Biker’s Property: Property of Steel (Rebel Barbarians MC #5)

Chapter 20 – JOSLIN

Chapter Twenty

JOSLIN

R yder leaves me in a motel room in the middle of an Indian reservation with no cell phone and explicit, aggressive instructions so he can go off to this club meeting with his “boss”. He offers no explanation what the meeting is about – he just hands me the folders he took from my old house and tells me to go through them.

But I don’t think he was expecting me to find what I did.

Since my ill-fated escape attempt, I haven’t exactly had time to throw on a podcast, but considering what I find in my dead husband’s papers, my podcasts clearly weren’t putting me on game the way they needed to. I just want Ryder to come back. I want him to make sense of what I’ve found…

Because even if I know the man I killed was capable of great evil… I didn’t know he was capable of something like this. And Ryder still won’t tell me how the hell he found those papers considering they weren’t exactly lying about when I poisoned Seth. There are too many questions, not enough answers, and now my desire to see Ryder again feels… crazy.

I separate and sort the papers from the folders as I review everything again. Sorting them into categories helps me paint a clear picture, but the documents don’t explain why. Documented communications in one stack, ledgers, financial statements and bank account information in another stack, then the birth certificates, faked documents, photographs and lists of names.

Ryder must not have seen the photographs when he packed this all up unless he looked through the documents first. They were all in a separate, smaller brown folder and each photograph has a name on the back. I don’t think the names are real, and they all come with accompanying numbers.

The most chilling part is that almost half the women are Native American. Black women make up the second largest demographic amongst the photos and then white women who share the distinct blond hair and blue eyed combination of Mormons out west.

I don’t recognize any of the women, but most of them look like they’re around my age or younger.

I don’t remember crawling into bed or falling asleep, but I wake up with a start.

“It’s just me.”

Ryder.

This man is as quiet as a stalker in the night but whenever the shadowy figure reveals himself with that deep country voice, his presence comforts me in the strangest way.

I yawn as he turns on one of the dim lights and I notice that he doesn’t have a shirt on. Does he just throw his clothes off the second he enters a room? I suppose I shouldn’t complain about his lack of a shirt. Ryder is downright gorgeous and what he did to me in that gas station bathroom appears to have permanently broken my brain.

My marriage has barely been legally over for a week and I know murder is such a big sin that letting Ryder into my bed should be the least of my concerns but… I don’t want to add anything to my plate of immorality too soon. I’m doing a terrible job the way I’m looking at him.

He is definitely hotter than guys on television I used to watch and lust over. It makes thinking a lot harder. And he saved my life, which gives me this strange feeling of indebtedness plastered over this attraction. I tried to get it over with. Instead of doing what I think most men would… he does that tongue thing.

“Good news,” Ryder says, smirking with the profound arrogance he normally has when he catches me staring. “Boss doesn’t have me working, so the two of us can skip town, do something crazy… whatever you want to do.”

He looks so happy to suggest it, but my heart immediately sinks. Not because I have anything better to do but…

“I don’t think we can.”

“Why?” he asks. “What are you worried about? Money? The cops?”

“No. I’m worried about what I found.”

I get out of bed and walk over to the motel table with all my stacks. Ryder approaches me, stinking of tequila. When the hell did he drink? When he gets closer to me, my body tenses up as the smell of tequila gets stronger. Just when I’m about to lecture his ass about it, Ryder grabs my butt. And squeezes.

“Damn, I missed your ass…”

I smack his hand away.

“You weren’t gone that long. Look, this is important…”

Instead of listening, Ryder wraps his arms around me from behind and pushes hair away from my neck so he can plant a kiss there. I make an effort to wriggle away from him, but it’s completely fruitless. Ryder is much larger than me, stronger than me, and if he wants to kiss me – that man will get his kiss in.

His warm lips press against my flesh, sending a shiver straight through me. My butt nestles in his crotch and after that first warm kiss, I stop fighting him quite as much and let him squeeze me like he’s afraid I’ll run away.

“We don’t have to talk about all this business,” he whispers. “Not when I’ve been waiting so long to fuck you…”

His warmth and physical closeness make his offer insanely tempting. When he kisses me again, Ryder pushes his hips forward slightly and I feel how hard and big he is as he presses into it. I’ve been married, I know what a man’s member looks like, but the warm bulge pressing into me feels way larger than anything I experienced in the past.

Ryder’s dick throbs with gentle impatience against my ass, making me crave his touch. Even if I never thought I was the type of woman to sleep with a man who doesn’t love me…

His hands move to my hips and he holds me in place gently instead of squeezing, giving me an opportunity to wriggle away that I don’t take. He kisses my neck again, following it up with his warm, drunken breath.

