Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4) (27 page)

Music pounded into the night as the wedding reception began to grow wilder. The older people and the kids had all left, and those who remained partied how I imagined Vikings celebrating a successful raid would party. Lots of drinking, roaring, and women. Energy pulsed in the air and the champagne I’d downed made my blood fizz. The table I sat alone at was away from the dancefloor and I’d turned down the men who’d asked me to dance. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already was and I certainly didn’t want word reaching Pastor Middleton that I’d been acting like a harlot in public.

The thought of enduring another one of his screaming lectures on chastity had me slugging back more of my orange juice and vodka.

Unfortunately, no matter how much I drank, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of fate awaited me when I returned home. I’d snuck out, and even though I’d left a note explaining I’d be attending Smoke and Swan’s wedding, and I’d arranged for one of the women I trusted, Mrs. Klein, to watch over my frail grandmother. There should be no reason for any drama over my attending Swan’s wedding, but I knew there would be a price to pay when I returned.

I took another drink, trying to rid myself of the taste of fear. It was ridiculous, I was nineteen years old, no longer a child, and I should be able to leave the church grounds if I wanted. They had no reason to assign me any punishment chores, or—the Good Lord forbid—penance.

Goose bumps rose along my arms and I startled when someone sat next to me.

A quick glance up showed it was an older man with grey hair and a tattoo on his neck. His blue eyes were cold and I wanted to scoot away, but I was afraid of offending him. It wasn’t his fault I hadn’t been exposed to a great many people. He was probably a perfectly nice man. After all, he’d been invited to the reception. For a long moment he studied me, then gave me a smooth smile.

“Hello, pretty girl. Name’s Vance. Who’re you?”

I wondered if I should shake his hand, but my palms were sweaty so I settled for clenching them into the shimmering silver fabric of my bridesmaid dress. “Lyric…Lyric Ashton.”

He blinked at me, then something in his face changed and his gaze became intent, probing. “You live around here? How do you know Swan? You guys close?”

“Uh…” I tried to figure out a polite way to avoid his question. “Yes.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Pardon me?”

He leaned forward, capturing me with his gaze and I could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. I felt like a bird mesmerized by a snake and leaned back as he closed the distance between us. My skin prickled as he invaded my personal space, and my mouth went dry when he placed his hand on the back of my chair, almost touching me.

Now, I haven’t had much experience with men, but I wasn’t ignorant about sex, and I knew the look on his face was lustful.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer. Am I clear?”

I drew farther away from him but didn’t know how to respond.

Thankfully, I was saved from my inability to speak by a strong, tanned hand grasping mine as a deep voice said, “Come on, sweetheart, you promised me a dance.”

I most certainly hadn’t promised anyone anything, but I was thankful for the excuse to get away from the older man, now staring at someone behind me with open hatred.

“Go away, Hustler. She ain’t your kinda girl.”

Wanting to avoid a scene—the last thing I needed was word getting back to the church that two rough men had been fighting over me—I quickly stood. “I’m sorry, but I did promise him a dance.”

Vance’s upper lip started to curl in a snarl before he caught himself and gave me a smooth smile, reminding me a lot of the racist jerk currently running what used to be my parents’ church. Pastor Middleton, the current thorn in my side, and his son were the bane of my existence. They were up to something, I didn’t know what, but my church didn’t have enough money to support their lavish lifestyle. Part of me wanted to know what they were doing, but another part just wanted to keep my head down until my grandmother passed and I could leave.

At the thought of my sweet grandmother, trapped in the fog of Alzheimer’s, I worried again if maybe I should leave early. I’d promised Swan I’d stay the night at her parents’ place, but I had an uneasy feeling about being away from home. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Mrs. Klein with watching my grandmother; I just didn’t trust Pastor Middleton and his people. While he had no reason to hurt my grandmother, or me, I still didn’t like the way his gaze lingered on me a little too long when my mother wasn’t looking.

Kind of like Vance’s gaze crawling over my semi-exposed breasts. I never showed this much skin, but Swan had refused a more modest cut to the top. The sweetheart neckline displayed the beginning of the soft mounds of my breasts and I had to resist the urge to tug it up while.

“Come on, darlin’,” a smooth male voice purred behind me, sinful enough to persuade an angel to flirt with evil.

When I faced him, I had to hold back a gasp—because it was the groomsman who’d been devouring me with his gaze as I’d walked down the aisle in Swan’s wedding. Just the memory of his burning, light brownish-green eyes staring into mine had my heartbeat picking up. I’d been slightly disappointed he’d ignored me after the ceremony, but now, with his pretty hazel eyes staring into my own, I grew slightly lightheaded. Little prickles of excitement raced over my skin and I swear my heart skipped a beat as something powerful, primal and seductive, moved through me.

What in the world was wrong with me? I was swooning like one of those ladies I liked to read about in naughty historical romances. Thank goodness for the invention of the eReader, because I could read my tawdry novels without being judged as a whore. As if reading about people falling in love somehow made me mentally unclean.
Please.

Pastor Middleton was big on chastity and virtue, on clean bloodlines…whatever the heck that meant.

I didn’t say anything as he led me away from Vance and onto the dance floor.

He placed one hand on my waist, then used the other to lift my arm around his neck. While he wasn’t as tall as Smoke or Beach, he was perfect for my shorter height. He still towered over me, but it wasn’t like my face was at his belly button.

I had no idea what music was playing as I wound my fingers together behind his thick neck, the silk of his black hair brushing my skin and making it tingle. A pencil-thin goatee lined his perfectly full lips and my gaze returned to his pretty eyes again and again, a little spark racing through me each time that settled between my legs in a low throb.

“Thank you for rescuing me Mr.…?”

“Hustler.”

I stopped swaying against him, unaware that I’d even been moving, and tilted my head in confusion. “Your name is Hustler?”

