Free Betting It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 11) by Kati Wilde Page A

moan builds in my throat and my fingers tighten in his—
    Oh fuck oh fuck. My hands are in his hair and I’m kissing him back as if I’m starving for this.
    Desperately I tear my mouth from his. “Wait!”
    Jack immediately stills, his dark eyes searching mine. He’s not handsome. He’s not. So why the hell can’t I ever look away? Especially now, when arousal paints ruddy flags on his angular cheekbones. When his firm lips are wet from our kiss.
    I just want to make them wetter. Instead I repeat, “Wait,” while forcing myself not to grind against his rigid length. “There are rules.”
    “What rules?”
    “The terms of the bet were that you get to tie me up and have your way with me. So the first rule is that unless I’m tied up, you don’t touch me.”
    Though I’m not bound, though he’s touching me now, he doesn’t let me down. “All right.”
    “Rule Two: We never talk about this night again. Ever. Not to each other, not to any other Riders. As far as I’m concerned, as soon as you head out the door in the morning, none of this ever happened. I’m going to forget all about it.”
    I expect him to shoot back the same arrogant crap he gave me before when he told me that I’d come repeatedly or that he’d make me a fan of anal fucking. Something like You’ll never forget followed by his gorgeous grin.
    Instead his face is like stone and his voice like gravel. “I never expected you’d want anything different.”
    The way his answer twists me up inside pisses me off. “I also reserve the right to bite anything that comes near my mouth,” I tell him. “So if you think you’re going to make me choke on your dick, think again. No more kissing, either.”
    His dark gaze drops to my lips as if he’s about to test that rule. “Anything else?”
    “Yeah. If I’m ever drunk and make a stupid bet like this again, you let it go.”
    He meets my eyes again. “I can’t do that. I’ll take whatever I get.”
    “That’s pretty fucked up.”
    “Yes,” he replies evenly, as if I’d said one plus one equals two. “Any more rules?”
    Only the most important one. “You wear a rubber every single time. You brought a couple?”
    “More than a couple.” He sets me down and backs off a step. “Take off your shirt.”
    Just like that, huh? Well, what the hell. I’m all in, anyway.
    I strip my T-shirt off and toss it down the stairs, where it’ll land somewhere in the vicinity of the washing machine. Wearing only my jeans, I stand before him. My breasts are on the small side, two pert little handfuls, but my nipples are big and tight. They’re sexy as hell when I’m as aroused as I am now, stiff and rosy and just begging for someone to suck on them.
    Begging for Jack to suck on them, but he’s not even looking at me.
    From one of his saddlebags, he pulls a long strip of condoms and a small bottle of lube and tucks them into his back pocket. A roll of dark cloth follows, then he slips a coil of cotton rope over his arm. Next come a pair of leather cuffs.
    Holy shit. I’m not sure whether I want to know what else he has in there.
    He closes the pack and slides it over his shoulder again. “Give me your hands,” he says roughly, and my pulse races as he wraps a wide leather cuff around each of my wrists. The rip of Velcro is loud in the quiet foyer when he unfastens my left cuff. “You can open them with your teeth if you want to.”
    I nod and he smooths the leather cuff closed again. A small metal loop attaches to each. Jack winds the soft cotton rope through both loops and pulls my wrists together before finishing it off with a mooring hitch knot—I can easily pull that free with my teeth, too.
    He tugs on the long trailing end of the rope. “Now you’re tied.”
    So I am. If he thinks he’s going to lead me around on a leash, though, we’re going to have a new fucking rule. “Yes, but—”
    But nothing. The rope drops from his grip and his big hands catch my waist. He drags me forward.