Rowdy: A Scorched Souls Spinoff

by C. L. Riley

  Dressed in a body-hugging, lace gown with little sparkles that resemble stars, she truly is a vision to behold. For the first time ever, she’s wearing something that showcases her amazing figure. She’s left her hair loose with a glittering crown as the focal point, once again reminding me of royalty.

  There’s no veil so I have a perfect view of her face. Those sky-blue eyes are enough to undo me all over again. The way she watches me from her perch on the motorcycle tells me everything I need to know.

  I fucking made the best decision of my life.

  I will never regret what it took to bring us together. Even though it involved me almost dying to end up with a woman like Trina, I’d do it all over again.

  When she finally smiles, it is like the sun has risen to wipe out the darkness. Her radiance brightens the room more than the twinkly overhead lights. I need her off the bike and in my arms.

  Now.

  Someone upstairs must have got the memo, because with the help of her escorts, she slips off the Harley without a hitch. She keeps her gaze trained on me, while her third biker attendant shakes out the dresses’ train, keeping a straight face in the process.

  I’ll remember to thank him later. I’m sure he doesn’t make a habit of fluffing wedding gowns.

  The men glance at Boone before sliding into the front row pew; one gives me an approving chin lift I mimic before extending my hand to Trina, who seems to float the last two steps toward me.

  When she looks up to study my face, I notice how her eyes have grown damp, and her lower lip trembles. I reach up and rub my thumb across her mouth, earning a soft smile that sends shivers spiralling through my entire body.

  My little temptress looks deceivingly innocent, dressed in white. I suspect she is well aware of how distracting she is in her gorgeous gown.

  Damn. I’m definitely marrying up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today...”

  I half listen to the officient as he recites words he’s likely repeated hundreds if not thousands of times before. I’m too lost in Trina. Watching her watch me is a spiritual experience all in itself.

  “Rowdy, do you take Trina to be your wife, in sickness and health, for better or worse, until death do you part?”

  I bring her hands to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I do. Without any doubts. I do.”

  The mist in Trina’s eyes is finally released. Tears trail down her cheeks, but she never looks away...my brave, brave girl.

  “And you, Trina, do you take this man to be your lawful wedded husband, to cherish in sickness and in health, for better or worse, till death do you part?”

  A glowing smile is her first response, stilling my nerves. I guess I expected her to run when she realized she truly was pledging her life to a devil in disguise. Her next words tell me she either doesn’t see my forked tail and horns or she’s chosen to ignore them.

  “I do. I fucking do.”

  Our officient’s jaw drops, but he immediately recovers and continues as if my demure bride didn’t just cuss like a sailor in the midst of her vows. I know she did it especially for me. It’s my turn to grin.

  Olympia places a ring in Trina’s hand; Boone follows her example. I fist the family heirloom and give him a quick nod, overwhelmed with a tempest of emotions as I slide the ring over Trina’s waiting finger; both our hands tremble in the process.

  I never dreamed I’d be handing over my grandmother’s most prized treasure, but I just did, and it looks damn good on my queen.

  When it’s her turn, I almost expect the band on my finger to feel like a chain around my neck. Only it doesn’t. And I don’t have time to consider that stunning revelation because it’s time at last to kiss my bride.

  “May I present to you Rowdy and Trina, husband and wife.” We decided to leave last names out of the equation for now, considering I’ve been going by Richards, it just seemed easier.

  All names are forgotten anyway as Trina tilts her head and reaches around my neck. There is no reason to keep my wife waiting. I kiss her like she means the world to me, because she does.

  The applause and hoots from our little audience sound far away. Only when she leans in to whisper in my ear do I fully grasp the wedding gift she has for me.

  “You’re serious?” I can’t believe what she’s suggesting.

  The gift becomes all the more real when she reaches around and fiddles with her train. Olympia hurries over to help. Seconds later, her gown has morphed into a white lace mini dress. She takes off her crown. Olympia accepts the glittery piece as well and holds up a leather jacket. Trina shrugs it on.

