Steel My Soul (Motorcycle Club Romance) (Sons of Steel Motorcycle Club Book 4) (4 page)

The way he said it was like a direct order. My body began to flutter, my breath coming in short gasps. He watched with hooded eyes, his lips parted ,glistening and wet, "yeah, that's it, I feel you coming baby, do you know that? I can feel you getting all tight and hot, and fuck, that's good, yes, just let go baby girl, I've got you, I've got you."

There was a little hitch, a strangled gasp at the edge of his words, like he was just barely clinging on to control. When I came, it was like a freight train. I exploded, shattered, fell into a million pieces and blew away on the wind. "Fuck," I heard his ragged gasp, and then he collapsed on top of me, his hips pumping furiously as he spent himself with a roar. I clung to him as my orgasm went on and on, holding him in place, pleading with my body for him not to go.

When he fell to my side, gasping, I stared up at the ceiling, utterly wrecked. I felt wrung out and hollow, little shockwaves still fluttering through me. I felt the mattress dip and creak as he stood up unsteadily and padded barefoot across my floor. I rolled to the side, cold without his warm body on top of mine.

"Damn," I heard him say from the bathroom. There was a quick run of the tap, and then the doorway darkened. "Gabi?"  he called softly into the dark.

I stretched and closed my eyes, ready to purr I was so sated. "Hmmm?"

He laughed softly. "Thought you fell asleep on me." He padded naked to my bedside, moonlight deepening the shadows on his body. "Here, doll," he extended a warm washcloth to me.

I was touched by the gesture even as I blushed at the implication. Wordlessly I took the cloth and pressed it between my thighs, mopping up the tidal wave of desire that had soaked me inside and out. "Thanks," I muttered into my pillow.  "That was sweet."

"Least I could do," he chuckled, as my eyes fluttered closed. "It was kind of my fault."

I kept my eyes closed, waiting. I listened for the telltale jingle of a belt buckle, maybe the stomp of his boots. I waited for the creak of the door.

But instead the bed dipped as he crawled in beside me. I couldn't help the stupid grin that spread over my face and was grateful for the dark that hid it. He sighed and curled his naked body around mine, fitting himself to my shape and pulling the blanket up over us both. I stifled a yawn as he folded his arms around me. He was so warm, so deliciously warm and solid and real, that I was asleep in moments.

Crash

I hate waking up. I hate it so much that I avoid it by not sleeping at all.

This chick on my arm though, she slept like a log, her breath so deep and even that I couldn't help but doze.

I also couldn't move my arm.

I wasn't exactly sure why I was staying. Usually when a chick takes me home to fuck me, I make it a point to get the hell out as soon as we were done. I don't like to make things complicated. I'm much better at the fucking than I am at the aftermath.

But there was the slight problem that I had nowhere else to go.

I was too fucking wrecked to ride to Florida now. I was fucking cold out there, and Gabi's naked body was so warm.

Gabi shifted and mumbled in her sleep, rolling to the side so that her perfect tits brushed against my chest. My cock stirred to life, and I briefly contemplated rolling over and taking her again. I didn't think she'd mind. Gabi seemed more than willing to entertain whatever filthy, disgusting thing I could come up with. I tested the edge of her limits last night, I wouldn't mind doing it again.

But that would mean staying in Lenape, and I wasn't really interested in that.

There was a bright streetlamp just outside of Gabi's window, and it shone through the slats of the miniblinds, sending tiger stripes across the floral comforter. In the dim light it was almost exactly the same pattern as the one I left in the apartment back in Philadelphia. That was one I stole from some chick,
can't even remember her name, but I remember that she was really pissed that I didn't remember her name.

I don't remember anything, why should that chick think that she was special?

"Gabi," I whispered as a reminder to myself, and as if she heard me, Gabi shifted in her sleep again, rolling over and freeing my trapped arm. I rolled to my side and flung an arm over her warm, naked body, treating myself to a quick squeeze of her breast.
I'm only staying here because I have nowhere else to go,
I reminded myself.
Gabi
I said again, but this time in my head.
I need to remember her name, chicks like it when you remember their name.

I felt sleep creeping in at the edge of my consciousness.  I was too tired to fight it any more.  I've been awake for almost twenty-four hours now, fighting and fucking in equal measure over the course of this insanely long day. This morning I woke up in the clubhouse, confident that today would be the day that I would make things right with the redheaded one. Then all hell broke loose, and everything went to shit, and I needed to get the fuck out of there.

Her face as she looked at him, she had never looked at me like that
.
And stupid, stupid Crash didn't realize what was happening until Case bent and kissed her.

