Beyond Redemption: Joker (Serpents MC Las Vegas Book 1) Page 2

  “That guy thought I was your pimp. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

  She drained her glass, rummaged through her Gucci, and extracted a matching wallet.

  “Wait.” He raised his hand. “I got this.”

  “No, I insist. Things could’ve turned ugly earlier, and even though you thought you were saving a hooker—”

  “Give me a second chance.” Shit, now she had him pleading with her. This trip was gonna kill him in more ways than one. “Have you eaten yet?”

  Some of the heat left her eyes, but her lips mashed together.

  “C’mon, I’m really not a bad guy.” Okay, so that was a stretch, but he’d never intentionally hurt a woman, and he sure hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  “You’re just a guy with outdated Neanderthal ideas that belong in a museum.”

  “All right, maybe I deserved that, but let me prove you wrong.”

  She popped her lower lip between her teeth, and his dick jerked again. He better get that sucker under control. Joker waved over the maitre’d and shoved a twenty into his palm. “Can you get us a table by the window?”

  The maitre’d glanced between them and took the money, then instructed the bartender to forward their tab and led them to a table. Two minutes later, Joker was enjoying not only the view of the ocean at night but the mysterious woman sitting across from him as well. Best twenty bucks he’d ever spent.

  “Bring us two more drinks,” he instructed the maitre’d.

  Again, those dark eyes bored into him. “I take it you’re a man who’s used to getting what he wants.”

  “I suppose.” Being VP of a notorious biker club left little room for argument.

  Joker cocked his head, taking it all in, taking her in: A simple, classy hairstyle and designer clothes, but the diamonds that circled her neck brought up another question. Why would she be interested in a guy like him? Yeah, he saved her from those guys, but she hadn’t even seemed that scared. Was she planted by Digger to throw him off his game, or did she somehow have her own agenda? He couldn’t afford any slip-ups. Not now when he’d come so close to freedom.

  “You do realize we don’t even know each other’s names.” Her perfectly pouty lips graced him with a smile.

  Joker’s gaze roamed from her lips to her exquisite body. Sure, it was a dick move, but this woman had him acting like a horny teenager. He hadn’t even behaved like that when he was a teenager.

  “Hadn’t thought about it.” Joker shrugged. “Are names important?”

  “Probably not.”

  The waiter returned with their drinks, and she held her glass up for a toast. “Here’s to not caring about names.”

  They clinked glasses, and Joker let the whiskey coat his throat. He’d had enough one-night stands to know this seemed to be going in that direction, but something was different. His instincts and gut feelings were natural talents that kept him alive in his dangerous world, and although tonight waved a huge red flag, he couldn’t back away. He wanted to be close to this flame even if it meant getting burnt.

  “So, what brings you to Miami?” She leaned in like she couldn’t wait to hear his answer.

  “Business.”

  “That’s what everyone says, especially when they’re trying to hide something.”

  He smiled and huffed out a breath at her perceptiveness. “Let’s say, I’m here so I can take care of my responsibilities back home.”

  Her back stiffened. “Are you married?” Her gaze darted to his bare ring finger.

  “No.” The familiar pull in his gut whenever he thought of Desiree never eased. “Not anymore.”

  “Hmm. She didn’t understand you? Didn’t appreciate you?”

  All true, but how could a sweet, innocent woman like Desiree ever begin to understand a man like him, or his life?

  “She died. A little over a year ago.”

  She reached out to him, and he wanted to shove the words back into his mouth. What the fuck was wrong with him? He never talked about Desiree. Ever.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Forget it. It’s all right.” But it wasn’t. He screwed up so bad with Desiree, and because of his mistakes, his pre-teen son was left with an outlaw biker as a father—soon to be ex-outlaw—but still, far from perfect “Dad” material.

  The waiter appeared and broke their uncomfortable silence.

  Since Joker’s tastes in food ran directly to steak and other basics, he let her pick from the menu. She ordered small plates, which consisted of an assortment of foods: Kobe sliders with a sauce he couldn’t pronounce, an exotic cheese wrapped in dough, and some other stuff she told him to “Just eat it,” as well as a bottle of red wine.

  After the wine was poured, she insisted he move to her side of the booth. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable before.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just not used to talking about myself.”

  That was an understatement. Joker never talked about himself. He’d learned at an early age to play it close and keep his thoughts away from his biker father. He could blame his revelations on the liquor, but why lie to himself. It was the way this woman looked deep into his eyes with an undivided interest in every word that came out of his mouth. She was intriguing, captivating, and so far out of his league.

  “So what’s with all the black denim and heavy boots?” She rested her hand on his thigh. “This is Miami, lighten up.”

  He appreciated her shifting the mood of their conversation. Now he’d add perceptive to the list of adjectives that described her, but the one big question mark still loomed over him. What was her end game?

  “I’m from New York.” He laughed. “It’s what we wear.”

  “You have a body made for good clothes.”

  “You got a body made for no clothes.” Oh shit, now he was saying cheesy things. Next, he’d be saying her hair was as soft as silk, or some shit.