  Before I can blink, Boone gives me a slap on the back and hands over a dome. One of his guys offers one to Trina, who accepts without hesitation, struggling to get it secured over her rampaging curls.

  Everything is happening at hyper speed. I can barely catch my breath.

  I’m married, something I never could have predicted even in my wildest dreams, and I’m about to test my ability to ride again―right now.

  “So, we’re gonna do this?” I say to no one and everyone.

  “As your nurse and your wife, I think it’s the perfect time. If you disagree, I understand.”

  I glance at the pristine bike and back at Trina. “Whose ride are we stealing?”

  “It’s yours. A wedding gift from all of us, Demon mostly. In fact, Demon bought it for you a month after the explosion. He was just waiting for the right time to give it to you. Some of Boone’s guys customized it and have been keeping it garaged. Olympia was the one who suggested we do this tonight.”

  I turn to look at the woman I thought would be riding with me someday. She leans into Boone and shoots me a half smile half smirk. “I knew there’d come a day when you were ready to ride. Thought you might like to take your wife on one before you spend your next few days shacked up in a hotel room.”

  Trina laughs at the innuendo, the sound is like music, making the moment even more extraordinary―more magical.

  “Fuck. Okay. Let’s ride!”

  And we do.

  With Trina pressed against my back, arms wrapped around me, her head, resting against my shoulder, and the wind on my face, I’m the happiest fucking guy in the world.

  The night is warm. The lights are bright. And my injuries are just shadows of their former darkness.

  I still have aches and pains, and my hand is sore after my morning round with the punching bag, but my head is clear and my dick is hard. Just thinking about Trina writhing naked beneath me has me ready to punch through my pants. I think it’s a good time to introduce my ol’ lady to sex on the back of a Harley. By the way she’s grinding against me, I have no doubt she’ll be onboard.

  Heading out of the city, toward Red Rock Canyon, I let myself embrace the flood of happiness that roars through every cell in my body.

  I won’t let anything or anyone steal this new feeling from me. I’ll die to protect the woman I married, the woman who didn’t give up on me, the woman who got me back in the saddle, able to maneuver the mechanical monster below us with the same level of assurance and expertise I had before my injuries.

  She kisses my neck and squeezes me tighter; her hand trails down, cupping me. I groan, but the wind and rumbling growl from the Harley steal the sound. But neither can stop my cock from swelling. I thought I was hard before...

  Yep. Definitely time to pull over.

  My little minx is going to keep me happy tonight. I don’t have to be a prophet to predict what the rest of our night entails. Plenty of sex with the woman I love; not even riding my new bike can compare with how I’ll feel buried deep inside her.

  With my craving to posses Trina guiding me, I lean to the right and take the next turn up a dirt road, leading into the desert. She moves in perfect sync, like she’s been riding for years.

  It hits me hard. My first, perfect moment is in progress.

  I’m literally in the middle of a moment I intend to embrace for as long as it will let me, because I
know the truth. Moments like this don’t last forever. Reality will return with renewed vengeance.

  A reality filled with violence, blood, and betrayal.

  But tonight, this moment is all about us.

  Trina

  “Why are we stopping?” Considering I was creeping up on an orgasm, thanks to the incessant rumbling between my legs and the way my breasts felt smashed against Rowdy’s back, I’m disappointed.

  For someone who has always regulated “motorcycle riding” to the “likely never happening” category in her brain, I’m pretty much blown away by how quickly I’ve been seduced by the Harley, which is almost like an extension of the man operating it with such passion and precision.

  I don’t see any evidence of his injuries or any lacking confidence in relation to his driving ability. But I doubt he’d tell me even if he was hurting. Mr. Tough Guy.

  A giggle escapes, and my husband—husband, holy crap—growls at me. “Something amusing you? I knew there was a reason you needed a spanking.”

