Forgotten & Found: A Dark & Dirty Sinners' MC Boxset

by Serena Akeroyd

  A moan escaped me as he hit a tender spot behind my ear, and it morphed into a whimper as he nibbled. After biting my lobe and sucking on it to ease the sting, he mumbled, “Hope you’re paying attention to the show, sugar tits. There will be a question and answer session on it after.”

  After what?

  That was all I really heard from his words, and even those were forgotten when he moved his hand down over my chest and cupped my breast in his palm. My hips jolted again, rocking back into him, and of course, his dick. It was there, like a brand of solid heat straight in the center of my lower back. It had to be uncomfortable squished there, but he didn’t seem to mind. I knew if one of my tits had been in that same position, I wouldn’t have been happy, but he wasn’t complaining, so I wouldn’t either.

  My vision began to glaze over as he carried on sucking on my throat. Licking it. Nibbling it. Kissing it. I was pretty much hiccupping with what he was making me feel between moaning and whimpering when he raked over a super sensitive part. His hand didn’t move from my breast, but he just brushed it softly. Reminding me it was there, warming it, but not doing anything to particularly tease me.

  His other hand slipped down to my lap and I gulped, even as I spread my legs. His fingers delved between them, right where he’d touched before, and I squirmed as he began to run the tips over that hyperaware flesh.

  I was surprised he hadn’t tunneled down the front of my yoga pants to touch skin, but again, most of this was a surprise. I’d expected to be treated roughly, crudely, and God help me, I wouldn’t have minded. But this was a thousand times better. This was something I could never have anticipated. This was exploratory and, as weird as it sounded, tender.

  This wasn’t Link.

  I knew that. Knew it like I knew my damn name. But this was for me. He was doing this for me, and God, if that didn’t make me melt and have me sinking into him all the more.

  I wasn’t used to tenderness from men. I was used to cruelty. Vindictiveness. Spite. But this? I couldn’t say it whitewashed twenty-two years of my past experiences, but it sure as hell went some way to making me realize that not every man had to act on his inclinations.

  I shuddered as he began to circle his fingers around my clit. The faint pressure, the way the tips danced over me, had me releasing a shaky breath before a sharp cry escaped me when he bit down against my shoulder.

  The discomfort and the pleasure swirled together, making my back arch as I spread my legs wider. His other hand moved away from my breast and slid down to my inner thigh, where his fingers dug into the crevice where my leg met my groin. The move was distinctly grounding, and I enjoyed it all the more when he began to rub harder against my clit. His tongue lashed at the skin he had between his teeth, and as the blood rose to the surface, I moaned as he worked me higher and higher, not stopping until I was hoarsely crying out my orgasm.

  Pleasure flooded me, spilling out of me in the noises that escaped my throat. I thrashed against him, my hands coming up, one to cup the back of his neck, the other to grip his hair, to hold him close. I needed that connection, the union, and it made me soar that little bit higher as I experienced my first orgasm that wasn’t self-appointed.

  Even as he stopped petting me, he carried on working that little sliver of flesh he had between his teeth. I knew it was going to be red, knew it would be bruised in the morning, and I didn’t care.

  Couldn’t care.

  When I looked at it in the mirror, I’d smile and remember this moment, and probably crave it all over again.

  As the sharp pleasure I’d experienced began to ebb, I slumped in Link’s arms. They moved, shifted until they were wrapped around my waist. He held me close, tight, and I let my head rest against him, my temple to his jaw as, dazedly, I focused on the show.

  I wasn’t ashamed to admit that, twenty minutes later, when he went through that whole Q&A shit, I didn’t have a clue who’d even won the ten-grand prize. I was too busy floating…not only from my climax, but from being held by a man as hard and, I knew, as brutal as a brother from the Satan’s Sinners MC.

  Giulia

  Nyx: Where are you?

  My lips twitched as I stared at the text, but my smile kinda died as I stared at Tatána who released a quiet sob that broke my fucking heart. She was on hunger strike, and I wasn’t sure why. I mean, okay, I got it. I did. But…

  Okay.