  Her fingers flexed against his leg, but her eyes never left him, and without saying a word, she had him right where she wanted him. Joker had no idea where the evening was going, but her clear, direct attitude puzzled him, and puzzles aggravated the shit out of him. Oh yeah, he was fucked.

  Chapter Three

  Joker hadn’t planned on the night going in this direction, but the way she worked him under the table muted those alarms in his head, and after all the shit he’d been through, didn’t he deserve something?

  Maybe it was the liquor that clouded his judgment, or maybe it was because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d let down his guard and just went with the moment, but his bloodless brain and throbbing cock were of no help. Maybe after he got her in bed, he’d figure out her game. Yeah, right, who was he kidding? She could pull out a gun right now, and he wouldn’t have the will to defend himself.

  With the little strength Joker had left, he hailed the waiter, charged the dinner to his room, and stilled her hand. “Unless you want me to bust right here, I suggest we take this upstairs.”

  Her smile widened, and all he could picture was a wild panther before it pounced. He’d take his wildcat upstairs and show her what he was made of.

  The minute the elevator door closed, her skilled hands undid the button of his jeans. By the time they reached the door of his room, she was rubbing his dick in a way that made sliding the keycard into the door impossible. It took him three tries to get it right.

  Joker kicked the door closed with his booted foot and ran his hands up her bare back. His frayed self-control in the restaurant evaporated. Blood rocketed through his veins, and when he pulled back slightly to take a breath, it ended up sounding like a rough, ragged moan.

  When she reached around her neck and untied the top of her dress, the moan turned into a growl. Her perfect body filled his brain with all kinds of ways he wanted to take her: fast, hard, and dirty—then slow, deep, and filthy. Give her what she wanted and take what he needed. Crazy shit that his sex-soaked brain couldn’t process. For now, it was just him, he
r soft, tawny skin, and a need that freaked the fuck out of him. She was like that one last drink that should’ve been refused, the one that guaranteed a raging hangover but felt so good going down.

  She tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, and as she dragged it up his chest, Joker bent forward so she could pull it over his head before flinging it to the floor. She bit her pouty lower lip again, and another feral growl escaped his throat. Running her hands down his shoulders, she inched her way over the club insignia tatted across his pecs. By the time she reached his waistband, his dick was pushing against the half-opened zipper of his jeans. Fuckin’ thing was about to explode, and he still had his pants on. His hips thrust forward, egging her on, and when she paused, he groaned.

  “I’d like to know what all these tats mean first.” The teasing curve of her lips told him she was enjoying his agony way too much.

  “You know what happens to women who tease me?” He braced his hands against the door on either side of her head.

  “Oh, please show me.” She dared him to be bad without an ounce of fear, and he loved it. Joker pressed her to the door, feeling her tight nipples rub against his bare chest. He captured her mouth and invaded her with his tongue until they were devouring each other.

  When he’d gotten his fill, he mumbled against her lips. “You think we can make it to the bed?”

  Her gaze flitted to the bulge in his jeans. “I can.”

  She ducked under his arm, and as she walked away, the dress slid down her hips and fell to the floor. He leaned against the door for support, watching her tight ass shift with each step of her stiletto heels until she disappeared into the bedroom.

  His original plan was to get her to lower her guard and find out if she had an angle. Now, he’d be happy if he could make it into the bedroom without tripping over his feet.

  He pushed his palm against his groin. “Can barely move. You got me so fuckin’ hard.” He stumbled into the bedroom and admired her sprawled out on the comforter, still wearing the heels. Too fuckin’ much.

  She leaned up to him and pushed his jeans down. “Mmm, I like a man who goes commando.”

  “Not so great when you got a woman who’s hot as fuck giving your dick zipper burns.”

  “Ahh, let me make it feel better.” She stroked him so hard he thought he might embarrass himself and come right in her hand like a fuckin’ kid. He didn’t want her to stop, but he also wanted to be inside her the first time he came. Shit, not such a bad problem.

  She released him and leaned over to her purse. When she pulled out a string of condoms, his mixed emotions jumped from impressed to surprised. Sure, women carried condoms, but a whole damn strip of them?

  He pointed to the condoms strewn across the bed. “Is that a challenge?”

  She wiggled her hips and crawled higher on the bed, then looked over her shoulder. “I’m hoping more like a promise.”

  “Oh, fuck. You are gonna kill me, woman.” He stroked himself a few times, then climbed on the bed with her. Hooking his arms under her knees, Joker dragged her to him and anchored her stiletto-clad feet on his shoulders. He nabbed a condom, ripped it open with his teeth, and sheathed himself.

  “Impatient.” She grinned up at him. “I like it.”

  He paused, taking her in, torn between wanting to be inside her and enjoying the view. Something in the way she looked at him seemed familiar. Not like he knew her, but like she knew him, understood him, and could see through the tough guy right into his soul. Fuckin’ intoxicating.

  She wriggled under Joker, snapping him out of his trance. He ran his palms down her sleek thighs and pulled her closer, her eagerness making him insane with lust.

  “I gotta have you now. It’s gonna be fast and hard.” He ran his thumb over her clit. “But I promise I’ll give you everything I got.”

