself that it was the position and not Jo that
felt so right, but I'm not that deluded.

She stirs next to me as I lean back on the pillow, now with
a black t-shirt covering the evidence of my MC life. Wilkes came over last
night after I texted him to clear out the Hell Hounds flag on my wall. I hadn't
been prepared to have Jo over, but she seemed very insistent on coming over
here. Plus, Bark said to gain her trust, so being able to see where I live is
probably a good start.

A soft whimper escapes Jo's lips and I lean up on my elbow
to watch her. Her forehead begins to twitch and she flings an arm to the side
suddenly. Her breathing becomes ragged as her legs begin to shake. I softly lay
a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her, but she doesn't wake up.

"Jo, Jo," I murmur. Her eyes fly open and she
raises her arms protectively against her face, pushing me away. Her expression
is full of fear, terror even. "Hey, hey, it's OK. It's OK. You were having
a nightmare," I say soothingly, though I don't move toward her. I wonder
if somehow her subconscious knows the truth about me.

"Oh…oh, sorry," she whispers, her eyes darting
around. She pulls the sheet up over her naked breasts as her gaze falls on me.
"Nightmare," she repeats, nodding shyly.

I wrap an arm around her and pull her against my chest.
"Remember what it was about?"

She pauses a little too long. "No."

"Breakfast?" I ask. God, when was the last time I
cooked for a woman?

"Sure, thanks," she says, smiling up at me. Her
eye makeup is a little smeared below her eyes, but she still looks gorgeous.
"Could I borrow a t-shirt?"

"Clean stuff's in the dresser," I say, pointing to
old oak bureau. She slips out from under the sheet and I can't help but watch
her walk over, the sunlight illuminating her tight, curvy body. I can't wait to
bury myself in her again. She reaches for the third drawer.

"Not that—" I begin. Shit.
Holt, you fucking
idiot
.

Jo freezes, staring down at the contents of the drawer,
which I know contain a handgun. She reaches her hands up and in tentatively.

"Don't. It's loaded," I warn her. She pauses for a
moment without turning toward me, then keeps going. I tense as I see her
raising it out of the drawer. Her eyes are locked on it like she's in a trance.
She holds it carefully in her palms, and I know immediately that she's never
held a gun before.

"Will you teach me?" she whispers, so quietly I
can barely hear her. Finally she turns around to face me, still holding the gun
in her palms. Seeing her bare ass naked, holding my gun in her hands, is
probably the sexiest thing I have ever seen in my life. I have to shake my head
to focus on her question.

"You…you want to learn to shoot?" I ask, narrowing
my eyes at her. That's not the reaction I was expecting.

"Yes," she replies, a little more firmly.
"Will you teach me?"

"Why do you want to learn?" I ask, trying to keep
my tone as simple and as devoid of deeper meaning as I can.

"I…I can't really tell you," she says, looking
down at it. "Well, for safety. Just in case."

"That sounds a little ominous."

"Sorry, I don't mean it to. Forget it."

"No, no, it's OK. I'll teach you. I'm just worried
about you."

"Don't. It's nothing."

"Alright," I say with a shrug. I reach onto the
floor to pull on a pair of boxers, then walk around the bed to her. She holds the
gun up to me and I take it from her hands. As I replace it in the drawer I try
to keep my face blank, but my mind's running a mile a minute.
So she seems
to have some sense that she's in danger, but still no idea that I'm wrapped up
in it.

She watches me close the drawer with the gun inside, then
smiles up at me.

"Breakfast?"

A few minutes later, Jo sits at the counter watching me
crack eggs into a bowl. She's wearing an old t-shirt of mine, which fits her
like a baggy dress.

"You a good cook?" she asks with a smile.

"I know my way around a kitchen," I admit with a
shrug. "My parents always used to rope me into cooking when they had the
munchies."

"Just teaching you an important life skill, I'm
sure."

"Exactly," I reply with a grin. "Your ex-husband
cook?"

"Steve? God, no. He wanted me to do all the cooking. I
did, or tried to…I'm a pretty atrocious cook, to be honest. He really wanted
the whole wife in an apron, dinner on the table at 6:30 thing…"

"You didn't?"

