Page 17 of Beyond Reckless (Lost Kings MC 8)

  If he were awake, would I have the courage to ask?

  My gaze strays to his face.

  Besides his physical beauty and crudeness, there’s something so good and sweet in him. At least I think so. I’m afraid to let my guard down and find out that I’m wrong.

  I already like him way too much. And I’m terrified that being with this man could break me.

  Our relationship could also slice through the final ties to my uncle and mother. I have no doubt that if my uncle disowns me, my mother will side with him.

  I can’t say I’d be sad about it. But I’m too old to do the dating-the-wrong-guy-to-piss-off-my-parents thing. So being with him has to be about what I want. What I need.

  And I want him.

  Deep down, part of me thinks I need him.

  And maybe he needs me too.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Warm and soft, Charlotte smells so sweet nestled up next to me. Even in sleep, my arm’s locked tight around her middle, keeping her close. At some point, it’s not enough and I come fully awake.

  “Charlotte,” I whisper against her ear, brushing the sheet off her body and sliding my hand under her shirt. “Didn’t have enough of you last night.”

  She murmurs and twists her shoulders, exposing her neck. I take it as an invitation and bury my face there, alternating between soft kisses and gentle sucking.

  “Hmmm,” she sighs and I roll her to her side, pulling her body against mine. Her back to my chest, giving me the opportunity to slip my hand down her underwear. Her whole body trembles and she stretches, spreading her legs wider.

  “Good girl. I need to feel you,” I whisper, finding her clit and sliding my middle finger over it.

  Fully awake now, she wraps her fingers around my forearm. I gather her wrists in one hand, keeping her still.

  “Marcel,” she pleads and twists against me, bumping her ass against my groin.

  “Be patient.” I press my finger against her harder, circling her clit in earnest now.

  She moans and shudders against me as I work to find the right rhythm. To figure out exactly what she needs.

  My cock’s aching with the need to fuck her, but making her come first matters to me more at the moment.

  “Oh,” she moans louder this time.

  “That’s it.” I nip at her earlobe and stay focused on pleasuring her, allowing her to feel the full strength of my body behind her, holding her tight. “I want you to come for me. Just like this. Then I’m going to fuck you hard. You want that?”

  “Yes. Please,” she begs, drawing out the word until it’s a high-pitched cry.

  She’s so close. I rub faster, harder until she’s panting and writhing against me.

  The first shudder of her orgasm hits and I swear I almost come in my shorts.

  Focus. It’s about her.

  “Come on. Thatta girl,” I encourage.

  “Marcel, Marcel,” she chants, a desperate note coloring her voice. Her hands struggle against mine, reaching.

  “What do you need?”

  She thrashes her head and bucks her hips, still so close and not quite there.

  Releasing her hands, I readjust my position and grip her neck, gently squeezing both sides.

  “That what you need?” I ask, releasing for a few seconds, then applying more pressure.

  “Uh.” She struggles, clenching her fists tight and bucking against me. “Fuck.”

  “Come for me first.”

  She shudders and trembles, finally falling over the edge. I let go of her neck and she grabs my hand, bringing it to her mouth and running her lips over my fingers. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” she whispers.

  I’m done in. Hearing her. Feeling her. Holding her while she writhes in pleasure from my touch.

  “Gonna fuck you now,” I inform her in a hoarse voice. I hate dragging my hand away from her but I need to find a condom and get inside her now.

  She’s breathing hard and still moaning when I return. Yanking her underwear down, but not off, I push her forward and lift her leg up enough to nudge my cock against her slick pussy.

  “Was that good, Sunshine? You came so fucking hard you’re soaked.”

  “Yes!” she shrieks as I push all the way inside. “Fuck, yes.”

  “That’s right.”

  She stretches her arms over her head, bracing herself against the wall while I ride her hard.

  No matter how much effort she puts into stopping it, the bedframe still slams into the wall. I pull her up to her knees, pressing my palm to the small of her back and use my other hand to stroke her clit.

  “Think you can come for me again this morning?”

  “I, uh, I don’t know.”

  “I have faith in you.”

  Whoever’s upstairs pounds on the floor and yells, “Shut up! For fuck’s sake!”

  Charlotte covers her mouth with both hands, laughing.

  Covering her with my body, I gently nip her earlobe. “I’m going to kill your neighbors,” I growl.

  “Power through it.”

  Now I’m the one laughing.

  Buried deep inside her. Our sweaty bodies clinging to one another and she has me laughing.

  I pull out and flop down next to her. “Ride me.”

  She doesn’t question it, just mounts me like a pro. “Fuck, I love you up there.” My hands slide under her tank top lifting it off and tossing it aside. Then I’m filling my palms with her breasts, flicking my thumbs over her nipples, while she leans back, bracing herself on my thighs.

  “Right there, Charlotte. Don’t stop.”

  She grinds down on me harder and harder, moaning and breathing fast. Finally her eyes roll back and she slows down. That’s when I grip her hips and keep her in place while I hammer up into her.

  Doesn’t take long until I’m coming like a fucking rocket.

