Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) (2 page)

He clamped his fingers around my wrist. “Just so we’re clear, the state of my dick doesn’t mean I approve.”

Staring him down, I unzipped his jacket and curled my fingers over the bulge of his restricted cock. “Your disapproval is noted. Now, quit wasting this hard-on and fuck me.”

“With fucking pleasure.” He grabbed my head with one hand and crushed his lips to mine, while the other went tearing into my belt. As soon as he loosened my jeans, I pushed them down the rest of the way and kicked the denim aside. Our tongues still bringing the heat, I clawed at his buckle and zipper and had them undone in three seconds flat.

He pulled away and scooped me up by the ass, slamming my back against the wall. “I’ll admit it, you being a bad bitch turns me on,” he crowed, smoothly gliding the top of his hungry shaft up and down my slit to coat it with juices.

I nuzzled his cheek and moaned. “Show me.”

Show me he did.

With a ferocious bite to my neck and a swift thrust of his groin, Torch slammed into my core with an intensity that sent fever rippling throughout my entire body. Stroke after frenzied stroke, he pushed and pulled rhythmically against my own convulsions of ecstasy.

There was no better feeling in the world than this, no one else whose touch could make me crumble and somehow hold me together at the same time. It didn’t matter whether we were cozied up in a warm bed or ravaging each other behind an otherwise uninspiring rest stop, the electricity between us fueled my desire in a way that could never be duplicated with anyone else. What we had was more than carnal lust, it was a mutual thirst. Maybe we had some kind of fucking love diabetes because the thirst was
always
there.

My body responded quickly and predictably, every thrust building tension and pushing me closer to the brink of climax. I anchored myself to his broad shoulders and kicked it up a notch as desperation overcame me. “God, I can’t get enough of this shit,” I breathed.

“I’m gonna make sure you
never
do.” He fisted my hair and kissed me again, sending my system into overdrive.

I dug my nails into his neck. “Send me over, baby,” I pleaded.

He bit down on his lip and grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” Steadying himself by placing a hand on the wood paneling above my head, he sent me right fucking over.

“Yes! God, yes!” I screamed out, my walls clamping down in a spasm of sweet release. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, enjoying every last throbbing pulse.

Torch followed almost immediately, a guttural moan escaping his throat as he filled me with his warmth.

I’d changed my mind. This was the best feeling in the world.
This
. These few seconds where I was in beautiful limbo between still burning hot and coming down in his tight hold.

I unhooked my legs from around his waist and slid down to my feet, but Torch stayed in place with his hand on the wall as he waited for his breathing to relax. “You’re something else, Livia Larter,” he smirked between labored breaths.

I smiled up at him and touched his flushed cheek, still mentally swimming in a pool of post-orgasm euphoria. “You’re stuck with me, Torch Larter. I love the shit out of you, baby.”

He kissed the top of my head and squeezed my bare ass. “I love the shit out of you too, beautiful. Come on, the sooner we get back to where cops are on payroll, the better.”

: 2 :

| LIVIA |

“Hey, bitch, I’ve got a fucking bone to pick with you!” Roxy yelled out as I stepped inside Crow’s Nest, a club-owned bar just off Linwood’s Main Street. Her beef obviously wasn’t that serious because she proceeded to break away from the other girls and rush over for a hug.

As soon as she gave me a squeeze and a purr—yes, a purr—I knew I was in for a long night. “What did I do?” I asked.

She poked me in the chest and chastised, “You fucking took that deal and went away so the guys didn’t have to.”

She was already shit-faced and my blood alcohol level needed a boost ASAP to deal with it. Thankfully, Monk was manning the bar and knew the look of a girl in distress. He slid a straight shot of tequila across the counter and shook his head.

I poured it down and turned back to Rox. “And?”

“And now anytime Jet wants something, he throws that shit in my face. He says if
you
can go to the pen for your man, I can skip my reality shows and suck his dick while he watches baseball. What kind of dumb ass sport is that anyway? Those guys run for like five minutes the whole game and spend the rest of it scratching their balls and spitting, you’d think Jet would see enough of that shit at the clubhouse.”