  No, I didn’t.

  I got the tears, understood her misery, but starving herself wasn’t something I could get behind.

  “Please, honey. You need to eat. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it. Anything.” God, I’d even started haunting blogs for true Ukrainian recipes. No matter what I did, she just wouldn’t eat.

  She twisted on her side, shoving her face into the pillow as she curled into a ball.

  I closed my eyes, wishing like fuck I could do something, anything, but it wasn’t like she knew me or I her. We’d both been tainted by Luke Lancaster, but by comparison, he’d merely touched my hand. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what the women had gone through. What they’d endured. And, God help me, I didn’t really want to know why Ghost had forever lost her voice, leaving behind a rasping whisper that was equal parts creepy and soothing.

  Knowing she wanted to be left alone, I moved away from the sofa where she was resting in a pile of squashy blankets and retreated to the dining table where I took a seat. This place was like the one I’d been living in with my brothers until Nyx had claimed me as his Old Lady, so I was surprisingly comfortable in it, even if it had been modified into a miserable kind of field hospital.

  The smell in the air was disinfectant, pure and simple, and I worked hard to keep things under wraps. It had become harder now that Stone was gone, but we kept in touch, and she’d shown me how to give the women injections. It wasn’t ideal, but nothing about this was.

  The thought had me gnawing on my bottom lip as I replied to my man.

  Me: Bunkhouse. Why?

  Nyx: Why d’you think?

  Me: ‘Cause you’re a control freak and you like to keep tabs on me? :P

  Nyx: Yeah. I’m all of that and more.

  He was, actually, all of that and more, but I could deal with it because it came from a good place. He wasn’t controlling me because he was insanely jealous. Possessive, sure. But fuck if I didn’t feel the exact same way about him. And this shit with Luke Lancaster hadn’t eased things for us any.

  Nyx was like a poison in my blood, only I was totally okay with not having an antidote. There was no cure to this kind of love. It burned in me as much as it burned in him, and that was something I felt honored to have.

  He was my savior, but my champion too, and in the face of what these women were going through, I felt doubly fortunate to have him at my side.

  Me: You can freak on me later.

  Nyx: I can, huh?

  Me: I need some of that Terminator dick of yours.

  Nyx: I’ll terminate something…

  Me: Aren’t I lucky?

  The door squeaked as it opened, then there was some more squeaking as the wheels to Maverick’s wheelchair connected with the linoleum. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him here, but it still surprised me. The dude, according to Steel, hadn’t left the clubhouse in years, yet here he was, visiting the women for the second time this week.

  I watched as he rolled over to Tatána who huddled deeper into herself when he murmured her name in greeting. Her response had him shooting me a look, and I just shrugged a little helplessly. She’d tried to take her life once, and I had a feeling she was just coasting until she succeeded where we’d managed to save her before.

  She needed help, psych help, but I wasn’t sure how to give that to her. Wasn’t sure how to provide something that was outside of our limitations. Medical was one thing, but psychological was another.

  I plucked at my bottom lip as Mav wheeled over to me. He eyed the kitchen, scanning over the half that contained the myriad shit I needed to keep th
e women healthy. All the packaged up needles, and the sharps containers, then the rows of vials. I didn’t understand what they contained, just knew which went to each woman and when. Then, he eyed the table and muttered, “Brownies didn’t tempt her?”

  “No.” I shoved the tray at him, silently offering him a slice. Mav wasn’t as skinny as he’d been back when I first returned to the clubhouse after years of being AWOL, but he was definitely still a little too slim for his frame. I’d seen pictures of him around the place before his discharge from the military…not unlike these women, he was a shadow of his former self. A shadow I was trying to bring back into the light.

  He clucked his tongue even as he picked up two brownies—he liked my food. I wasn’t ashamed to admit I was proud about that. A moan escaped him as he bit into the treat, and I winced when a sharp, terrified squeal escaped Tatána at the innocent noise he made.

