Hold Me Down (The Deacons of Bourbon Street #3) Page 6

So he took another step forward, her naked, wet body brushing up against his. “If I’m a typical fucking Delacroix then why aren’t you pushing me away and screaming bloody murder?” He lifted a hand, brushed a finger over one pink nipple, watching as it tightened immediately. “And why are your nipples hard? Why did you let me fuck you on that couch?”

  Her color heightened. “I didn’t let—”

  “You want to be my property, Ally, face it. That’s the reason you were pissed when I left. That’s the reason you’re still pissed now, ten fucking years later. You want to be my property and you can’t stand it.”

  “I don’t! And stop fucking calling me Ally!”

  Abruptly Leon lost patience. He was sick of her arguing with him. It was late, he was angry, and all he wanted to do was protect her. But he couldn’t do that with her being obstructive at every turn.

  He grabbed her by the forearms, pushing her back into the shower stall, coming in with her. Then he began to undress, throwing his clothes out on the bathroom floor, pulling the door closed once he was naked. He turned the tap on, the hot water falling over both of them.

  She didn’t move the whole time, her chin jutting mutinously. Yet he could see how her gaze was helplessly drawn to his body, following the water as it flowed over him.

  Yeah, that was his point fucking proved.

  He picked up the bar of soap and handed it to her. “Wash me.”

  She didn’t take the soap, the blue spark in her eyes sharp enough to cut. “I don’t fucking think so.”

  Oh, she was so stubborn. But it was coming back to him now, the way he’d managed her stubbornness in the past. She’d always hated being forced into a corner, but if given a choice, she usually made the right one. Which meant he had to give her one now.

  “You gotta make a decision,” he said roughly. “Either you stay here and wash me, take care of me like an old lady takes care of her man. Or you leave and take your chances with Ajax. And you don’t come screaming to me when the Ministry goes under.”

  —

  Alice folded her arms over her rapidly accelerating heartbeat, trying not to stare at Leon’s naked body, at all that slick, bronzed skin and taut, hard muscle. At the tattoos snaking up his arms, a flight of arrows up one forearm following a trail of stars up to his biceps. On the other arm roses twined around crosses, framing the face of a wolf. Water streamed over the eagle on his chest, and she knew that if he turned around, she’d see the Deacons’ mark on his back.

  Her mouth dried. She didn’t want this again, this endless, aching hunger for him. She didn’t want to have to make this choice. God, why was she always so powerless? At the mercy of so many people? Blade, Ajax, and now Leon.

  Boo-hoo. Stop being such a whiny little bitch and pull yourself together. Make the decision for yourself and make it yours. Don’t let him force it on you.

  Taking a slow, silent breath, she met his dark eyes. “Okay, I’ll be your old lady. I’ll wear your property patch. But only temporarily. I’m not giving up my garage. Not for you or Ajax or any other damn man.”

  His expression hardened. “I told you, you’re not going back—”

  “Yeah, I heard. But I am going back and you’re going to let me.”

  He scowled. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

  The idea slowly forming in her head was dangerous and it would put her at risk, no question. But if it paid off, she could end this war, get Leon off her back, and ensure the safety of her business. All she had to do was prove him wrong.

  “Because I’m going to find the info you need about Priest’s death. I’m going to prove that the Ministry didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Again, why the fuck would I let you?”

  “You don’t want a war, Leon. And I’m guessing neither does Ajax. The Deacons have only just returned and you’re not at full strength.” It wasn’t a guess. They wouldn’t be, not if they’d just come back to the Quarter. Hell, the Ministry was full of washed-up Deacons, detritus from the hurricane that had torn through the city. “You need proof before taking action.”

  He was silent, staring at her, and she knew she had him. He’d never been a stupid man. Passionate and intense, yes, but never stupid.

  The water fell between them, the stall filling up with steam.

  “Okay,” he said after a moment. “You got a deal.”

  She tried not to let the relief show on her face. “Good. I’ll start digging around tomorrow.”