Poor stupid Crash, with his defective brain,
but I sure as fuck showed them. Their mouths were all hanging wide-open, they couldn't believe that I would just leave like that. But what the hell did they think I was going to do, stand around and have them all make a joke out of me?

This was just one more time my life where everything dissolved into a pile of shit and I had to flop around in it for a while before I could make my way again.

Finding a latte-skinned chick who came like a freight train, well, that was a sign things were looking up already.

Of all the places in the world I could have returned to, why did it have to be Lenape?
Still hadn't figured out why I was here. This place was full of old ghosts and habits; muscle memories with no real emotions attached to them.

It was the place where everything started.

Maybe that's why I wanted to return. Just to see if it sparked anything inside my stupid defective brain.

I knew the old woman was in the old-people facility up the road from here. Maybe I'd go see her when the morning came. She and I could stare at each other, each of us trying to remember who the fuck the other person was.

Sounded like a blast.

My stomach rumbled, and I wondered if I could convince Gabi to wake up and make me breakfast.  I rolled on my side, spooning up close against her warm body, and the smoothness of her skin brushing up against my chest got me hard all over again. I wiggled slightly downward and pressed my cock into the cleft of her ass.  Just resting it there, enjoying the way the heat felt against the skin of my dick.

Gabi sighed in her sleep, a small squeaky kitten noise. It was pretty fucking sexy. And my cock stirred even harder. I ran my hand over the flat of her belly, brushing my fingers downward. She gave a half sigh, half moan, pressing her hips upward to encourage my hand to move lower.

Losing myself in random pussy was a specialty of mine. And right now the best thing to do to heal the fresh new wounds inside would be to just shut out the feeling for a while. I had planned on doing that with drink tonight, but Gabi was a welcome substitute.

I slid a finger down in between her lips, loving the feel of the wetness that still lingered. Gabi moaned softly again, and her eyelids fluttered. "Sssh, baby," I whispered. "Just let me."

This girl. Damn, she tasted really fucking good. The way her back arched like a cat, pressing those ripe melon tits towards the ceiling when I licked her, well fuck. I slid down into the warmth under the sheets and slung her leg over my shoulder. She was all soft and pliable, and my cock got impossibly hard at how loose and willing she was. A few swirls of my tongue along her slickness had her making those sexy kitten noises again.

I wasted no time in bringing her right to the edge again. She didn't hold back, didn't try to stay decent or play games. She just came like a wild thing under my tongue and it was the best fucking thing ever. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to fuck her, it got me so hard just feeling the clamp of her soft thighs against my face. But my dick was ready to fall off it was so hard. Her eyes were closed and she was murmuring those tiny little satisfied sounds, so I didn't need to take my time. I unrolled the condom quickly and pressed myself up into her, loving the way her pussy muscles fluttered around my cock. She was still tight as hell and the heat of her nearly burned me to ash. A few quick pumps were all I needed to get mine.

I rolled back off of her and tied off the condom, dropping it down somewhere near my boots. I'd deal with that later. Curling around her again, I finally felt peaceful enough for sleep to overtake me.

Gabriela

I kept my eyes shut as I listened to the sounds of Crash waking.

At first there was a flailing panic. Then the sound of rapid breathing. I felt his fingers tighten against my arm, like he was trying to hold onto something, afraid he might fall.

I held perfectly still. Whatever it was that had frightened him was not something that I felt I could pry into. Slowly, he drew his hand away from my skin, his breathing returning to normal. He rolled away, slowly, carefully.

I could tell he was trying not to wake me. He was trying to keep this, whatever it was, private. It wasn't my business; he didn't owe me an explanation.

So I stayed frozen in my fetal huddle, trying to simulate the sound of sleep breathing.

He paused, listening. When he decided that I really was asleep, he rolled, dipping the mattress downward, as he lifted himself up to a stand.

Without his incredible warmth, I felt freezing. Feeling him trying to sneak away, knowing that he wanted it to be a secret, made me feel strangely hollow inside. I didn't know why this should be the case. I knew nothing about this man other than he was a biker with a badass name who fucked like a champ.

But I still didn't like that he was skipping out this way.

I heard the jingle of his belt buckle, the swish of fabric as he pulled his shirt over his head. I imagined how he must smell, the scent of our sex all over his un-showered body. Wherever he was going, he clearly didn't mind smelling like last night. There was a squeak, a quick shaft of light in my eyeballs, and then the door shut behind him.

And Crash was gone.

I lay there, hoping that sleep would overtake me again. I didn't like lying here in the hollow emptiness of my studio. Last night, well last night had been a revelation on several levels. It didn't seem fair that it should be over so unceremoniously.

