Scary Hot: An Until Series and Club Alias Series Crossover Read online

  “Well, from what I’ve seen, she’s a fighter. Have you told her about the kind of… stuff you’re into?” He eyes me over his beer bottle before taking a swig.

  “I haven’t exactly hidden it. But I haven’t come right out and had a conversation about it either,” I tell him, and he nods.

  “I can see it going one of two ways. Either it’s going to speak to that sweet, submissive side I saw in her when y’all first met that night at Momma’s Country, or her feisty side is going to come out and she’s going to make you her bitch. Hope you’ve got lots of lube, bro.” He cackles.

  I join in his laughter, not hating the idea of Kayan being in control. What would it be like to let such a small morsel of a woman hold all the power over me in bed?

  If what I’m feeling about her is anything to go by, it wouldn’t be so bad. Wouldn’t be so bad at all.

  9

  Kayan

  A few days later and it’s the weekend. We’ve fallen into this surreal, happy routine, much to my surprise. I’ve held my sass in check after taco night at July’s, even after finding Z in the same spot every evening when I get home from work—sprawled on my couch and watching TV.

  The first day, I asked him—nicely—“Don’t you work? How are you always here when I get home?”

  “I’m a mechanic at the club’s motorcycle shop. I make my own hours, so I’m able to get here a little while before you do to make sure it’s safe for your arrival,” he replied, and I instantly melted by the front door.

  We’ve entered this getting-to-know you phase, and I actually really love it. He took it to heart when we got home from July’s that night and I told him I needed to slow things down. Combined with my totally awkward rambling while we had sex that first time, when I was trying to cram information about him into my brain, all while he worked my body like he had a cheat code to all my secret buttons.

  But the more I learn about him, the more I want him. To the point where I’m using my detachable showerhead—more than once—daily. His scent, his all-consuming presence, fills my little house, and I don’t hate it. Not one bit. This place is back to being my safe space, all thanks to him.

  We watch movies every night, discovering The Fifth Element is both of our favorite movie of all time. We quote it to each other randomly, even through texts while we’re at work, and I giggle like a damn fool every time.

  And not once has he pushed me to get physical again. I’ll lay my head in his lap while we lounge on the couch, and he plays with my hair or scratches my back, but he never so much as tries to grope me.

  And. It’s. Making. Me. Crazy!

  I know, I know. I’m annoying my damn self with my conflicting thoughts. I want to take things slow, loving that he’s willing to do what I wish. But at the same time, all my body wants is to wrap around him and ride him like his damn Harley he forces me on. Which I also begrudgingly enjoy.

  Everything inside me that’s always been a defiant, impudent—let’s face it—asshole since I moved out of my parents’ house, where I was forced to play this annoying role of the perfect, rich princess, Z douses like he’s a freaking fire extinguisher. And at first, when I found it super aggravating, I now admittedly love it. He’s good for my blood pressure, it seems. And the more time we spend together, the calmer I feel inside my usually over-thoughtful brain.

  The only thing I wish would change is his vagueness. While he doesn’t mind answering any questions I have about his past and who he is as a person, he’s super secretive about anything that deals with the motorcycle club or day-to-day happenings. He’ll share all about work, what he had for lunch, stuff like that. But if ever he gets a call from one of his biker brothers—or so I assume—and has to leave for a few hours, he finds a way to change the subject. He’s so perfect it makes me wonder: is that really who he says it is on the phone, or does he have some other chick he’s running off to see?

  I know that’s just my past experience rearing its ugly head. But it really irks that part of me that has to know details. I can’t help it; I’m a Virgo.

  Tonight, there’s a party at the compound. I’m excited to go, because maybe I’ll be able to snoop a little, ask his friends some questions, and maybe they’ll give me more information than what Z is willing to open up to me about. I mean, I don’t think their club is into anything too bad. There’s no way July would be okay with being in a relationship with someone who does illegal shit, and Wes seems to be a little more open with her than Z is with me. When I asked her about this, she chalked it up to Wes being the club president and not having to get approval from anyone else what information he divulges.

