STORY EXCERPT

Calvin

Trevor followed my line of sight. “Bikers.”

“Thank you,” I said dryly. “I was worried they were nuns.”

Jamal barked out a laugh. He wiped his forearm over his face and pointed at the building. “They here for the fundraiser thing?”

“Apparently.” I bounced the ball once and rolled my shoulders. My shirt was still in a sad heap near the sideline. I had tossed it off ten minutes in and never looked back. “Good for them. Love civic engagement. Very wholesome. Very terrifying.”

Marcus grinned. “You checking one of them out?”

Heat prickled under my skin that had nothing to do with the weather. I shot him a look then took the ball back into play. “Mind your own layups.”

“That’s a yes,” Trevor said.

“It’s a maybe,” I corrected, dribbling hard and driving past him. “Some of us appreciate facial structure. I’m only human. Tiny. Fragile. Full of eyes.”

“Fragile my ass,” Jamal muttered.

I went up for another shot. It rimmed out.

As we reset, I glanced toward the doors again, but the two of them were already inside. The place looked ordinary enough from out here. Brick building. Glass doors. Flyers taped in the window. Meanwhile, my brain had fully derailed over one handsome biker whose name sounded like he probably came with poor choices and excellent forearms.

That felt healthy.

For the next few minutes, I forced myself back into the game. My lungs worked harder. Sweat cooled where the breeze caught it. The ball slapped skin and concrete in a rhythm that helped settle me. Mostly.

Then the side door opened, and Marlene, the rec coordinator, stepped out with a clipboard tucked to her side.

She lifted a hand. “Calvin.”

I caught the pass one-handed and turned. “That sounded official. Am I in trouble?”

“Get in here a minute.”

Trevor made a face at me. “You probably are.”

“Jealousy is ugly on you,” I said, backing toward the sideline.

Dropping the ball to Marcus, I walked over and bent for my shirt. The cotton was damp where it had been sitting in the heat. I gave it a little shake then pulled it over my head anyway. Humiliating. Nothing said dignity like wrestling yourself into a sweaty shirt in public.

Marlene waited while I fixed the hem and dragged my fingers through my hair.

“What did I do?” I asked as we headed toward the door. “Because if this is about me sneaking extra crackers from the kids’ snack bins, I’d like to note that those cheddar ones are addictive and poorly supervised.”

Marlene didn’t even look at me. “You’re helping with setup.”

I blinked. “That was not one of the options I was expecting.”

Inside, cool air hit my skin all at once. My chest was still warm from the game, and the air-conditioning raised goosebumps on my arms. The lobby had that familiar smell of waxed linoleum and air that hadn’t moved in a while.

“For what setup?” Voices echoed from somewhere down the hall.

“The Howlers’ cookout fundraiser.” Marlene didn’t break stride, just shifted her clipboard to her other arm. “A few of them are here early to go over the space. I need extra hands.”

“Because I look like a man built for labor?”

“Because you’re standing here.”

That was annoyingly fair. She led me into the main room off the lobby. Folding tables were stacked against one wall. A couple of boxes sat near the kitchen doors. At the far end, the two bikers from outside stood with Marlene’s assistant, talking over a rough layout on paper.

Riot looked up first.

His gaze landed on me and held. Not in a weird way. Not in the way that made my skin tighten and my instincts start swinging knives. His eyes were light brown, warm, amused before he even smiled, and that did something strange low in my stomach.

Which was just what I needed. One more problem.

Marlene gestured with her clipboard. “Calvin can help move tables and whatever else you need.”

Mayhem gave me a short nod. Riot’s mouth tipped at one corner.

“Appreciate it,” Riot said.

His voice caught me off guard. Low, easy. Friendly. No push. No game I could detect under it. That alone made me suspicious, because clearly life had taught me all the wrong lessons.

I shoved my hands into the sides of my shorts, then pulled them back out because that made me look twelve. “Happy to be volunteered.”

Marlene snorted and handed me a set of keys. “Storage closet if you need more chairs. Don’t disappear.”

“I never disappear,” I said. “I linger. Like mildew.”

She walked away without comment.

It was just the three of us and the hum of the air-conditioning.

Up close, Riot was even better looking. He had a strong jaw, short black hair still neat despite the ride over, and the kind of face that made you think terrible thoughts in broad daylight. The cut sat easy on him, leather worn soft at the shoulders. His T-shirt pulled over his chest and arms in a way I made a point not to stare at.

I failed a little.

Mayhem folded the paper and tucked it away. “We need half of the tables outside by the side lot. Two by the doors. The rest stay in here until tomorrow.”

“Got it,” I said.

Riot stepped toward the stack of tables. “You know the layout better than we do?”

“Tragically, yes.” I moved beside him and reached for one end of the top table. My fingers brushed metal. His hand closed over the other side. “I’m sort of rec center adjacent. They use me when they run out of actual staff.”

“Lucky them.”

That came with a small smile, and I had to look down so he wouldn’t catch mine going soft and stupid.

