Page 5 of Smoke

“If anyone does glance this way, all they will see is the back of me.” I move my hand around to the front and slide my index finger between her folds, finding her clit.

“Stone,” she says, all breathy as I tease her sensitive nub. The fingers on the hand she laid on my chest curl until her nails dig through the fabric of my t-shirt, making my skin sting just the way I like it. “This isn’t going to help.”

“I beg to differ.” I smirk against her lips, especially when her arm is already looping around my neck so she can pull my mouth to hers. She kisses me with a ferocity of all the anger that rages through her veins and I’ll take every bit of it and more gladly if it gives her peace. She lets out a throaty moan when I thrust two fingers deep into her pussy. Her body quivers as I punish her clit by rubbingthe pad of my thumb over it while pumping my fingers in and out of her, making sure that I hit the spot that makes her eyes roll into the back of her head. When her head falls back against the door with a bang and her breathing becomes erratic, I know she’s nearly there. So, I pull out the big guns. No, not my cock. That’s my lethal weapon. It’s a move I’ve mastered over the years, and believe me, it takes practice to get it right. One that I now give exclusively to this hot as fuck woman that is rocking her hips against my hand, chasing the orgasm that is so close I can feel the buildup of it as it vibrates through her body. With three fingers now inside her, my thumb still circling her clit, I push my pinky finger into her tight, puckered hole.

“Now that’s what I call multi-tasking,” I smirk as she climaxes, her warm cum soaking my fingers, my name rushing from her mouth loud enough to send the birds flouncing from the trees and alerting our return. Not just to Cub, who Oriana had left on babysitting duty, but our beautiful child, Sasha, if it wasn’t for me crashing my mouth to hers and capturing every one of her sounds of euphoria.

“See,” I nip at her bottom lip. “Now tell me I was wrong?”

“You’re an arrogant asshole at times,” she pants out while trying to catch her breath.

“Doesn’t stop you from loving me though, does it?” Her eyelids are heavy with post wanderlust, but she still manages to cast me a look that tells me I shouldn’t push my luck.

“It’s a fucking good job that I do.” She twirls around,giving me a view of her tight ass. She takes a minute to pull her pants back into place and straighten up her top. Her hand falls to the door handle, but before she goes any further, she looks back at me over her shoulder. “But don’t think for one minute that the first chance I get, I’ll make sure you pay for blocking my chance at showing Tenley exactly what I think of her.” With that, she pushes through the door, and before I’ve even gotten a step forward to follow her, she firmly closes it in my face.

“Oh shit,” I curse out loud. Maybe if I give her a few more orgasms later tonight, once Sasha is tucked up in bed. Fuck her real good. Hopefully, then she’ll forget the drama that’s unfolded today. Maybe not, however I can’t say I won’t enjoy trying.

Chapter

Three

Smoke

“So, Tenley.” I take a firm step towards her, but kudos, she stands her ground even when the scuffed toe of my boot hits the shiny toe of her high-heels. “If you reckon you’ve done your research on the Young Outlaws MC, then what possessed you to think you can encroach on our property without our permission?”

“Wow.” Her eyes are wide, a slight curl to the edges of her mouth as she looks up at me. My dominant posture seems to have zero effect on her. “Encroach. Great use of the word there, Smoke. Might use that in my report.” She blinks several times as if waiting for my reaction but then follows with. “I can call you Smoke, can’t I or would you prefer Ronan?”

Usually, my death stare and body language are enough to scare the shit out of the people I need to dealwith, but Tenley seems to be either oblivious to it, or she has some idiotic idea that she’s invulnerable.

“You’re not going to get the chance to call me anything, because you’re going to get the fuck out of my clubhouse, and off of our land.” I hook my hand around her upper arm and swing her around until she’s facing the door.

“Oh, come on,” she titters as I walk her out of my office, into the main room and towards the front door. “I’m giving you the perfect chance to tell your side of the story. Let the people out there know the truth.” She pulls sharply, bringing us to a stop. Thankfully, other than Ginger, who is behind the bar filling up the coolers with beer bottles, the room is empty when she continues to try to reason with me. “At least your version of the truth, because we all know that you make your money from guns and drugs.”

“You know fucking nothing.” I grasp her by the throat, bring her face to mine, and snarl. “If you did, then you’d know that poking into our business is not good for your health. And if you think for one minute that being a half cooked relative of Oriana is going to grant you favor or protection, then you’re vastly mistaken.” As soon as I have her outside, I let out a loud whistle from between my teeth. It’s enough to grab Edge’s attention from where he’s stood, talking to Diesel while tinkering with his bike. Edge makes his way over. Diesel follows close behind while wiping the rag he’s holding over his hands.

“Prez?” Edge questions, after quickly eyeing up the power-dressed woman I’m gripping hold off.

“Get this woman out of here, now.” I push hertowards Edge. Ensuring he has a firm hold on her before relinquishing my grasp. “And make sure whichever fucker is on the gate gets a hiding for letting her get in here in the first place.”

“Wait… wait.” Tenley pulls her arm free and holds up her hands. “Just listen to me for a second.”

“I doubt you have anything I want to hear.” I start to turn away from her but think better of it. I need her gone and want to see it with my own eyes. “Get her out of here, Edge.”

Edge goes to grab hold of her again, but she jumps the few steps down and onto the rough ground in front of the clubhouse. How the fuck she didn’t break an ankle while doing it in those high fucking heels, I’ll never know.

Standing tall, her hands on her hips, with her purse hooked over her arm, she says two words that metaphorically knock me off my feet.

“Patrick James Dunne,” she hollers loud and clear.

That gets my attention.

“Who?” My mouth takes the shape of a downward crescent, my shoulders hunch, my body language giving the impression that I have no idea who she’s talking about. Yet deep down, my blood is boiling from the simple mention of his name.

“The King of the Death Valley Irish. The man who is after the blood of you and every member of the Young Outlaws for the death of his brothers.”

“First of all, Jimmy, Paddy whatever name he’s going by these days, is no king and secondly. Brothers?” I retort back.

“From what I’m led to believe, Paddy is holding you and your club solely responsible for the death of both Danny and Logan Dunne, and he’s not going to stop until he has his revenge.”

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