Captured(Devil's Blaze MC 1)(2)

“Of course not.”

“Then what are you?”

“I’m your future,” I tell her honestly, bringing her finger to my mouth. My eyes lock with hers as I let my tongue slide around to lick off the creamy confection. I use just the tip of my tongue, dragging it slowly and teasingly along the tip and then further to her knuckle. My eyes watch hers the entire time before I finally put the digit completely in my mouth, letting out a moan of appreciation.

She bites into her lip. I can tell through the thin white dress she’s wearing that her breathing has picked up. She’s not immune to me and that pretty much decides her fate.

“Do you mind?” she grumbles, pulling her finger away. She tries to sound pissed, but in her voice, I detect a note of excitement. It’s that sound that calls to the beast hidden in me.

“I can give you something else to eat,” I tell her, and we both know I’m not talking about anything on this table. I can see the moment recognition flares in her eyes because she blushes. Fuck me sideways. Have I ever known a woman who blushes that sweet?

“Do you know who I am?” she asks, her face tilting to the side.

“Not yet, but I will.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” she says cryptically, and it makes me smile. She’s a sweet little lamb teasing the big bad wolf and she doesn’t even know.

“I think I can handle anything you send my way.”

“Are you always so….”

“Asombroso?”

“Asombroso?” she repeats, butchering the Spanish word with her sweet, southern accent.

Mi madre was Spanish. I look nothing like her or her family, with the exception of my dark hair. I am my father… the fucking bastard. Still, having been raised by my mother, words slip out from time to time. The woman in front of me inspires them. Spanish words are more lyrical, more soothing, and that is what she reminds me of. She triggers the poetry inside me.

“The man of your dreams,” I paraphrase.

“I hate to rain on your parade Casanova, but I have to leave. I’m late,” she says, getting up and reaching to gather her trash. I’m quicker, taking it first; I’m no gentleman, but I have my moments.

“And where are you off to?” I ask. “Is there a man I should know about?”

“A man?” She smiles. “And if there were…?”

“I’d have to have him taken care of,” I tell her honestly. I leave it to her to wonder what that means. If I tell her that no one gets in the way of what I want, I wonder what her reaction would be?

“You’re just a tad over-the-top creepy, aren’t you?” She says, moving away from me. I let her go, enjoying the curve of her ass as it sways under her dress.

I follow her out to the street. “Same time tomorrow, querida?” I ask when it becomes apparent she’s intent on ignoring me. My question makes her stop, and she turns around to look at me.

She studies me and those damned gray eyes are sparkling with laughter. I’d like to keep that look on her. A second later, I decide I really want to know what those eyes are like when I’m slipping myself deep inside her, her legs wrapped around me.

“Sure. Knock yourself out.” She turns to walk off again.

“You better be here,” I tell her, and there’s no mistaking the order in my voice.

She turns to fully face me. Confusion and defiance war in her eyes and broadcast on her face. We’re having a showdown and I’m going to win. She just needs to accept it.

“And if I’m not?” she asks. I like the spunk she’s showing. A woman with fire will warm a man at night.

“I’ll come find you,” I answer, deadly serious.

“You don’t even know who I am.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“You could be asking for trouble.”

“I like excitement.”

“I don’t know your name.”

“You will,” I tell her with a grin. I can already hear her screaming it out when she comes on my cock.

She studies me for a moment. Much to my surprise, she gives in. “I’ll be here.”

I like that she gave in, but am not happy with the note of sadness in her voice. I’ll trade that sadness for moans of excitement soon enough. I watch her walk away until she’s out of sight, then head for my bike. She’s going to be a challenge. I can’t wait.





I walk away wondering what exactly just happened. Was that sexy biker really hitting on me?

My body feels like it’s been energized with electricity as I make my way back to the bus stop at the end of town. I’ll catch the bus, then get off at a stop just a block away from my prison—better known as the Sacred and Pure Hearts Learning Academy of Bantam, Georgia. Bantam is in the next county over from Raven Hills, and there’s really nothing there. In fact, the only thing in that place is the private Catholic high school that my stepbrothers Matthew and Colin sent me to when our parents died. I hate it. Then again, I don’t guess anyone actually likes being shipped off to boarding school, especially an all-female one. It’s a failsafe way for the board to make sure the sacred and pure part of their school stays that way.