"I thought it was pretty boring," she confesses in
a hushed tone, as though she's worried about someone else hearing.

"So that's why you got divorced?"

"Oh, um, no. That was because he was cheating on me.
Which I was angry about at first, and betrayed and all that, but in the end I
think it was for the best. I really
wanted
to want that kind of life,
probably because my childhood was so crazy, but it didn't really work for
me." She grins, looking a little embarrassed. "I talk too much around
you."

"I don't mind."

"What about you? Any big exes?"

"I don't really date much," I tell her honestly,
pushing the scrambled eggs around the griddle.

"Really? You seem, sort of, natural at it," she
says, waving her hand to indicate my current position, making her breakfast.

"Maybe it's just you," I say with a sly smile at
her, though I feel a twinge of truth to what she says. Even though I'm
following a script, what I should be doing to make her trust me, it does feel
natural to me. I look back down at the eggs and spoon them onto two plates for
us, then take the bread out of the toaster and push a plate across the counter
to her. She digs in hungrily. Just as I'm raising my fork to my mouth, I hear
my phone ring. I cross over to my jacket on the couch and pull it out. It's
Bark.

"Sorry, it's work. Be right back." She nods as I
walk out the back door and close it behind me before answering.
"Holt."

"So?" Bark says, succinctly as ever.

"She's scared. She asked me to teach her how to
shoot."

"Last night?"

"This morning. She's still here," I say, shifting
a little and glancing through the panes on the door at Jo, who's blithely
chewing on her toast.

"Good. Thought you might have been losing your touch
there for a few days. Stay with her as much as possible so we'll have a
heads-up if she decides to do anything. Nothing about the shooting yet?"

"No. No idea if she could ID Fish. So, should I?"

"What?"

"Should I teach her how to shoot? I feel like I'm
arming her against us."

"Does she even own a gun?"

"No."

He snorts. "I'm much more worried about what she saw
than her shooting one of us. Just stay on her, do whatever she wants. And keep
me updated." He hangs up with a click. I toss my phone on the counter as I
walk back inside.

"Landscaping emergency?"

I glance at Jo sharply, but she's smiling. "You have no
idea. Some of the people I deal with…" I spend the rest of breakfast
telling her my client horror stories, and she seems interested in seeing some
of the work that I do. "So you want to go to the range today?" I ask.
She stands to clear our dishes. "You don't have to do that."

"You cooked, I clean," she says simply, turning on
the water in the sink and picking up a sponge. "The range. Yes. Could I,
um, rent a gun? How does that work?"

"I have a smaller one you could use than the one in
there," I say, nodding back to the bedroom.

"How many guns do you own?" She's looking down at
the sink, but I can tell the answer is important to her.

"A few," I admit. She glances over at me.
"Four," I clarify.

"Why?"

"Why do you want to learn to shoot?"

She smiles a little. "Fair enough."

Chapter Nine

Jo

"Repeat it back to me," Holt says seriously, his
arm muscles bulging as he folds them over his chest and squints down at me in
the sun. He hasn't even let me touch a gun yet, even though we're at the range.

"Um, double action means…you don't have to cock it.
When you pull the trigger, the bullet, the round, moves into position—"

"The cylinder rotates."

"Right, the cylinder rotates and the round moves into
position. And the trigger makes the hammer hit the firing pin. Both at once.
But with a single action, you have to do those things separately." I look
up at him for approval. "So the single action is good if you need to fire
quickly, but it's also harder to pull the trigger."

"Good." He reaches into a duffel bag he brought
and pulls out a handgun.

"Why can't I use the gun I saw in the drawer?" I
narrow my eyes at him. "Is this, like, a
girl
gun?"

He laughs. "No, this is not a 'girl' gun. The one in my
drawer is a semi-automatic. This," he holds out the one in his hands,
"is a .22. What I learned on. I think you should start out with this and
then later you can move on to a semi."

I nod. A semi-automatic. That's what the gunman in the store
used. The shape was the same as the one in Holt's drawer, but Holt's had silver
on the barrel and the gunman's was all black.