Bloodlines: Sin City Outlaws (Book #5)

by Forgy, M. N.

  Entering the Outlaws’ club, it’s crowded with lots of people wearing leather. The smell of pizza replaced with cheap perfume, weed, and beer. The floor creaks beneath my flip-flops, and I notice it’s clean. New even. I look around the place and notice it’s all new. It was rebuilt after it exploded with Gatz inside. The baby kicks, and a sadness knots in my chest. Maybe coming inside wasn’t the best idea. Everyone disappears, the brand-new interior turning gray and charred as ash and flames fall around me like confetti. It’s as if I’m re-seeing the explosion the day it happened. Clenching my eyes shut, I will it all to turn back to normal. To hear the music, and smell the easy women, and see the men wrestling around.

  Opening my eyes, breathing heavily everything is as it was, as if there never was an explosion here.

  Trying to take my mind off the loss of Gatz tugging the strings of my heart, I stifle a whimper and look around.

  Mac could get laid here with a snap of his fingers, makes me wonder if he’s holding out for me or just coming down here. I don’t want to think about it actually.

  Everywhere my eyes look there’s something to make them widen with disbelief. I’ve worked with outlaws of every kind, but I’ve never gotten a peek behind the mask of their lifestyles before. Even when I lived with Kane, what I got to see was limited and strict. This though… is unreal. It’s exciting, and I never want to return back to my room. I could stand here all night and watch everything. Like a wallflower at prom night.

  Sex is everywhere. A girl taking turns on two men with their bare cocks out sitting on the pool table, two women are making out on the bar, and there’s a man in ass-less chaps walking around without a care in the world. It’s a whole other world in here, and nobody seems to care of the carefree atmosphere.

  A young man sitting behind the bar stares intently into a textbook. He looks out of place. His wavy blondish hair and sharp face lined with light stubble makes him appear ruggedly good looking. His shirt is missing the sleeves and is hanging off his shoulders to where you can see his hard chest.

  “You must be Simone!” A man with red hair steps in front of me. He’s tall, and lumberjack looking. My eyes catch his name on his leather cut. Machete. That’s not scary at all. I feign a smile and hold my hand out to shake his. His eyes seem glued to my belly though, and I shift uncomfortably.

  “Hey, keep an eye on her? I’m going to go grab a beer,” Mac demands rather than asks the tall man. I swallow, my hand reaching out for Mac but missing by inches. Lips tight with a smile I look back up at the man.

  “I’m Machete, I was close with Gatz, not Kane,” he bluntly puts it. Gatz never mentioned him, but I sadly didn’t get to do much pillow talk with Gatz.

  “Nice to meet you,” I holler over the music. He grins and turns to a man trying to talk to him over the loud music.

  “That’s Bishop,” Machete points to the man I was staring at.

  “He seems young to be in here,” I shrug. God, I’m already starting to sound like a mother.

  “He’s seventeen, don’t let that sun-kissed baby face fucking fool you. We all thought he was just a kid too, but he’s about to be eighteen.” I nod, seeing it now that I look a little harder at him. The muscle in his arms, the wrinkles on his forehead. He fondly smiles at the blonde behind the bar, chewing on the end of a pencil. “Trust me, he’s better here than where he was.”

  My brows furrow, curious what that means. Where was he before that being in a motorcycle gang is better for him?

  “Holy shit you’re pregnant!” The wisecrack over my shoulder, has me glancing behind me at a man without a club cut on. He’s got really blonde curly hair, and a neck tattoo of a spider crawling through his throat. I give him a look, one conveying how idiotic he is.

  “You giving barebacks?” He chuckles, a man behind him giggling like a school girl. Glancing back at the lumberjack, he’s gone, and I tense, not liking that Mac isn’t here.

  The man with the spider tattoo reaches for my belly, and I take a step back not wanting the contact.

  He glares at me with heated eyes. Fear beads down my spine, my jaw clenching.

