Hold Me Down (The Deacons of Bourbon Street #3) Page 11

  “I can’t…Leon…stop…”

  He ignored her, bending his head again for another lick, flattening his tongue against her clit for extra friction. She moaned, her hips trembling, the look in her eyes glazed. “Tell me,” he ordered, wrapping both arms around her thighs to hold her still. “Or I’ll start to think that maybe you don’t want to me to stop after all.”

  She stared at him, panting, shuddering. “I don’t want to want you,” she said suddenly, thickly. “I don’t want to do this with you. I wanted you for too long and I…” She stopped.

  “What do you mean you wanted me for too long?” he demanded, a deep kind of shock moving through him.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I’ve wanted you…ever since I was sixteen.”

  Shit. Holy fucking shit. She’d wanted him? He tried to think whether or not he’d ever been aware. Whether there had ever been a sign…

  You didn’t want to see.

  He would have been eighteen. Newly patched. Reveling in being a Deacon at last. At being part of a family where everyone treated each other with respect and honesty. Where you knew your brothers had your back. That had been so important to him. Friendship had been important to him. And screwing around with the girl who’d brought him into this life would have been the last thing on his mind. While she…

  The expression on her face twisted. “Let me go. Please, Leon. I can’t do this. I can’t.”

  But he clamped his arms tighter around her thighs. There was a pressure in his chest, a pain deep inside. All he could think about was the question she’d flung at him the night before. “Is it me you actually want, Leon?” He’d seen the fear in her eyes then too, but she’d been covering it with her anger. Protecting herself from hurt.

  She’d wanted him all this time…

  Fuck this. He was done talking. It was time to shut up and show her a few things about desire. About himself and what he wanted. Show her that she didn’t have to be afraid and she didn’t have to protect herself, not from him.

  He bent his head and buried his face between her thighs.

  She cried out. “Leon…don’t…God…”

  But he ignored her. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, using one finger to stroke her clit. And damn, the taste of her was sweet, the arch of her hips and the tremble in her body sweeter still.

  “No…” she gasped. Yet she lifted herself against his mouth, her body seeking relief even if her head was telling her something different.

  He looked up the long stretch of her body, her stomach rising and falling, one breast bare, her eyes wide and dark. And he used his fingers to stroke and tease, licking her harder, watching as agonized pleasure began to spread over her face.

  She lifted her hands abruptly off the arms of the chair, burying her fingers in his hair and holding on tight, her breathing getting faster and faster. “Leon…” Her voice had started to crack. “Leon…please…”

  She’d never called him by his road name, not once. Not even the day the Deacons had given it to him. He never knew why and she never explained. Maybe for the same reasons he never called her Red. Whatever they were, though, he didn’t want to be Leon for her anymore. Leon was a Delacroix. The reason her family had imploded. The boy who’d once been her friend. But he wasn’t a boy anymore and they weren’t friends. The past was dead and gone, and it was time they moved on.

  It was time she acknowledged the situation. Acknowledged him.

  “That’s not my name.” He slowed his circling finger on her clit, nuzzling her as he did so. “Whose property are you? Say it. I want to hear it.”

  She was silent apart from her panting breaths so he took his finger away, tracing around the small bud of sensitive flesh with his tongue. “Tell me,” he murmured as she cried out. “Say my name, Alice.”

  Her fingers gripped tight, her body arching. “I…”

  “My name. Say it.”

  “B-blue…God…Blue…”

  The sound of it in her pleasure-roughened voice was lightning down his spine and he’d never understood how much he’d wanted to hear it from her until that moment. It made him rock hard, made him burn in a way he hadn’t burned before.

  He wanted to be inside her so bad it hurt. But he didn’t stop what he was doing, keeping his gaze on hers as he licked and sucked at her. Feeling her shaking muscles begin to lock up, the beginnings of ecstasy lighting up her face.

  “Whose property are you?” he demanded thickly. “Tell me. You can’t come until you tell me.”