Amusement sparked in his gaze. “Yep.”

I flushed, remembering Swan telling me about road names. “Oh, yes, I see. It’s your club name, correct?”

Now his lips curved in a smile that made a dimple pop out in his cheek.

Goodness, he was extremely handsome.

“Glad you think so, sweetheart.”

I stumbled when I realized I’d said that aloud, thinking I might have had a little too much alcohol. “I didn’t—”

The music changed, became a deeper and faster beat, and I found myself pressed fully against Hustler as he grew tense against me. “My real name is Lorenzo.”

His words held an interesting accent as he said that and I repeated him, rolling my R like he did. “Lorenzo.”

“Mmm, like it when you say my name like that. You have the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard.”

Blushing, I looked down, and became aware that my breasts were pressed to his hard chest, that his thigh was close to brushing between my legs. The cologne he wore reminded me of oranges and spice, a very masculine smell that made a woman wonder if it smelled even better closer to his skin. Everywhere he touched on my body heated and grew sensitive and needy.

Despite the fact I grew up on a compound that highly discouraged dirty dancing, I’d learned how to do it over the years while visiting my friends on other compounds. I was by no means good at it, but I knew enough that I could move easily with Lorenzo. No—Hustler. My body relaxed into his and he was very, very good at showing me what he wanted, how he wanted it. There was something thrilling about a man so confident and controlling, at least for me. I know it's probably a result of my upbringing, but I’ve been raised to follow a man’s lead and I found it…comforting. And arousing. Darn it, I probably shouldn’t have had that vodka.

I felt the distinct bulge of a rather large cock pressed into the softness of my stomach and shivered, that ache back between my legs. The song beat through my blood and the crowd around us was filled with people dancing way closer than we were. In fact, people were making out with drunken abandon as they ground against each other. It was a wild crowd and normally I’d be freaked out by being in the middle of them, but in Hustler’s arms I felt safe. He was so big, broad, and even though he wasn’t the tallest man in the room the hard pressure of his muscled frame against my much softer one had me panting.

Curious to know if he was feeling the same intense arousal that I was experiencing, I looked up at Hustler through my lashes and internally combusted at the heat in his gaze.

In a completely seductive purr, he murmured, “Fuck, why’d I have to meet you now? Perfect, so sweet I got a toothache, so hot you make me burn. And the way you melt for me…shit.”

“Pardon me?”

His look was almost sad as he cupped my cheek with one rough hand, stroking his thumb over my lower lip. “Soft, like peach skin. Love havin’ you pressed up against me. Makes a man wonder what it would be like to own a sweet beauty like you. Bet you don’t know how irresistible you are, how many men are wishin’ they were in my place. You walk through the room and men can’t help but follow the sway of your round hips and full ass.”

The deep timbre of his voice had my nipples stiffening as I soaked up his praise-even if it was dirty praise. I’d had men compliment me before, but nothing this raw, this visceral. A little pang of guilt went through me that I was allowing a man to speak to me like that in public, but the dirty girl who lived at the heart of me secretly loved it.

I didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t have his way with words, so I settled for, “Thank you.”

His face dipped down next to mine, the tip of his nose running over my ear and making me want to straddle his leg and seek some relief from the ache he started inside of me.

“Look at you, that pretty pink blush.” In one smooth move he lifted my skirt high enough that he could slide his thigh between mine, only my panties and the thin fabric of his tuxedo pants protecting my heat from his flesh. “Fuck, I can feel how hot you are, how wet.”

That embarrassed me, pulled me out of my arousal a bit, but Hustler wasn’t letting me put any space between our bodies. He grasped my hips and rocked me up and down his thigh, rubbing me against him in a way that had me seeing stars. His erection thrilled me, proof that he found me attractive, and he let out a groan of his own as I sank my fingers into his hair and pulled lightly. His soft moan had me making an almost matching sound of desire.

“Yeah,” he whispered into my ear, “harder. I like it rough.”

Goodness, what was I doing? I was so far out of my league with this man, it was laughable. He liked it rough, and I hadn’t even had enough experience to know what I liked at all. I mean, yes, I’ve read my erotic romance novels, and Sarah’s a good friend of mine so I’m not naïve about sex, but reading and doing are two different things. I wasn’t prepared for the burning craving to kiss this man I barely knew, this devilish temptation wrapped up in a tuxedo with the collar unbuttoned enough to reveal a raven tattoo on the side of his neck.

Curious, I traced it with my fingertips and he moaned softly, turning me on even more. “Shit, I like it soft with you just as much. Dangerous. Triple threat.”

“What?”

He licked the side of my neck and I rubbed myself on his leg. “Dangerous, make me want things I can’t have right now, not with that asshole gunnin’ for me.”

“I don’t understand.” My voice came out all deep and breathy and I swore I was turned on enough to climax if he kept grinding my clit against his thick thigh.

The strong thump of his pulse met my fingertip as I traced my way from his throat to his jaw, unable to stop touching him. With the music, the lights, the crowd of strangers around us, I felt like I was living in a dream where my actions didn’t have consequences. Fascinated by his plush lips, I traced my fingertip over the bow of his mouth, dipping it lightly inside when he parted his lips on a soft snarl.

I should have realized the risk of teasing a man like Hustler.

I should have run away from him that instant.

I should have paid attention to Vance staring at us with pure hatred in his gaze from the edge of the dance floor as he talked into his phone.

Instead I succumbed to Hustler’s gentle urging and titled my face up to his, softening my mouth in anticipation of his kiss.

When the tip of his tongue tasted my skin, I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life as I yielded to him, because a moment later his arms were wrapped around me, my body exploding into tingles while he lowered his delicious mouth to my own and sealed my fate with a kiss as delicate as a butterfly’s wing.