Madeline Sheehan - Unattainable

As much as I wanted to hate Deuce, I couldn’t. Even though I’d gotten a full scholarship from San Francisco University, I still needed money for living expenses. Deuce had paid my rent and all my utilities, even my cell phone service, and provided me with extra spending money throughout my college years.

And, despite my protests, he was still paying for everything. No matter what I said, pleading and begging him to stop, he always refused.

“You’re family,” he’d growl. “And I take care of family.”

It was hard not to appreciate that but I knew deep down he was only doing it for my mother, not for me. They all loved my mother, not just Jase and Hawk, but all of them—the bikers, their old ladies, their kids, even the club whores. She was a mother by nature; she cared for people and enjoyed doing it, and it was damn hard not to love her.

So, really, I was only sort of family. More like the redheaded stepchild of a family full of badass bikers…but still family.

And so was ZZ.

We hardly knew each other, but after six months of periodically rooming together when ZZ wasn’t on the road, one thing had led to another and we ended up fucking. And had been fucking ever since.

Occasionally, I heard ZZ on the phone with Deuce and got the impression he was doing the Horsemen’s dirty work, the kind of shit that never got talked about unless it was in some sort of biker code consisting of broken vowels and grunts. Then he’d leave for a while and the next time he’d show up, he always looked that much more damaged. I asked him once what he’d been doing and the look on his face was so utterly terrifying that I hadn’t yet gotten up the courage to ask him again. Not that it really mattered to me what he was doing while he wasn’t here.

Ours wasn’t an emotional attachment, we were just…making do. He was too old for me anyway, somewhere in his midthirties. Whereas both Danny and her stepmother, Eva, seemed to like older men, I couldn’t picture ending up with one. Who wanted to be in their thirties with an old dude who could no longer get it up? Not me. Not even for a guy as hot as ZZ.

I glanced over at him and ran my eyes down his naked body. Long dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, killer muscles.

I’d never seen a guy work out as much as he did. He ran in place, he lifted weights, he did close to a thousand sit-ups and push-ups combined every day.

The aggression he was always trying to work off was off the fucking charts and I was starting to think exercising wasn’t working.

I watched ZZ palm his cock and point it at me. “Climb on and sit the fuck down.”

“Shut up,” I muttered. “Why are you being so bossy lately?”

He shrugged. “You’re the one who’s haulin’ ass back to Miles City and gotta deal with those assholes. I’m outta here in a few days, maybe for two weeks, maybe for a month, depends on the lineup Deuce sent me and, baby, figured you and me both could both use a good poundin’ before I head out.”

I snorted. “Like you don’t pick up ass wherever you keep disappearing to.”

“I like your ass,” he growled.

“And every other female’s ass in existence,” I finished for him.

“Last three runs,” he shot back angrily. “Haven’t fucked with anyone but you.”

Since ZZ’s version of a calendar was based on mileage and how many runs per year, I tried to remember when his last run was and the one before that and then the one before that.

When I did, I gaped at him. “Are you trying to tell me you haven’t fucked anyone but me in over six months?”

His dark eyes bored into mine. “Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

Huh. I suppose in a way it made sense. Why bother with anyone else when you had a person you knew for a fact could physically satisfy you sleeping right beside you?

But still, ZZ and I were not exclusive…at least, we never used to be.

“For fuck’s sake, Tegen, stop overthinkin’ every damn thing. Just get on my goddamn dick and start fuckin’ bouncin’.”

Well, how could I deny such sweet talk?

“It all depends,” I told him. “On whether you want my pussy or my ass.”

He grinned and the expression changed him. Gone was the angry, gruff man I often saw, and in his place was the ZZ I remembered as a kid. The man he’d been before Danny had dug her pink-tipped claws into his chest and ripped out his heart.

“Figure I should give your ass a break,” he said.

Snorting, I climbed on top of him and straddled his thighs. Reaching over to the opposite nightstand, I snagged a condom, tore it open with my teeth, and rolled it down over his cock.

“And that was the right answer,” I told him. “My ass thanks you.”

Grabbing hold of him, I lifted my hips and guided him to my entrance. It took me a moment to work him inside me.

“Make it count,” I told him, then slammed down over him.

Gasping, I folded my body over, my hands clamped down over his biceps. He growled, and his hands flew to my hips.

“Don’t I always?” he said smugly.

I shrugged. “No,” I said, being honest, purposely clenching my inner walls around his cock and watching his face tighten with lust. “You don’t.”

In response, his dark eyes began to burn, his fingertips dug deep into my hips, and I smiled to myself.

He was so easy to piss off and when he was pissed, he fucked like an angry god readying to smite the universe. I had no doubt that now, he would most definitely make it count.

• • •

Cage pulled into the parking lot beside the Silver Demons’ brownstone, shut off his engine, and toed his kickstand down.

He was fucking exhausted. He’d driven straight from Montana to New York and only stopped for gas and once to sleep.

Grabbing his bedroll and duffle, he headed across the parking lot and up the walkway, bumping fists with a few Demons standing outside.

“Preacher ’specting ya?” Tiny asked as he passed by. Cage paused to look at the overweight, sweat-drenched, graying old man who was the Demons’ sergeant-at-arms.

“Naw,” he said. “But I need to crash and I ain’t feel like drivin’ to my boys in Queens.”

“We got a full house,” Tiny said. “But Prez keeps Eva’s old room empty.” Nodding, Cage turned and continued up the walk, ignoring two club whores who were looking him over like he was a piece of meat.

“Horseman,” one of them drawled, a brunette wearing only a bikini top and a leather miniskirt. “You want company tonight?”

Grabbing the handle on the front door, he turned to look at her and narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck happened to your nose?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and studying the obvious break that had healed horribly, leaving the poor bitch looking like she’d gone head-to-head in the ring with Evander Holyfield.

Her slutty smile fell from her face and was instantly replaced with a snarl. “Courtesy of your old man, West,” she hissed, her upper lip curling. “Right after I sucked his limp dick.”

Unfazed, Cage continued to stare at her nose, wondering why the fuck she hadn’t had that shit set straight or gotten it fixed, for Christ’s sake.

“Limp dick, huh,” he said. “Not too sure you’re talkin’ ’bout my old man, ’cause that fucker ain’t ever put that thing away. Every time I’m turnin’ around he’s maulin’ his old lady.”

It was true. Eva and his old man were always at it. Always touching and kissing and grossing the hell out of everyone.

The whore’s scowl deepened. “Little blue pills work wonders,” she snarled.

“Forget her,” another bitch said, pushing in front of her friend. “Name’s Gail, honey, but the boys call me Slitty. You wanna find out why?”

Laughing and shaking his head, Cage pushed open the front door and headed inside where he was greeted with more of the same. Club whores and Demons with cuts from various states crowded the hallways and rooms. Must be something big brewing, he surmised, for Preacher to have gathered the masses. Not that he would know; Cage wasn’t privy to this kind of info. But his old man would know, being in as deep with the Demons as the Horsemen were.