Reaper's Property Read Free

my two hands
around those arms, and thick thighs I wanted to squeeze…and maybe lick.
    He got off his bike and walked toward me,
eyes holding mine hostage. I felt a startling flush of warmth between my legs.
I’d gone a long time without feeling sexual at all, to be honest. The last few
years with Gary had been frustrating at best and painful at worst. But
something about the way this biker swaggered, taking up space and the very air
around him with his presence, caught me off guard and knocked me right in the…
    Well, you know.
    My nipples hardened and I swayed a little
as he stopped, reaching out with one finger to trace my collarbone from my
shoulder inward, then running it down between my breasts, grazing the sides. He
raised it to his mouth, tasting my sweat. He smelled like motor oil and sex.
    Holy shit.
    “Hey, sweet butt,” he said. That broke the
spell. Sweet butt? What the hell kind of guy called a girl he’d never met
something like that? “Your man here? We need to talk.”
    I scrambled backward off the table, away
from him, nearly falling off in the process. The music stopped abruptly, and I
glanced away from him to see that one of his buddies had reached into my car
and pulled out my car keys. He put them in his pocket. Uh oh.
    “You mean Jeff? He’s in town,” I replied,
trying to compose myself. Shit, should I have admitted I was alone? I really
didn’t have a choice. I mean, I could have said I needed to go get Jeff from
inside and then locked the door, but the trailer was thirty years old. The
deadbolt had been rusted shut since I was a kid. Not to mention that they had
my keys. “Why don’t you wait out here while I call him?”
    The big man studied me, his face cold and
expressionless. I couldn’t be entirely sure he was human, I decided. More like
a Terminator. Unwilling to hold his gaze, I let my eyes drop to his vest. Beat
to hell, black leather, lots of patches. One of them caught my attention in
particular, a bright red diamond that had a number one with a percent sign next
to it. I didn’t know what it meant, but I was pretty sure I wanted to get into
the house and put on some more clothing.
    Maybe a burkha.
    “Sure thing, babe,” he said, straddling the
table’s bench and taking a seat. His friends sauntered over to join him.
    “How about a drink, girl?” one of them
asked, a tall man with short dark hair and startling blue eyes. I nodded and
walked quickly toward the trailer, using every bit of my self-control not to
break into a run. I heard them laughing behind me. Not a friendly laugh.
    Thankfully, Jeff actually answered his
phone on the first try.
    “There are some guys here to see you,” I
said, peeking out through the kitchen window, careful to keep the faded
curtains decorated with pictures of little flying vegetables closed. “They’re
bikers. I think they might be dangerous. They look like murderers to me, but
I’d like to think I’m crazy on this one. Tell me I’m being paranoid, please.”
    “Fuck…” Jeff replied. “That’s the Reapers
MC, Marie, and they don’t fuck around. Do what they say, but don’t get too
close to them. Whatever you do, don’t touch them or talk to them unless they
talk to you first. Don’t even look at them. Just stay the hell out of their
way. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”
    “What’s an MC?”
    “Motorcycle club. Stay calm, okay?”
    Jeff hung up on me.
    Now I was really scared. I’d expected him
to laugh at me and tell me they were just harmless guys who liked to ride their
bikes and play badass. I guess this was the real thing. I ran into my room and
pulled on a baggy t-shirt I liked to sleep in. I dropped my shorts and put on a
pair of capris, pulling my long, dark-brown hair back into a messy bun. A quick
look in the mirror was enough to convince me that I was worrying too much—they
might have been crude and suggestive toward me, but I was no man’s dream girl.
I had dirt smudges on my face, my nose had burned