  I try to remember what he told me about getting off the bike. With his spanking comment, distracting me, I grab his shoulders and take a shuddering breath before performing what could only be scored as a big fat zero for my lack-of-grace dismount.

  Feet on the ground, I wobble sideways in an effort to tug down the short version of my wedding dress. Like my creeping lust, it has once again crept up my thighs, reaching a very inappropriate level and coming dangerously close to revealing my barely-there panties.

  Rowdy notices my dilemma and chuckles while swinging his leg over the bike and dismounting with all the grace I was lacking. He stands there, staring. Minus the devious chuckle, he’s quiet, contemplative even, making my pulse rate quicken and my excitement elevate. He evidently has a specific reason for our sudden stop.

  The Nevada landscape is as contradictory as he can be.

  Thirty minutes back, and I’d find lights blinking, music blaring, and people from every imaginable corner of the earth broadcasting their woes or wins to the strangers around them. Thirty minutes further and we’d be in the middle of a national conservatory.

  We’re on the outskirts now. It might seem isolated, but I know people camp out here to escape the city. But my husband doesn’t seem at all worried about anyone interrupting whatever it is he has in mind.

  Rather than revealing his reason, he stalks around me, circling like a predator, sizing up its prey. It isn’t the first time he’s given off the whole predator/prey primal vibe. In his case, it both thrills and scares me, in a good way.

  I take an unsteady step away but don’t get far. He’s on me so fast, I squeal. He doesn’t give me a chance to make another sound, covering my mouth with his. His big hands hone in on my ass, pushing the lacy fabric I just pulled down back up.

  In spite of the warm Nevada night, a spattering of what feels like raindrops against my heated skin, make me shiver. It’s not rain but the gentle brush of Rowdy’s finger tips as they trail over my bottom, which is basically bared to the elements, thanks to the thin strip of fabric resting between my butt cheeks.

  He has to pry his mouth from mine to stop our kiss. A disappointed groan escapes as I start to stumble again. He grabs my shoulders and leans down until we’re nose to nose.

  “You’ve been teasing me all day, trying to make me give in. Waiting was important. Now that you’re my wife, we don’t have to wait for anything. I’m gonna bend you over the bike and paddle your perfect little ass. Then I’m gonna fuck you on the same seat you just rode on. After that, we’ll head to our hotel and spend the rest of our night with me worshiping your body...oh, and I believe you have unfinished business on your knees. If you’d prefer something different, now is a good time to tell me. I can be flexible.”

  I can’t talk. But I manage to nod.

  “Is that a yes?” He cocks his head and smirks.

  Hoping to gain back a crumb of the control I handed over, starting during our before-sunrise shower, I slip from his grasp and move to the motorcycle.

  Bending over, I rest my elbows on the seat and arch my back, giving him a good view of what he can’t wait to spank. Once in position, I look over my shoulder and gift him with the best come-hither expression I can manage, including a flutter of lashes.

  His eyes widen then narrow, and he’s behind me before I get a word out.

  “You bad, bad bride,” he taunts, shoving my skirt up, over my hips, letting it settle around my waist. “Better hold on.”

  Knowing Rowdy’s tendency toward kink, I heed his warning and ready myself for the first, stinging slap.

  But he surprises me, gliding his palm over one globe before moving to the next. He runs his finger down the crease, following the fabric line.

  In spite of what he’s planning, I find myself relaxing under his tender caress.

  He pauses, dipping his fingers underneath the thin slip of fabric before pulling it from its hiding place. A second later, he releases it, letting it boomerang back with a snap. I gasp; not so much in pain but more in shock. Before I can process what he just did, I feel his warm breath on my bottom.

  I wait, unsure what to expect next, which is what he wanted all along...me at his mercy, waiting, trembling, anxious for his touch.

  “These panties are so pretty, but there’s not much to them. It’s almost a shame...” he lets his words trail off and grabs the scrap of fabric with both hands. A quick tug, followed by a brief tearing sound, and my most expensive and most miniscule underwear are part of the Nevada landscape.

