Tease: Mojave Boys MC Read online

  Her lips parted slightly, and he could hear the change in her breathing pattern at the offer he made. “I think that might be just the welcome I need from this little one-horse town.” She smirked. “Tell me you have at least one horse around here, with all those hogs out front.”

  Vance rolled his eyes at the bad joke, but he couldn’t help but laugh anyway. He motioned over his shoulder to the poker table that was getting louder as the game became more intense and the beer flowed freely. “See that guy in the black cowboy hat with the tinted glasses and gray hair? That’s Doc, and he’s got two mares, so I guess you could call it a two-horse town.”

  “Ooh, what an upgrade,” she teased in a deep, sarcastic voice. Standing and reaching into that little clutch purse she carried, she asked, “Would forty foot the bill?”

  “Are you paying me for my services or trying to pay for the drinks?” Vance chuckled, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Listen, sparky, I don’t need to pay an escort. There are plenty of men who would pay a fortune for nothing more than a kiss from me.”

  Her indignation was hysterical, and Vance had to hold back his laughter in fear of her throwing a tantrum that riled everyone else up. “Then, if you’re trying to pay the tab, I warn you that your money’s no good.” She seemed to grow angrier, and he was waiting for the smoke to start coming out her nostrils and flames from her mouth. She’d be the sexiest damn dragon lady he’d ever met. “It’s not a line, darling. I think I’ve already accomplished my goal with you.”

  She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently, and Vance sighed. She really could cop a big city, high maintenance attitude. “No one pays here. Our club owns the bar, and we pay for it. If a stranger wanders in, they’re either welcome to drink with us, or they’re ushered out the door.”

  She looked at him strangely, but as he took her arm and led her to the door, she didn’t pull away. “If I came in here again in two weeks, and you weren’t here, would I still be welcome? Or would I be kicked out?”

  Vance gave her a broad grin. “We remember faces. If someone tries to show you to the door, you drop my name.” He didn’t want to come right out and say that Maya would be labeled ‘his’ from this moment on. That was too permanent a term for their intentions tonight. Yet, it was the truth. Some of his brethren may get a hard-on for her, but they wouldn’t touch her without his permission, and they sure as hell wouldn’t throw her out.

  He could tell from the look on her face that she saw right through the politically correct wording. She threw back at him, “Do you have a lot of faces for them to remember?”

  “No,” he replied honestly in a sharp tone. When he sent women on their way, he got them lost, or he sent them away hating him. He made sure none of his women came back to haunt him. “But I can’t figure out why you’d come back through here again.”

  “Wow, I would have thought you’d tell me how good you are to entice me back,” she chuckled. “Maybe I’ve made a poor decision.”

  Vance didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. I just think you’ll decide you can’t handle something this good and never come back.”

  “You wish!” She stared at his bike and down at her dress. “I can’t ride that in this.” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “The motel’s right there. Would you mind following me so I can change and leave my car?”

  Vance wasn’t in a hurry. He didn’t have a care in the world beyond satisfying his sexual hunger. “Not a problem.” He threw his leg over, pulled on his goggles, and waited for her to pull out of the parking lot. The sexy little convertible matched her perfectly, and he watched her hair blow in the soft wind as the cool air began to roll in.

  She rushed into the ground floor room as he pulled into the parking space next to her and let the engine rumble. He was impressed again when she came back out in less than five minutes in a pink tank top, a jean jacket that accentuated her breasts, and a pair of skin tight jeans with sneakers. “You have sunglasses in that sportster?” he asked, and she pulled them out of that damned clutch she carried.

  “What are these for?” she asked.

  “Eye protection,” he answered shortly, pointing to his goggles. “I don’t ride like a Sunday driver. I’m a road warrior, and my house isn’t two blocks down a residential street. It’s twenty miles of desert highway without a speed limit.”

  “Do I need to put the top up on the car?” She eyed the convertible warily.

  “If anyone screws with it, they’ll have to answer to me, and no one wants to answer to me,” he promised. “Hop on, and let’s go.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  By the time Maya walked into Vance’s house, she was breathless and windblown, and she had found a new level of resplendent contentment through the rumbling vibration of the beastly bike beneath her, as her arms wrapped this sexy man’s waist and felt the hard abs beneath his shirt. The sensations had her body begging for release.

  Apparently, Vance wasn’t exactly nonchalant about his libido, either, and almost instantly, after locking the door, he was on her. His kiss was ravenous, and his taste delectable. He was a blend of whiskey, tobacco, and cinnamon, and Maya ate him up. She shoved the vest from his shoulders and yanked at the hem of his shirt until he drew it over his head for her. She couldn’t reach; he stood at least six inches taller than her.

  He made fast work of her jacket, followed by her tank top, and then he swept her into his arms and carried her halfway across the house to his bedroom. Though she was enthralled in his kiss, her tongue tangling with his, Maya saw a richly decorated living area and at least three closed doors as they passed through the house. She closed her eyes again, diving back into the sensation of his lips and arms just before he dropped to the bed.