  “What’s your problem, bitch?” He reaches for my stomach again and before I can raise my hand to smack him away, Mac is standing in front of me slamming his knuckles into the guy’s face.

  They fall to the ground and the crowd surrounds us. I’m nearly knocked over, but a firm grip grabs me by the elbow. I follow the hand, finding Machete trying to pull me from the crowd.

  The music cuts and a loud whistle has everyone looking to the left. Zeek stands on the bar, his face red with anger.

  Mac stands from the ground his lip bleeding, but the other guy isn’t getting up.

  “You two, outside.” Zeek points to me and Mac. My hand on my chest my eyes widen. What’d I do?

  I follow Mac through the crowd until we reach outside. The fresh crisp air makes me hiccup, it was stuffier in there than I realized.

  “What the fuck is she doing down here?” Zeek wastes no time getting to the point.

  “She wanted some fresh air, man?” Mac throws his arms out, his bloody lip making me feel bad.

  “Get her back to the tower, and now!” Zeek raises a brow and turns to return back to his club. The way he’s talking to Mac has me pissed, this was my idea, not his.

  “I’m not fucking Rapunzel!” I clip. Zeek stops, his hand rubbing the scruff lining his cheek.

  “No, you’re a pain in my ass and until your little crush stops killing fellow brothers, your ass is to be hidden and not seen!” He lowers his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Got it?”

  Dark beady eyes make me suck in my strength. If I didn’t need his protection, I’d tell him to go fuck himself. So instead, I glare in a different direction.

  “Come on.” Mac taps the soft skin under my arm, urging me to follow him.

  Walking back to the hotel, that melty cheese smell has the baby kick and I stop in front of the pizza stand.

  “Can we—”

  “Keep fucking walking!” Mac barks.

  “Oh, come on!” I argue, wanting it so badly I could cry. It’d take us just a few minutes to stop. Face pinched in rage, he jerks me forward by the arm.

  “What the hell is your problem!” I tug in his grip, trying to free myself. I’ve never seen him so angry at me before.

  He doesn’t say a word the whole way up to our suite, which pisses me off. It’s as if we went three steps back in our … whatever we are.

  Once inside the suite, he slams the door and pushes me up against the wall; my head thudding off it. His hand punches the wall beside my head, making me flinch.

  “Having you come to my club with me, was not an invitation for you to let just any fucking hangaround fondle you like street pussy!”

  Rearing my hand back, I slap him across the face. He makes it sound like I wanted to be touched, and that is not even close to the truth. Little beads of rage form on my neck, my chest heaving with rage.

  “Maybe if you didn’t leave me, I wouldn’t have had some cruddy biker putting his greasy hands on me!” I defend, not backing down. Our eyes lock, neither of us saying a word, but the silence between us is doing all the talking. It’s sexual, jealous, and possessive.

  “Do you fuck girls down there?”

  His eyes narrow in on me in confusion.

  “Since I’ve been here, have you fucked anyone?” I clarify.

  He takes a step back, his hand on his jaw like he can’t believe I’m asking him that. Maybe I have no right to ask him, we’re not anything.

  “Do you think I have?” he finally asks, his face devoid of any emotion.

  “I don’t know.” Thinking about the man that Mac is, the glimpses I have seen of him, I don’t think he’d get so jealous of me if I wasn’t anything to him.

  “Well, I haven’t.”

  My head snaps up, our eyes meeting. Maybe my hormones are reading into it a little more than I should, but a biker who is being turned down by
one woman and is refusing sexual favors from willing women says a lot to me.

  “Really?” I can’t hold the smile back that rips through my lips.

  He doesn’t reply, just smirks.

  Raising my hand, I swipe at the blood crusting around his split, lip.

  “You got punched for me,” I whisper. Before I can pull my thumb away, he nips at it with his teeth, sucking it into his mouth. Warm wetness surrounds my thumbnail, and my clit twitches with arousal.