  Her fingers closed hard in his hair. “Y-yours.”

  “No, I want it all, baby.”

  She gave a little sob. “I’m your property. I’m Blue’s property.”

  “Yes,” he growled deep in his throat. “Yes, you fucking are.” He licked her clit, sucked on it, and her head tipped back, her eyes closing, her whole body lifting against his mouth. She cried out, the taste of her orgasm flooding his mouth as she came, shuddering and trembling and gasping his name.

  He kept his arms wrapped tight around her thighs, holding her through the aftershocks, unable to stop himself from nuzzling and licking her. The scent and taste of her was driving him insane. If he didn’t get inside her right now, he was going to go stark fucking mad.

  Shifting, he eased her legs back down. She had her head tipped back, lying limply in the chair, her eyes closed. Her breathing was fast, a sheen of sweat at her throat. The sight of her with her tank top pulled up, the rest of her bare, was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

  Rising to his feet, he reached for her, pulling her up from the chair and into his arms. She didn’t make a sound, her body warm and soft against him as he turned her to face the table, her back toward him. Then he pushed her facedown over it the way he’d imagined, the red letters across the back of her vest stark in the moonlight.

  Her head turned, her eyes half-closed. “What are you doing?”

  “What do you think? I’m going to fuck you.” He eased himself hard up against her, her bare butt pressing against the zipper of his jeans, a tantalizing pressure. “Fuck you bent over like this so I can see my patch on your back. So I know you’re mine and you know it as well. So that when you go to that party, you can feel me everywhere. My mouth on your pussy, my cock there too.” He pulled open his jeans, so hard he was almost in pain. “My mark everywhere on you.” Reaching around to his back pocket, he got out his wallet and extracted a condom, the breath hissing in his throat as he got it out of the packet and rolled the latex down. Then he slid a hand beneath her, lifting her hips. “So you know how much I want you.”

  She’d begun to shake again, her eyes now fully closed.

  “I want you, Red,” he whispered, bending over her, positioning himself so he could push into the tight, wet heat of her, sliding as deep as he could, leaning forward so she could feel him everywhere. So he covered her, surrounded her. “Only you.”

  She moaned, a soft, broken sound. “Not…Red.”

  He locked his hands on her hips, holding her still. “Yeah, you are. Red and Blue, baby. That’s what we are now. Because you’re right—we’re not friends anymore. We’re something else.” He slid out then back in again, thrusting hard, making her gasp. “We’re something more.”

  She shook her head at that, though he didn’t know what she was disagreeing with. Then her hands turned over, palms flat to the table as she abruptly shoved her hips back against him, arching her back, deepening the penetration, tearing a groan from him in return as her pussy clenched tightly around his dick. Like she was claiming him as much as he was claiming her.

  And as she did it, he found it was impossible to speak anymore, the need overcoming him, overwhelming him.

  He let go of her hips, taking her wrists in one hand and pinning them down to the table above her head. Then he began to move, a hard, deep rhythm that had them both panting in the quiet of the courtyard, the harsh rush of breath a counterpoint to the thump of the music coming from the party.

  Anyone
could have come out the back door of The Priory. And they weren’t exactly hidden, even though the shadows sheltered them. But he didn’t care. She was tight and hot and wet, and the sounds she was making were driving him crazy. Nothing was going to make him stop, absolutely fucking nothing.

  He shoved her tank top higher, so the black leather of the vest was stark against her bare skin. She was going to take it off when she went to that goddamn party, but he’d make sure she remembered whose property she was. Remembered who’d claimed her. Whose mouth had made her come, whose cock was in her pussy.

  He’d put his mark all over her and though the Ministry wouldn’t know it, she would.

  He’d make goddamn sure of it.

  Slipping his hand beneath her, he pushed it between her thighs, down to where they were joined, stroking her clit as he thrust. She cried out, her hips jerking against his, trying to move, seeking friction. And he gave it to her, harder, faster.

