Summer Pain Page 2

  “And I get along with her a lot better than the rest of you because of that fact,” Logan pointed out. “Want a milkshake?”

  “No. I’ve changed my mind. I’m gonna ride for a while.”

  Logan gripped his shoulder. “Before you take off, I want to ask you something.”

  Tigger held up his hand. “I know what you’re gonna say, man. And no, I can’t forgive her. Could you forgive Sassy if she had been the one with her lips locked around another man’s cock?”

  “It’s different with me and Sassy, Tigger.”

  “Sure it is. I thought it could be different for me and Cara, too. Guess that’s what I get for thinking with the wrong body part.”

  * * * *

  After Tigger left Logan, he headed for the local watering hole. Located on Tucker Hollow Road, The Big Orange held a prestigious reputation for cold beer and good home cooking. A place the locals frequented whether they arrived on horseback or by motorcycle, the bar wasn’t exactly the top spot for outsiders. It damn sure wasn’t a place for a woman like Summer Pain, the gal who’d been at the Heroes and Rogues clubhouse long enough to turn his life upside down.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” Tigger drawled, dragging a barstool out of his way before folding clasped hands atop the bar. Eyeing the barmaid, he quickly added, “Lois, keep me wet. Will ya?”

  Lois rolled her eyes, twisted a cap off a bottle and handed him a longneck. “Want to start a tab?”

  “For me and the lady,” he replied.

  “Aren’t you afraid Cara will come looking for ya?” Summer asked.

  “I see someone has been doing their homework.”

  Summer pointed at her temple. “Good memory. You called her by name back at the clubhouse, but we weren’t formally introduced.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Tigger grumbled. “You caused enough trouble during your short visit to stir a stink with quite memorable fumes.”

  “I can’t help it if your woman is the jealous type.”

  “She isn’t my woman anymore,” Tigger said, tilting the bottle to his lips and wanting to add she never really was but resisting the urge.

  “Could’ve fooled me,” Summer sang, scooting away from the bar. “Where’s the little girl’s room?”

  Tigger pointed to two nearby doors. “Ladies use the one on the left.”

  “Thanks,” she said, disappearing behind the door he’d indicated.

  “Do you know what you’re doing, Tigger?” Lois asked, serving a plate of fries to the man seated next to him.

  Tigger stroked his chin. “What do you know about her?”

  “Summer?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s all I know,” Lois told him. “Her name is Summer.”

  Tigger should’ve seen a thousand warnings from where he stood; instead he was all the more intrigued, so he took a seat.

  Summer returned. “So did you decide to stay a while?”

  “I started a tab.”

  “So I heard.” Summer smiled. “Don’t even think about trying to get me tipsy. I may be a lightweight, but I’m not a cheap drunk.”

  Tigger’s gaze worked her over before his eyes met the barmaid’s again. Lois shrugged and walked away.

  “Maybe I’ll test that,” Tigger said.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Summer turned up her bottle and finished the rest of her beer. “Women worth having don’t come cheap.”

  * * * *

  “Did you find him?” Cara asked as soon as Logan entered the clubhouse.

  “I saw him,” Logan replied, giving Sassy a sensual kiss before taking a seat and pulling her to his lap. “How you doin’, gorgeous?”

  She ran her fingers through his hair. “Better now.”

  “Give it a rest a minute, you two,” Cara said. “I need to know about Tigger.”

  “The way I see it, you lost your rights to ask about Tigger,” Logan said, eying Devon and Victory as they played what they’d later refer to as a serious game of pool.

  Cara snapped her fingers in front of Logan’s face. “You know I care about Tigger. Now, talk to me. How’s he doing?”

  “Unbelievable,” Logan muttered, locking his arms around Sassy’s middle and drawing her back against his chest.

  “Logan, you know I care about him. I want to know he’s all right. Okay?”

  “He’s fine,” Logan assured her.

  “The hell he is.” Cara slapped her hand against the bar.

  Sassy jerked, and Logan was pissed. Sassy had been abused as a child, and any sudden sound or movement often left her nerves shattered.