  Maya was on her back with Vance over her, and she explored the ridges between the taut muscles on his chest and abs. He was cut like a bodybuilder without the excessive bulk, and as she wrapped her hands around his back, she could feel the movement of the muscles and tendons, smooth and in perfect sync with each other. For a biker who had to be at least six-foot-two, he was graceful, and his weight felt like a feather as he rested above her.

  She wanted their bodies to touch from head to toe without a barrier, and Maya worked to make it happen. She wasn’t one to be passive in bed, choosing to take what she wanted rather than wait to see if it was offered. She reached for her own jeans first, knowing they would be harder to peel down her legs, but with Vance’s help, they were off in record time. And he kicked his off as well, giving her the first glimpse of the erection that had been digging into her thigh.

  He was straight and thick, and he had a perfect length for her personal needs. The hard-on stood tall and ready against his stomach, and she reached out to wrap a fist around it, meeting Vance’s eyes with her naughty intent. As she stroked him and squeezed gently at his base, Vance hissed and gasped in contentment.

  She stroked harder and faster, knowing she brought him closer and closer to the edge, and he finally shoved her hand away. Lowering his head, he licked circles around her nipples before drawing each one in turn into his mouth and suckling at them. Maya couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure, and as his tip teased at her folds, the first wave of passion rolled through her. Maya’s body bucked and writhed with the intensity, and Vance chose that moment to pierce her, thrusting deep as she came with greater force.

  He found a suitable rhythm, one that didn’t drive her too hard but that kept them both on the edge of an eruption of Mount St. Helens proportions, with tremors here and there keeping Maya on top of the world. She gripped him with her fingers, kissed him as often as she could with his head dipping down intermittently, and rocked her hips to meet each thrust and pull him in as deep as he could go.

  Maya wrapped her entire body around him, nearly lifting herself off the bed with arms around his neck and ankles locked at the base of his spine. Vance certainly didn’t seem to mind, pumping fast and gritting his teeth, as he moaned and panted his way towards the impendin
g climax. She wanted this so much, and that only made her orgasms more potent, she realized.

  He came with little warning, and unlike with other exploits, Maya didn’t have a moment’s rest with that culmination. Rather, her body exploded again, and she screamed Vance’s name as she joined him in the heavenly peak.

  Exhausted, she didn’t even push him away as he collapsed on her, enjoying the feel of him and the way their sweat made their skin slippery and sticky at the same time. She felt like they melded for a moment, and Maya suddenly didn’t feel ready to leave Wheelie just yet. Certainly this was a no-strings-attached sort of relationship. A one-night stand, really.

  However, she wanted to make it more like a three-night stand, or maybe four. Unfortunately, as she thought about it, her eyelids grew heavy, and Vance’s breathing became shallow and even above her. She had no problem staying the night; she just wished they would both have been able to talk before tomorrow morning.

  Vance’s soft breath on her neck lulled her to sleep, and the next thing she knew, bright sunlight shone through the window, and Vance was stirring awake. “Good morning,” he said in a gravelly voice, muffled by her hair. His face was still buried in her shoulder, though he was no longer on top of her but to the side.

  “Good morning to you,” she yawned back, stretching her arms over her head. Neither of them were covered, and she glanced down at the evidence of a male’s early morning excitement. She smiled, thinking hard about making use of that particular equipment, but she thought better of it. Instead, she forced herself to her feet and collected her jeans from the floor. The rest of her clothes would have to wait; they were still in the foyer. “From what I saw, you have a lovely house,” she told him.

  “Thanks, I designed it myself, with a little help on plumbing location,” he told her, sitting up and looking around. He seemed a bit disoriented but blinked several times and corrected it. “Give me about fifteen minutes, and I’ll get you back to your motel.”

  Maya hesitated and then told him, “I’m not in a rush. I think I’m going to stay another day or two. It’s nice to be off the grid.”

  Vance went still, locking gazes with her. Finally, he said, “If you’re going to be around, maybe we could meet up tonight.”

  She definitely liked that idea and wondered if maybe she was projecting her own desires so Vance spoke them aloud. After all, she didn’t want to seem too forward and brazen. This guy was all male, and she was afraid it might hurt his pride if she didn’t let him think all of this was his idea.

  Standing there topless, she nodded. “I can meet you back at the bar.”

  “Let’s do that.” He stood and reached for his pants, yanking them on but not closing the fly as he gave her a strange look she couldn’t quite read. “This is a one-time deal, right? You aren’t looking for anything beyond sex, are you?”

  Maya chuckled. “I don’t mind making new friends, but if you think I’m giving up my career to stay here, you’re mistaking me for some meek little girl who doesn’t care about success or independence. And I’m not going to brag about my lover out in the desert who is probably shagging every single woman he can get his hands on while I’m away, either.” She realized how harsh that sounded and added, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I don’t care what you do. I just won’t be a party to it.”