  “You still haven’t made a decision.”

  “What?”

  He didn’t move, his dark eyes unwavering. Full of challenge “Wash me. Or leave.”

  She swallowed, desire gathering tight inside her again. Her hands itched to do just that, run that bar of soap all over his broad shoulders, down that beautifully carved chest and along the tight, ridged lines of his abdomen. Feel his skin all hot and slick beneath her touch. Then move lower, to where he was hard, the thick curve of his cock already standing ready for her touch.

  And why not? Out there in the lounge she’d crossed the line, let him screw her hard and fast on the couch. Had the most mind-blowing sex of her life. Certainly enough to make up for all the years without. So why shouldn’t she have more now?

  You know why.

  Yeah, she did.

  “I’m not going to be your old lady for real, Leon,” she said thickly. “Just enough to convince Ajax. That’s all.”

  “That’s not what you said. You said it would be temporary.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Well, that’s fine. I’ve got no problems with temporary. But if you think that means no sex, you’re wrong.”

  “There are plenty of other women out there who can help you with that. You don’t need me.”

  “I do need you. I don’t fuck around, never have, and Ajax knows that. If I start up with some other chick, he’s gonna know something’s up.” He raised one muscular arm and pushed back his hair, the deep gold darkened into sleek brown by the water. “I went without while I was away from New Orleans. And now that I’m back, I’m sure as hell not going without again.”

  Alice stared at him, shock moving slowly down her spine. He went without… Did that mean what she thought it meant? “You didn’t…I mean, not with anyone?”

  His gaze pinned her to the spot. “No. Not once. I swore I wouldn’t until I was a Deacon again. And now I am. And if you’re going to be my old lady—even if it is pretend—you’re gonna be in my bed. End of story.”

  Ten years. He hadn’t been with anyone in ten years.

  Back before he’d left town, she’d known him to be choosy about his lovers. His type ran to tall, lean brunettes, which had always made her despair since she’d been neither tall nor lean, nor a brunette. But even then, when he’d been with someone, he was exclusive. Which was unusual in a motorcycle club. She knew his reasons—his father’s failure to keep his dick to himself had had lasting consequences for both of them. Yet even so…Ten years of celibacy.

  Which you just broke.

  “Well?” Leon took a step toward her, his hand still holding out the soap. “I’ll let you make the decision, but I’m not standing here all night. You either leave and take your chances, or you wash me down, then spend the night in my bed. What’s it gonna be?”

  Spend the night in his bed…

  An aching sense of loneliness caught hard inside her. He wasn’t the only one who’d been alone a long time. She had too. After Leon had left, after Ditch and what had happened in the aftermath of that, she hadn’t trusted anyone enough to allow him to get close. She still didn’t. But it would be nice to have that closeness, if only for a little while.

  Anyway, he was right. What choice did she have? Ajax would view her change of loyalties as a personal betrayal and he wouldn’t give a shit as to her reason. He’d deal out club justice as he saw fit, and she would be the casualty.

  It would be stupid to die just because she had reservations about sleeping with Leon. Reserva
tions that had nothing to do with not wanting to and everything to do with wanting it far too much.

  No, the real problem was the consequences, because there were always fucking consequences no matter how hard you wanted there not to be. No matter how hard you tried to protect yourself.

  She’d live with the consequences of sleeping with Ditch for the rest of her life.

  Alice let out a soft breath. Then she took the soap from his hand. He didn’t say a word, watching her as she came toward him, and despite the hot water raining down on her, she shivered.

  It was different now. The anger that had fueled the desperation earlier had dissipated and although the desire was still there, it didn’t help the sudden wave of nervousness that went through her. She’d never done this with a guy before, not even once. But, really, how hard could washing a man be?

  She didn’t look at him, not wanting to meet that hot, dark gaze because she knew it would only make her even more jittery, not to mention advertise her inexperience loud and clear. Instead she stared at the sharply defined muscles of his chest, at the eagle with its wings spread. The ink stood out beautifully against his tanned skin and when she raised the bar of soap and slid it over those hard muscles, the eagle’s wings flexed.