  She falls down over me, covering me with her soft, vanilla-scented hair. Her mouth and tongue slide over my pec and she lightly bites my nipple. “You’re fucking amazing.”

  “Same, Sunshine.”

  I drag her into the shower with me and clean us both up. When we’re back in her bedroom toweling off, I ask, “What do you want to do today?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  “What if I want you back in that bed?”

  A shy smile curves her lips. “I’m okay with that.”

  Today would be the perfect day to take her for a ride on my bike and the thought stops me cold.

  How can I ache for something that almost destroyed me?

  How can I even consider risking someone else I care about again?

  The few memories I have of the crash come back in suffocating waves and I stagger over to the bed, sitting on the edge.

  “Marcel?”

  I can’t breathe.

  “Marcel?” Charlotte’s soft, concerned voice breaks through my fog and I open my eyes. Air rushes into my lungs.

  She’s kneeling on the floor next to me, hands on my legs. “Are you okay?”

  I force a smile and run my hand over her hair, making sure she’s real. Shit. It’s not in me to admit or show weakness. I’ve already had enough people see me weak and helpless over the last few months. Having Charlotte witness it is unacceptable. “Must be dehydrated from you fucking me dry the last twenty-four hours.”

  She’s too smart to buy that line of bullshit but too kind to contradict me. Her hand wraps around mine and squeezes. “I’m a terrible hostess, huh? Offering you my pussy but no food or drink?”

  My free hand strays to her breast, barely contained by her flimsy tank top. “I could live off your pussy.”

  I get a soft snort in return and she carefully lifts herself from the floor. “Come on. I’ll feed you.”

  I keep my eye on Marcel as I make breakfast. All I have is a half loaf of semi-stale bread, a few eggs, and an unopened package of bacon. At least it’s breakfast food.

  He’s quiet while I make the French toast. I don’t have the nerve to ask him what

happened in the bedroom. I’ve known enough men like him in my life to know he won’t want his momentary weakness pointed out or dissected.

  I wish he trusted me enough to tell me, but we barely know each other.

  “How do you like your eggs?” I ask.

  “However you want to do them is fine.”

  “I only have apple juice or water. And coffee.”

  “Coffee.”

  My hands shake while I scoop out the coffee. Why the hell does he make me nervous in my own damn kitchen? I’ve cooked for boyfriends before.

  He’s so not your boyfriend.

  “I’ve eaten so bad all weekend,” I mutter as I set the stack of French toast and a plate of bacon on the table.

  The corners of his mouth twist up. “I’ll help you work it off.”

  “I think you already did. I’m starving.”

  We eat in silence for a while.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  I glance up, unsure of what he’s thanking me for.

  “Breakfast.”

  “It’s the least I could do after all the orgasms.”

  He chuckles. “What’s your week look like?”

  “Hmmm.” I drum my fingers against the table while I think about my schedule. I’ve had such a good time with him this weekend, I forgot about stuff like real life. “Busy week. I have a couple trials scheduled. Not sure they’ll all proceed, but I still need to be prepared.”

  “Am I stopping you?”

  The truth is, I would’ve gone down to my office for a few hours today. Like I do every Sunday.

  “How about you? What does a Lost King do while the rest of us citizens are toiling away at our nine-to-fives?”

  He stares at me for a few seconds. “Physical therapy. Watching Alexa. Couple things at Crystal Ball.” He stops to let that one sink in.

  “The strip club?”

  “We own it. I do the books.”

  “Oh. So, you order the body glitter and pasties?”

  He huffs out a laugh. “No.”

  “You play down the amount of cash that goes through the business so it looks like it barely turns a profit?”

  “Now you’re getting warmer.”

  “No judgment.” I hold up my hands. “I don’t think I’ve ever reported a cash retainer on my taxes.”

  He slaps his hand over his chest and lets out a fake gasp. “I’m shocked, Charlotte. What a bad girl.”

  I lift my shoulders not embarrassed I told him about something all my colleagues do but none would ever admit. “The government takes enough of my money.”

  He runs a finger over my hand. “Some outlaw blood running through those veins?”

  More than you know.

  “Little bit.”

  He opens his mouth, seems to think better of what he wanted to say and closes it. I’m impressed he hasn’t tried to get information about my uncle’s club out of me once this weekend. In fact, he’s hardly mentioned it.

  “So you don’t work at the gym anymore?”

  “It burned down.”

  “Oh, shit. That was thoughtless of me, I actually read about that when it happened.”

  “Wrath’s rebuilding. Or he will when the insurance company stops dicking around. Murphy worked there more than I did, so it’s hit him harder. Fucker won’t let anyone help him out of course,” he mutters. The concern he shows for his best friend makes me like him even more.

  Even though we don’t do a whole lot, the day goes by way too fast. Since I pretty much emptied her fridge, I drive her down to the grocery store. It’s a weird, normal, couple-y thing to do with someone I barely know, but it feels easy.

  Everything with Charlotte feels easy.

  After dinner, she opens the back door that leads to an enclosed porch and pushes through another screen door taking us to her tiny, walled-in, overgrown back yard. “Jesus, you could have jungle cats living back here.”

