Curvy Temptation by C.L. Cruz
Chapter 5
Ranger
Thatnight,MaxandWillowmoveintothevacantcottagebehindtheclubhouse.TheprospectandIhelpthemgetsituated,andashardasitistotearmyselfaway,Igivethemprivacy,retreatinguptomyhouseinthewoods.
But it’s a restless night. I can’t stop thinking about how close she came to having to use that gun, and I don’t like being so far away from her now where I can’t take care of her. I’ve never felt this way about a woman, especially in such a short amount of time. But I’ve been around enough—in the military and as President of the Raging Angels—to know that when it’s right, it’s right.
It’s about seven o’clock in the morning when I get a security alert on my phone that shows her and Max leaving, Max with his Paw Patrol backpack on. She’s probably taking him to school, and I have to stop myself from racing after her. Instead, I climb into a cold shower in an attempt to get myself under control.
It doesn’t work.
All I can think about is her round ass in that skin-tight jean skirt she was wearing on the security camera. Her soft and pliable lips against mine. That little noise she made when my tongue stroked hers. What kinds of noises will she make when I taste that sweet pussy? I imagine her hands twisting in my hair, her whimpers of pleasure, and I grow unbearably hard beneath the spray of the shower. Fisting my cock, I stroke it hard, and it’s her name that I growl when I spill my cum across the tile walls.
Once I clean up, I get dressed and head up to the clubhouse just as the sun is beginning to peek over the hills. I try to focus on work, setting up runs for some of the guys and checking in at the shop, but as the minutes tick by with no sign of Willow, I begin to grow anxious.
Finally, just before lunchtime, her junky Volvo appears at the gate. She parks by the clubhouse, the car out of place in the row of motorcycles, and gets out. I watch her from my spot in the garage, my dick rising again at just the sight of her. She looks so good. So pure. She’s temptation personified, and I want to devour her.
Almost without knowing I’m doing it, I cross the parking lot toward her. She pulls some plastic grocery bags from her back seat, that denim skirt pulling tight across her ass. When she straightens, she spots me, and her sweet round face cracks into a smile.
“Hey,” she says in greeting like we’re old friends. Like this is just any other day.
I jerk my head at her. “Where’ve you been?”
“I had to get some things for Max’s school. They’re having a bake sale,” she says as we walk toward the clubhouse door, holding up the plastic bags. “And I applied for a few jobs at some places I noticed were hiring. I need to be able to pay my way, you know.”
Holding open the door for her, I let her in first. “I’m not taking your money.”
“Well, how about some cookies?” She places the bags on the kitchen counter and starts unpacking the contents—sugar, cinnamon, butter, flour.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she interrupts. “It’s important to me that I support myself—that I contribute—even if it’s just by making and sharing some baked goods. You’ve been so good to Max and me, and I want to do something for you too.”
“The house is nothing fancy,” I argue.
“It’s clean and safe, which is better than we had a day ago. Besides, you said you had a sweet tooth.” She smiles at me and I cave.
“That works,” I agree, mostly because I can tell she needs it. Because I’m right—the house isn’t fancy. It’s the bare minimum that she should have for her and her son. And the more time I spend with Willow, the more I’m determined to give her everything she deserves, and she deserves a hell of a lot more than the bare minimum.
Even though I’ve never baked anything in my life, I take off my cut, hang it over the back of a chair, and start helping her unpack while she preheats the oven and digs out some baking sheets.
“What’s all this?” Lux appears, summoned by the sounds of someone messing around in her kitchen.
“This is Willow,” I explain, gesturing between the two women. “Willow, this is Lux.”
Willow smiles charmingly and holds out a hand to the older woman. “Good to meet you.”
Lux looks a little suspicious but shakes her hand anyway. “How did you get him into the kitchen?” she asks, tilting her head toward me.
“With the promise of cookies,” Willow answers.