  God. So beautiful. He was so beautiful. She’d always thought it, sneaking looks at him when it had gotten hot in the garage and he’d taken his shirt off. Hoping he wouldn’t notice while she drank her fill of his powerful shoulders, hard, flat stomach, and lean hips.

  She let the bar of soap slide farther down his chest, over his stomach, and again she felt his reaction, abdominal muscles tensing under her touch.

  “I should have asked you this before,” he said in a rough-sounding voice. “But are you with anyone?”

  “I’m surprised you care.” She touched him, unable to help herself, her fingers sliding over his slick, wet skin. He felt hot, even hotter than the water raining down on them.

  “Of course I fucking don’t.” His voice had deepened even further. “I just don’t want any reprisals.”

  Reprisals. Of course. “What about if I was in love with someone. Would you care about that?” She let her hand drop lower, soaping the line of dark golden hair that led down to the impressive length of his cock. He was hard. Ready.

  “No.”

  She closed her hand around him, her nervousness vanishing under a hot rush of anger. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t give a shit about my feelings?”

  He let out a growl. “I give a shit about your feelings. What I don’t give a shit about is if some prick already has a claim on you.”

  Tipping her head back, she looked up at him. Water streamed over his skin, soaking his hair, drops catching in his dark lashes. The look in his eyes was hot, fierce, and she couldn’t help it. Some part of her gloried in that. It was the look she’d always dreamt of him giving her.

  Her fingers tightened around him. “What would you do if some prick did?”

  He stared back. “Beat him to a pulp if he tried to take you back.”

  “And if I wanted to go back to him?”

  “You’d be shit out of luck.” His fingers closed around hers where they gripped his cock. “I don’t share.” He pumped her hand, sliding it down then up his shaft, the soap making her hold on him slippery. The expression in his eyes became even fiercer. “Fuck, that feels good. I like your hand on me.”

  She caught her breath, because she liked it too. In fact, that look on his face made her feel…as if she had some power. It was weird how that worked. She’d always thought the women who’d gone on about how there was so much power in being female, in being sexual, were talking bullshit. There wasn’t anything powerful in being used by a man.

  But this was different. This was powerful. That simply having her hand around his cock could make him look this way at her. As if she was the only thing worth looking at in the entire world. He always gave his entire focus to whatever he was doing, and clearly that included sex.

  “Why?” she demanded, moving her hand faster. “Why are you suddenly getting all possessive now? You never felt that way about me before. What’s changed?”

  He made a growling sound deep in his throat, his hand around hers resisting her efforts to speed things along. “Yeah, well, it’s been ten years. And maybe I’ve changed. Anyway, I don’t see you complaining.”

  She didn’t know quite what she wanted from him, what kind of reaction she was pushing for. “Then you must have been deaf for the past hour.”

  Fire licked up in his eyes. “Yet you’re still standing here. With your hand around my dick. I told you what to do if you didn’t want this.”

  He had. He’d given her a way out, but she hadn’t taken it.

  Her jaw tightened. “Is it me you actually want, Leon? Or would any of the chicks downstairs be good enough? Hell, if all you wanted was a warm—”

  He moved. So suddenly that one minute she was standing under the warm water, the next he’d pinned her up against the shower wall. Her hand was still around his cock, now sandwiched in between their two bodies, while her other hand pressed impotently against his muscular shoulder.

  Her breath caught as she found herself staring into his brown eyes, her senses in free-fall at the feel of all that hot, wet bare skin pressed against her own. She tried to wiggle free, pushing at his shoulder with her free hand, but he wasn’t having any of it.