  He continued to rub her clit, and when her hips began to gyrate, he leaned in and centered himself. She welcomed him in, and the pressure faded away. Joker concentrated on the desire and passion of this woman under him, giving herself to him and letting him take what he needed. He was hitting into her hard, but her face shone with pure pleasure. When he slowed a bit, she pulled at him to go faster.

  Joker pumped into her and kept pace with her bucking hips until she arched up; then, she collapsed against the pillows as her body milked him with her release. Panting, Joker thrust into her once more and let his climax wash over him, cleansing and releasing him in a way he didn’t think possible. Collapsing at her side, he stroked her glistening body. They both lay breathless and unable to speak, like she needed this as much as him. Maybe more.

  Yeah, that was it—two people who met and became one whole person. Nah, that only happened in the movies, not in real life, and sure as hell not in his fucked-up life.

  He cupped her ass and pulled her closer to him, enjoying the rasp in her breath and the smell of their sex. Joker nestled her head into his shoulder, and it felt as though a big ball of pressure released, freeing him from the inside out. He stroked her hair as it draped over his chest, liking the silkiness against his rough, calloused palm.

  Usually, his brain was rattled by now with excuses and reasons for the woman to leave as he tried to formulate the right words, not to piss her off but to make sure she got gone. Most times, it ended with the woman throwing on her clothes and calling him a dick. If nothing got broken, he considered it a win, but tonight the thought of her leaving unsettled him in a way he didn’t understand. He liked her long, lithe body pressed up against his side. It calmed him and made him nervous at the same time because wanting something too much caused problems, and when it inevitably got ripped away, he’d be left wide open and vulnerable.

  “I’m gonna close my eyes for a minute.” When she didn’t answer, he brushed the hair from her face. She’d beat him to it, already into a sound sleep. Maybe they weren’t so different.

  As he drifted off, he listed all the questions he’d ask her later, like where she was from, and what the hell her fuckin’ name was.

  When Joker woke, shards of blaring sun snuck through the drapes. It took him a second to remember he was in Miami and another second to realize he was alone. He sat up in bed and listened. Silence. He threw his legs over the bed, then nabbed his sweatpants off the chair and pulled them on. Her shoes and dress were gone, she wasn’t in the bathroom, and he knew before entering the living area that it would be empty.

  He sucked in a deep breath. What the hell did he expect? It was a one-nighter. They both knew it. After Desiree had died, he’d had a few random hookups, but that woman could definitely get under his skin, and he had way too much going on for any distractions. Then he laughed out loud at himself. She’d done what he’d done countless times—snuck out in the middle of the night to avoid the morning-after talk or the shit storm that sometimes followed. Un-fucking-believable.

  Joker’s stomach grumbled, and he picked up the hotel phone and ordered himself a nice big breakfast from room service. Then he pulled open the drapes and admired the view as his mind drifted to one of the best nights he’d had in a long time. Joker stepped out onto the balcony and enjoyed the warm morning sun on his chest. Definitely a beach day. Might as well enjoy himself while he waited for that big meeting tomorrow.

  His stomach growled again just as room service knocked on the door. He could almost taste the food he’d ordered.

  He flung the door open. “You’re not room service.”

  “Even better.” She breezed past him in another string bikini and see-through cover-up, carrying two restaurant bags. “I got breakfast from Sazon around the corner. Spanish omelets and peppers with sweet plantains on the side, a pancake burrito with smoked bacon and cheese”—she unpacked the one bag and held up the other—“and pastelitos. Best Cuban breakfast you’ll ever eat.”

  Joker stood by the half-open door still griping the handle.

  “Don’t just stand there. Come eat before it gets cold.”

  He canceled room service as she loaded up the table
with the food and two steaming cups of coffee. The smell of fresh coffee and bacon made his mouth water, so he pulled up the chair on the other side of the table and dug into the omelet.

  “It’s good, right?” She licked the cream from the pastry off her lips, and his dick took notice. Fuckin’ thing had no pride.

  “When I saw you were gone I—”

  “Thought I skipped out? Did something you would’ve done?” She polished off the pastry and cut the burrito in half, taking the other half for herself.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you happy I came back?”

  “Yeah.” And he meant it. When he opened the door and saw her standing there, his heart kicked up. Not his dick, although that sucker perked up too, but his heart actually did that skipping thing. Fuckin’ weird.

  “Do you think you could say something besides, ‘Yeah’?”

  “Sure.” He loved her smirky grin and knowing he put it there, but something still nagged at him. “You think it’s about time we traded names?”

  She gazed at him over her coffee cup. “Names, huh?”

  “We’ve shared two meals and fucked each other stupid, so yeah, I think it’s time we exchanged names.”

  “Daisy Mae.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Now you know why I didn’t want to tell you.” She laid down her plastic takeout fork. “Your turn.”

  “Joker.”

  She returned his expression. “Really?”

  “I guess I deserved that.”

  “Your parents looked in the crib and agreed on Joker?”

  “My parents never agreed on anything. My mother ran off before I was a month old, and my father belonged to a motorcycle club. Joker’s my road name, like a nickname.”

  “I see. So, are you going to tell me your real name?”

  “Nah, let’s stick with Joker.”