“He always has had a weakness for sweets,” Lux says, leaning against the counter and looking a little impressed despite herself. “I’m not much of a baker myself.”
“Me neither,” Willow says. “But when my kid asks for snickerdoodles for the bake sale, I make snickerdoodles for the bake sale.”
Lux never had kids of her own, but she’s always on me and the guys to give her some babies to spoil, so she latches onto the mention of Willow’s son. As the two talk, I realize that Willow has won Lux over as easily as she won me over, and that’s saying something. We’re two of the most suspicious, vigilant people in this place, but there’s something about Willow that draws us in. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and that honest vulnerability brings out our protective instincts.
“A hairdresser?” Lux is saying. “I know some guys around here who need a trim.”
Willow smiles over her shoulder at me as she starts mixing ingredients. “This one in particular, but he won’t let me touch the beard.”
Lux shakes her head, leaning against the counter. “That’s true. I haven’t seen his chin since the day he first walked into the clubhouse.”
I shrug. “When I put my uniform away, the razor went with it.” I had to keep a clean shave for years while serving in the military. Years when I was bossed around and regulated and told what I could and couldn’t do. Growing out my beard felt like a pretty big statement back then, and it’s been a point of pride ever since, a symbol of my independence.
Eventually, Lux heads out, giving me a stern look softened by a small smile on her way. “I see you’ve finally taken some of my advice,” she says, patting my arm. “Don’t ruin it.”
“I’ll do my best,” I promise as the door shuts behind her.
Willow ropes me into helping her roll the little balls of dough into the cinnamon-sugar mix. Other members of the club come and go, but most of them steer clear of the kitchen, which is separated from the rest of the clubhouse by a swinging door. The television comes on in the other room, and I hear Gunner at the bar, pouring himself a beer, and someone else racking balls at the pool table, but Willow and I are in our own little world back here.
“Is Lux your mom?” she asks as we work.
“The closest thing to it,” I answer. “I never had much of a family, not until I joined the Angels.”
She nods. “I didn’t either, not until I had Max.”
“What about his dad?”
Waving her hand dismissively, she says, “We were high school sweethearts gone wrong. He took off a while back to parts unknown, taking all our savings with him. I hated him for it at first, but now, I realize it’s the best thing for us. As hard as it is sometimes, I’m glad I get to build this new life and a new family with my son.”
“It doesn’t have to be hard,” I say. “Not anymore.”
She slides the cookie sheets into the oven and straightens, turning to face me. “I’m so grateful to you, Ranger, but I can’t be dependent on someone else again.”
I hook a finger in one of her belt loops and pull her closer. “I’m not talking about being dependent on me,” I tell her. “I’m talking about building something with me.”
Her hands press against my chest and she gazes up at me, her dark eyes soft and shining. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” I say in a low voice, lightly kissing her forehead, then her cheek, then her jaw. “I know you’re caring, and kind, and a good mom.” My hands slide down to squeeze her ass, making her giggle as her head tips back, giving my lips access to her neck. “And so damn sexy.”
I lift her onto the counter and step between her legs. Cupping my face in her hands, she pulls my mouth up to hers for a long, deep kiss. Just like yesterday in the park, the whole world fades when her lips are on mine. All the voices, all the chaos, all the madness. She makes it all go away.
My hands slide up her legs, beneath the hem of her skirt, and higher, until they brush against her cotton panties. She gives a little gasp, but instead of pushing me away, she spreads her legs, her skirt riding up her thighs to give me easier access. I press my thumb against her clit, and she leans her forehead on my shoulder, her breaths ragged with arousal.
“Lean back,” I tell her. “I want to taste you.”
“Oh, my God, Ranger.” She blinks up at me, gnawing on her bottom lip, her cheeks flushed. “I don’t normally do this kind of thing.”
“Well, I fucking hope not,” I growl, pressing her back onto the counter.
She leans back on her elbows, and I prop her feet on my shoulders as I push her skirt up the rest of the way. But she still doesn’t entirely relax. “What if someone comes in here?”