  “Listen to me, Alice Day,” he said in a low, hard voice. “If all I’d wanted was a warm, wet pussy, I’d have gotten it the day I came back to New Orleans. But I didn’t. You are the one I wanted. You are the one I chose. No, I didn’t know that myself until back there in the lounge, but it is what it is. I want you. I have no fucking idea why, because everything would be a hell of a lot simpler if I didn’t. But I do. And while this shit is going down with the Ministry, you’re going to stay in my bed and be with me as much as possible. Are we clear?”

  Her breathing was coming faster, harder, her thoughts splintering under the pressure of his body and the heat in his eyes.

  You are the one I chose.

  This was everything she’d ever wanted. Why the hell was she even arguing?

  “Yes,” she said hoarsely.

  “Yes, what?”

  “We’re clear.”

  “Okay. Now, I’m done talking about this tonight. So why don’t you get down on your knees and suck my cock like a proper old lady should.”

  She wanted to tell him to go to hell with his orders and his demands. With his stupid, hot body and his protective instincts. But she couldn’t seem to bring herself to say the words.

  The last man she’d had in her mouth had been Ditch. Because he’d wanted it and she hadn’t said no. She’d thought it would be easy, just a case of closing her eyes and imagining it was someone else while she sucked on him like a Popsicle. Which was exactly what she’d done. Ditch had gotten off, but as for her, well, she’d found it unpleasant.

  But it wasn’t Ditch standing in front of her now. It was Leon. And she found she wanted to taste him as bad as he seemed to want her to.

  “Fine,” she said shakily. “How about you give me some room then.”

  He did as she asked, easing back from her so she could drop to her knees in front of him. Water streamed down his naked body, a waterfall finding the dips and hollows of him, the grooves of muscle and sinew that made him more Greek statue than tattooed biker.

  God, she was suddenly starving for him.

  Running her hands up the backs of his legs, she couldn’t stop from caressing him, stroking his thighs and the hard, tight curve of his butt. His cock was right in front of her, curving up against his stomach, the smooth skin all slick from the soap she’d used on him earlier.

  His hands were in her hair, gathering the wet mass of it into his fist, and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

  He met her gaze, hunger clear on his face. “You okay?”

  Such a simple question. And yet, for some reason, the
re was a note in his voice that made a sharp pain catch inside her, that made her reveal what she probably shouldn’t. “Uh…yeah. I just…haven’t done this very often.”

  His brow creased, dark eyes widening. Clearly this was unexpected. “How often is not very often?”

  She didn’t want to tell him, and yet it came out all the same. “Once.”

  He didn’t say anything immediately, his gaze searching her face. Then he said, “Okay. No big deal. I’ll tell you what to do.”

  Taking his orders so far had been the very epitome of annoying and yet, for reasons she couldn’t have articulated even to herself, the thought of him telling her what to do now was incredibly reassuring.

  “Open your mouth,” he murmured, his fingers tightening in her hair.

  She obeyed, taking his cock between her lips as he guided it in. He went slowly, easing himself farther, and she opened her mouth wider. He tasted of soap and water, and the very faintest hint of musk and salt. Not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all.

  Finding a bit of confidence, Alice closed her eyes and swirled her tongue experimentally around the sensitive head, earning a groan of pleasure from him.

  “Yeah, baby. Just like that.” He flexed his hips, thrusting into her mouth while his hands on her head held her steady.

  This wasn’t at all like it had been with Ditch. This was…better. So much better.

  She began to use her tongue, exploring him, her hands gripping the backs of his thighs, feeling the shivers of reaction that went through him depending on what she did, gauging what he liked and what he didn’t.

  His hands tightened in her hair, his hips moving faster. “Look at me.”

  She did as she was told, meeting his fierce, dark gaze, his jaw taut with leashed desire.

  “Fuck…Ally…” His voice was hoarse, strained. “Suck me harder.”

  Gripping him tightly she did, increasing suction, his hips jerking as he went faster and faster.

  She was doing this to him. She was making him feel this way. She was the one putting that wildness and desperation in his eyes, making him shake, making him burn. The way she’d secretly longed to be able to do for more years than she could count. The way he’d done to her.