  He runs one hand over my ass in a soothing, circular motion. With the other, he reaches for my hair, wrapping a fistful of curls in his grip. I’m panting now, eager for more.

  His grip tightens at the same time his other hand stops stroking and smacks my ass...hard.

  I hiss, biting down on my lip, tasting pennies. But I refuse to cry out or scream.

  My pledge is quickly forgotten as he continues to spank me, one steady swat after another, with only a few seconds between each, leaving me little time to catch my breath. Every crack of his palm triggers a burning streak of pain and pleasure, making my legs quake.

  I’m no longer quiet, moaning, crying and begging, making sounds that surely don’t come from me, but I know they do.

  “Let yourself go, babe. You’re so beautiful.” His voice has turned husky and deep, and he’s no longer able to hide his own arousal.

  Understanding my submission has unravelled a man like Rowdy is what sends me flying over the cliff, where I half float, half fall, into an uncharted abyss. Pain and pleasure are one and the same, and I’m lost to a whirlwind of sensations as my womb melts, sending one pulsing crest after another despite the fact there is no penetration.

  Rowdy realizes what’s happening and releases my hair. He grabs my ass with both hands and fills me in one, smooth thrust. I don’t remember his cock being anywhere in the picture, but I’ve never been happier about missing a detail.

  “Your pussy, fuck Trina, fuck, its perfect.”

  It’s not just his approval but the way he struggles to speak that ignites a second wave of fire, deep in my core. I clamp down, over and over, giving my body free reign. Losing control has never felt better.

  “I’m gonna come. Can’t stop.”

  “Don’t stop,” I command through my cries.

  He swells and stills, and then his cock jerks and his body shakes as the first surge of liquid heat erupts inside me. With my name on his lips, he empties himself, giving me everything I’ve ever wanted and exactly what I’ve always needed.

  A man who can love me and satisfy me—I’ve won a prize far bigger and better than any Vegas jackpot. I intend to enjoy my winnings until, as our vows stated, death do us part.

  Rowdy

  I’m not sure why I allowed my half-brother to drag us to a Soul Scorchers’ party the evening following our wedding vows and everything else we enjoyed after we said, “I do.”

  My body aches, in the best of ways, from a
night of firsts—first marriage, though getting married didn’t cause any pain, physical or otherwise; first time back on a Harley since the explosion; first time a woman swallowed...

  Trina twirls away from Olympia, until she’s facing me, meeting my gaze and momentarily interrupting my internal assessment.

  She and Olympia have hijacked the attention of just about everyone not involved in their own private sex-capades. The two of them have been playing up to each other, owning the dance floor.

  Even the hired strippers surrendered to the fact they were being out-danced and are now off the poles and shaking their surgically enhanced bodies for fun, making a few single bikers very happy with the up close and personal treatment.

  While Trina’s been dancing, I’ve endured countless congratulations, high-fives, and warnings about becoming too pussy-whipped. And, of course, most of the well-wishers insisted I join them for a straight shot to celebrate. I’m starting to push against the line between drunk and too drunk, something that rarely happens anymore. I learned my lesson years ago, but tonight it has been difficult to resist, an exception for good reason. I’m a married man.

  Trina has no doubt passed the line as well. Thankfully, Boone planned for us to cut loose and is keeping an eye out for any potential problems, but considering our elopement was quick and private I’m not expecting any.

  Trina blows me a kiss before letting Olympia and a group of local club girls pull her back into their circle. It’s good to see the ol’ ladies, mixing with the club girls and strippers for once; everyone drinking, dancing, and having a good time together, with no cat fights brewing.

  Boone catches my attention, shooting me a look, a silent question, asking how I’m holding up. It’s amazing how we’ve become so in tune since discovering our relationship status, not even a year ago. Brothers...who would have believed it?

  The Soul Scorchers’ and the Hells Guardians’ presidents are fucking half-brothers.