“If they do, I’ll kill them,” I say, pulling aside the crotch of her panties to reveal her soaking wet slit.
“Why do I get the sense you mean that literally?” she asks.
I hand her a dish towel. “Here, to muffle your screams. You don’t want someone’s death on your conscience.”
She opens her mouth to say something else, but all that comes out is a small mewl of pleasure as I push a finger inside of her tight channel. I lower my face between her legs and circle her clit with my tongue before sucking the swollen bud between my teeth. She stops fighting me then and instead digs her heels into my back as she falls back, eyes closed, mouth open.
That’s all it takes for me to lose myself in her sweet pussy, tasting and licking and sucking like a man starved. Her legs begin to tremble around my ears but I don’t stop. I don’t know if I can stop. She lifts her hips and I slide my hands under her ass, giving myself a better angle to devour every inch of her.
“Oh, Ranger,” she gasps, and I love the sound of my name on her lips. “Oh, my God.”
From the other side of the door, someone laughs. There’s the clinking of glasses, the sound of pool balls clacking together. But none of that matters. All that matters is Willow and her pleasure.
Her fingers twist in my hair. “I’m coming,” she whispers hoarsely. “I’m—” She cuts herself off, pressing the dishtowel against her mouth as she cries out. Her hips buck against my face and her juices flood my mouth, but I don’t stop, not until she goes limp, lying flat against the counter, panting hard. Only then do I stand up again and grab her hands, pulling her up to kiss her hard enough that she can taste herself on my mouth.
“Delicious,” I groan against her lips.
The timer on the oven goes off then, surprising us both.
“You have impeccable timing,” she says with a laugh.
I help her off the counter and watch as she straightens her skirt. Her face is red and her hair is messy, and I decide I love that just-orgasmed look on her.
As she pulls the cookies from the oven, my phone dings with a text, and I pull it out of my pocket, glancing down at it.
It’s all arranged. I’ll have the paperwork ready for you tomorrow.
I smile, satisfied. This is going to work out after all.
“What is it?” she asks, looking up from the cookies. “You look like the cat who just ate the canary.”
I smirk. “More like the biker who just ate the—” She shoves a cookie into my mouth, and I chew, laughing. “Delicious,” I say around a mouthful of warm, cinnamon-sugary goodness. I pull her in for another kiss, and when we separate, I give her a little hint. “I’ve got a surprise for you, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to see what it is.”
“Ooh, a surprise,” she coos. “How exciting.”
We plate the cookies, saving half of them in a Tupperware container to take to the school. She nudges the kitchen door open with her hip, taking the rest of them out into the clubhouse for the guys. Just as she’s putting the cookies down on the counter, the door to the clubhouse slams open, and Max appears, followed closely by Ash, our prospect, who I sent to wait for the kid at the bus stop to make sure he got here safely.
Willow kneels to hug her boy, handing him a cookie as she does. “How was school?” she asks.
“Great,” he says, crumbs spewing from his mouth. “I told everyone that I’m living with a bunch of motorcycle guys. They didn’t all believe me, though.”
I lean on the counter and cross my arms. “We’ll just have to show them someday then, won’t we?”
His eyes go wide. “You mean it? Could you take me to school?”
“It’s up to your mom,” I say, tilting my head at Willow, who looks horrified at the idea of her kid on the back of a motorcycle. I get it—it’s something that will take some getting used to. Laughing, I change the subject. “Did you see my playset outside?”
“Yeah.” He bounces over to the back door. “Can we go play on it?”
“Hell yes.” If it had been anyone else, my answer would have been a resounding no. The president of the Raging Angels doesn’t play on swingsets. But I’m quickly learning that I’m a sucker for this kid and his mom, and anyone who has an issue with it can kiss my ass.
“Did you do your homework?” Willow calls after us.
But Max is already gone, and I’m right behind him.