“Sorry, love,” I said with a laugh. “Next time one of your shows is on, just get naked on all fours. He can hit it doggy style while you watch that rich bitch drama you’re into. It’s easy to steal the remote from a guy if you wave some pussy around.”

“Teaching her your tricks, huh?” Dana, Gauge’s old lady, sidled up to me and kissed my cheek. “Hey, baby.”

I shrugged. “I see nothing wrong with taking advantage of biology.”

Moira and Tamra—Toto and Biff’s old ladies respectively— joined us, with Mo demanding a round of shots from Monk.

Torch and I had gotten back from our honeymoon a few days earlier and they’d all insisted on a girl’s night. Aside from a few prison visits and seeing each other at the wedding, we hadn’t really had a chance to spend any quality time together since those initial few weeks I’d spent in Linwood. In a chapter of twenty-five guys, it seemed weird to only have five old ladies, but divorce wasn’t exactly uncommon in club life and a lot of the boys were perfectly content sticking to casual hookups with crawlers.

“Alright, girls,” Rox crowed, passing out yellow shots of who-knew-what, “I’ve been pumping all fucking day so I can drink my ass off, let’s make it count.” The whole damn bar probably heard her, but that was just Rox—the Queen of TMI— and at least she’d had the foresight not to get her two-month-old drunk by proxy. Once we all had our glasses, she held hers up. “To Liv and Torch. May they enjoy it while it lasts because pretty soon they’ll be just as lame and miserable as the rest of us.”

“I’m not fucking drinking to that,” I groaned.

“Oh, just drink,” Mo huffed. “Don’t worry, I give it at least five years before you’re bitching about all the runs and parties.”

“Wow, generous,” I smirked. She could say what she wanted, there was no way Torch and I would end up lame and miserable in five years. Right
?
“Fine. Cheers, bitches.”

We clinked and slammed them down.

“I give it more like ten years,” Tamra mused. “Liv’s got that poor bastard locked
down
. I mean, the guy moped around for a fucking year, wouldn’t even look at a crawler. He was so pissed I thought he’d kill her the minute she got out, but he put a goddamn ring on it instead. They argue about fucking everything but you blink and they’re screwing again.”

“Seriously,” Dana tossed in her two-cents, “Gauge would’ve served me divorce papers in prison for going around him and doing that. You must shit gold or something, Liv.”

I laughed. “Calcium. It’s all about the milk, ladies.”

“Monk, another round!” Rox yelled out. She shimmied up to me. “Is this some weird, kinky shit? I’ve seen porn where the girl shoots milk out of her—”

“Oh, come on,” I said, giving her a friendly shove. “No, I don’t
literally
shit it. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Hey, I don’t judge.” Rox shrugged. “It looks kinda hot.”

“Jesus, what freaky shit do you and Jet do that you think shooting stuff out of your ass is hot?” Mo asked.

Rox raised a brow. “You really wanna know?”

“No!” Tamra, Dana, and Mo snapped in unison. I couldn’t blame them, Roxy’s stories tended to get pretty detailed and… colorful. I attributed my refusal to even
think
about having kids anytime soon to her prison visits, when she’d filled me in on all the weird ass shit pregnancy was doing to her body. Maybe she’d exaggerated some of it, but I still had the occasional nightmare.

“Alright, well, what the hell were you talking about then?” she asked, noticeably disappointed.

More shots appeared—red ones this time—and we slammed those back too. I had no idea what disgustingly sweet concoction I was being plied with now, but the cinnamon-tasting shit didn’t go down easy.

I shook it off and explained, “I just meant that if I feed my man something spicy, I give him something else to neutralize the burn. You know, push his buttons but give him an ego boost right before he goes over the edge.”

