Torched: Afterburn (Iron Serpents Motorcycle Club Book 2) (22 page)

“That
might
be a problem,” Zed muttered. He cut the man’s arms loose from behind his back and held one up. Bloody gauze covered a stump where his hand should have been.

“Damn,” I said with a grimace. “Looks like he had a shitty day.”

Grimm shrugged nonchalantly. “We had to make sure he couldn’t drive again.”

Jesus. Well, he wouldn’t be doing much of anything now. “What did you do with the, uh… trimmings?” I asked.

They all looked at Torch.

“Fuck it, she’s already up to her ass in this,” he grumbled. “Where are they?”

Biff held up a trash bag.

“That’ll work,” I said. “Is there water and something to wipe them down with around here?”

Torch frowned. “How are you not puking just talking about it?”

“Just get the stuff and quit worrying about my stomach. Rubber gloves would help with the ick factor if you have any.”

Torch jerked his head at Zed, who shuffled away to find what I needed.

He came back with tape, a box of latex gloves, two water bottles, and a roll of paper towels. I took them to a table and put down a few layers of the latter. Biff dumped the hands out of the trash bag while the rest of us gloved up. Torch, Grimm, and Zed then got to work wiping dried blood off the fingers, while I pulled Torch’s switchblade from his pocket and cut several pieces of tape to the size I needed.

“Get his palms too,” I requested.

When they were as clean as they’d get, I leaned over the table and told Torch to hold one of the hands steady. Careful not to touch anything else with it, I held the tape taught and stuck it down on the thumb first. I pressed on it to get a good impression, then lifted it back up and folded the tape back over itself to preserve the print. We did the same for each of the ten fingers and finished up with his palms.

“Okay, I think we’re good,” I said, pulling the gloves off and tossing them on the table. Biff stuffed all of the gloves and appendages back in the bag, before taking his off and throwing them in too.

I handed Torch the prints for safe keeping. He tucked them inside his cut and wrapped his arm around my waist. “We’re gonna take off, get rid of him,” he ordered the guys.

: : : :

I noticed my bike magically back from the safe house and parked outside the garage when we got back home. Who needed roadside assistance when you had such an efficient group of guys to tow your shit around? I hopped off the back of Torch’s Harley and drove mine inside the garage behind him, before closing the door and following him into the house.

Torch walked straight into the living room and flopped down on the couch. “This has been the longest fucking day of my life,” he groaned.

No arguments here.

I swung by the kitchen, grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey, and plopped down next to him, handing it over. “Are we over it for the day or do you want me to get to work?” I asked, hoping like hell it could wait until the morning. Or was it morning already? It seemed like we hadn’t gone to bed in three days.

“Cora’s paid, the women are all at the clubhouse or under protection, the rest can wait a few hours,” he mumbled, handing me the open bottle. “Thank you, babe. I’m sorry for everything.”

Not in much of a mood for deep conversation, I closed my eyes and let my head sink into the wonderfully soft back cushion. “God, a hot shower sounds like heaven right now,” I mused.

“You wanna conserve some water?”

I didn’t have to open my heavy lids to tell he’d just gotten a second wind and was grinning like a fool. “Like you give a shit about the environment,” I smirked.

“I give a shit,” he insisted. “There’s a couple globes warming up in my boxers this very minute.”

“Go write that down,” I laughed. “I’m keeping notes of all the cheesy fucking come-ons you use.”

“Fuck you, that was a good one.”

I finally pried my eyes open and looked over at him. “If fucking me is on your mind, why are you still sitting on your ass?”

Without skipping a beat, he jumped to his feet, grabbed my hands, and yanked me to mine. “I’m liable to slap yours red for that sass.”

Licking my lips, I reached up and raked my nails down his chest. Hard. “You make it sound like that would be a bad thing, baby.”

He gave me a crooked smile. “Should I be weirded out by your appetite after the night we just had?”

I twirled a few strands of his beard around my finger and tugged. “Maybe, I’m sure I have an undiagnosed mental illness or two. Does my crazy turn you on?”

“What’s it say about me if it does?” He grabbed my head between his hands and latched onto my lips, drawing my tongue in his mouth and biting down on it as he pulled back away.

I snickered. “That we’re
both
a little fucking unbalanced?”

Chuckling, he grabbed my hips, spun me around, and slapped the shit out of my ass. “Maybe we should do some one-on-one therapy in the shower then. Get moving.”

I followed orders, stripping off clothes as I strolled down the hallway, through our bedroom, all the way into the bathroom. Along the way, I’d tossed my jacket, shirt, and shimmied out of my jeans, getting all the way down to a black lace bra and panties by the time we reached it. Hearing him shuffling around the bedroom, I turned to find him down to his boxers and lighting a lamp and candle on my nightstand.

Laughing to myself, I reached inside the shower to turn it on and strolled back to the doorway just as he was coming in. I looked over his shoulder and shook my head. “Babe, candlelight? We may be a tad deranged, but this is starting to feel like some Hannibal Lector shit.”

He chuckled and pulled me into his arms. “Should I get the chianti?”

“You’re sick.” Too hot and bothered by his flawless ink-covered torso for conversation—or to keep wondering what the fuck was up with the romantic gesture—I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck and rose up on my toes to kiss him.

Our lips perfectly in passionate sync, we pivoted around each other and moved toward the walk-in shower. Just before we stepped in, I pulled the band of his boxers over his raging hard-on and yanked them down.

Torch brought his lips back to mine and pulled me under the steaming water. As it cascaded down and enveloped us in its relaxing warmth, he grabbed the body wash and ran his palms over every sensitive inch of my skin, from my neck to my tits, and down between my legs.

