Free Storm: (Blood Legion MC) (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 3) by Rie Warren Page A

I had no doubt.
    “Nik’s pissed.” She swept soft brown hair—no longer dyed brittle black—back from her face.
    “Gathered that.”
    “This new woman? Blaize?”
    “The best.” I peeked beyond Shar, trying to survey the scene inside my room. “How’d she get y’all to take up buckets instead of clawing her eyes out?”
    “She’s real pretty, Storm.”
    “Yeah.” Didn’t need to tell me that.
    “She gave the big middle finger to my old man.”
    “She did. Last night.” I nodded.
    “The women respect that.”
    Sharon turned away to return to the most unlikely Merry Maids.
    I grasped her hand. “And you? Considering you’re the one who has to sleep with him?”
    “I have my ways of keepin’ him sweet.” Sharon tugged free, looking over her shoulder at me. “And he’s gunnin’ for you unless you do exactly as you’re told.”
    “Guess I best be following orders then.”
    I waited a minute before following Shar inside.
    What I immediately saw was Blaize—ass-up, tipped over a bucket, with a scrub-brush in hand.
    Her hair was knotted on top of her head. Her shirt loose and slipping off her shoulders. Her jean shorts were . . . short.
    I felt a stare aimed at me.
    Nikki.
    Now, she hadn’t aged one single bit. Maybe she’d gone the plastics route—not Walker-style of plastics. Botox, maybe. In any case, her tits had never been authentic. I could attest to that.
    I dipped my head in her direction. What we’d had had been about as real as her DD implants.
    Two years ago.
    Done.
    Blaize and me?
    Just beginning unless Venom dug a big dirt grave for the both of us.
    Back to the matters at hand . . .
    Blaize, scrubbing floors.
    Bent over.
    Ass in the air.
    Short shorts.
    Yeah. I still couldn’t get over that.
    Huh . Maybe Blaize was gonna be more malleable than I thought. I wanted to go up behind her and grab two handfuls of her ass before moving on to her tits. 
    Instead I lounged against the opened window and ordered all the other chippies from the room with a snap of my thumb.
    Blaize’s head snaked up.
    “Look at you following orders.” I smirked.
    Rising to her feet, Blaize squeezed a sponge in her hand like she wished it were the trigger of her sidearm. “Do not take that tone with me, Storm.”
    “What tone is that now?” I scratched my chin.
    “The lazy, no-good, good ol’ boy, gonna get him some, owns his woman tone.” Water dripped from the sponge onto the floor.
    Split-splat-split.
    I grinned, advancing on her.
    Maybe not so docile after all. That’s okay. I like gettin’ under Blaize’s skin, too.
    She launched the sponge like a missile at my head.
    I ducked.
    And suddenly remembered that instance with Justice and Tilly and the friggin’ biscuit dough in the embassy in Sana’a.
    Mating rituals.
    Rutting games.
    Blaize cursed at me, and Christ—seeing her all sassed up and dressed way the fuck down from the usual slick suits, high collars, pinned back hair—that got right to the heart of me.
    If my heart resided in my cock.
    She dug into the bucket and drew up another sponge-launcher.
    I’d take her sassy.
    I’d take her angry.
    And I couldn’t fucking wait to take her horny.
    Grabbing her wrist, I boxed her against the wall. Huh. Bare feet too. Pretty little bright harlot-red toenails. I’d figured her for fancy French manicures. She usually reached my chin, wearing those head-bitch-in-charge boots and high heels she stomped around T-Zone command central in.
    Barefoot, the top of her head reached my neck. Her breath washed over my skin, heating it. Water spilled over us from the sponge she clenched in her hand.
    My shirt was wet. Hers almost see-through from the moisture.
    Nice.
    My mouth glanced against her lips. “Kiss me.”
    “No.” She shook her head.
    “Gimme a kiss.” I leaned back enough to give her space to run.
    She didn’t.
    Green light.
    I took my time, turning her on. Keeping my body, my hunger, my need at bay. I whispered my tongue up her neck,