  I’ve showered and put on my thong and bra, and am just inside my bathroom, blow drying my hair, when Z walks into the bedroom. He stops in his tracks when he sees me, bent over and blowing the underside of my hair dry. I watch him from upside down as he closes the door then leans back against it, crossing those huge arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles. His biceps bulge, the tattoos seeming to dance as they flex, bared for my viewing pleasure.

  I can feel my knees tremble, wanting to buckle at the mere sight of him, but I force myself to play it cool, flipping my hair back as I stand up straight. Running the brush through my long strands, I face more toward him so he can have a view of my front, hoping he’s admiring where the scalloped edge of my lace panties hugs me just right. Or are his eyes following the not-so-subtle wobble of my breasts as they practically spill over the top of my black push-up bra?

  I refuse to look at him. I’m the one who said I wanted to take it slow, so now I must suffer the consequences. But I can feel his eyes on me, burning me even from the distance between us, and it makes my core melt for him. All I can do is hope that his control snaps. All he has to do is step in my direction and touch me. Just one skim of his hand along my flesh, and I will make it perfectly clear that this whole sex ban has been lifted.

  Concentrating on my hair, the dryer is so loud I don’t hear his approach. My heart thuds inside my chest as I first feel his overwhelming heat at my back, and then my eyes meet his in the mirror. Still, he doesn’t touch me, and I bite my bottom lip for control. One step backward and I’d be pressed against his rigid muscles and hard planes.

  Even with all the different fragrances in the bathroom—my shower gel, shampoo, and conditioner, then my coconut oil and lotion, plus the heat protection spray for my hair—it’s his natural scent that now intoxicates my senses. I close my eyes and breathe it in, rocking back and forth on my feet as I continue blowing my hair.

  Suddenly, the brush is taken from my left hand, and my eyes snap open just in time to watch Z take the dryer from my right, and all I can do is brace my hands on my vanity as he takes over the job. One corner of my lips quirks upward as his movements are awkward for the first few swipes of the brush, but clearly he’d been watching my technique, because he soon picks up the movement I always use. He drags the brush down the strands, the dryer chasing behind it, over and over until that section is smooth and no longer damp.

  The tension builds to an unbearable level as he finishes up his work but still hasn’t actually touched me. Just the air from the dryer and the occasional soft scrape of the brush’s bristles along my scalp have graced my flesh. It drives me absolutely mad. My breath comes in sharp pants as I lean against the sink, and I startle when the dryer shuts off, the silence in the small room making my ears ring as he sets it on the vanity and unplugs it from the wall.

  I chance a peek at him in the mirror, and his eyes blaze as they meet mine. His nostrils are flared, and the muscles in his arms are rigid. He stares into me as he pulls the brush through my locks, and I can’t help but feel he’s trying to tell me something with that look. No, not tell… ask. Maybe it’s just my hopeful imagination, but it’s as if I can hear that look pleading for permission. To do what, I don’t know, but I answer it with a tiny nod, just in case I’m imagining things.

  Clearly, I’m not, because the moment he sees that I granted him per
mission, his body goes lax for a split second before he takes the half a step forward and wraps his left arm around me, pulling me flush against his giant frame. I sigh in relief at the contact, and a shiver runs through me as he strokes the brush’s bristles down my arm.

  His arm bands around my ribs, pushing my breasts even higher in the black bra, and I watch his eyes flare in the mirror as he watches them move with each of my heavy breaths. He shifts to the left slightly, and the flesh he bares of my backside prickles with goose bumps. The bristles are dragged up over my right shoulder then halfway down my back before they stop, and I see his questioning look once more.

  I’m not dense. I know Z is into some kinky shit. I’ve overheard Wes picking on him for it. But he didn’t do anything crazy the first time we made love, and he hasn’t tried anything since. So I don’t know exactly what he’s wanting to do to me with my black plastic paddle brush, but I do know I trust him with my life and that he’d never hurt me.

