The Notorious Devils MC: Complete Collection BoxSet

by Faiman, Hayley

  “I know Bates Lukin. I’m dating his sister,” he says in a rush.

  West doesn’t hide his guffaw, which makes Kyle turn around. I assume he’s glaring at him, but West doesn’t give a fuck. He’s a good kid— a little older than most of my prospects, which is maybe why I like him so much—and he has a good head on his shoulders.

  “I’m thinking Sniper might not like the fact that you hit his baby sister, then tried to pimp her out for your personal gain,” I announce.

  Kyle’s head snaps around and his face pales.

  “Yeah, prick, I know all about you,” I grin.

  “Then you know who my father is?” he asks, arching a brow.

  “Yeah, know who he is, but I don’t give a fuck. See, just because he’s some big shot attorney, it doesn’t mean jack fuckin’ shit to me. You hurt a woman, which is despicable enough, but you also hit a woman who is under the protection of the Notorious Devils, which pretty much seals your fate.

  “Then, you tried to pimp her out against her will. Honestly, she told me what a shitty fuck you are, so all that combined—not giving a single fuck who your daddy is.”

  “You’ll regret anything you do to me,” he says.

  Narrowing his eyes, high on his mighty horse, unknowing that he and the horse are about to fall—six feet underground he snorts.

  “Doubt that. In fact, I think I’m going to enjoy it a fuck of a lot,” I grin.

  I walk over to the table, lucky that West is a smart fucker. The only sounds I hear are muffled. Kyle has been gagged, the little pissant.

  “Did you arrange the car?” I ask as I gather a knife and pliers. I’m going to keep it pretty simple tonight.

  “Already burnt to a fuckin’ crisp,” West murmurs.

  “The body?”

  “Blasted the face a few times with a shotgun, so no dental records,” West shrugs.

  I nod and hear Kyle whining behind his gag. I look over to him and see that he has tears streaming down his face. I haven’t even touched the fucker yet—pussy.

  “So everybody will think one of your father’s recently released from prison, convictions, killed you. Then, he killed himself, leaving the shotgun right next to him. It’s funny how shit like that happens, you know? Oh, and when he killed you, he did it in your car, and then he lit the expensive fucker on fire,” I shrug, walking back over to him, tools in hand.

  Kyle shakes his head, and I watch as his pants change color, darkening, due to the fact that he’s just pissed himself.

  “He just piss himself?” West asks, wrinkling his nose.

  “He’ll probably shit himself, too. Brace yourself,” I chuckle.

  I study the prick, thinking about which way I’m going to torture him. I’ve done disembowelment, I’ve pulled fingernails out with pliers, same with teeth. I’ve sliced men up, watching them bleed out slowly. None of these seem to be quite appropriate enough for pissant Kyle.

  “You need to leave, West,” I say. He shakes his head.

  “No, I think I’ll stay,” he grunts. “He’s a douchebag and needs to get what’s coming to him for hurting your woman like that.”

  My brows snap together at his words. My woman. Mary-Anne is that. She is; and though, right now, I’m disappointed in her, it doesn’t make me want her any less.

  I still want justice for her, and I still want to fuck her, and a part of me wants to claim her as my Old Lady, too.

  We’re something, the two of us—something short of a fucking disaster, but I’m drawn to her like no other woman I have had in my fucking life.

  “Stand him up, drop his pants,” I order.

  West grimaces before he does exactly what I’ve said, and Kyle lets out a muffled scream. I look at his minuscule, flaccid cock and shake my head.

  Poor Mary.

  I think about cutting it off, but I decide I’ll do that last. I set my knife down and then grab a metal baseball bat in the corner.

  “Bend him over that bench,” I grunt, pointing to the bench that sits in front of me. West nods once and does what I ask.

  “This is going to hurt like a fuckin’ bitch, Kyle. But you hurt my Mary, and I can’t have that.”

  I take the large end of the bat and press it against his puckered asshole. He screams and his body shakes, but I don’t stop. I didn’t get my road name because I was a fucking saint.

