Her Secret Pleasure (Death Lords MC 2)

I’m surprised to see it’s only ten minutes before closing time. “Yes, let me get my stuff.”

Quickly I log out of the computer and shut it down. My handbag is on the desk in the tiny office. Judge follows me around as I double-check to make sure the doors and windows are locked, and all the computers and lights are turned off.

“We’re good. Am I driving you home?”

He frowns. “Baby, didn’t you hear? Your car was vandalized. You’re not driving anywhere. The car was towed to the garage and we’re going to fix it up for you. Takes a couple of days for the paint to cure hard enough for us to sand and buff.”

“But it’s still drivable, right?” I protest.

He takes my purse and pushes me gently out of the library. By habit, I turn and lock the door. “It’s not drivable. You don’t want to be driving around town with a bad graffiti job on your car.”

“I’m not getting on the back of your bike, Judge,” I say in alarm. My skirt is too tight for me to straddle a motorcycle seat.

Cupping my elbow, he draws me outside. There’s a shiny truck sitting where my car was parked. “Give me a little credit. I brought a cage.”

“Judge, I—” I begin to argue but he’s got me inside the truck before I can get out any more words. That man can move fast.

Once he climbs into the pickup, he turns to me. “Pippa, there’s something going down and I want you to be safe. Tonight we are both staying at the granary. That’s where the club meets, hangs out. But if I get called away, there are men who will be able to protect you. I get that in ordinary circumstances you can watch out for yourself but you’ve got to admit that this is something different. Tuck that pride away and know I’m not trampling on your independence. I’m making sure you’re safe and that my resources aren’t spread too thin. Got it?”

Chapter Seven

Pippa

The exterior of the granary gives the impression of vastness. The center building is tall and thin with a single-gable roof. Two large lean-to structures are stuck up against either side like a mom with a kid attached to each leg. And the attached silver steel silo is large enough to house a few trucks the size of Judge’s.

I wonder how big the Death Lords’ club is. Most MCs my dad consorted with were small operations. He shied away from the national clubs, citing their penchant for strict rules and large tributes he didn’t feel comfortable paying. The smaller clubs allowed him to bunk down in a clubhouse in exchange for manual labor, some cash or a favor.

“My stepdaughter, Chelsea, likes to call this the milk carton,” Judge comments as he steers onto the compacted gravel.

The tall center structure does look like a half gallon milk container. “I can see that. Plus the initials are the same—MC.”

In the back of the truck is the suitcase he packed this morning. He hauls it out effortlessly as if it weighs no more than a small kitten and places a hand at the small of my back.

“You going to be able to make it over the gravel in those heels?” He eyes my shoes with skepticism.

“Does a librarian love books?” I sniff and start moving.

The interior of the granary is a lot more welcoming than I had envisioned after you get past the opening room, which smells faintly of rubber and gasoline.

“During bad weather we park our bikes inside,” Judge explains. “The living space is toward the back.”

Through a set of old barn doors is a wide open space divided into different areas. To my left is a big hearth surrounded by three sofas and several chairs. To my right is a long table and beyond that is a bar. More importantly, Morgen is sitting by the bar and leaps forward when he sees me.

I crouch down and hug his sleek neck as he barks out his happiness. He tries to climb into my lap and give me sloppy dog kisses. Judge watches with tolerant amusement in his eyes.

“Thank you,” I say. Knowing I'd want Morgen with me is a mark in his favor. Two men are at the bar, one behind it and one in front of it.

“Not a problem,” Judge answers. He helps me rise to my feet and then pulls me flush against him. In front of the two strangers, two men I presume to be part of his club, he kisses me hard. His mouth covers mine and his hands are all over my butt. As swiftly as he started the kiss, he stops and I nearly stumble backward but for Judge's hands holding me up.

He turns me toward the bar and I face two grinning men.

“This ugly motherfucker behind the bar is Bang Bang, our warlord, and this one's Bear.” He nods toward the full-bearded man with full-sleeve tattoos sitting with his hands around a stein of beer. “This is Pippa Lang, Chuck's daughter.”

“Welcome,” Bang Bang says. His voice is deep and melodic. I wonder if he sings.

Bear sticks out his hand and I watch bemusedly as my own gets swallowed up in his grasp. He's big all over.

“What time is church?” Judge asks Bang Bang.

“Everyone is coming in after dinner, seven.”

“Good. We'll be upstairs. Don't bother us until then.”

Bang Bang and Bear's grins both widen and I have the urge to slap all three men. I say nothing though and Judge leads me toward the stairs, explaining the rest of the layout.

“Behind the bar is the kitchen and upstairs we have six bedrooms. There are a couple of patches who live here all the time and the other rooms are for guests or those who need a place to stay.”

Meaning, if they are screwing around on their old ladies, they do it here. To Judge, I ask, “And how long will I be staying here?”

“Just for tonight.”

“You're going to take care of the trouble tonight?” I arch an eyebrow.

“Yup.”

“Thanks for embarrassing me in front of your men.” I'm not happy about it and he should know. He stops on the stairs and looks back.

“You'd rather have someone knocking on the door in the middle of me eating you out?”

My sex clenches at the memory of his eager mouth between my legs but stubbornly, I argue, “Maybe I'd like to shower and have a nap.”

“You can do both. After I eat you and after I fuck you.” He turns as if the conversation is over and moves up the stairs.

On the one hand, his frank declaration of what he'd like to do is a turn-on. I don't have to guess and truly I knew what was going to happen if I got into his truck. The tension between us this afternoon was equal to about four hours of foreplay. On the other hand, I thought we'd come to some agreement about him ordering me around all the time.

I follow his tight butt up the stairs to the third floor. There's a hallway and a row of doors. It looks vaguely like a small motel. “What's on the second floor?” I ask curiously.

“A couple of different rooms. Guys like to play video games or want to watch the game, there's a place for that.”

“This is more and more like a frat house every second,” I say dryly.

“I wouldn't know,” Judge replies. “Never went to college.”

He opens the door to the last room and I step inside. It's a fairly good-sized bedroom with a small dresser, a television at the foot of the bed and a chair by the window. “There's a bathroom in here,” he says, throwing open the door to reveal a small shower, stool and sink. He places my suitcase on the floor next to the dresser and that's when I see it.

Frowning, I walk over and bend down to check the luggage tag on the larger suitcase that is the perfect match for the carry-on Judge set down. I rise and put my hands on my hips. “What is my other suitcase doing here?”

Judge has seated himself on the end of the bed and is in the process of unlacing his boots. “I figured I did a shit job packing your stuff this morning so I sent Chels to gather up everything you might need.”

He doesn't even look up when he answers me. He finishes pulling off his socks and wiggles his long toes. Crap, even his naked feet are sexy. I hadn't noticed that before.

“You said I was staying one night and that the trouble would be over.”

“That's righ

t.” He stands and starts unbuckling his belt.

“Wait a minute. What are you doing?”