Reapers and Bastards: A Reapers MC Anthology - Wylde Joanna (лучшие книги онлайн .txt) 📗

“Maybe for the good of humanity we should call it quits?”

“No way,” he said, pulling me into his body for a hard kiss. My insides heated and I guess I wasn’t totally sober after all, because I felt absolutely no inhibitions.

A car sped by and someone shouted, “Cops are coming!’’

Boonie dropped me abruptly. Down the street I saw the flash of blue lights.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” he asked, glancing around. “Over here.”

I followed him into the alley behind the fence. The yard had a gate, but it was locked. Not a problem for Boonie—he caught the edge of the fence and jumped, boosting himself up and over. Seconds later the gate opened from the inside. I ran through right before the squad car turned down the alley. Boonie slammed it shut behind me, and we both leaned back against it, panting.

“Are they looking for us?” I asked, confused.

“Doubt it,” he replied. “I mean, they always target the club, but I’m thinkin’ they just want to clear out downtown.”

“What the hell happened? Did you see anything?”

“Yeah,” he said. “There was a biker outside the bar. The cops were givin’ him shit, and then some guys in the crowd started arguing with them. By the time I realized what was happening, the biker was already gone. Still not quite sure how it turned into a riot.”

I glanced at him sharply. “Was he one of your friends?”

“Nope. Never saw him before and he wasn’t wearing club colors. All happened pretty damned fast. I think the cops panicked.”

Beyond the fence more lights flashed. We heard the police car pull into the alley, then it stopped and the lights went dark. I heard the crackle of the cop’s radio—he’d parked there. Crap.

“So now what?” I whispered. “I think we’re stuck here.”

Boonie shook his head, lifting a finger to his lips but it was too late.

“You hear something?” a voice asked. Suddenly a flashlight hit the other side of the fence, narrow strips of light shining through the cracks in the boards. I gasped. In an instant, Boonie caught me, covering my mouth with his hand.

“Boost me up,’’ said another man. “I’ll look over the top, maybe I’ll see something.”

Boonie let my mouth go, holding my gaze intently. As the cops shifted just inches from us, he jerked his chin behind me. I glanced around to see an overgrown lilac shrub—it was more than big enough to hide us . . . assuming we could reach it.

Fortunately we’d been in this situation before.

Not with the cops, of course. But when we’d been kids we’d had a far more terrifying nemesis.

Granny Blackthorne.

Twice a week she baked bread for her family, which she’d set out on her back porch. She also put out cookies, cupcakes, and even the occasional pie.

Looking back, it’s obvious that she was leaving the food for the kids in the trailer park. Most of us had enough to eat—at least during the school year, when we could get free lunches at school—but a lot of it was cheap, prepackaged shit. Not long after the worm incident, Boonie had judged me worthy to join his raiding party. Because I’d been a cute little girl, they’d used me as bait. I’d pick a handful of wildflowers, then go knock at Granny’s door. After a few minutes—her hearing wasn’t so good—she’d answer and I’d hold them out, offering my best gap-toothed smile and lisping about how much I liked her roses.

It was my job to keep her talking as long as possible, while Boonie and the boys went raiding. I’d wait for the signal and then run off to get my share of the booty.

She never caught on to us—or so we assumed—but no matter how much we stole, she put out more. Along the way, we’d developed a whole secret language of elaborate hand gestures, winks, et cetera, because you never knew what might happen during a highly dangerous food raid.

Now Boonie blinked at me twice in the old pattern.

Back up.

The cops were talking again, then I heard a flashlight hitting the boards. I nodded understanding, taking two steps backward as Boonie guided me. He caught my hands and lowered me to the ground. Seconds later I’d scooted silently into the safety of the shrub. Boonie followed, crawling over my body just in time.

Behind him—through the leaves—I saw the cop peering over the fence, shining his light into the back yard. Boonie looked down on me, his body heavy as we lay perfectly still.

“You see anything?” the cop asked his partner.

“Nope, looks clear.”

The man grunted as he dropped back down, his radio crackling again. I became more aware of Boonie’s weight pinning me in the darkness. His legs tangled with mine, reminding me of that afternoon in the woods above the trailer park.

He’d been heavy on me then, too. Now his hips pressed down and his mouth dropped over mine.

I wanted to protest—the cops were less than five feet away—but he didn’t give me a chance. He nipped at my lip, then shoved his tongue deep inside as I gasped. My head started to spin as he kissed me, taking advantage of the fact that I couldn’t risk making a sound.

When his hand trailed down my side, sliding between us to catch my thigh, I started getting nervous. When he pushed my leg out to grind his pelvis into me I felt something like panic, knowing there wasn’t much Boonie wouldn’t dare.

How far would he take this?

Farther than was comfortable. His cock pushed into the softness between my legs and like always, the chemistry between us was instant and powerful. He shifted, his erection rubbing against my clit. For long minutes he swiveled his hips slowly, pressing me back into the dirt as fire raced up my spine.

I wanted to strain against him but I couldn’t—he was already being so reckless, so crazy. No matter what I did, I’d risk making noise. Not that they had any reason to arrest us.

Not any legitimate reason.

But not half an hour ago I’d watched the police beating people with clubs, people just like me—and that was in front of witnesses. What would they do here in the dark, where nobody could see them?

Boonie pushed up on one arm, still holding my lips captive as he reached down to catch my shirt. Then his fingers caught my left nipple, pinching it lightly and tugging as his hips kept their steady rhythm.

We heard thudding footsteps as a group of people ran by, the police parked beyond the fence racing to meet them. Someone screamed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything.

Boonie wasn’t so inhibited.

Taking advantage of the distraction, he lifted his hips and reached down to unzip his pants. Then he pulled up my skirt and I felt my ass hit the bare dirt.

I really needed to stop wearing skirts.

Seconds later his fingers slid inside me and I’m embarrassed to admit how wet I was already. (Okay, make that stop wearing skirts and invest in some serious granny panties, because these thongs weren’t providing any protection at all.)

His thumb found my clit as his fingers hit my g-spot. I arched my back, and I would’ve cried out if he hadn’t caught my mouth with his again, swallowing the sound.

Overhead lights flashed and outside the fence people shouted. I hardly even noticed, because Boonie pulled out and grabbed his cock, lining it up with my entrance.

Then he pushed inside.

Looking back, it’s hard to keep all of it straight. I know the chaos around us seemed to be moving away, but I could still hear the police radio on the other side of the fence. Boonie’s strokes were steady and smooth, not to mention so achingly slow that they were torture. I pushed my hands down into his jeans and cupped his ass, urging him to go faster. He ignored me, maintaining his pace as more people ran by. The chemistry between us had always been insane, but this time it was explosive and by the time I came, he had to cover my mouth with his hand to keep me silent. At the last minute he pulled out, blowing his wad on my stomach as the fireworks were still exploding in my head.