Shattered following a devastating betrayal that results in the death of his friends, Lane Robinson finds himself in Fort Wayne, Indiana, a world away from his previous life as a Marine. Robinson is trying to forget the past, but healing from the deadly deceit that cut blood deep is hard, and memories of that treachery taint every interaction in his life. He misses the comradery and bond he had with his brothers in arms, and now can’t help but view everyone around him with mistrust and suspicion.
Robinson meets a member of the Rebel Wayfarers motorcycle club, and with an introduction into the biker’s circle of friends, he finds that elusive sense of home that has been missing from his life for too long. Initiated into the club and now called Gunny, Robinson buries himself in his new life as a Rebel member.
Secure within his newfound family, Gunny fills his days with solitary work and finds he possesses a gift for motorcycle restoration, forming a career out of this exacting passion. Trying to leave behind the man he was before the club, unfortunately his feelings of cynicism aren’t so easy to set aside. Even within the club, surrounded by members he readily calls brother, he grants his trust to only a few. One of those is Davis Mason, national president, and a man he is proud to call friend.
Into this meticulously constructed life dances Sharon Elkins, the one woman who seems to possess the ability to tear down the walls he has spent so long building. She is the first person who sees beyond his surface façade, the first he’s let get close in so long…can he trust the emotions she stirs in his soul?
As she becomes an ever more important part of his world, darkness from their former lives collides in a dangerous cascade of conspiracy and schemes. Can he protect the woman he has come to love, and will they be able to fight their way clear of the chaos that threatens to entrap them?
Chapter 12, Rebels Ride
Walking into the bedroom, he put a knee to the bed, carefully crawling to the headboard and twisting to sit, pulling her into his lap. “Babe, you don’t know what you want?” It was a loaded question, and she would know it, because he was a big fan of knowing your own mind, a conversation they had more than once.
She shifted, tucking herself against him, nestling her head beneath his chin. “Well, yeah, I do. Maybe it’s more about not being sure I deserve what I want.”
“And if I want you?” He asked the question softly, nuzzling the side of her head.
With a quiet sob, she said in a tear-filled voice, “I’m not sure you deserve just me. So much more, baby, you deserve so much more.”
“Shhhh, Sharon. My Rose of Sharon, you hush that talk. What if I want you, baby? You make me happy. I want you, so can I have you? Do I deserve to have what makes me happy?” He pressed his lips against the side of her head, slowly stroking one hand against the edge of her jaw, cupping his hand around the column of her throat. “Can I?” He traced down her neck with his thumb, dragging it across her collarbone towards the curve of her shoulder. “Baby, can I have you?” He brought his hand across, the backs of his knuckles brushing against her nipples, and he watched as they hardened and pressed against the fabric of her shirt. He closed his hand over her breast, squeezing lightly as he rolled her nipple between finger and thumb.
Her gasp was his only answer and he leaned down, capturing her mouth with his own, lips coaxing hers into responding, opening for him. He pressed his advantage, stroking into her mouth with his tongue, sliding between her lips and tasting her. Fucking addictive, he thought. Kissing her recklessly, the excitement and passion in their embrace increased his arousal and he groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock throb and jerk against the buttons of his pants.
“If I want you, can I have you?” he asked again, his voice rough with passion, lips against hers, their foreheads nearly touching. “If I wanted to keep you for myself, could I? All mine?” He traced his nose along the length of her jaw, nuzzling her ear, dusting soft kisses along the way. “Because I want you, babe…wanna keep you,” he whispered, his fingers caressing and plumping her breast while he nipped with his teeth at her earlobe. His other hand slid down her back, slipping underneath her jeans to press between her ass cheeks, pulling her hard against him. She sighed at his touch, and he felt her hands moving restlessly up and down his arms, stroking his face, running over his scalp.
“Wanna fuck you.” He kissed her. “Wanna keep you,” he repeated, nuzzling her cheek and tightening his fingers around her ass. “Wanna have you. Mine.” He stroked into her mouth with his tongue, his fingers plucking at her nipple. “Wanna eat you.” His arms tightened, hands clenching where they gripped, the kiss deepening and renewing. “Eat you right up, baby. Can I?” he asked, and smiled against her lips at her affirmative response.
