Page 33 of Thunder

Before Trip had a chance to respond, the lights went down, the music went up… and his heart stalled right there in his chest.

Out of respect, all his brother’s gazes were solidly on him instead of the stunning woman on stage. That didn’t apply to the invited guests. Those fuckers’ eyes were popping out of their goddamned head.

She reached behind her neck, untied her top, and tossed it off stage.

“What in the actual fuck?” Taps breathed. “She didn’t have nipple rings the other day.”

Thunder turned his attention toward his soon-to-be fucking dead brother in time to see Granite smack him in the back of the head.

Thunder would have a talk with his brother about boundaries later. The fact that Taps knew what her tits looked like chapped his ass, but he was to blame for that. He wasn’t to blame, however, for the fact that fucker had stared long enough, then and now, to notice.

Thunder had noticed the piercings and meant to ask her where the jewelry was, but shit happened. He turned back to the stage. Mesmerized by the beaded half-moons hanging from the sweetest nipples he’d ever tasted.

That’s when he noticed one of the civilians walk up to the stage with five one-hundred-dollar bills folded in his hand. He was licking his lips and staring right at her rack.

It was one thing that Taps and Blast knew what her rack looked like, it was another that now all his other brothers did too. But a fucking civi? Fucker probably drove a Volvo, had a wife, and a nine-to-five.

If that waste of a load thought he was going to touch her, he was dead fucking wrong. Thunder stood, ready to punch that dipshit in the face and yank Andrea off that stage, but Granite’s voice stopped him.

“If you do this, you better be damn sure about it. You fuck it up, then you fuck the club. So, take a deep breath and decide. You can sit right back down and finish your drink with no negative consequences whatsoever.”

Thunder didn’t need to think. “Yeah, there will be. I’m sorry, Prez,” he answered in kind because Granite had asked as president. “I can’t sit here with her up there, it’ll gut me.” Once he’d said it, he realized it was true. She wasn’t just some conquest, she actually meant something. Was he ready to settle down? Maybe not, but he damn sure wanted the opportunity to explore the possibility. At this point, there was only one way Granite would allow him to pull her off that stage and not risk the club.

“Fuck!” he swore and dragged his hands down his face. Missing his beard even more. The fucking civilian reached out for her to come closer.

“So, are you sitting or fighting?”

“Goddamn it,” he gritted out as he took the first steps toward the stage. “I’m fucking fighting. Fuck.”

He strode away to the cheers of his brothers fading as his rage took over. Without slowing a step, he threw one punch in the face of the money wielding asshole. Stepped up on stage, tossed a topless Andrea over his shoulder, and hopped down. As he passed his brothers heading for the door, Pound shouted, “Got an extra helmet on my sissy bar, take it.”

“Thanks, brother.” As he opened the door, he heard Granite call to Buzz, “Clean this trash up and bring on the next girl.”

Andrea was squirming and berating him all the way to his bike. He popped her luscious ass with an open palm and squeezed. “You need to shut up, brat, and only speak when I give you permission.” He snagged the helmet Pound had, then plopped her ass on his bike. She opened her mouth to protest, so he kissed her silent. “Not a word. Not right now. I am too furious to be nice, so. . .” He handed her the helmet to hold, followed by his cut. She held both in silence, thank fuck.

Once he pulled his black tee over his head, he dropped it over hers. He took the cut first and put it back on, then took the helmet. As she was lifting her arms to feed them through the sleeves, he dropped his head and sucked one of those silver half-moons deep into his mouth and groaned.

He stood straight and grunted. Andrea pushed her arms through, and he placed the helmet on her. If the look in her eyes were any indication, he was fucked because she was taking orders like a good girl and thoroughly relishing it.

Thunder put his own helmet on and fired up his sled. “Put your legs around me to keep ‘em clear of the pipes since I don’t have any protection for ‘em.” When she complied, he pulled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

He wanted to be inside her so badly, he couldn’t wait to get back to the clubhouse. Thunder turned off at the club garage. It was still another ten minutes to the clubhouse and that was about eleven too fucking long. Besides, once they got back to the clubhouse they would have to talk. But there would be no talking required for a pit stop. How was he going to tell her she’d been claimed?

Parking between the wall and the bay, no one could see them unless they came down the alley, and no one had any business there. After powering down, he reached for his helmet and hung it from the handlebar. Grabbing one thigh, he tried to slide her around his body without endangering her legs, but she didn’t get the signal. He tapped her helmet. When she took it off, he ripped it from her hands and hung it from the other side of the handlebars.

“Swing around here but mind the pipes.” Andrea didn’t speak but did as he asked. Thunder prayed it was because she was still under orders not to talk, but it was probably shock. “Grab my wallet,” he ordered as he unbuckled his belt. It was awkward, but he didn’t give a shit.

Thank fuck she was smart and had the condom out and open. She rolled it on him then he levered her up. Thunder held her hovering there for a second while staring into her eyes. Andrea slid her underwear to the side. Slowly, he lowered her down onto his aching cock. He groaned, but she remained silent. “You can talk while I’m inside you.”

With his permission, she moaned a sigh of relief and pleasure. His wallet swayed on the chain from his belt loop and provided a strange soundtrack. Until Andrea moaned out his road name. It was the first time she’d called him that, and he didn’t hate it when he was fucking her like this. Raw and primal.

“Fuck, Andrea. You feel so fucking good.”

Close, so fucking close. Thunder was about to shoot his load, so he started rubbing her clit like a madman, when a shadow caught his attention. “What the fuck?”

16

ANDREA

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