  I shove the bat up his ass and I don’t feel the least bit guilty about it, either. I probably should, but I can’t seem to find a shit to give about any part of him.

  Chapter Nine

  MADDOG

  I leave West to dispose of the body. I tell him to call in the other prospects for help, but he shrugs and says he has it handled. Kid fucking held his shit together tight and proved his worth with me. He still has a few months left to prospect, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s already a Devil.

  I ignore the party as I walk past all the pussy, booze, and smoke that fills the room. I’m on a mission, a mission to my Mary-Anne.

  I walk inside of my room and see her body curled up beneath the sheets of my bed, her black hair cascading down behind her, lying on my own pillow. Just one look and I sigh.

  This is right.

  She is right.

  I make my way to the shower, needing to wash Kyle’s blood off of me. After I sodomized him with the bat, I sawed off his dick, then his nuts, with a rusty blade that I had, leaving my regular one off to the side. Then I disemboweled him.

  Sick? Yeah.

  Wrong? Sure.

  I didn’t feel guilty. He had no qualms about whoring Mary-Anne out, a woman he claimed to love. He also hit her, something I couldn’t just let slide.

  Now, he’s no longer a threat.

  Once I’m finished with my shower, I slide behind Mary in bed, my naked body pressing against her back as I slide my hand along the side of her hip, under her top to her waist, and up to cup her breast. I press my lips to the side of her neck as I knead her soft, supple tit.

  “Max,” she sighs before she rolls over to face me.

  Her eyes are puffy and rimmed with red. She’s been crying, and the evidence causes something inside of me to crack. It actually fucking hurts that she’s been crying, and I know that it’s because of me.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

  “Nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetness,” I murmur, cupping her cheek and wiping away a fresh tear that rolls down her cheek.

  “I did coke, and I haven’t done that since high school, and I acted clingy and crazy.”

  I smile down at her.

  “Don’t give a fuck if you want to do a little blow when we’re partying, sweetness. More concerned with the fact that you thought I’d get tired of you and throw your ass out,” I murmur quietly.

  I can hear the bass from the music at the party, but my focus is Mary. Her breath hitches and it’s so slight, so quiet, that had I not been completely and totally focused on her, I would have missed it completely.

  “I’m so fucked up,” she whispers.

  I slide my hand from her face, down her neck and along her side. Then I tug off her little shorts, leaving her completely naked from the waist down.

  I press my lips to hers as I wrap my hand behind her knee and spread her leg out and up before I align my dick with her sweet pussy, slowly, I sink inside of her.

  “We’re all fucked up, Mary,” I inform her. I watch as her back arches with the slow thrust of my hips. “Keep those pretty blue eyes on me.”

  “Baby,” she whispers.

  The sound goes straight to my fucking cock. She lifts her hand and wraps it around the side of my neck, her thumb tracing my bottom lip.

  I don’t speak. There are no words needed. She’s fucked up, but I am, too. I’m a sixty-year-old man entering into a relationship with a woman less than half my age, a woman who obviously has daddy issues, a woman who has been abused her entire life.

  Yet, here I am, sinking inside of her tight pussy and asking her to move in with me.

&n
bsp; MARY-ANNE

  I look into his eyes as he takes me. It’s slow and sensual, sweet even. It’s the second time he’s taken care with me in our short time together, and yet, it feels like so much more than just sweet sex.

  It feels like our relationship is shifting, even more than it has. We’re something, the two of us, but we’re more, too. It’s so jumbled in my brain.

  I just know that I don’t want him to leave me, ever. I’ve never felt this way before in my entire life, and I never want it to end.

  “You gonna come for me?” Max asks, his jaw tight as his eyes penetrate mine.

  “Yes,” I breathe as I lift my hips to meet his.

  My fingers tighten around his neck, digging into his skin as my body topples over and I climax beneath him. Max thrusts into me a few more times, a little harder with each pump of his hips, until he freezes, his eyes still focused on mine. He groans with his own release before he presses me into the mattress with his limp body weight.