  She began to sob, and thank fucking Christ because he couldn’t hold on anymore. She was too hot and too tight and being inside her was just too good. Pleasure arced down his spine as her pussy convulsed around his cock, and he lost it. Shoving himself deep and hard into her as the orgasm barreled down on him, exploding through him like a summer storm over the bayou.

  He bent forward over her, letting go of her wrists to slide his arms around her, holding her tight and hard against him, slamming into her as it took him, the pleasure so intense the only thing he could say was her name, over and over.

  And afterward he couldn’t move. Could only stand there, leaning against the table holding her as his heartbeat began to slow, as his stunned brain began to recover.

  She didn’t move either, as if she was just as shocked as he was by the intensity of it.

  “You’re sleeping with me tonight,” he said roughly, the only thing he could think of to say. “When the party’s over, get a cab back here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Alice said nothing and he found himself staring down at her figure sprawled over the table, desperation clenching hard in his chest. He didn’t understand why he felt that way. She’d said his name. She’d acknowledged who she belonged to. And yet…he wanted more.

  “Say it, Red,” he said, deliberately emphasizing the name. “Say yes.”

  She shifted against him and he had to bite back a groan as the movement started to make him hard yet again. “Move, would you?”

  Reluctantly, he stepped back to give her some room. She straightened, went over to where her boots and panties were, and put them on, covering up all that beautiful bare skin. Then she turned.

  There were tears on her cheeks, the tracks of them glistening in the moonlight.

  Fuck.

  “What did I do?” he demanded. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It was just…intense.”

  She wasn’t wrong about that. He could still feel the aftershocks going through him like little jolts of electricity. Turning away, he dealt with the condom in a nearby trash can and zipped up his jeans.

  “You didn’t answer me,” he said as he turned back, feeling like an idiot for demanding it and yet unable to stop himself. “You’re coming back here, aren’t you?”

  There was a raw honesty in her face that cut him more sharply than any knife. “I thought it wasn’t a question. I thought it was an order.”

  You know what she wants, you fucking idiot. How can she trust you if you keep demanding things from her and never give anything back?

  He didn’t like the thought. Begging for anything was a weakness and he wasn’t fucking weak. Not like his father, who’d been totally at the mercy of his own dick. Then again, Alice wasn’t some club whore. He was her old man and he was going to protect her, look out for her, and if she needed this from him then he had to give it to her.

  “I want you,” he said hoarsely. “I want you in my bed. Please, baby.” It wasn’t a word he said very often, if at all. Not these days. When he’d been a Delacroix, it was all “please” and “thank you” and “yes, sir” and “no, sir.” All politeness and manners to preserve the appearance of a wealthy, respectable, decent Southern family. When he’d become a Deacon, those words had been crossed out from his vocabulary, because fuck manners and politeness and decency. His father certainly had.

  Something shifted and changed in her eyes, a flicker of surprise followed by a softness he’d never seen there before. “Okay. Okay, I will.”

  He wanted to reach for her, take her mouth again, but he shoved his hands into his pockets instead. If he touched her again, she wouldn’t be going to that fucking party, that was for sure.

  Alice gave him a long look, her expression now unreadable. Then with an abrupt movement, she shrugged out of the vest and held it out to him. “Keep this for me.”

  Slowly, he took it from her, the leather heavy in his hand.

  “I’ll come back for it, Blue.”

  Then before he could respond, she turned on her heel and headed straight through the Priory doors.

  He stood there for a time, holding her vest, restraining the urge to go after her and drag her back. But they needed whatever info she could get, and he sure as shit couldn’t get it himself.

  After a while, he went back into his apartment and hung the vest carefully on the back of a kitchen chair before stepping out into the courtyard once more.

  The party was still going strong and would be for hours yet, so he flung open the Priory back door and went inside. He’d have a couple of bourbons, enjoy the party. Wait until she was back with him.