“I thought about you the whole way over here,” he whispers between one kiss and another. “You have the softest pussy I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

Intense throbbing travels from my chest straight down to my pussy. Guilt for my desires flushes through me as he kisses my neck again. I tell myself I only allowed it because I didn’t know what he was doing and because Ryder had complete control of the situation but I loved every damn minute of his tongue between my legs.

He wants to put something much bigger and more painful there now, but my body only responds to what it knows and Ryder’s lips became a source of unimaginable pleasure. I melt into his grasp as he kisses me, leaning against him and relying on him for support.

“One taste of your cunt has me addicted,” he whispers. “Is that black pussy or Filipina pussy?”

“Don’t be racist…” I grumble, this time trying to pull away from him. Ryder grips me forcefully, preventing my escape. But he doesn’t double down.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m not a perfect guy. I might not say the right things but… your brown pussy is the sweetest I have ever tasted and I want to put my dick all the way inside you.”

My disapproving whimper doesn’t sound as disapproving as I mean for it to sound. I push my butt back against Ryder’s crotch and after two more kisses, he loses control and flips me around to face him.

The look on his face sends my heart jumping into my throat and anxious nerves surge through every bit of me, clouding all my thoughts and pushing them towards a single, obsessive track. Ryder. I want him. I want him more than makes sense to me. His hands roam eagerly over every inch of my body.

His hands move over my hips and he grabs my ass firmly. Possessively.

“Your husband is dead, church girl. And I want you…”

His hands move around the front of my hips and into the front of my pants before he moves his fingers over my smooth mound, splitting my lower lips and coating himself in my arousal, forcing us both to acknowledge how wet he gets me just from kissing me.

“This is important…”

“Nothing is more important than what I feel for you right now,” he says in my ear. I don’t know why I let him drag me away from what’s on the table. I know how men think and this evidence is far more important than sex. I tell myself that I can’t stop Ryder, that everything about him overpowers me, especially his strong masculine physique.

But I don’t want to say no. I don’t know if I want to say ‘yes’ either, but the word no is off the table. His tongue slides over the bare flesh on my neck, solidifying my commitment to this bad decision. Just because I was married to a wolf in sheep’s clothing doesn’t mean I should follow it up by getting into bed with more wolves. That’s what Ryder is — a gun toting, breaking and entering, drunken, criminal…

I moan as he hits this incredible spot on my neck and then kisses my lips again, knocking all reason out of my head.

“I need your clothes off,” he growls.

My legs quiver at the way he says that. The way he treasures me. I agreed to spend the rest of my life with Seth Overton. I never expected to be with a man whose desire for me made me want to spread my legs instead of hide under a table. Everything Ryder makes me feel is so wrong… but once you kill someone… how much worse can it get?

He tugs at my shirt and I help him get it over my head. He touches my hair, pretending it was an accident, but I’ve caught him staring curiously at the texture and this isn’t the first time he’s tried to experience the different texture. When he was on his knees, I was a lot less shy about my own curiosity.

Once I have my shirt off, there’s nothing between him and my breasts.

“Now those are some tits,” he says.

His crude language sends a flush of heat through me.

“They’re small,” I mutter, not like I’m that self-conscious about them, but I don’t need him to pretend to like them if he doesn’t. I’ve read books and watched enough TV to know that men like jugs. Smaller than average boobs don’t get guys excited.

Ryder laughs and brushes my nipples with his thumb, sending a distracting chill through me.

“Small. Cute. I bet I could fit a whole one in my mouth.”

I give him a serious look. “Don’t. You don’t have to act like a nice guy.”

This makes him laugh again in a way that reminds me how much he smells like a bomb went off in a liquor cabinet.

“I’m not acting like anything but myself,” he says. “But if you want me to turn up the heat… I can.”

His hands squeeze around my forearm and Ryder’s pupils get so wide they cover all the colors in his irises. I know I shouldn’t stare directly into his eyes like that but… I can’t help it. They’re wide. Black. Terrifying.

“Trust me, church girl… there are some dirty fucking things I want to do to you.”

The firm grasp he has on my wrists confirms just how serious he is about his intentions.

“Like what?” I ask him, not sure why I’m maintaining steady eye contact with a man this crazy when I should be pulling away from him and begging him not to lay a hand on me.

“That’s not how this works,” he says. “You said it yourself, sweetheart… we’re not married. Before I put my dick in your tight little pussy… we’re gonna change that.”

He’s serious. There isn’t a single flinch or flicker of uncertainty in him. He’s insane. Ryder’s black eyes fix on mine as he holds me in place, awaiting my response to his crazy proposal.