  “Mary, no more crazy thoughts, okay,” he murmurs against my neck, his cock still moving inside of me with slow strokes.

  “I’ll try,” I say.

  “These bitches are fucking cunts, sweetness. You cannot let them get to you. I’m yours, you’re mine, and that’s all that matters,” he says, lifting his head and looking into my eyes.

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s get some sleep. You’re coming home tomorrow,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to mine before he starts to get up.

  I wrap my arms and legs around him to keep him from moving off of me.

  “Want your cock inside of me longer,” I whisper.

  “Mary,” he says, his eyes roaming my face. I squeeze my pussy around him and he groans.

  “Love this cock, Max. You feel so good inside of me,” I admit.

  He grunts but stays planted inside of me until I fall asleep.

  Maybe I’m insecure and immature, maybe I’m just a sack of crazy—but maybe, just maybe, I’m exactly where I need to be and with the man I’m supposed to be with.

  A man who is rough but kind.

  A man who doesn’t take my shit, but in a way that I feel safe with him, no matter what.

  A man that I can truly be myself in front of.

  * * *

  I walk inside of the little yellow house, and I sigh. It looks nothing like Max, inside or out. It’s a sweet, quaint house with a white picket fence and everything.

  I can tell the last woman who lived here was Eleanora, and for some reason, that makes me extremely uncomfortable.

  She was his wife for fifteen years, and I’m walking into her home; a house that hasn’t changed since her death, almost thirty years ago.

  “I’m not here much,” Max admits, looking around.

  I nod, unsure of what to say, feeling as though I want to go back to the clubhouse, back to his shitty room there, instead of living in Eleanora Duhart’s home.

  A home she shared with Max. The home Fury was raised in, a house that obviously holds a great deal of memories.

  “You hate it?” Max asks, looking at me, his brows furrowed in concern.

  “I don’t hate it. It’s a very nice home,” I murmur, because it truly is. It just holds nothing of Max and everything of Eleanora. I’m not sure I can even have sex here.

  “Tell me what it is,” he urges, oblivious as to why I might have a problem living here.

  “It’s all Eleanora,” I whisper, looking at my shoes.

  I’m afraid to peek up at him, to see his reaction, thinking that he’ll probably get upset, maybe even angry with me.

  Max steps into my space, one of his hands wrapping around my waist, the other cupping the back of my neck, squeezing it gently.

  I tip my head back to look at him, then his lips brush mine. He lifts his head and just stares at me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my face, his jaw hard and his eyes almost narrowed.

  “I fucked up again,” he murmurs. I don’t say a word, my eyes widening. “Should have had this place cleaned out before I brought you here, a clean slate for us.”

  “Us,” I breathe, the word sounding so damn good on my lips.

  “Yeah, sweetness, us. I own the house outright, so I don’t see a need to sell it and get into debt again. But that doesn’t mean it has to stay exactly as is. I should have cleared it out, all of her things, for you,” he murmurs, the intensity on his face and in his eyes never changing.

  “I don’t want to erase her, she was your wife,” I whisper, lying.

  I’m totally and completely lying my ass off. I’m so jealous of the woman, a dead woman who was his wife, who had him for fifteen years before I was even alive.

  “Can’t erase her, Mary. She was part of me, and she’s Pierce’s mother, but she’s not here anymore. You are, and I want you to make this a home for us to share,” he murmurs.

  “Share,” I breathe.

  “You can remodel it anyway you want. I’ll have some of the guys clear out the furniture this afternoon to get started.”

  “Max, I—that’s crazy, you don’t have to do anything today,” I mutter.

  “Need my sweet Mary happy and comfortable so that she’ll never leave me,” he whispers before his lips touch mine.

  I open my mouth and he groans as his tongue slides between my lips and fills me. Max starts to walk, backing me up against the closed front door, and then I feel his cock grind against my belly button.

  “Max,” I sigh.

  “Not gonna fuck you right now, just needed a taste. Needed to remind you that you’re mine, you’re with me, and I’m with you,” he murmurs as his lips trail down my neck. My fingers dive into his hair, and I grip the soft strands.

