Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC #5)(38)
“You sound like you know something about geology,” I said distractedly.
Cassie admitted, “I do. I’m fascinated by it. But whoa, I’d be much more fascinated with what you’ve got running toward you.”
Now Sax was running, and I felt my feet take me toward him too across the parking lot. It was like one of those corny movies where two people rush across a wheat field toward each other, the sky filtered by an autumn-colored lens.
Indeed, when we met we twirled around in each other’s arms, just like those cornball flicks. He gripped me with his long, steely arms, his face buried in my neck. We just stayed like that for a long time, emotion surging through my chest. He smelled like the outdoors, like he’d just ridden through a pine forest.
“Sister Colette,” he murmured lustily.
This led me to understand what role he wanted me to play. “Father Zane,” I said, calling him by his proper given name.
This caused him to exhale with a large grunt of satisfaction and slide his palms down my lower back, stopping just short of gripping my ass. I may be small-titted but I’ve always been a rather wide load, and good thing that was coming back into style. He stopped short, but his lips wandered across my cheek to open over my mouth, and I accepted his kiss thirstily.
It was almost perverted, doing this in front of the entire club. Sax’s tongue tasted of clean, fresh air, and I twined mine around his eagerly. I was a brazen slut doing this in such plain view, and I even lifted one sandal off the tarmac so I could place my foot around the back of his boot, leaning my pubic mound into his full crotch.
He rapidly broke the kiss. “Let’s get the f*ck out of here. Come.”
He took me by the hand. I had to stumble to keep up. He would’ve dragged me across the asphalt like a bag of hardware in his determination to reach the hangar. As I fumbled my way along, I took note of that odd bounty hunter, Santiago Slayer. What the f*ck was he doing palling around with old-timers Duji, Tuzigoot, and Gollywow? What the f*ck was he doing here, anyway? I thought he and Sax were rivals for the head of Tormenta. I also passed by a very glum Tobiah Weingarten, who looked like he’d just lost his inhaler from his fanny pack. I knew Tobiah was in on Sax’s mission, so I wondered what had gone down. I’d probably never find out.
Inside, the hangar was hopping with people checking out the motorcycle repair shop and climbing on the heavy equipment and Ford’s new tank. Sax pivoted on one foot a few times, looking for a quick escape from the well-wishers who hadn’t seen him in a while, brothers who headed for him with their arms in the shape of a thug hug. Sax adroitly ducked away from one such inked guy, turning the doorknob on a door marked DISPATCH.
Bound to him at the wrist, I automatically followed. But Sax never got the chance to shut the door behind us.
His nephew Harte Saxonberg was on his knees, hungrily inhaling the long, veined prick of another brother.
I gasped. Oh, my. I was so fascinated with the scene I held absolutely still, and Sax did too, out of shock, no doubt. Harte sucked eagerly on the thick tool, holding it in his palm like an idol, worshipping at its shrine, massaging the ball sac with great, loving squeezes. The recipient of the voracious hoover job—I didn’t much look at his face—pumped his hips frantically, plunging his dick in and out of Harte’s hungry hole. Harte looked almost beatific—I had seen that rapturous look many a time, but usually only at the abbey—as he suckled at the long dick, clearly taking a huge delight in every aspect of the act, running his hands up the belly and hairy, bared chest of his lover.
And it was not the first time he’d indulged in man-on-man, either. I could just tell.
“Come on,” whispered Sax.
It was only when he said that and we turned to leave that Harte’s eyes darted to us. I have to give him credit for concentration—he didn’t even detach his mouth from the penis when the flicker of recognition slashed through his eyes. The jig was up, he knew we’d seen, and his partner Dayton Navarro was the one to pull back in shock, his dick bobbing purplish and shiny in the air.
We were out of there. Sax obviously didn’t want to get involved in any sort of confrontation, not now, and maybe not ever. He dragged me up the inner stairs that led to the club side of the hangar. If anything, the scene I’d just witnessed made me even hotter. It was incredibly erotic in a forbidden, taboo way. The only thing that could have made it more erotic was if Sax had unfurled a bullwhip and started punishing his nephew for such a lewd act.
I was on my way to my own lewd act, and Sax had cuffed one of my wrists before he’d even shut and bolted the door to the game room. He picked up a bar stool and banged it down near a wall where a coat rack with pegs was bolted to the wall. He slammed me onto that stool and stood so he was straddling one of my thighs.
“I have a gift for you,” he said, looking down at me with deep sincerity. “You have to make a vow to trust me in everything I do. But first I want to see your naked titties.”
“Oh, but I do trust you,” I said honestly.
The deft fingers of one hand unbuttoned my customary plaid shirt. I had grabbed a dozen of those from my apartment before making a run for Pure and Easy, and with a shock I’d realized I owned nothing sexy. I had managed since our last encounter to purchase a nicer, underwire bra, so now when Sax yanked my shirt down to my elbows behind me, my small boobs at least sported a pretty bra. His slight smile told me I’d done right.