  So again, I give him the little nod he’s obviously waiting for.

  Moving his left hand upward, he tilts my head to the right, moves my hair out of the way, and buries his face in my neck as he breathes me in, making me shiver in delight as his beard scrapes my sensitive skin there as the bristles of my brush do the same, going lower, and lower still, until he circles my exposed ass cheek. Just as he nips my neck between his perfect white teeth, I squeak and jump as he flips the brush around and swats my butt with the backside.

  He glances in the mirror to see my reaction, and all he must see there is my flushed cheeks and the need in my eyes, because as he turns into my neck again, he strikes my ass once more, a little harder this time. I gasp at the sting, but as the prickly, hot sensation spreads up my spine and down my legs, I moan, the sound echoing off the bathroom walls.

  “You like that, kitten?” he growls, and the vibration of his voice just adds to the already palpable tension surrounding us.

  My whimper and frantic nod isn’t enough. He rumbles, “I need your words, Kayan. I need you to tell me you’re okay with this, and promise me you’ll speak up if you don’t like something.” He circles the right globe of my ass with the brush as he waits for my response, driving my need even higher.

  “I promise, Z. Plea—” I cut myself off. He didn’t say he wanted me to beg, just that he wanted my promise. I’ve read enough dirty books and seen all the Fifty Shades movies enough to know not to do more or less than what a Dom specifically asks for, unless you want to be left high and dry, without an orgasm in sight.

  But Z must not follow these rules, because he asks, “Please what, kitten? Tell me what you want.”

  I meet his eyes, not in the mirror, but by actually turning my head to look him in his gorgeous, chocolate orbs. “You, Z. All of you. I want you to do to me everything you desire. No holding back, worried I won’t like what you do. Because I can guarantee, if you’re the one doing it to me, I’m gonna like it. Like… really, really like it.”

  He closes his eyes and groans, and I feel the stinging swat of the brush against my ass cheek one last time before he tosses it in the sink and picks me up, carrying me to my bed.

  Z wastes no time. He grasps my thong and tears it down my legs, diving forward and burying his face between my legs. I cry out in shock at the sensation that’s just this side of too much as he sucks my clit between his lips, and he pulls back, looking up at me. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, it’s just… I’m super sensitive,” I confess, my cheeks flaming.

  He props himself up on his elbows, glancing between my pussy then my eyes. “And why are you so sensitive, my little one?”

  I shudder as he calls me his, even as my body grows hotter with embarrassment at being caught. “I… I used my… my showerhead while I was getting ready for the party.”

  He groans once again, this time against my now-throbbing core. “Thinking of what, kitten?”

  My hips circle, enjoying the scratch of his beard between my thighs. “Not of what, Z. Of who. And it was you. Always. Fucking. You,” I tell him, and that’s all it takes. He opens his mouth and places it over my pussy, his hot breath soothing me for just a moment before he sucks my puffy lower lips, making my eyes roll back in my head as I scream his name.

  He pulls back a moment to ask, “Does this mean you finally want to give this thing between us a chance? Do you want to give us a try?”

  The hope in his eyes is my undoing. “Yes, Z. Dear God, yes. I don’t want to fight it anymore. I just want you,” I reply, and seeing that hope turn into joyous relief, I can’t help but smile down at him.

  He sets back to it, working my body like he wrote its manual. His light laps at my clit and the gentle nibbles around my entrance drive me mad, to the point my eyes no longer see and my ears are ringing.

  Ringing.

  Ringing.

  Wait…

  That’s not my ears ringing.

  That’s my freaking phone!

  I sit up abruptly, but he doesn’t stop his ministrations. I’m panting as I reach for my cell, where it’s plugged in on my nightstand. July’s name flashes across the screen, and I know she’s wondering why we aren’t at the party yet.

  “Hello?” I answer breathlessly, just as Z does this magical thing with his front teeth, and I moan into the phone.

  The connection goes dead, but I couldn’t care less as he nibbles along my folds.

