Read Off Limits: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 2) for Free Online

against mine, locked in sex…
    But in the next moment, his hand steals toward my clit again, and he begins to rub it. All the languidness evaporates, and I begin to rock against his hand and his cock, unable to help myself. I’m moaning and arching and pushing against his fingers with every thrust, every tickling circle of his fingertips against my clit.
    And I’m coming in mere moments, instead of the hours I anticipated. It feels so good I can’t even be upset. Eric knows my body, just how I like to be touched, and he’s making sure I come nice and hard before he gets his. By the time I start to come down from my orgasm, he clutches my hips and slams me down on his cock, and I feel his cock pulse inside me with the force of his orgasm. I smile to myself as his entire body seems to tighten against mine, and then he wraps his arms around me and buries his face against my neck for a long, long moment.
    “Thanks,” he murmurs.
    My brows furrow. “Thanks?” What an odd thing to say. You don’t thank a girl after you make her come. You thank her when she hands you a towel or fetches you a beer from the fridge.
    “Was that the wrong thing to say?” Solo nuzzles my neck. “How about ‘nice cunt’?”
    I snort. “Try again.”
    “Good job?”
    Now I’m just giggling. “You need to work on your pillow talk, Eric. I’m starting to see why you’re single.”
    He caresses my arm. “I have my reasons.”
    Reasons for his pillow talk, or reasons why he’s single? I fall silent and stare at the wall, blinking. I don’t want to be the first one to move away, to get out of our cozy nest of skin and sex and blankets. In here, I’m safe and the world fades away. I think I could cheerfully hide for the next month or so and not give a damn.
    But it doesn’t last. Good things never do. Eric caresses my hip and then gives it a pat. “Since I’m a gentleman, I’ll let you have the shower first. Then we need to go say hello to your brother and see what the battle plan is.”
    My stomach curdles. “Battle plan?”
    “Yup,” he says, and he rolls away, his cock leaving my pussy and I feel all hollow and bereft. “The Eighty-Eight came after you. They’re sure as fuck not going to get away with it.”
    • • •
    Since we’re trying to keep a low profile, we take Eric’s Honda Accord to Crandall’s Roadhouse, a favorite hangout of the Butchers. I tease him about how very normal his Grocery Getter is, since his bike is all ape-hangers and bobbed chrome. But he only smiles at me and puts a possessive hand on my thigh as he drives. And I like it.
    It’s almost like we’re dating. Which I know isn’t the case, since I’m unlucky and we’ve really only had a night of hard fucking, but I’ll take what I can get.
    We cruise to the Roadhouse, and park along the back, by the dumpsters. There’s a ton of bikes up front, but the Roadhouse is well-known Butcher property, and I guess Solo doesn’t want to take any chances. We head in through the back doors, and I notice that Solo holds them open for me, like a gentleman.
    Man, I wish I could hook my claws into this guy permanently.
    The kitchen staff ignores us as we head through; they know better than to complain at someone wearing the Butcher’s cut, and Eric’s got his on display. I don’t have one, of course. We wend our way through the kitchen and into the main room of the Roadhouse. Crandall’s is covered with license plates and bike memorabilia on the walls, so it doesn’t immediately scream ‘Butcher Territory’. But anyone walking in automatically knows it’s ‘our’ place, just by the sheer amount of Butchers hanging out at the tables. Even though it’s barely noon, every shadowy back booth is full, and a few of the round tables in the center of the room are occupied by old ladies and prospects. I belong to neither, and the sight of them makes me realize it every time. With a sigh, I hesitate, but Solo’s hand on my back propels me forward, and we