Outlaw's Promise(14)

Carrick punched another biker to the ground. There were plenty left but the fire had broken up the fight. It was already licking up the wooden walls and the air was filling with thick white smoke. Some of the bikers started to panic and run for the nearest door.

I ran to Carrick and pressed myself to his side again. The instant our bodies touched, I felt better. I felt not alone. This time, I took hold of his bicep with both hands and clung on for dear life: no one was separating us again. He grabbed his shotgun as we passed it and brandished it again, swinging it towards anyone who came towards us. Then we were backing out of the main door and into the blessedly cool night air. Smoke was pouring out of the door in an almost solid stream. “Get on the bike!” yelled Carrick.

I would have recognized the big Harley anywhere. As a kid, I must have sketched it a thousand times in my school books. I’d dreamed of someday riding it and, even with all that was going on, I got a little giddy as I swung my leg over the saddle. It was only when my ass hit the leather that I remembered I was still in my underwear.

Carrick got on in front of me, his broad back filling my vision. He’d been patched in, now: his cut had lost the Prospect. The Princes of Hell skull grinned at me from the badge..

“Hold onto me,” he growled over his shoulder. That accent. That growl. It made me resonate like a tuning fork, as if I’d been needing to hear it my entire life. I flung my arms around him, then swallowed as my palms brushed warm, washboard abs under soft cotton.

“Closer!”

I shuffled my ass along the saddle. My thighs opened a little more and my groin kissed up against his ass, the muscles hard through the denim. I leaned forward and pressed my chest against him. My breasts pillowed against his back. It would have been intimate even in clothes but I could feel my nipples stroking against his leather cut through my bra. I swallowed again.

He started the engine and the whole bike came to life, throbbing and growling like a beast. My whole life, I’d always known when a machine wasn’t working properly: I’d gotten used to that edgy feeling I get when something’s not quite right. I’d never known the flipside: the sudden rush of deep satisfaction when you touch a machine that’s loved and cared for, every gear meshing as it should, every piston smoothly pumping. And with the bike, the sensation was even stronger because I was on it, almost part of it. It was glorious.#p#分页标题#e#

Carrick twisted the throttle and we roared off into the night.





7





Carrick





To get to the highway, we had to ride right through the center of Teston: exactly where I didn’t want to be. It was Blood Spiders territory and the word would already be getting out. Harleys aren’t exactly stealthy and we were hard to miss with a half-naked woman on the back.

Half-naked. Every time I turned the handlebars, every time I changed gear, my back shifted in new and interesting ways against her breasts. Jesus, that body! I’d only had time for glimpses during the chaos of the fight but they were burned into my mind: full, ripe breasts bouncing and swaying in a black bra. Long, toned legs and that ass...my mind was already running through all the ways I wanted to fuck her.

Right. Like a sweet thing like her would want a monster like me. I felt the first stirrings of anger in the pit of my stomach, the sour regret at what I’d become. If my life had worked out different….

But that way lay madness. Just get her out of town and drop her off somewhere. My debt would be repaid. Then I could go back to the clubhouse and drink until I forgot those big, green eyes and that perfect pale body.

But by the time we hit the center of Teston, I could hear the thump of other Harleys. Shit. At the next intersection I throttled back, slowed to a stop and peeked around the corner into Teston’s main street.

It wasn’t good. I counted three—no, four Blood Spiders cruising up and down. They knew we had to cross the street to get out of the city. As soon as we did, they’d see us and chase us down. A few quick gunshots and the bike would be on its side, I’d be bleeding out and Annabelle….

Annabelle would be back in their hands.

My fingers tightened on the handlebars. Not going to happen. Whenever I thought of her being auctioned off, a deep, hot wave of protective anger flooded through me, so strong it almost scared me. I’d never felt anything like it before.

I hung back, waiting for something big to come by. When a cement truck rolled up at the intersection, I swung the bike alongside it, cozying up to it like a minnow next to a whale. Hopefully, the rattle of its engine would cover the throb of ours and the bulk of it would block us from view from one side. The other side? We’d have to hope we got lucky.