  “How do you think he is, Cara? Hmm? Let me ask you something.” Logan pointed his finger at her, jabbing the digit a mere inch from her nose. “How would you have felt if the shoe had been on the other foot? Hmm? What if he had met that gal who strolled in here—and from what I heard she was a real looker—took one glance at her and decided to take her for a ride? You know the kind of ride I’m insinuating here, Mama. What if he’d fucked her? Hmm? How would you feel?”

  “I didn’t screw Jake,” Cara said, tears welling in her eyes.

  Logan didn’t believe her. Besides, which was worse? Giving a guy head or riding him all night long?

  “You might as well have,” Devon said, joining the conversation from across the room before calling his next shot. “Eight ball, corner pocket.”

  He missed. Depending on the bet he and Victory placed on the table, it was probably on purpose. Devon was a pool shark, and he could run the tables on the best of them.

  Ignoring Devon, Cara lowered her voice and said, “I didn’t do him, Logan. Tell him, Sassy.”

  “Leave her out of this.” Logan glared at Mama. Most MC sheep, regardless of the club, felt a dutiful responsibility to service all club members, when asked. Logan wondered then if Jake had asked or if Cara had sought him out. He would wager on the latter.

  “Let me put it to you this way. I’d probably never look at Sassy again if I caught her on her knees sucking another man’s cock. Now, do you have a better understanding of how Tigger probably feels?”

  “And Logan is a forgiving person,” Sassy said gently.

  “In other words, Mama,” Logan said, deliberately referring to the sheep’s title she’d earned and deserved to keep. “I’d rather catch my woman in bed with another man than to find her mouth around another fellow’s prick.”

  “Well, Tigger isn’t you,” Cara said. “Not every man in this place is a self-righteous chauvinist.”

  Logan snarled. “Tigger deserved better, Cara.”

  “Well, now he can have what you believe he deserves.”

  Chapter Three

  Tigger thrust his tongue inside Summer’s mouth as he ripped her shirt open. He’d been dying to suck on those tiny, beaded nipples he’d noticed when he first met Summer. Those little babies were like perfect pebbles, and if Summer had been his woman, he would’ve demanded she wear a padded bra.

  “Slow down,” she breathed, clasping his wrist when he tried to pull aside the lace covering her breasts.

  “I don’t know if I can,” Tigger admitted, pushing her arm lower. “Touch me, Summer.”

  A wicked grin claimed her lips. “Beg me.”

  “Do what?” he asked, stumbling backward and taking a seat on the bed to play it off.

  “You heard me.” She stood between his splayed legs. “Beg me.” She shrugged her arms and shoulders away from her open shirt. “I dare ya.”

  “I ain’t beggin’ a woman,” he said, collapsing to the mattress. His head felt as if it weighed fifty pounds. His vision was blurry, and the room began to spin. “God, I’m drunk.”

  “I warned you,” she whispered across his lips. “I’m not a cheap bar date.”

  “You told me all right,” he agreed, reaching for her. “Let me taste your sugar.”

  “My sugar?” she teased, her lips brushing past his. “What else do you want to taste, Tigger?”

  “Pussy.”

&nb
sp; “Nice,” she said, an uncomfortable snicker filling his ear before her tongue tipped his earlobe. “Is that all?”

  “Fuck you,” Tigger whispered. “Let me…fuck you.”

  “Not tonight,” she said, slipping her hand inside his jeans and patting his cock. “I don’t think that’s what you need right now.”

  Tigger grunted. Shit. He wasn’t even hard. What the fuck had he been thinking? He was attracted to this woman. She was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on, and now, he was lying in her bed unable to get a rise thanks to whiskey shots and too many longnecks.

  “Just you wait,” Tigger slurred. “I’ll give you what you need.”

  “You will?” she taunted him, stroking his flaccid cock.

  “Hmm,” he rasped. “Yeah, baby. I’ll give you what every woman needs. Morning sex. In the morning.”

  And with this last drunken promise, he drifted off to sleep.

  * * * *

  The next day, Tigger awoke with a hangover from hell. Rays of sunlight filled the hotel room, and the heat warmed his cheeks.

