Page 107 of Secondhand Smoke

His clear blue eyes searched her face, still concerned, but a little curious too.

Because she wanted to, and she’d always been bad at resisting impulses, Jazz reached up to trace one fingertip down the ridge of his nose. His mouth twitched like it tickled. She moved down, edged his lips with her red fingernail, teased at the pale stubble on his chin.

He grinned and he had dimples. “I’m not like Candyman, but I’m not made out of stone either, baby.”

He liked it, then, her touch. It was stirring things in him.

Good. Things were stirring in her too.

She let her hand fall, played with the zippered edge of his cut. “When we…” she started, and watched his eyes flare. She smiled. “You liked it?”

“I loved it.” His hand tightened at the small of her back, pulled her hips in close so she could feel that he was loving the idea of it happening again.

“I’m old enough to be your mother,” she said quietly.

“Does it look like I care? You’re gorgeous.”

Jazz stretched up and kissed him.

It went wild fast, and suddenly it wasn’t a kiss, but a tussle, their hands grasping desperately at one another. Carter picked her up and set her on the hood of the old Cadillac behind them, bundled up her short white skirt and found her bare, hot and wet beneath. She loved the little growl in his throat when he touched her, the hard grasp of his hands on her thighs as he spread them. She worked his jeans open in a few deft moves and then he was inside her, filling her up and making her neck weak. They both made sounds, gasping breaths against one another’s lips as he slid home.

Jazz wrapped her legs around his waist and lay back, opening herself up to his deep thrusts. God, she couldn’t remember sex ever feeling so necessary. She thought she’d die if he stopped.

She tore at the buttons of her uniform and spread the halves, bared her breasts to him. “Touch me,” she pleaded, and he did. And she watched the stars as he fucked her.

~*~

Tango watched Carter lead Jazz from inside the clubhouse, and he didn’t mean to follow, but somehow he set his beer down and did just that. He found a dark spot behind one of the trucks and watched, unseen, as Jazz shook with fright and Carter comforted her, hugged her. Had he ever done that himself? Touched her in that innocent way? He didn’t remember. There were so many ways in which he’d failed her.

He watched the hug go on and on. Watched Jazz finally pull back, watched the smiles; private smiles, traded between two people who didn’t know they had an audience. Watched them kiss. Watched them move to the hood of the car.

He braced a hand against the tailgate in front of him, suddenly lightheaded. And he watched, raw and confused, as Carter took Jazz right there under the black, star-studded sky.

He’d lost her, he knew, and his heart ached to see the evidence before him.

But his cock knew nothing of emotion, and it wanted only to be stroked, as Jazz opened her buttons and the moonlight silvered her breasts. He wanted sex. Damn it, he always wanted sex.

He felt the fast rush of breath against his ear a fraction of a second before a crisp English voice said, “How wanton you people are.”

Panic flared and died in an instant, as Tango registered the lean body pressed up behind him, recognized the presence, the faint scent of cologne, the voice, above all. He turned his head and caught a glimpse of Ian dressed all in black, hair tucked beneath a black beanie, his long pale hand resting on the tailgate alongside his own.

“What are you doing here?” He didn’t have the energy to be angry.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t want to come to a Halloween party, did you?” Ian asked with a whispered, breathy laugh. “My feelings are still quite hurt, you know, because you refused to invite me.”

“How did you get on the property?”

“Do you think afenceis going to stop me?”

Tango sighed. “You have to leave.”

“And miss the show?”

Tango’s eyes went back to the action. Jazz was murmuring, moaning, hips straining against Carter’s.

“As I was saying,” Ian said, “you bikers aren’t at all particular about where, when, how, or with whom you get it. Interesting choice for you, I’d say.” He feigned pensive. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d prefer exhibitionism after–”

“Shut up.”

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