Copper (Hell's Handlers MC 4)

“N-no. N-never at y-you.” Shell hiccupped and wrapped an arm around her own stomach. Oh, the cramp. The muscles constricted and spasmed as she continued to laugh like she’d never laughed before.

“We’ll see how fucking funny you think it is when I get my ass out of here,” Copper said.

“Mommy! He said it again. Two times.”

Shell sank to her knees, unable to remain upright. “I got it a-all on v-video,” she said as another round of hilarity began.

“Can you please control yourself long enough to help me out here?” Copper asked, twisting to glare at her over his shoulder.

“S-sure.” Shell inhaled a deep breath then blew it out through pursed lips. She turned off the recording then struggled to her feet. On wobbly legs, she walked to the bottom of the slide. “I’ll pull your feet.”

As best she could, she wrapped her hands around Copper’s ankles and pulled with all her might. That combined with Copper’s upper body strength finally dislodged the man. “Oh shit!” Shell flapped her arms as she tried to combat the backward momentum, but it was useless. She sailed back, landing on her ass in the dirt. Seconds later a heavy-as-hell biker flew off the edge of the slide and landed face down on her.

Shell burst out laughing all over again. Bracing on his hands so as to avoid squishing her, Copper scowled. “You’re going to be deleting that video the second we get up.”

She shook her head back and forth. “No way, buddy. I’m sure I’ll need something to hold over your head at some point.”

A growl rumbled in his chest as his fingers slid under her shirt. He tickled along her sides making her squirm and shout. “Ready to delete it?”

“No,” she said between gasps. “Never!”

The tickling stopped. “Hmm.” One of his copper-colored eyebrows rose. “I’m sure I’ll think of a way to get what I want.”

He dropped his mouth to hers, his fingers switching from tickling to pleasuring as they stroked the skin of her stomach.

“Yay!” Beth yelled. “Wrestle time.” Then she took a flying leap, landing on Copper’s back which made his arms buckle and his big body land on Shell’s.

“Ooof,” she gasped as the air left her lungs.

“Do you smeeelll what the Rock is cooking?” Beth screamed as she bounced on Copper’s back.

Slapping a palm over her mouth, Shell suppressed the laughter that wouldn’t seem to stop. Copper rolled his eyes then reached around his back, snagging a giggling Beth. “Who’s been watching old school WWE with you, princess?”

It was one of the happiest ten-minute chunks of time in Shell’s entire life.

She would do anything to keep this magic alive. But it might not be possible.

There might be only one way to keep Copper out of jail and her daughter away from Rusty, and that would be to leave town.

And end things with Copper.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

THE MOMENT COPPER’S eyes opened, the same goofy grin he’d been sporting for days appeared. Shell still slept, her smooth-as-silk bare back to him. Good thing he spent most nights at her house. If his men caught him looking so blissed out first thing each morning, he’d never hear the fucking end of it.

Shifting, he winced. There were a few downsides to crashing at Shell’s. Mainly, the queen-sized bed. Nothing more substantial would fit in her tiny room. It wasn’t that he objected to sleeping all cuddled up to Shell—that would happen even if the bed was swimming-pool sized. But his big ol’ body straight up didn’t fit. Both feet hung off the edge which drove him nuts, making him curl in a tight ball on his side. Each morning he woke stiff and achy. For more reasons than one.

Reaching down, he adjusted his hard cock which was half morning wood and half the naked woman next to him.

Shell let out a soft sigh and burrowed deeper into her pillow. As she wiggled, her sweet ass brushed Copper’s hip.

Okay, now the boner was one hundred percent sexy woman.

Maybe it was time to think about moving out of the clubhouse. Get a place with a yard Beth could run in, a kitchen large enough to house a table for more than two people, and a monster-sized bed he didn’t wake in feeling like a craggy eighty-year-old. He closed his eyes, visualizing himself coming home to Shell and Beth at the end of a long day. Beth would be on the floor, building a tower with those pink and purple blocks she’d become obsessed with. He’d stop for a few minutes, tickle her until she squealed, then continue on to the kitchen. Shell would be at the stove, hair high on her head in a sexy pile, denim cutoffs cupping her ass and drawing his gaze. She’d be barefoot, those adorable pink-tipped toes tapping to her favorite country song, unaware of his presence.