  The heat and the noise engulfed him as he headed to the bar. The music was loud, dancers on the packed, makeshift dance floor raising bottles of beer and cheering as they ground against each other. Several people called to him as he pulled out a bar stool and settled himself on it, but he didn’t feel like talking.

  Sophie wasn’t behind the bar, some other chick in a tight top doing the honors. He ordered a bourbon, then looked around the bar, checking where the others were.

  Prince was still leaning against the wall. The blonde he was with had her hands on his hips and was leaning in, her mouth at his throat. He had one hand buried in her hair and his eyes were half shut. Blue snorted. The dude pretended he was above all of this shit but when it came down to it, under the influence of alcohol and music and a good, old-fashioned party, he was a Deacon just the same as the rest of them.

  Travis and Billie had disappeared, though there were no prizes for guessing where they were. Billie was still getting used to the public displays of sexuality that often happened with bikers and preferred a little bit of privacy.

  Ajax, on the other hand, had no problem with it. Over in one corner he sat at a table with Sophie in his lap. Her head was bent back over her shoulder, his fingers gripping her jaw to hold her steady as he kissed her hungrily. His other hand was up her skirt and by the way she was shifting restlessly around, it was pretty obvious what he was doing.

  Blue dragged his gaze away, uncomfortably aware he was still hard and that any more visual stimulation would only make things worse.

  Instead he picked up his bourbon and took a swallow.

  It was going to be a long night.

  —

  The party was crap and it wasn’t because the Ministry threw crap parties; they didn’t. It was just that as soon as Alice walked into the Ministry clubhouse she felt wrong. Like she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

  She threaded through the crowds gathered in the big, run-down warehouse, and apart from the cuts the men wore, it might as well have been the same as the party she’d just left at The Priory. So she shouldn’t have felt out of place. Yet she did. The faces were familiar and so were the smiles and the greetings. But it just felt…different.

  And she knew why.

  After what had happened between her and Leon in the courtyard, everything felt different.

  No, not Leon. Blue.

  So that when you go to that party, you can feel me everywhere…
>
  A shiver went down her spine. Bastard. She could feel him everywhere. His mouth on her skin, his fingers on her, in her. Him moving inside her as she pressed her cheek against the hard metal of the table.

  She didn’t know why she’d stayed in the courtyard with him when she should have left. When she should have stuck to her guns and refused to sleep with him again. But after she’d told him what had happened to her and he’d been so angry, after he’d put his hands on her and pulled her into his arms…After he’d told her he wanted her, then pressed her to tell him everything…

  She’d made a mistake; that was certain. She’d fallen apart in his arms, let him see her fear, let him claim her. Let him take away the name she used so he’d stay the friend he’d once been to her and not the man he actually was.

  Blue. She was Blue’s property.

  She swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in her throat and ignore the satisfied feeling deep in her soul that the thought gave her.

  You know you wanted it. You always have.

  Perhaps even from the day he’d turned up at the Deacons’ clubhouse after all the shit had gone down with her mom and his dad, and after her mom had taken off. He’d come to make a formal apology for his father’s behavior and to see if she was okay, a move that took serious balls since the brothers weren’t exactly going to look kindly on a skinny sixteen-year-old rich kid, the son of a man who’d seriously screwed with one of the old ladies. Yet he’d ignored all of them just to check on her. She’d been so angry with the world that day, but his concern for her had made her fall for him just a little bit. The fact that he’d garnered some serious respect from the brothers for the move had helped. Even more so when six months later he became a club prospect.

  And then she’d finally seen him in his cut at the Deacons party the day he’d first been patched in, and she’d fallen for him even more. He’d stood there with Ajax and the rest, tall and broad and muscular, even at eighteen, and so beautiful it had made her heart ache. She’d wanted him desperately in the way that only teenage girls can manage, even though he’d never given her any sign that he felt the same. He hadn’t been interested in her at all and so she’d put away her desire, made sure it never showed. But just because she’d put it away didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Didn’t mean it didn’t burn like a fire in a seam of coal, constantly smoldering, never going out completely.