Swagger and Sass (Lost Kings MC 14.5)

I glance down but can’t escape his hold or his smoldering gaze. “Yes.”

“Good. Now, choose a ride.”

Finding a handful of courage, I wrap my hand around his cock. “This is lookin’ mighty fine.”

He chuckles and moves closer to kiss my cheek, down to my neck. His hands move from my face to tangle in my hair, holding me still, while our lips meet and our tongues twine together. My nipples harden to throbbing points. He breaks our kiss and dips down to devour my breasts with hot, wet kisses and licks.

Another explosion simmers deep inside me. “Logan.”

His lips return to mine, swallowing my plea. His hands drop to my hips, urging me up.

Excited energy burns through me, and I grip his cock again, slowly stroking up and down. “Gosh, I’m not sure this will fit.”

He growls and nips my earlobe. “You already know we fit together perfectly.”

Perfectly.

Nothing in my whole life has ever been perfect.

Except the few moments I’ve spent with Rooster this week.

That’s a dangerous road to go down, Shelby.

I rise up on my knees and center myself over him. He stares up at me, eyes glowing with anticipation.

Inch by inch, I take him inside me, awed at how amazing he feels. The satisfied groan he lets out triggers me to move faster.

“Ah, fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and bucks his hips.

I lean down and press kisses over his chest. He answers by gripping my hair and tugging me up. “Ride. Me.”

“Like this?” I tease, twitching my hips. Desperate for something to hold onto, I take his hands. I lift and rock myself up and down his shaft. Each movement is a shock of electricity to my system.

“Harder,” he demands, watching me intently.

His hands move to my breasts, cupping and flicking his thumbs over my nipples. The raw appreciation on his face erases any embarrassment I might have had about the way they bounce and sway.

My cheap metal bed frame squeaks and thumps into the wall. Thank God my mother’s not home. I work myself up and down his length even harder, searching for the spot that will set me off.

The orgasm hits me hard and fast, exploding through my body in a pounding rush. Rooster barely lets me ride it out before flipping us. The weight of him comforts and crushes me. He pounds into me with wicked thrusts. I scrabble to grab and hold onto his ass, digging my nails into the muscle.

His pace slows and turns erratic as he groans through his release. Finally, he opens his eyes and smiles down at me. “I hope you’re not too tired. We definitely need to do that again.”

All the events of the day come rushing back. Any exhaustion I should be feeling is held back by orgasmic bliss.

Something tugs at the corner of my eye and I realize I never took off my stage makeup. I slap my hands over my face. “Oh, hell. I must be a mess.”

Rooster’s beard tickles my fingers as he brushes a kiss over my knuckles. “A hot, freshly fucked mess.”

I squint through my fingers at him, afraid to move my hands because I’m pretty sure one of my false eyelashes is loose. “Thanks. I think.”

He rolls to the side and stands. “I’ll be right back.”

I follow him to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, I scrub my face clean.

“Now you’re even prettier.” Rooster gathers my hair into a ponytail and kisses my shoulder.

Sweet Lord.

How is it that every time he opens his mouth, he makes it harder and harder to protect my heart?

Chapter Nineteen

Rooster

“I hate to sound like a bad cliché, but I don’t suppose you have any denim cut-offs?” I lean back on my elbows, watching as Shelby stuffs clothes into a small backpack. So far I’ve counted five pairs of socks. Not sure where she thinks I’m taking her that requires so much foot protection, but it’s cute.

Still gloriously naked, except for her cowboy boots, she smiles over her shoulder. “What good southern gal doesn’t have a pair of Daisy Dukes in her wardrobe?”

She opens a drawer and shakes out a pair of faded denim, frayed at the edges. “My cheeks don’t hang out of ’em, but it’s the best I’ve got.”

“Those’ll work. No one needs to see your sweet ass but me.”

She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on my caveman opinion.

“What’s your favorite color?” Shit, did I really just ask her that? Is her pussy so fucking magical that it has the power to turn me back into a teenager?

She stops rolling the T-shirt in her hands and stares at me. “My favorite color?” Each word comes out slowly, as if no one’s asked her such a basic question since she was in first grade.

I shrug. “I already know you come like a rocket when you’re on top.” In fact, my dick’s getting hard again just thinking about it. “Figured I should learn some other things.”

“Electric teal.”

Slowly, I sit up and repeat the words back to her. “That’s specific.”

“Teal, mint green, baby blue. Girly colors without being pink.” She makes a face as if pink is the most horrible color she can imagine.

That suits her.

She bends down and pulls off one boot and then the other.

“Damn, it was hot as fuck watching you prance around with the boots and nothing else.”

One corner of her mouth slides up. “I’ve got a nice black pair I was planning to bring with me.”

Thank fuck I have my own room at the ranch.

She finishes packing then slips on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a beat-up leather jacket that’s seen better days. “Ready.” She reaches into her closet and scoops up a pair of black, cowboy boots. “Can’t forget these.”

“Nope.”

We’re almost to the front door when she stops and hurries back to the kitchen. “Wait, I need to leave my mom a note, or she’ll worry.” The concern in Shelby’s tone reaches right into my chest and squeezes my heart.

“You two are tight.”

“Have to be. We only got each other.” She shuffles through some papers on the counter until she finds a notepad. “Been that way for a long time.”

She doesn’t say it in a sad way or a pity me way. It’s just a fact for Shelby.

When she finishes scribbling down a few words, I motion for her to hand me the pad, so I can leave my own message.

Lynn-

If you need anything, call me. 518-555-0907.

Logan Randall (Rooster)

After scanning my note, Shelby’s jaw drops. She stares up at me. “Thank you. That was…well, thank you.”

“I don’t want her to worry.” I give her a sly smile to lighten things up. “Jigsaw extended an invite to her if you think she’ll be interested.”

“That’s a hell no.” She slaps our note on the counter and shoves me toward the door.

“What? Your mom seems like she knows how to party.”

She groans. “I’m sure she does. I don’t want to witness it, though.”

“Maybe she could finally turn Jiggy into a man.”

“My mama’s got no patience for boys.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Outside, she chuckles when I hand her a brand-new helmet. Her laughter abruptly stops as she stares at the headgear. “Did you borrow this from someone?”

“Worried about lice?”

“What?” She scrunches her nose. “No.”

“Stopped at a shop and bought it for you. Figured it’ll come in handy while I’m down here.”

She’s quiet and her expression has me realizing that might have come off kind of presumptuous. She didn’t expect me to come to the bar tonight to see her play. Yet, here I am, prepared to take her back to my place helmet and all. Poor girl’s probably starting to wonder if I got a basement with a pit and a bottle of lotion waiting for her.

“It’s not a ring, Shelby.”

“Huh?” She meets my eyes again. “Oh. It’s not that

. I…appreciate it. That was real sweet of you, Logan.”

“You keep accusing me of being sweet, I’m going to develop a complex.”

She tilts her head to the side. “What’s the matter? The other big bad bikers won’t let you play with ’em if they find out you got a sweet side?”

Damn, I love how that southern accent gets even twangier when she’s throwing sass at me.

Chapter Twenty

Shelby

My poor, pitiful heart’s in real trouble.

Orgasms by the bucketload—check.

Thoughtful enough to leave his number for my mom—check.

Fills out a pair of jeans nicely—double check.

If I were looking for a man, Rooster ticks all my boxes.

Except for that whole living in New York thing.

And that I’m on the verge of finally having my dream career.