  Max releases me and tells me to take my things upstairs. He assures me that the closet is cleared of Eleanora’s clothes, and that it’s just empty and waiting for my things.

  I’m grateful that he’s not held onto her clothes for thirty years, because I don’t think I could ever cope with that.

  I’m hanging up my new purchases when my phone rings. I look down and am surprised to see that it’s Kyle’s father. I furrow my brow and decide to answer, since he’s never been anything but kind to me.

  He’s been standoffish, maybe a bit uptight, but he’s always offered a smile when he’s seen me, and he’s never been downright rude to me.

  “Hello?”

  “Mary-Anne?” he asks on the other end. He sounds frazzled, unlike his usually cool tone.

  “Mr. Clark, this is Mary-Anne. Are you all right?”

  “I just. I need to tell you something very disturbing.” I nod as though he can see me, and then I sit down on the floral comforter. “Kyle was murdered yesterday.”

  I gasp, unsure of what else to say. I didn’t love Kyle. Hell, I didn’t even like him, but dead? I never expected that.

  “I know you two were on the outs, but I thought you should hear it from me before you saw it on the news. It was someone I fought to convict,” he whispers. My heart aches for him.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Clark,” I mutter.

  “It was very brutal, Mary-Anne. The man is no longer living, either, but just in case there are more, always stay vigilant, dear girl,” he advises before ending the call.

  I stare at the light gold shag carpeting. It’s awful, but it’s not what I’m thinking about. I’m thinking about the fact that Max said more than once that Kyle was as good as dead; that he was going to kill not only him, but my father as well.

  I should be scared, maybe even angry, but I’m not.

  I don’t feel anything at all.

  Maybe I am crazy.

  “What’s wrong, Mary?” Max asks standing at the doorway.

  “Kyle’s been murdered,” I say, turning my head to face him.

  Max’s face is completely emotionless, staring at me as if he’s waiting for me to say something else.

  “You did it, didn’t you?” I finally ask.

  “No clue what you’re talking about, sweetness,�
� he says. His face stays completely impassive, his voice almost robotic.

  “Max,” I breathe.

  “Coupl’a the boys will be here in about thirty with their old ladies and some trucks. I’d like you to meet some of the women,” he announces.

  “Max, we need to talk about this,” I practically shout.

  “No, Mary, we don’t. I’m sorry your ex-prick, who abused you and tried to pimp you out, died. He was a fuckwit and it doesn’t surprise me that someone wanted him gone. He was a piece of shit.”

  “It was you,” I mutter, looking right at him, my eyes focused on his.

  I watch as something flickers beneath those blue eyes, and then he nods before he walks over to me. Standing right in front of me, he buries his hand in the back of my hair and forces my head back, my neck arching to look up at him.

  “You know the kind of man I am, Mary. You know the kind of man I am because you know the kind of man your brother is. You didn’t want Sniper to get in trouble, to get caught hurting this bastard, and I respect that a hell of a lot. Like you said, he’s been through e-fuckin-nough. But you gotta know, sweetness, that I’m not going to just let a man like Kyle roam freely in this world. Not after the way he treated you, not after you agreed to be mine,” he growls.

  He sounds feral, and as much as I want to be angry with him, it doesn’t stop my nipples from pebbling and my pussy from pulsing with want.

  My next move is something I do out of instinct, without a single thought. I lift my hands, my eyes still held captivated by his, and I reach out for his belt. I unbuckle it, then unbutton his pants and slowly pull his zipper down.

  “Mary,” he grinds out.

  I bite my bottom lip as I shove his jeans down to his knees, then I slowly peel down his boxer briefs.

  I flick my eyes down to look at his cock and see that it’s hard. Wrapping my hand around him, I gently stroke him a few times. The hand that’s gripping my hair moves my head down and forward until my lips are on the tip of his dick. I kiss him before I swipe my tongue along it.

  “Don’t fuck around, sweetness,” he grinds out. I look up through my lashes to see a vein jumping in his forehead.