  “While you’re stuck in this tower with me, you and that baby are only to be touched by me, understand?” His throaty voice hitting me in every way.

  I nod. Why do I nod? I’d never comply with being made an object.

  Mac

  In my room, I saunter to the floor to ceiling windows and press my forehead against the tinted glass. My chest is barreled tight with unfamiliar emotion. Seeing that guy touch Simone like that, it unlocked something feral and uncontrollable. The way that fucker’s eyes seared into her pregnant belly like it was a fuel to getting his rocks off. I became… protective. I mean, Zeek ordered me to protect her, but what I felt, what I feel. It’s more than just a job. A task.

  Simone is more.

  Her and that baby have become more.

  I cannot deny it, and I will kill every motherfucker that tries to tell me different.

  Maybe my mother dying being pregnant with me has torn the soft spot in my armor just enough for her and this baby to slip in, but either way… I can’t turn away from them. I just keep pulling them in deeper, even if I know deep down Simone can do way better than me.

  Winds blows against the glass, the city becoming foggy as a storm blankets over the streets. Heaven and hell are fighting tonight, and the gods know it.

  I shove myself away from the glass and call it a night.

  16

  Simone

  Wind bellows against the windows of my room. Howling and screeching waking me from my sleep. Scooting to the side of the bed, I push myself up and look out the window. I can’t see a thing, there’s nothing but sand. I stand, and the weight of my belly causes my lower back to instantly hurt. I don’t know how much more weight I can take.

  Wobbling to the glass, I look out. Lightning strikes across the sky, and wind pummels against the glass. Little grains of desert making the scariest of sounds. Living outside of Vegas I’ve never really seen the full effect of a storm in the city. I frown, curious if the building is strong enough to withstand such hard wind gusts. The lamp I left on next to the bed flickers, and my heart skips a beat. A loud bellow outside the window snapping my attention from the bulb to the sudden crash. A bright lit up sign snaps in two, skidding down the street into complete darkness.

  Hand on my belly, I open my bedroom door and look for Mac. Surely, he’s seen something like this before and will know if we need to take some precautions or seek shelter.

  The main room is quiet and eerily dark, so I head to his room where the door is firmly shut. I stare at the handle, my bottom lip tucked in between my teeth. Should I open it? What if he’s jerking off? Naked even.

  A gust of wind howls at the windows and I swear I feel the wind swish around my feet. Palming the chrome door handle I crack it open and find Mac splayed among the bed, his blanket tangled around his legs. I step inside, trying to be quiet. His chest is bare with just enough chest hair to show his rugged side.

  His hair is in his face and curled around his ears from turning his head back and forth in the plush pillows. He looks boyish, and vulnerable.

  Against my better judgment, my eyes trail down his abs to his dark blue briefs. His cock is hard, and there’s no mistaking the barbell sticking through the tip of it. My eyes widen. That had to hurt, but the way it makes my toes curl into the floor with admiration, I can see why he got it.

  It’s sexy.

  Something crashes outside, and the baby kicks when fear riddles through my limbs. Quickly I climb onto the bed and throw what blankets I can pull from Mac, over me. I close my eyes, hoping it’s just a storm they normally get in this area.

  “What are you doing in my bed, Pocahontas?” The husky growl of his voice causes my nipples to bud against my top. I both want him to pursue me and wait like a gentleman.

  I roll over to face him, his sleepy eyes looking right at me.

  “I’m scared of storms. This one seems pretty bad, are they normally like this?” I rest my head in my hands. The lightning outside casts a ghostly splash across Mac’s face, his irises smoldering beneath the light.

  His eyes flick to the window before landing back on me.

  “They can get pretty destructive.” He yawns before focusing on my hard-erect nipples. His lips curve into a smirk, before dark lustful eyes sink into me. “So you snuck into my room with”—he lifts the blankets, and I run my toe up my leg sexily—“just a small top and panties on?”