  It had sounded vaguely sexual.

  Mav instantly froze and pushed the cake back onto the tray. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

  I gave him a sad smile. “You didn’t know. They’re so sensitive to so many things…” I shrugged. “It’s easy to freak them out.”

  Because he looked so guilty, I reached over and patted his hand. “Amara’s in no mood for visitors either.” This place was like a morgue. And it made me so uncomfortable to think that, but it was true. “Ghost will see you though.”

  It didn’t escape my attention that his eyes lit up at that. “Yeah?” he asked, like he needed my permission.

  I figured, in my own way, I was the gatekeeper. Except this gate didn’t open often. No one came here apart from me and Maverick from time to time. That was mostly because the women couldn’t handle being around men and because I didn’t trust the sweetbutts with them. Maybe Cammie, ironically enough. The one woman who I didn’t like hanging around as she’d been Nyx’s favorite before me, but she’d had to go back home for a few weeks—sick dad or something.

  “Yeah. Go on. You might cheer her up. Take some brownies. She won’t eat much, but she’ll eat some.” I put a few on a plate then placed the dish onto his lap. He grinned at me and began the short journey to the bedroom where Ghost was resting.

  From my seat, I could see into the open doors that led to Amara’s and Ghost’s rooms, so I saw Ghost twitch in bed at the squeaking noise from Mav’s wheelchair. But she didn’t flinch, which I took as a good sign, and from the low murmurs coming from her room, so low I couldn’t hear, I figured she was okay with seeing Mav today.

  Though I had to wonder why she didn’t mind him and Link but everyone else, Nyx included, made them all cower into their covers. Was it because he was in a wheelchair? She thought he wasn’t a threat? The thought pissed me off, even if I got the logic of it. Still, Mav in a wheelchair was as lethal as a regular dude who had the use of his legs. You didn’t go into the military to come out as a pussycat.

  Not that I was going to tell her that.

  Not when she actually seemed to like talking to him.

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced down at it. My pussy twanged at the sight of Nyx in our bed…

  Mouth watering, I tapped out, Don’t tempt me.

  Nyx: I was born to tempt you.

  Me: True dat. Fucccck.

  Nyx: Yes, please.

  Me: Think Mav would mind me heading out for a little while?

  Nyx: If he does, tell him I’ll make him suffer later.

  I snorted despite myself, then, with the prospect of being close to Nyx and experiencing some love and comfort and pleasure this afternoon instead of the misery of being locked up inside this room—even if it was by choice and even if it was an honor to help these women come back to their own—I got to my feet and headed to the doorway to Ghost’s room.

  “Mav?” I called softly. “You good with me heading out for about” —Thirty minutes?— “forty minutes?” Best to be on the safe side. Nyx and that cock of his should have been illegal.

  He twisted around. “Sure—” When he looked at me, he broke off, and a cocky smirk made its way onto his mouth. I narrowed my eyes at him, scowling when he stuck his tongue into his cheek. And pulsed it. Twice. Bastard. “Have fun.”

  I sniffed, folding my arms across my chest. “If you consider doing laundry fun, then you have issues,” I lied.

  “Well, something’s going to get wet. That’s for sure.”

  Okay. Point taken. Don’t lie to Mav.

  Huffing, I muttered, “You sure you’re good? They’ve had all their meds and will be okay for another few hours at least, so there’s nothing you’d need to do.”

  “I’m better than good.” His eyes softened. “Go on. Get.”

  Shooting him a grateful smile, I whispered, “Bye, Ghost.” The whispering and muttering and murmuring was the regular volume in this place. It was so like the mortuary I’d just classed it as, even if the people inside it were alive if not kicking, that it made me cringe. “See you, Amara, Tatána,” I told them, as I headed past Amara’s door and the sofa.

  They didn’t reply, not that I’d expected them to, and when I was outside, I let the sun sink into my body before I took a deep sigh and cleansed my nostrils from the stench of the sick room.