“You’re mine, babe,” he said, releasing her and standing, divesting himself of his clothes, tossing them carelessly away from him. He turned back to her, found her still mostly dressed, and reached out, tugging at the button on her pants, sliding his fingers into the waistband and pulling them down, along with her panties. “Need to see you,” he whispered, removing her shirt and bra, settling her back onto the bed.
“Have to taste you,” he breathed, lips on the inside of her knee as he worked his way between her legs. “You’re going to come hard, babe,” he said, nipping and gently biting at her pussy lips, tugging them into his mouth before separating them with the tip of his tongue.
Slipping his hands up her legs, he draped them over his shoulders, seeing her toes curl into the sheet in anticipation. “Gunny?” She said his name like a question and he looked up her body, glowing in the limited moonlight cast through the windows.
“Yeah, baby?” he said, twisting and twirling his tongue along her opening, shallowly dipping inside then moving up to circle her clit. He slid his hands along the backs of her thighs, cupping her pussy firmly with one hand. His middle finger slipped up to caress and flick her clit, and he ground the heel of his hand into her, feeling the wetness making her slippery.
“I love you.” This was said so softly that for a few moments, he wasn’t positive he had heard right, and then he groaned, lunging forward and covering her mound with his mouth, licking and biting, sucking and fucking her with his tongue and fingers, compelled by an urgency that stunned him. Hearing those words from her lips nearly did him in, and he pressed his hips into the mattress, mindlessly trapping his cock between his belly and the sheets, trying to remain focused on her responses to his attention.
Fingers grazed his skin as she touched the side of his face, dragging her fingertips down to his lips, joining his tongue in ravaging her pussy. She slid a finger along each side of her clit, raising and exposing it for his tongue, and he obliged her unspoken need, pressing hard and then flicking it rapidly side-to-side as she gasped. Her other hand found its way to his scalp, fingernails scratching gently across his skin, making him sorry he didn’t have hair for her to grip and pull in this moment.
She tensed and he watched ardently as she came, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. Her clit was throbbing under his tongue as he licked along where she was touching herself and then down where his fingers still thrust inside her. He continued that movement, pushing and twisting them, retreating and returning again and again. Her shoulders arched up off the bed, her back rounding as she raised to look at him. Her thumb traced his eyebrow before her hand went to the back of her knee, pulling her leg out farther, opening herself to him.
“Told you, babe. You come hard on my mouth every time. Baby,” he said, trailing his lips gently across the sensitive flesh of her pussy. “You want my mouth or my cock now?”
“You,” she said immediately, her voice raw with having just come so hard. “I want you inside me. Love me. Please, love me.”
Oatmeal is her comfort food. She hates gardening but loves flowers; not cut arrangements, but in the wild, outside. She has a deep and abiding respect for our military. Her dad was career Air Force, and flew during the Cuban Missile Crisis, Korean Conflict and Vietnam War. Parades make her cry. Walking Dead is about the only TV she watches anymore, don’t bother her on Walking Dead night, when she’s been known to shout, “Go Team Darryl!” Yes, she’s still sad about Firefly.
She’s a hockey fan, like … a serious hockey fan. She’s loyal to the Edmonton Oilers, but asks that we don’t judge her about that. She also likes the Nashville Predators and Ottawa Senators. The local ECHL team, the Fort Wayne Komets, are a fav of hers, and she has season tickets. She’ll also generally try to hit the road games within a hundred-mile radius.
She’s a wanna-be hiker, working on a “bucket list” of hikes like Knobstone (completed in four days mid-April 2014 – whoooo!), sectioning parts of the AT (51 miles in Georgia in early-May 2014), and now and then looking west towards PCT.
She embraces her inner geek; MariaLisa has been working in the tech field for a couple decades. A sometime PC gamer, she still plays EverQuest after all these years. She says, “What can I say, I’m loyal (see above, I’m an Oilers fan LOL). Yes, I’ve heard of WoW, and have a coupla toons there, too.”
On music, she says, “I love music of nearly any kind—jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap, gangstergrass, hip hop—you name the type, I probably listen to it. I can often be seen dancing through the house in the early mornings. But what I really, REALLY love is live music. My favorite way to experience live music is seeing bands in small, dive bars [read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection of premium tequila, then that’s a definite plus!”