  “Did you really just answer your phone in the middle of this, kitten?” he growls against me.

  “I’m sorry. It’s a compulsi— ohhhhh,” I moan again, tossing my phone back on the nightstand as I grasp the back of his shaved head. “Please, Z. I need you.”

  He grants me mercy, standing up from the bed long enough to peel off his clothes in record time before grasping my ankles and flipping me over in one swift move. He takes hold of my hips and pulls me up on my hands and knees, placing a kiss where the brush must’ve left a pink mark on my right cheek. My skin prickles as he bites me there, my elbows almost buckling as he comes up on his knees behind me. Cock in hand, he runs it up and down my dripping slit, and when he’s fully planted inside me, his big, rough hand slaps my left ass cheek, the sensation overwhelming my every sense as I buck against him.

  “Oh, God! Yes, Z. More,” I pant, lowering myself to my elbows and lifting my ass higher to his needed assault.

  That’s all he seems to want to hear, as he pounds into me and I’m suddenly lost in the glorious feeling of his cock filling me over and over while he slaps my ass, never in a pattern, so I can’t anticipate his next move.

  Soon, I’m screaming into my pillow, crying out with my orgasm as I try to breathe between squeals of pleasure. And with one… two… three more thrusts, and one last shaky squeeze of my hips as he holds me to him like a vise, I feel him spill inside me, his hot cum soothing the walls of my battered pussy.

  He collapses to the side, taking me with him as he wraps me up in his giant arms. And the last thing I remember is giggling when he breathes into my hair, “Hell of a party.”

  10

  Z

  Time passes by in the blink of an eye. It’s been weeks, maybe a month, since the night Kayan said she would give us a try, and it’s been fucking perfect—well, almost. When her parents called one night, she put them on speakerphone—expecting me to join the conversation after what should’ve been a happy introduction—and told them about the man she was dating when her mother asked if she had met anyone since the last time they talked. From what I gathered, the answer to that question was usually a resounding no.

  But instead of being happy she’d finally replied yes, they grilled her, trying to pull every detail about me out of her that they possibly could, so I stayed silent. Everything my kitten said in her proud and impressed voice that puffed up my chest seemed to dig me deeper and deeper into a hole of not good enough.

  “He was in the Navy” was rebuked with “Oh, so he didn’t go to college?” “He’s a mechanic at a motorcycle shop” was reprimand
ed with “So he depends on commission. You don’t want to live paycheck-to-paycheck, dear.” Getting emotional, when she told them “He’s protective and treats me like a queen,” even I had to look away, my eyes feeling strange as they teared up for the first time in decades. Their response—“Of course he does now. But what about when he gets bored of you like all the others, darling?”—was the final straw. Cutting Kayan off before she could fire back, I calmly took the phone out of her hand and disconnected the call, ignoring the several tries her parents made to call her back.

  After that night, making love to her until she forgot all about her parents, I came up with a plan. Which leads us to this moment, in my truck, driving across the North Carolina state line from our town in Tennessee. I’d show her exactly how someone should be treated by their parents, but before we made it to South Carolina, I had one stop to make, a treat for my kitten.

  “Okay, I can’t stand it anymore, Z. You’ve gotta tell me something,” she whines, and I finally give in.

  “We’re making a pit stop near Ft. Vanter. My buddy from when I was in the military is part owner in a club there, and I want to treat you to a night out.”

  She tilts her head curiously. “A club? Like a dance club? Aren’t we a little old for that?”

  I chuckle. “No, kitten. Not a dance club.”

  “Ugh! Quit doing the vague thing. What kind of club is it?” she gripes.

  I take a breath, hoping she doesn’t react badly, because I really, really want to experience my friend Corbin’s club with Kayan. Nothing on earth could possibly be better. “It’s an alternative lifestyle club.”

  Her brows furrow. “An alternative lifestyle…. Z, honey, call it what it is. You’re taking me to a sex club, aren’t you?”

  Well, at least she isn’t freaking out. “Technically, it’s called a BDSM club.”