ADULT EXCERPT

Tugging me down, he guided me onto the bed. I went willingly, letting him arrange me against the pillows. The comforter was soft beneath my back, still carrying his scent. He settled beside me, one arm braced near my head, the other tracing idle patterns across my collarbone.

His mouth found mine. The kiss was slow this time. Deep. His tongue swept inside, and I opened for him without hesitation. The kiss went on and on until my lips felt swollen and my thoughts had scattered like marbles on a hardwood floor.

Breaking away, he trailed kisses down my jaw, my throat, the hollow where my pulse hammered. His beard left a pleasant burn in its wake. My hands roamed across his shoulders, tracing the lines of muscle, the shift of bone beneath skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he said against my chest. “Every part of you.”

Heat flooded my face. “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t tell me what I have to do.” His teeth grazed my right nipple, and my words broke into a sharp gasp. His tongue soothed the sting immediately. “I say what I mean. Always.”

His mouth continued its path downward, leaving wet kisses across my ribs, my stomach, the sensitive skin just above my hipbone. My cock strained upward, hard and aching, but he bypassed it entirely. Instead, he pressed his lips to the inside of my thigh.

“There’s a very important part you’re ignoring,” I managed to say.

“Patience.” His breath ghosted across damp skin. “Want to take my time with you.”

“Your concept of time is terrible.”

His laugh vibrated against my thigh. He lifted his head and looked up at me from between my legs, and the sight of him there—lips reddened, eyes dark, beard slightly mussed—nearly undid me on the spot.

“Bossy,” he said.

“Starving.”

His mouth closed around my erection before I could get another word out.

Heat. Wet heat and pressure and the slide of his tongue along the underside of my cock. My back arched off the mattress, a sound tearing from my throat that was half moan, half his name. His hand pressed flat against my stomach, holding me in place while he worked me deeper.

The world narrowed to the pull of his mouth, the rhythm of his head bobbing, the occasional scrape of teeth that danced right on the edge of too much. My fingers twisted in the comforter, knuckles going white. His name fell from my lips in fragments, broken syllables that didn’t form anything coherent.

He pulled off with a wet sound that made my face burn. “You taste good.” His voice came out rough, scraped raw. “Could do this all night.”

“Please don’t.” My hips bucked involuntarily. “I’ll die.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” He dipped back down, his tongue tracing the vein along the underside before taking me deep again. One of his hands slid lower, cupping my balls, and the dual sensation sent a jolt straight through my nervous system.

My thighs started trembling. Pressure coiled low in my stomach, building with every stroke of his tongue. My breathing went ragged, my chest heaving.

“Close,” I gasped. “Riot, I’m—”

He pulled off immediately, leaving me aching and desperate. A whimper escaped before I could stop it.

“Not yet.” He pressed a kiss to my hip. “Want you to come with me inside you.”

“Then get inside me.”

His laugh was low and rough. He reached toward the nightstand, rummaging through the drawer before producing a small bottle. The cap clicked open, and the faint scent of something slightly floral reached me.

“Sit up,” he said.

I pushed myself upright, leaning back against the pillows. Riot poured lube onto his fingers, warming it between his palms. Then his hand was between my legs, his slick fingers circling my entrance with gentle pressure.

The first finger slid in slowly. I forced myself to relax, to breathe through the stretch. He watched my face the entire time, reading every flicker of sensation, adjusting his movements accordingly.

“Good?” he asked.

“More.”

A second finger joined the first. He worked them deeper, slower, crooking them until they brushed against something that made my vision blur. My hips jerked, and a sound escaped me that was entirely involuntary.

“There.” The word came out strangled.

His mouth curved. He stroked that spot again, and my legs fell open wider. A third finger pushed in, the stretch bordering on too much but somehow still not enough. He scissored them gently, opening me up, taking his time despite the tension coiling in every line of his body.

“Ready,” I said. “Now. Please.”

Withdrawing his fingers, he shifted onto his knees between my legs, and for a moment, he just looked at me. His gaze traveled from my face down to my chest, my stomach, my cock leaking against my belly.

“So fucking gorgeous.” The words came out reverent. “Can’t believe you’re here.”

“Believe it.” I reached for him, pulling him down on top of me. His weight pressed me into the mattress, solid and grounding. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heels digging into his ass. “Now fuck me before I lose my mind.”

“Bossy,” he said again, but he was lining himself up, the head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

The first push stole my breath. He went slowly, inch by inch, letting me adjust to the stretch. My nails dug into his shoulders, leaving crescents in his skin. His forehead dropped to mine, his breath coming hard and fast.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

He pushed deeper until his hips met mine and he was fully seated inside me. Full. I felt impossibly full, stretched around him, every nerve ending singing with the pressure. He held still, giving me time to adjust, but I didn’t need time. I needed him to move.

“Move,” I said. “Now.”

Pulling out almost all the way, he thrust back in. The drag of his cock against my walls sent sparks racing up my back. Again. He did it again, setting a slow rhythm that was simultaneously perfect and torture.