  Rolling away from the window, he jerked to attention when his arm landed across a female form. “What the—”

  A soft mutter fell from Summer’s lips as she curled into a ball, folding a pillow against her small frame.

  Planting his palm against the back of his head, Tigger looked down on the petite woman lying next to him. Good Lord, she was the epitome of a true sleeping beauty.

  Golden hair fanned around a perfect face with high cheeks, a small nose, and an itty bitty chin. Lifting the sheet, he peered under the covers and was half-relieved, half-irritated, to find her sleeping in flannel pajamas.

  Returning the sheet to her small body, he glanced around the room. Where the hell were they? The Ritz?

  In Tennessee, the probability of staying in one of the world’s more notable five-star establishments was unlikely, but wherever they were, the place had most likely cost him a fortune.

  Polished wood appointments and heavy brass fixtures adorned the room. A sitting area with an uncomfortable-looking sofa, an oval coffee table, and two matching chairs with thick armrests and navy pinstripe upholstery further worried him. How the hell had he ended up in a place like this?

  Sitting up, he grabbed the phone and dialed the front desk. “Good morning, Ms. Pain. What can we do for you this morning?”

  “Sorry,” Tigger grumbled. “Wrong number.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he returned the phone to the cradle and breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, he’d kept his credit card in his wallet.

  At the thought of his billfold, he reached down and patted his hip. The thick bulge in his pocket assured him he hadn’t been so intoxicated that he’d left his wallet behind at The Big Orange.

  Glancing at Summer once more, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of disappointment. Why had he gotten so belligerently drunk? And why the hell couldn’t he remember what he’d said and done?

  He rubbed his eyes with balled fists and reminded himself of two things. He was dressed. She was wearing pajamas. Obviously, what he’d done wasn’t the problem here. He probably should be more concerned with what he might have said.

  Rolling to the other side of the bed, he quietly slipped away and tiptoed to the bathroom. He turned on the light and shut the door. Towels monogrammed with a Carnegie inscription confirmed his suspicions. He was in a fancy establishment, too rich for his blood.

  Again, he thanked the good Lord he hadn’t paid the hotel tab. While he wasn’t broke, he certainly wasn’t as well off as some of the other Heroes and Rogues. He’d spent nearly every dime of his savings when he’d bought Cara a flawless, two-carat, princess-cut diamond, a ring he’d never see gracing the finger of her wrinkled hand.

  He must’ve been out of his mind anyway. He was thirty-three. Cara was nearly fifty. What could they possibly have in common?

  The truth smacked him in the face. Great fucking sex. Mind-blowing sex.

  Gripping the vanity, he stared at his reflection. “You were going to marry a gal because she was good in bed?”

  He thinned his lips and shot himself a condescending glare. “What kind of man does that?”

  His cock twitched in his leather pants. He glanced down and grumbled to himself again. “A man who is horny for a woman, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  And that’s what really bothered him. Could he forget Cara so easily?

  There was only one way to find out. Take full advantage of his current situation.

  * * * *

  Summer awoke with a start. She looked around the empty room and was disappointed to find her vacant bed.

  Stretching her arms overhead, she glanced at the bedside clock. It was only nine? A wave of frustration washed over her body. Tigger must’ve been in some kind of hurry. He hadn’t even stayed for breakfast.

  It was probably for the best anyway. The last thing she needed was a job complication. Falling for one of the Heroes and Rogues hadn’t been part of the game plan when she’d accepted the undercover position.

  Summer had come to the Tri-Cities area to find out the truth about two placed FBI agents. One of them had gone rogue. Both pointed an accusing finger at the other one. Her job was to find out which one still honored his position as an agent and which man had turned on the very agency responsible for his club affiliation.

  No, Summer didn’t need a distraction. Tigger could’ve slipped right into the category. And talk about an obstacle to overcome! She would’ve acquired one if she would’ve slept with him.

  From what she’d read about the club’s sheep, Summer knew Cara had a willful spirit and a strong love for her club. To make matters worse, Cara apparently thought she owned dibs on every biker draped in the Heroes and Rogues colors.