Having gone from nothing but uncommitted flings to marrying Torch the day after he proposed, I was hardly a relationship expert. But experience with the opposite sex had served me well, Torch was a powerful man and I’d learned that powerful men often had opposing personalities when it came to what they wanted. They liked being on top and pandered to, but eventually that shit got old and they started craving a challenge. The problem was they couldn’t stomach actually losing one because defeat was viewed as weakness.

So, what was a wife to do? She went full-force, naturally, but always knew when to pull back just enough to make her man feel like he still had an edge even in a losing battle. Sometimes it took sex, sometimes nothing more than affirming words, but it almost always worked. Whenever I successfully distracted Torch from an argument, I won by default… in my mind anyway.

“So you’re telling me to bash Gauge’s head in and give him some ice,” Dana said. “Got it.”

“Are you guys having problems?” I asked. “I’m a little worried about the glee in your voice when you say that.”

“I have no idea,” she sighed. “Everything he does lately annoys the shit out of me for no real reason. Maybe it’s that seven-year itch people are always talking about. Or maybe I’m just getting bitchier with age.”

“You’re only thirty-two,” Tamra pointed out.

Dana smirked. “Exactly. Can you imagine me at fifty?”

“Good thing the club has so many chapters,” Mo chimed in. “By that point, Liv’s man should be the president and she can get you and Gauge transferred.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Dana huffed. Obviously trying to change the subject, she grabbed my arm and inspected it. “Mack did an awesome job on this ink.”

At Torch’s request, Mack—an amazing tattoo artist and one of two recently patched-in club members—had set up shop at the wedding reception and marked our skin as quickly as we’d marked the marriage certificate. I loved tattoos, my back was mostly covered in black and gray ink, but my husband had demanded
visible
placement, which only left my neck, chest, or arms. I wasn’t a fan of the first two options because they could be easily spotted and identified on surveillance video—a habitual concern stemming from hiding out for years—so I’d ended up with his name over abstract wings on the inside of my forearm.

I couldn’t be as opinionated about where Torch put his, he was working with a busier canvas. His torso, arms, and neck were already crowded with various art, his back was strictly for club ink, and he’d scoffed at my suggestion to stamp his ass. In the end, he’d opted to put my name over a fading black-and-white lion on his collarbone and had Mack cover-up the mane by making it look like flames. It was the only colored tattoo on his body and I absolutely loved the symbolism.

“That
is
pretty sweet,” Rox added. “One of these days I’ll get a job where they don’t care about showing tatts. I’ll be the scary-looking mom at PTA meetings who makes the uppity bitches nervous just by staring at them. You know, like Stinger’s ex does. I’m convinced the only reason his kid hasn’t failed a grade is because Margo terrifies the piss out of his teachers.”

“Who do you think would win in a fight between Margo and Liv?” Dana asked out of nowhere.

“Margo,” Tamra replied. “Liv’s got the prison cred, but Margo’s got a lot of weight on her.”

“Weight slows you down,” I pointed out.

“Oh, shit,” Dana crowed, “I think somebody’s itching to prove herself.”

Mo laughed. “Stinger would probably fucking pay her to do it, Margo’s bleeding him dry in child support. Should we set it up, Liv? It’s been a while since we’ve seen a good bitch fight, I’m sure the guys would clamor for front row seats.”

Yeah, I had no doubt they would until Torch caught wind of it. “You girls need to quit trying to start shit where there is none,” I groaned.

“But it’s so fun to watch when it’s not
your
shit,” Dana argued.

I snickered. “I bet it is. Maybe you can take on one of the crawlers you’re always bitching about.”

“Nope, fuck that,” she snapped. “I’d never live it down if I lost.”

We all shook our heads at the instigator who didn’t like getting her own hands dirty. More booze appeared on the counter and we decided to grab a table before the place filled up and things started getting hazy.

There were at least a dozen Serpents mingling with town regulars, but aside from Mo, the rest of our husbands were in church. They’d be joining us later, but for now we could enjoy a little sisterly bonding. We’d talked about hitting up a non-club bar, but Linwood was such a small town that everybody knew everybody else. It wasn’t like we could go crazy at a different establishment without one of the brothers finding out about it.