  Tipping my head back, I paused, just for a second, then I felt my phone buzz and knew that was Nyx telling me to move my ass.

  Which I did.

  With haste.

  My body was already heating up with thoughts of what he’d do to me the second I got into our bedroom, and the joy of it was that Luke hadn’t wrecked this for me. He’d wrecked the bar for me though. I didn’t think I’d be good with being in Daytona on my own again for a long while, which I hated. Fuck, weaknesses were made to be overcome, but that was just a little beyond me.

  At the moment.

  Never say never.

  I scurried into the clubhouse, rolling my eyes when I passed Steel boning Kendra—fuck, I hated her the most—on the staircase of all damn places. If I could have sprayed Lysol everywhere, I would have done. It’d need it.

  Ew.

  This place was beyond gross sometimes. I often wondered who was in need of help more—the guys or me for considering this my home.

  Rolling my eyes again at the thought, I carried on stomping my way up to my room and felt some relief when I made it to our door. I considered it a good day when I only saw one dick that didn’t belong to my man and one pussy that wasn’t mine.

  Heading inside, my mouth started watering the instant I came across Nyx. He had his legs splayed on the bed, those long, strong, muscled limbs relaxed in rest. His body was propped up on a stack of pillows I’d bought recently—as well as new bedding, a new mattress, and linens because no way was I sharing anything with clubwhores—and as the door opened, his attention veered off his cell.

  The satisfaction loaded in that one look had my lips twisting. “That sure a bet, am I?” I joked, even as I closed the door behind me, pressing my back against it as I took a second to give him a lonnnnng look.

  Trust me, there was a lot to look at.

  Not just the log between his legs, which had more metal on it than a cyborg, but everything about him. Just Nyx. Fuck, he was beautiful. Like something Michelangelo wished he could ogle as he painted my man.

  “Don’t just stare,” he groused. “Come and touch.”

  I arched a brow. “I’m showering first.”

  His eyes lit up. “Y’are?”

  “Yep. I need to wash that place off me.” I shivered a little, and his eyes softened. The arousal in them dimmed slightly, but it was replaced with a tenderness I knew he only ever showed me.

  To many people, Nyx would be considered evil. But to me? He was everything I’d never known I needed. He was the dark that made the light in me gleam a little brighter than it had before. He made me stronger. Tougher. All because he made me feel safe and, until him, I’d never felt that way before.

  Which, of course, was ironic considering Lancaster had attacked me recently, but if it was
n’t for the brotherhood of men who were linked through shed blood and broken bones, I’d have been raped or worse…been taken to that pit where Tatána, Alessa, Amara, and Sarah had existed.

  You knew shit was bad when death was welcome in the face of that.

  I pursed my lips at the thought, not liking it at all, not when I had this man to come home to. This man who looked at me like I’d put the stars in his night sky. His because he was the King of the Darkness.

  “Either get a shower or bend over the bed,” he warned, making heat flash through me. He was a gruff bastard, but you could never say he wasn’t direct.

  “Oh, yeah? You gonna make me?” I retorted, daring him when I knew that would get me fucked without the shower I really wanted.

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “I’ll do more than bend you over—”

  A giggle escaped me—the giggles were a new development, and I wasn’t particularly happy about it—and I darted off to the bathroom before he could say another word. He growled, making my heart leap as I dashed off, and I heard his feet collide with the floor and his heavy footsteps as he chased me.

  Suddenly, the excitement switched into something else.

  Something darker.

  Something…

  My throat choked and my heart, already racing, began to pound.

  Chased.

  Hunted.

  Caught.

  Tunnel vision made the darkness spread, but I’d forgotten who owned the dark.

  A rumbled, “Giulia,” and I was reconnected with the moment. With this day. With my reality.

  I caught a glance of myself in the mirror over the sink and saw I looked pale and pasty, my pupils blown, my chest galloping as I tried to catch my breath…and he was behind me. Concerned but calm.

  “I’m okay,” I squeaked, then he caught me in his gaze, and everything around me stilled.