Page 45 of Strider's Misstep

Oh hell, yeah, baby.My cock is already at full mast.

We enter the club room which is crowded.

“Nice lid!” Shotgun calls out. He grabs at his belly and doubles over laughing.

Unsure of herself now, Jasmine fumbles at the buckle, and I help her to get the helmet off.

“I told you it was too much,” she hisses, trying to hide the offending article behind her back.

Seeing the damage he’s done, Shotgun crosses the room to us. “If I’m ever lucky enough to find a woman half your worth, Jassy, she’ll be wearing one just like that. Prez knows he’s got precious cargo.”

Strangely, even I can see he’s sincere. Maybe my accident with Anna was a warning to us all. Not that women’s heads are more fragile than ours, but we’re just stupid asses who take risks with our lives. Wearing just skull caps, or nothing at all, as we don’t need to in Texas. Our ladies? Well, their lives are worth more than ours.

Uncomfortable with the scrutiny she’s attracting, Jasmine stands on tiptoe to speak into my ear. “I’m cooking in these leathers. I need to take them off.”

A lewd grin that I can’t prevent spreads over my face. “Being naked will help,” I murmur back.

Her face flushes and it’s not just heat from the clothing. Not wanting to waste any more time, it’s me taking her hand now, dragging her through the brothers who part to make us a path. Chuckles and laughter follow us, not one person in any doubt as to our intentions.

It’s only when I reach my room that I realise I’m nervous. I’ve had Jasmine here many times before. She was the club girl who caught my attention, then, without me realising it, she became so much more. Sex isn’t just what I want from her. I always wanted it all. But with Anna still breathing, I had nothing to offer.

She’s rightly holding back from making a commitment. I’ve got to show her she’s my everything and nowhere close to being second best.

I know why she wants to fuck. I’ve served. I’ve seen death, suffering, and have had my lucky escapes at the wrong end of the gun or just being a foot away from a landmine. It makes you want to celebrate life in the most basic of ways. Barclay could have killed her today. If Helo hadn’t been with her, he could have given her to his men to sexually torture and fuck knows what else. The blood thrums through my veins, wanting to claim her, wanting to mark her as mine, wanting no man to ever touch her again.

But she needs this in the same way as a man who’s seen war. She wants sex, her body’s release to remind her she’s survived.

The only times she’s been in this room, the dynamic has been as a club girl and the prez. I stuck to those boundaries. My emotions only evident because after we’d had our pleasure, I hadn’t kicked her out of my bed. Many times, I’d woken up snuggling her, but I still kept my distance.

Now? Now I see her. She’s no substitute for my wife. If Anna hadn’t become ill, if I’m honest, she wouldn’t have still been part of my life. The club’s too important to me. Jasmine would never ask me to give it up. She embraces it. Loves it. And, even though she doesn’t appreciate how much, she’s earned the affection and respect of my men.

Something shifts inside me as I see her doing something she’s done a hundred times before. Taking off her clothes and getting naked, just like a club girl. My heart twists, and I move toward her. “Let me.”

She’s already taken off her leather jacket. Now I help her to remove her new chaps. Then I pause, just staring at her. She seems awkward and looks away from my scrutiny. Placing my hand on her cheek, I turn her back to face me.

“Have I ever told you how fuckin’ beautiful you are?” I haven’t. That would have been a step too far. “I should have done so, Jasmine. But it’s not just your beauty that I fell for. It’s the whole package.”

She flinches for some reason. “There’s no need for fancy words, Strider. I’m a sure bet.”

But I want to give her everything. Her being in danger, me coming too fucking close to losing her forever, had knocked sense into my head. Anna had been my teenage sweetheart. Jasmine is my adult relationship.

As if I’m taking too long, she takes hold of the bottom of her t-shirt and starts to move it up over her head. I put my hands on hers. “Let me love you,” I implore. “Let me worship you.”

I’ve fucked things up. I might never have said words that expressed my feelings, but I’d always made love to Jasmine. It had never been just sex. Her words in her book had described how the club girl fell for the prez, and how her feelings were reciprocated. Only, in real life, instead of talking to her, I’d made the misstep of taking her to see Anna. In real life, I’d been stupid. If I was as good as the fictional prez, I’d have talked to her, admitted my emotions, and explained why I couldn’t, then, make her mine.

I’ve got her rattled now. She’s not sure whether I want her naked or not. There was never any hesitation between us. There was only going to be one result when I called a club girl to my bed.

While her wide eyes stare at me, I gradually ease up her t-shirt. When I reveal her bra, instead of ripping it off, I lower my head and mouth her nipples through the lacy material. She reacts now, murmuring in pleasure.

Taking my time as if this was a woman I needed to impress, one I’ve never had in my bed before, I worship her breasts, her neck, her shoulders with kisses and caresses that leave hermoaning for more. She’s still holding herself stiffly as though trying to disassociate from my tenderness. I’m determined to wear her down. Using her hair to tilt her head to one side, I nibble at the side of her throat.

A moan escapes and my road name on a sigh. “Strider.”

“Call me Colt,” I murmur into her neck. “I’m not the prez of the club when you’re with me. I’m just a man who adores you.”

“Strider,’ she repeats again, emphasising the two syllables.

I’m certain that in a short while, I’m going to hear the name that I want coming out of her mouth.

---