  Summer’s mind revisited the day before. From the moment she’d seen Tigger face-to-face, she’d known she was entering dangerous territory. Hell, the first introductions were mild in comparison to the explosive start she’d fantasized about for several weeks.

  In many ways, she’d known from the moment she’d seen his picture. She’d fantasized about him from the start, and now, she was lying there in the bed he’d left, daydreaming about him all over again.

  Only this time the images were vivid.

  His scent—that spicy rich aroma of leather, alcohol, and mint—filled her nostrils as she drew the pillow he’d used against her chest, inhaling the man who was no longer there, the strong and handsome rogue of a fellow who’d left long before he had been forced to face her and a new day at the same time.

  Damn, she was horny. Thinking of him made her thighs tremble, her insides quiver. Tigger’s kinky, tawny red locks framed the darkest of manly, if not dangerous, features. His eyes were like melted chocolate, so full of delectable and tantalizing promises that her heart clenched as she considered what she’d had within her grasp but somehow managed to lose.

  Why the hell had she fallen asleep?

  She rolled to her back again and hiked up her shirt. Her fingers raked across hardened nipples as her arousal spun out of control. Lifting her hips, she wiggled away from her pajama pants and tossed aside the covers.

  Tigger’s body wasn’t perfect, but those cut, muscular arms made up for any shortcomings. Six-pack abs weren’t a requirement and Tigger’s beer gut wasn’t entirely undesirable. Some extra padding around the middle often meant a man enjoyed the finer things in life like good food and drink.

  “Let’s see,” she whispered, trying to recapture a visual as she pictured him towering over her. Great sex. Oh yes, the sex was definitely a list-topper. Regardless of the body behind the action, she needed a man who was good in bed. Tigger was a bad boy, a renegade sporting leather and biker boots. Oh yeah. He’d set a woman on fire and make her grovel for cock. He had that way about him. She was certain of a man who’d earned his swagger.

  She liked entertaining conversation, too, and Tigger had definitely prove
n he was capable there. The bantering between them had been enough to make her want to go down on him in public. While they’d been at the bar, she’d sat there entranced, watching his mouth move, pretending to hang on his every word. All the while, she’d been focused upon those sensual lips, imagining what he might later do when he situated his body between her legs and thrust his tongue between her damp folds.

  She parted her legs and fingered her clit, rolling the hard bud until she shivered. Her arousal took her to the point of no return. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought about what he might have said as he caressed her body for the first time, teased her with his long, hard cock, the same cock that hadn’t hardened at all the night before, thanks to his drunken stupor.

  Her mouth watered as she thought about how she’d slipped her hand down the front of his jeans and stroked him. His flaccid cock hadn’t been a turn off at all. As a matter of fact, she’d only been more aroused, more intrigued.

  Even at flaccid state, he was quite large. Now, she fantasized about his length, the way he’d stroke her with a hardened dick as he made all sorts of illicit promises.

  Her nipples spiked as she jacked up her hips and thrust three fingers inside her pussy. Pumping her body up and down, she flattened her feet against the mattress and crooned, “More, Tigger. Oh God, yes.”

  Her imagination held her captive as she pictured him. He shifted those broad shoulders as he dragged his cock across her folds, teasing her. He gave her a good feel of his hardened length pressing against her entrance.

  “Fuck me, Tigger,” she crooned. “Oh yes, honey. Fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.”

  A door slammed and jolted her to an upright position, her back flush against the wooden headboard. Her fingers stilled inside her pussy. Her next breath lodged inside her lungs as a whisper of sexual heat warmed her body.

  Tigger’s eyes held at her cunt, and a slow smile crept across his lips. “Baby, that’s precisely what I plan to do.”

  Chapter Four

  He’d spent the better part of the last thirty minutes trying to paint the perfect picture for seduction. He’d imagined the best way to approach her the morning after he’d passed out and entered that twilight zone specifically reserved for the dumbest of men, those who’d chosen the bottle over the possibility of a provocative romp with a sexy stranger. And not just any stranger. Summer was an intelligent, beautiful woman who obviously had her shit together.