As the suds disappeared down the drain, he wrapped me in his arms and pushed me up against the tile wall. I bit his shoulder and reached down between us to stroke his eager shaft.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, staring so deep into my eyes that it felt like he was already inside me. “You push every goddamn button I have, but I don’t wanna know what a day without you would feel like. I just hope the Reaper takes me first.”

“I told you, we’re going out together,” I breathed. “But we have time.”

He ran his hands up my sides, and with a single upward stroke, brought my arms over his head and wrapped them around his neck. “Hope you’re right, but we should do this as much as we can just in case.”

I squealed and tightened my grip as he reached under my ass and picked me up. “Babe, we’re wet!”

“Didn’t I tell you I’d never fucking drop you?” he asked, reaching to turn the water off.

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing, I meant it.” He carried me out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around my back. With one hand still under my ass, he used the other to brush wet strands of hair behind my ear and pull my head down for a kiss.

Exploring my mouth with his tongue the entire way, he walked us back into the bedroom, where he set my feet down on the bed. “Stand up,” he demanded.

I did as he asked, feeling weirdly exposed as I stood there dripping water and towering over him. Torch seemed pretty fucking pleased though, lust danced in his eyes. He used the towel to dry me off from tits to toes, then ordered me to turn around and did the same on the other side. When I was as dry as I’d get, I turned around again and watched as he ran the towel over his own body.

Fuck. Me.

Was there a man alive who wasn’t at his sexiest straight out of a shower? Jesus, I wanted to be the fluffy towel as he ran it across his stomach, down his thighs, across his ass, and over his hard cock. He tossed it to the floor and winked at me, before unexpectedly lurching forward and practically tackling me to the bed.

We both dissolved into laughter, which only slowed down when he planted his lips on mine. His soft beard was still a little damp and felt wonderfully cool against my flushing cheeks.

He smiled as he pulled away, then rolled onto his side and propped his head up against his hand. The other went for my breasts and began to caress them.

I had no idea why he was taking his sweet time, but I liked it. Intimacy hadn’t exactly been at the top of his list of priorities lately, and it felt so fucking good to just be naked, touching, and completely relaxed again. The club’s troubles weren’t over, but at least ours were.

“I was thinking of getting some more ink,” I said, stroking his face.

“You should.” He ran his palm down over my lower belly and bare groin. “Maybe something down here? Like my face.”

I laughed. “Babe… so you can jizz all over your own face?”

His grin dissipated. “I didn’t think that shit through. Smart ass.”

I patted his cheek condescendingly. “That’s why I win all the arguments. Always will.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me your genius idea then.”

“I was thinking something big like my back piece. Maybe a serpent wrapped around a sugar skull going down my side?”

He paused. “Yeah, that sounds a
lot
fucking hotter. I approve.” He growled and bit down on my nipple, as two of his fingers slipped inside my pussy and immediately made their way to my g-spot. But after only a few teasing strokes, he pulled out and rolled my clit between them. He stretched it out taut, sending a painfully pleasant stinging sensation through me. “This is why you want more ink, huh? You miss the sting?” he asked.

“Mmmhmm,” I moaned. “Pain and pleasure walk a fine line.”

“I can give you that,” he whispered in my ear, using his body to roll me to my side. He reached over me and picked up the jar of flaming, red wax he’d lit earlier from my nightstand.

Ah.
“Was this your plan? I thought you were turning girly.”

“First of all,” he scolded, “you can have a dick and think this candle smells fucking delicious, so don’t ever call me
girly
again. Second, no, I’m being spontaneous. Third, shut up.”

“Yes,
sir
,” I smirked. I closed my eyes and felt the sting of the first drop just under my ribs, followed by another drop directly below it, then a third. My breath hitched and a raspy moan escaped my lips.

“Am I walking that line?” he asked, drizzling the wax slowly over my hip.

“Right on balance,” I breathed.

It burned, but fuck, it burned
so
good. He knew what he was doing, pouring it from a height where the pain was sharp but wouldn’t damage my skin. Every nerve ending in my body started to hum, including the ones deep in my core. As he dripped the wax down the side of my thigh and curved back up, I felt the first drop of warm liquid escape my folds.

“Fuck,” I moaned.

He didn’t go all the way up this time; instead, he crawled between my legs and rolled me to my back. With a sweep of his palm, he brushed the dry wax away, then leaned down and kissed the trail of bright pink skin left behind. “Too much?” he asked, sliding down to his stomach with the jar still in his hand.

I folded my arm behind my head and glanced down at him. “Just right.”

He smiled and licked his lips. “This’ll hurt more but it comes with a reward.”

Oh, shit. “What kind of reward?”

“The kind I get to enjoy too.” He spread my legs open and held the candle above my stomach.

I watched his steady hand tip it slowly and the wax drip over the edge, feeling the sting immediately as it fell just below my belly button. I sucked in my breath and closed my eyes as Torch lightly drizzled crescent lines downward, stopping just above my pubic area. He’d been right, it stung a little more than my side; and if he was planning on going any lower, I knew I was in for even worse.

Or better. The line was definitely blurring by that point.

But it was my vision that blurred next. My sensitive skin was still throbbing when he slid down to his stomach and suctioned his lips to my clit.

“Sweet. Fucking. Christ,” I whimpered. The instant shift from pain to ecstasy led to what felt like an existential release, leaving my body writhing for more.

Seemingly reading my mind, Torch pulled his mouth away and lifted the candle again. Moving lower than before, he dripped the hot wax dangerously close to the tip of my slit. I hissed and tensed, but as quickly as the burning sensation shot through me, he blew out the candle, set it on the floor, and dove between my legs again. His tongue’s intensity matched that of the pain as he pushed it past my entrance and stroked my delicate skin with the tip.