  “The landlord mows it maybe once a month and I hardly ever get to sit out here, so…” she shrugs and turns to go back inside on the enclosed porch.

  I halt on the top step.

  “How’d I miss the hammock before?” The mass of twisted rope takes up one entire side of the porch.

  “And here I thought you were so observant,” she teases.

  “You’ve had me a little distracted.”

  Her sly smile and rich, throaty laugh seeps inside my chest.

  “Do you use it?”

  She pulls out one of the two chairs at the small plastic table set up on the porch. “Not as a sex swing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking.” I tap my finger against my chin a few times, pretending I’m manufacturing all sorts of dirty scenarios in my head. “Now that you mention it, though…”

  She laughs. “You’ll make fun of me if I tell you.”

  I drop the teasing act and take the chair across from her. “No, I won’t.”

  After a deep breath, she squares her shoulders and her cautious eyes meet mine. “It’s where I like to sit and think about my ideal life. Write in my journal. Stuff like that.”

  That’s so not what I expected her to say. Yet, I can picture her doing it perfectly. “What’s your ideal life look like?”

  “I don’t know.” She stares out at the back yard. “A house in the country.”

  “Thought you liked the city?”

  “For now.”

  “Go on.”

  She blushes and drops her gaze to her wine glass. Her fingers nervously play with the stem of the glass, spinning it in circles over the table. “Blue sky. Green grass. Enough money to pay my bills. Feeling like I actually help people and make a difference.”

  I swallow hard. “Anyone else you’re sharing that green grass with?”

  She lifts her gaze and narrows her eyes. “Why? You want to be that someone?”

  Contemplating something as abstract as my ideal life never occurred to me until this moment.

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  For a few minutes, neither of us speak. She studies my face. Trying to determine if I’m serious. “I figured you already lived your ideal life. Muffler bunnies dropping their panties for you whenever you walk into a room. Willing to tend to your every need.” Her tone is teasing, but there’s a harsh edge to it that slices into me.

  I don’t bother denying her version of my life. “Maybe that’s not ideal anymore.” As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I know they’re true. And I think I can even pinpoint when the shift inside me occurred.

  When Mariella died.

  The crushing weight of guilt lands on my chest and I have to stand up, move away from Charlotte. No, stay away from Charlotte. Before I do something to hurt her too. I shouldn’t even be here.

  I push through the back door and stand on a strip of concrete that serves as a patio, staring out at the overgrown jungle in her backyard.

  “Marcel?”

  The door screeches behind me then softly thumps closed. I barely hear her footsteps whisper over the wooden steps. Her arms wrap around my waist and her body molds to my back, her cheek resting between my shoulder blades.

  My shoulders drop. Just her touch chases the tension out of my body.

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  “Don’t be.” My strained voice comes out rough and unrecognizable. “You’re right. I should go anyway. It’s late. You need to get up early and go to work tomorrow.”

  “I don’t know what I’m…what we’re doing here.”

  Grasping her hands, I turn and face her. “We were talking.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, explain it to me.”

  “Goddamnit, Marcel.” She yanks her hands out of my hold. “You know damn well what I mean. I already admitted I like you.”

  “And?”

  She blows out a frustrated breath. “How can I trust you? I don’t want to be a pawn between my uncle’s club and yours.”

  Finally, we’re getti

ng this out in the open.

  I move closer until she’s forced to take a step back. She turns and takes shelter on the porch.

  “I don’t give a fuck about Merlin or his club.” I follow her, closing the door behind me. Not that I give a shit if her neighbors hear us arguing. They’ve already had ringside seats to us fucking.

  “Bullshit. Tell me you wouldn’t love some information about something they’re up to.”

  “No, that’s the problem. I should care about stuff like that, but when I’m with you, I don’t.”

  She backs up a few more steps, placing her hand on the door leading into the kitchen. “Why? Because I’m just that great in bed?”

  That flips my switch to pissed off. I stalk a few steps closer, backing her against the low glass window. “You’re a fantastic fuck.” Each word comes out low and even. “But not even the power of your pussy could make me sit through dinner with your brother like we did last night. You think I want to hang around and go grocery shopping with every chick who offers to spread her legs for me?”

  “You want a medal?” She reaches back and turns the knob, stumbling into the kitchen with me right behind her.

  “You’re the one accusing me of having ulterior motives.” I shrug, a casual gesture meant to disguise that I’m approaching my boiling point. “I’m being honest.”

  “So, what? I’m special? And my uncle’s club has nothing to do with that?”

  I close my eyes, searching for the right words to make her understand. Except, I don’t even understand it myself.

  “Charlotte, I felt this way before I even knew who your uncle was.”

  She opens her mouth, probably to throw another snarky comment at me. So, I place my finger against her lips. “Don’t you dare say I’m full of shit. You know it’s true.”

  She shakes off my finger and sidesteps me. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “Get involved with you. Fall for you. I know what guys like you do. You roll into women’s lives, turn them upside down, take what you want, and leave. Move on to the next.”

  “You think you could fall for me?”

  Her jaw drops and her eyes widen. “That’s what you took from what I said?”