  He seemed to take that in and find it acceptable. “Fair enough. And if I was going to settle down, I wouldn’t want my old lady traipsing around the world shooting whiskey with a bunch of other guys. So, I guess we have an understanding. I’ll meet you at the bar at eight.”

  She assumed that was going to give him time to do…whatever it was he did with his biker boys. Honestly, what she’d seen of the Mojave Boys didn’t equate in her mind with seasoned criminals, but she knew most of them carried guns under those Sidewinder vests, and they had to do something to pay for their bar.

  In the meantime, with her cell phone getting no signal, Maya figured her agent was probably going crazy trying to get in touch with her. And she had no idea how many other calls and texts weren’t coming through. She’d take a few hours to call everyone from the landline in her motel room and let them know she was alright and that she was going to be a little later than scheduled getting to LA. She didn’t care if they asked questions or urged her not to change her plans.

  Another night in Vance’s bed was worth it.

  “That sounds like a plan. Do what you need to do. I’m going to find the rest of my clothes, be nosy, and take the tour of the house. I may even delve into your kitchen and whip up some breakfast.” He seemed perfectly okay with that, so she left the room. As she got to her clothes, she heard water running. He was either shaving or showering, and Maya was tempted to strip back down and jump under the spray with him.

  However, that was too intimate for a fling. She sighed and trudged into the kitchen, which was outfitted with expensive stainless steel appliances and a cappuccino maker that might have been nicer than hers. She shook her head. She couldn’t see Vance sipping a mocha or latté. She thought she might just make one for him so she could see the sight with her own eyes.

  First, she was going to make good on her word and tour the house. She wanted to know how a badass biker like Vance, who presumably lived alone, made himself comfortable in the middle of the desert.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “You really should share the wealth, Ice,” Buddha complained, as Vance and several of his brothers convened in the meeting room at the back of the bar. It was their clubhouse more than anything, and they were supposed to be discussing business right now.

  Vance gave his friend a scathing look. The nickname came from his last name—Coldman—but most people seemed to think he just had no heart or feelings. There were times he liked the idea of being seen as a sociopath, but it didn’t usually suit his overall purpose in life. “I could introduce you to every hot woman I met, Buddha, and not one of them is going to choose you and your belly over me.”

  “You better watch it, Ice,” Cougar piped in. “Buddha’s not afraid to tattoo his fat ass right on your head after he shaves it clean. And he’s good enough to do all of that without you ever waking up.”

  Vance shrugged. “You’re the idiot who pissed him off and then drank yourself to sleep. Don’t take it out on me.”

  “Whatever, man. How tight was she? She looks like the type to either be loose as a two-bit whore in London or as tight as a screw wound too many times and about to strip the hole.” At Joe’s words, it was all Vance could do to keep from slapping the man across the face.

  Vance wasn’t one to mind teasing, and he was damn proud of his conquest. However, he didn’t like the way the guys referred to Maya, like she was a piece of meat. He’d had plenty of those in his days. Maya was different. If he were someone else, he’d keep her as a play toy. “Guys, let it go. The only details you get are that she’s good, and she’s mine. That means hands off while she’s here.”

  “And you’ll be getting a little tail in the process,” Bogie cackled, making lewd spanking gestures. “Are you sure you don’t want to set up a tag team for your little tart? I’m sure two dicks are better than one.”

  Gritting his teeth to thwart a truly unforgivable response, Vance just shook his head. “Not when my dick is twice the size of yours. Can we get down to business, please?”

  Vance had been with the Mojave Boys since he turned fifteen. His father had been a ghost all his life, and his mother couldn’t seem to hold a job down for very long. She’d turned to selling—drugs, her body, stolen goods—anything she could get her hands on to bring in some cash. Her big mistake was boosting a car for Vance’s sixteenth birthday. She’d been locked up, and six years into her seven year sentence, she’d caught a cold, which turned into pneumonia and killed her.

  She’d taught him manners and how to tie his shoes and wash his clothes, but almost everything else Vance knew came from the Boys. He’d been angry, and he stole a motorcycle when his mother went to jail, riding until the
tank ran out, maybe a mile from here. Powder, a guy with bright white hair and skin, had found him and the bike and brought him back here.

  This had been his family ever since.

  Maya had asked about loyalty and family keeping him here. Vance imagined she didn’t know the meaning of loyalty like he did. When another man was prepared to kill for you, took you under his roof without any obligation, and would give his life to keep you safe, you owed your loyalty to that man. Or in this case, these men.

  And that was why he’d joined the club and started running guns. It wasn’t about the money; that was a bonus. And the lifestyle? Vance loved the freedom they had here. They were literally their own justice, judge, and jury. No one bothered them, and though vigilantes tried to pose a threat and law enforcement talked big but ignored them in reality, no one really came looking for them. And if they did, Wheelie wasn’t a town as much as it was a business entity. The name of the clubhouse? The Wheelie Bar. The motel was listed as the Wheelie Inn, and the diner was the Wheelie Stop. It was a corporation that the Mojave Boys had turned into a town under their own supervision.