Did it really matter to her? Was it something she needed him to do? Was it so bad being kept a secret?
Bell didn’t want to answer any of those questions. Not a single one.
Because the truth was, yes, it mattered. Yes, she needed him to do it, and yes, being kept a secret was bad.
He tugged her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. Tank dealt with her bra quickly, and it wasn’t long before he had her jeans off, then her panties.
She tried to avoid wearing underwear around Tank as he tended to tear them, and with her limited funds, replacing them wasn’t so easy.
He grabbed her ass at the same time he leaned down, taking one of her nipples into his mouth.
Arching her back, she cried out his name, and he growled against her flesh.
“I’m addicted to your tits, baby. So fucking addicted. I can’t get enough of them.” He nibbled at the side of her tit, and then took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard before kissing between the valley of her breasts, going toward the other one.
Tank devoted a great deal of attention to both of herbreasts before lifting up and pressing his body against hers. She felt the hard ridge of his cock.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this today?” he asked. “You’re making it hard to do my job.”
The job and bikers that he had to keep her a secret from.
He sank down to his knees, and Bell didn’t fight him as he spread her legs wide, throwing one over his shoulder. A moan escaped her as he started to lick and suck at her pussy. His tongue lapped across her clit, going back and forth and then diving down, plunging inside her.
Bell couldn’t find the strength to be angry or even a little bit upset as he worked her pussy. She was so close to orgasm because of his wicked tongue.
He grabbed her ass and rubbed his face against her pussy. He had no problem getting dirty. Tank had told her he loved having the scent of her all over his face.
Bell couldn’t get enough of him either. She couldn’t fight the orgasm, didn’t want to, and as she came, she found herself begging him for more.
Tank was impatient tonight. He spun her toward the door, bent her over, and tilted her pelvis. She felt the hard ridge of his cock press against her core. “I want to hear you scream my name,” he said.
His name was the only one she ever had on her lips. The only man she ever wanted. There was no one else, and there never would be anyone else. Even though every second that they were together, he kept her a secret from his MC life, and it broke her heart.
Chapter Ten
“You gave a ten-year-old a cell phone?” Tarmac shook his head, then took another swig of his beer.
Tank’s phone went off. The music and laughter of the brothers around the fire pit were making it hard for him to hear the kid on the other end of the line. He walked away to hear better. Last week, he’d given the young boy a cell phone and instructions. If he came through, Tank promised cold hard cash as an incentive.
“He’s in there. In the house you told me to watch.”
“How long?”
“He wasn’t there a while ago, so not long.”
“Good job. I’ll be in touch. It’s probably past your bedtime, big man.” Tank hung up the phone, then checked the time. It was past eleven. Darkness was always good when tailing someone. It was better to have backup just in case.
Tank returned to the melee and held his handgun up in an outstretched arm. “I’m going for a run. Anyone not plastered yet?”
Whisky stood up. It was ironic that his road name was Whisky when he wouldn’t touch liquor. Tank wasn’t too familiar with the brother as Lord had usually stationed him at their northern properties, but after some shuffling last year, he’d been living at the clubhouse. He had dirty-blond hair to his shoulders, and the club pussy was always chasing after him.
“Okay, let’s ride,” Tank said. “Leave your cut behind. Lord’s orders.”
Having someone by his side was only smart. The Skull Nation couldn’t be trusted, and the last thing he needed was to be swarmed if they caught his scent. What he needed to do was follow at a distance and bring the intel back to his prez. As much as he’d love to just deal with that prospect himself, he had tothink of the bigger picture—and his orders.
“We packing heat?” Whisky asked.
“That’s a dumb fucking question.” Tank straddled his bike and revved the engine. “Keep close.”