  “We were scared,” I clarify, I push the blankets down. His eyes bolt to mine, his face softening.

  Reaching under the blankets, he rests his hand on my belly. “Is the baby awake?”

  Just then the baby rolls against his hand, and Mac smirks.

  “I’d say so.”

  He brushes my shirt up and rubs his callused hand along my bare belly. Oh my God it feels so good on my stretched skin, I can’t help but close my eyes and breathe into it. My toes curling into the mattress for more. My skin has been stretching so bad lately it never stops itching.

  He rubs farther up, and a deep sigh catches in my throat. Inhaling a deep breath, I will his fingers to go just a little higher. As if he read my body language, Fingers swipe amongst the bottom of my breast and my knees arch on their own. My panties soak with arousal, I claw at the sheets, and my head presses into the pillow.

  “Fuck Pocahontas, you’re driving me wild with those little sighs.”

  “Just don’t stop touching me.” Flexing my hips, I urge him on.

  He leans in closer, his breath hot and sticky against the crook of my neck. With his body tucked up to my side he’s warm to the touch, with muscles bulging from holding his own weight. I cock my head to the side and stare into his hooded eyes. They’re a heavy brown and focused directly on me. His erect cock presses into my thigh, and I widen my knees. Wanting him.

  He looks down, acknowledging my invitation.

  “You have no idea what you’re doing.” His voice throaty.

  His hand slowly slides down my belly and I can’t help but tremble under his touch. His fingers tickling the inside of my thigh until a shiver laces around my neck making it hard to breathe. God just touch me already. My clit is practically throbbing with the need for his attention.

  His fingertip tugs at the fabric of my panties, and a supple mewl spills from my mouth. Using the pad of his finger he swipes through my wetness, and I buck against his hand for more. I want to be filled and stretched by him so badly I physically ache with need.

  “This for me, Pocahontas?” He plays with my wetness between his fingers.

  Lips tucked between my teeth to keep my composure, I nod.

  The elastic of my underwear slaps against my sensitive skin, and my entire lower half blooms with warmth.

  The bed shifts, and a cold draft slip over me. I open my eyes finding him biting his bottom lip and looking at me with an unfamiliar look. His eyes not as lustful as before. Sucking in a tight breath, I pull my shirt down to cover my bare stomach.

  “We should get some sleep,” he suggests, but the crack in his voice suggests he’s struggling with this suggestion. Grasping the blanket, he throws it over us, and lays behind me, protectively placing his hand on my belly. The baby kicks it as if it knows it’s him.

  Staring at the ceiling, my body is so wound up if I move my thighs just right, I’m sure I’d come all over myself. I close my eyes, trying to focus on the wind blowing against the windows and not the sexy man behind me.

  It’s no use, I can’t. What just happened? Why doesn’t he want me? Turning my head, I look at him. He has his
eyes closed. His nostrils flaring with hard breathing.

  “What was that?” I have to ask. His eyes open, but he looks past me.

  “I can’t sleep with you, Simone.” His voice dry. Rejection stabs me in the chest.

  “Why? Did Zeek say something?” I push. “Is it because I said I wanted to take it slow before?” God why did I fucking say that?

  He huffs, his face looking conflicted.

  “I just – I just can’t, okay?”

  “Is it because of Gatz?”

  He freezes, and I know I hit the issue on the head. Sitting up, the blankets pulled to my neck, I wait for him to explain.

  “He-he was my brother. We have a code not to fuck with another man’s woman and you were his. Him not being here—”

  Holding my hand up, I stop him right there.

  “I was not his. It was a one-night stand that led to this,” I point to my stomach. “He loved Kane, Kane loved him. Neither of them loved me.” The last few words a mere whisper. “I’m nobody’s.”

  Mac’s face pales as if he’s seeing me for the first time as a single woman. Opening his mouth, he begins to say something and shuts it. Brows furrowed, he tucks his arm around my belly, gripping my hip and pulling me close.