I wanted to be pissed about it, honestly.

But I wasn't. I was too pleased to be pissed. I had fucked the biker with a bad ass name, and it had been everything I ever hoped for. Even if it I never saw him again, I would always have the memory to sustain me. Perhaps that would be enough.

I squeeze my eyes shut and then sighed. This was futile. I was never going to fall back asleep, not with these thoughts swirling around in my head. Reluctantly I sat up in bed, stretching, feeling twinges and aches in my body, little reminders of last night's pleasures.

I yawned. Today was going to be a good day, I decided. I took a long, luxurious shower, using up all the hot water and then some. I soaped myself lazily, closing my eyes and remembering the feel of Crash's hands on my skin. I wasn't all that surprised to find that I had little marks on my breasts, little busted capillaries that I almost wished wouldn't fade. Just like the pain in my core, they were nice little reminders of what had happened last night and seeing them gave me a little fluttering aftershock that made me smile.

When I thought about him, it was hard even to conjure his face. We had met in the dark bar, sat in my dark car, then fucked in my dark room. I remembered that there was something familiar about him when I first saw him. Something strangely familiar, because I shouldn’t know any blue-eyed bikers. 

At least I didn't think I should.

And yet I was still shaken by the way he looked.

I went over all the possibilities of my mind. No, he hadn't been in my high school class, I would have definitely remembered those eyes. No, he did not go to any of my classes at community college, there were no glowering bikers anywhere there. No I definitely had not slept with him before,
because sex like that was not something you'd easily forget, Gabi.

Finally I chalked it up to a strange déjà vu and left it at that.

I slathered myself in some of the fancy lotions I had saved, the Christmas gifts from people who didn't know me very well. I set my hair in pin curls, then blew it dry with a diffuser, so that it fell in a mermaid tangle down my back. I shook it out then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My brown eyes were shining more brightly. There was a secret flush across my cheeks. My lips were swollen and bruised from his kisses, and had taken on a raspberry tinge from his stubble.

I looked...great.

Damn, I wish I looked like this all the time. Is this what good sex does?

I padded over to my dresser, naked and shaking my ass a little. I needed something to match my mood. It was still the dead of winter, the Jersey slush settled into brown, muddied globs along the curbs, but that didn't mean I couldn't wear something pretty.

The blankets were tangled up like spaghetti on the floor in front of my dresser.  I went over to the pile and shook them out, and something black fell from there and slid under the bed.

I got down on my hands and knees and reached under, my fingers closing around a black billfold that I didn't recognize. I flipped it open, and was startled to see Crash's glowering face staring up at me.

I sat back on my heels and stared.
So that's what he looks like.
The same piercing blue eyes, but somehow in the picture he looked different. Without the boyish twinkle he almost looked frightening. How had I not noticed how his right eye drooped? And what was the deal with those scars on his forehead? How had I missed those?

I stared at his picture for several seconds before I finally read what I was holding.
Benjamin Nelson, 1232 N. 4th St., Apt. 5 A, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Benjamin Nelson.

Ben Nelson.

Slowly the pieces slid into place. The scars. The limp. Those unforgettable piercing blue eyes.

Ben Nelson.

He was back.

My heart did a weird shiver flop as I remembered the assembly at school. Ben had been in my sister's class, a senior, one of the most popular kids in the entire school. I was just a lowly sophomore who regarded him as nothing short of a rock star.  He was the kid that nobody hated; achingly cool enough to be beloved of the rich jocks, self-confident enough to sit with the desperate nerds and not suffer for it. And when he'd rolled up in the parking lot behind the auditorium on the motorcycle he bought with his own money, it just solidified what we all knew. Ben Nelson was a fucking god.

Or he was.

When he had the accident, they gathered the whole school into the auditorium to tell us.
He was in a coma, the doctors weren't sure he would make it, always wear a helmet kids.
Practically the entire senior class was crying, and I felt myself get choked up too. We were kids, we weren't supposed to have to deal with our own mortality, but the tragic accident that nearly cost Ben Nelson his life shattered us all.

And then he woke up, and he was a completely different person.

He disappeared halfway through his recovery, not completing high school, not coming to graduate with his class. He became something of a myth around Lenape, the tragic case of Ben Nelson, a legend passed down from class to class.

I stared at the picture, tracing my thumb along the ridge of his jaw line. Of course I had known. I just couldn't see past the exterior. But what the hell was he doing calling himself Crash? Why the hell was he looking like some biker hell raiser?

Why was he here?