Taking Avery: A Lilith's Army MC Novel

by Ker Dukey

  And you’d still fuck her.

  After a shower maybe, or a wet wipe to the face at least.

  “Calm down. Your pussy is safe, princess. I meant literally get to know some things about each other so we can pull this wedding shit off.”

  Her eyes widen and the crimson blush from earlier reawakens on her skin. “Oh, right.” She pokes at the straw in the cup holder next to us. “What about Jenna?”

  Fuck. I forgot about her.

  “Look, I’m not going to lie. She was with two sick bastards for a while before we got to her and she’s pretty banged up.”

  A gasp mixed with a whine leaves her body and my eyes struggle to focus on the road and her at the same time. Her chest is heaving and she’s making weird lurching movements.

  Shit. She’s freaking the fuck out.

  I pull over, kicking up dirt as the tires screech. Jumping from the truck, I round the bonnet and walk to her door, pulling it open and pulling her out and into my arms.

  The soft planes of her body mold to my own, her fat tits pushing into me as she clings to me, scratching at my chest as she breaks and sobs. Her whole body shakes with her distress, and if I wasn’t holding her, I’m sure she’d combust into tiny particles and drift away on the breeze.

  She smells really good for someone who’s been left to fester in a room for hours. My arms tighten around her, giving her the comfort and strength she needs.

  This shit is my fault. It’s my job to keep the brothers in line, and I let those two fuckers brutalize some kid in our club for shits and giggles.

  When she finally calms down, she pokes her head up to look at me through lashes that look incredibly black over her glistening green eyes. Streaks of make-up make tracks down her creamy flesh, and I have to stop myself from reaching up and smoothing her sorrow away.

  She clears her throat and moves out of my hold. “Thanks,” she whispers before turning and climbing back in the truck.

  This is going to be a long fucking week.

  I jump back in the truck and kick it into gear.

  She nibbles on her fries and keeps swiping at her waterfall of tears.

  “So, princess, tell me something about yourself.”

  “What do you want to know?” She shrugs, slurping on her drink.

  “Everything.”

  The motel isn’t as bad as I’d imagined. I don’t know what it is about some bikers, but they seem to love squalor as much as they do pussy and fighting. But Slade had pulled in and specifically asked to see how clean the rooms were before he checked us in.

  He doesn’t come across like any other biker I’ve known. He’s gorgeous for one. I may be distressed and grieving, but I’m not blind. He has a stunning bone structure and pouty full lips, but none of that matters when his bright eyes fall on me. They’re mesmerizing. It’s not his looks though, it’s the empathy he has. Unlike his father, he seems to understand how hard this is for me and how wrong all this bullshit is. He treads carefully with me instead of telling me to suck it up and shut up.

  “I’ll take the chair,” he says softly, aware of how my nerves have ramped up a gear since walking into the small room.

  Nodding, I give him a half-smile, grateful but too uneasy to risk forming words. I know if I open my mouth, nothing but a high-pitched whine will come out. As much as he had promised not to touch me, it doesn’t mean he actually won’t. I don’t know him and he doesn’t know me. I’ve lived this life; I know damn well what strange things the brothers like to do to girls. Slade knows I’m a club brat, and club brats aren’t usually known for their purity.

  “Listen.” His sudden voice vibrates into the room.

  I turn to face him, surprised to find he looks as uneasy as me. He appears to struggle with something as he fidgets in a bag he’d pulled from the trunk and brought inside with us.

  “It’s not much, but I thought you could sleep in this.” He hands me a large white tee, undeniably one of his own by the size of it. “It’s clean.”

  Slowly, I take it from him. “Thank you. I’ll admit it’ll be good to get out of these dirty clothes.”

  He nods. “The motel has a laundry service. I’ll make sure they’re clean by the morning for you.”

  His thoughtfulness is a little bizarre. There he goes again, acting nothing like most other bikers, and it’s pretty rare to find one with an ounce of consideration for girls.

  “I’ll let you wash up and I’ll see if I can find us some coffee.”

  Coffee.

  He smirks when my eyes light up with that one single word, a word that means ecstasy to my belly.

  “You take cream and sugar?”

  I nod eagerly. “Some candy would be good too, please. If you can find any.”

  He chuckles, not even attempting to hide his amusement this time. “Coffee and candy coming up.” Maybe he’s just soft, given a break by the other brothers because of his father, and it makes him, dare I say it… nice. Maybe he has a great mom who taught him manners and how to treat women. If that were true though, what the hell happened with his horrendous brother? They’re so different, or maybe this nice thing is all an act to make me compliant. My head is throbbing from the stress of it all and my mind won’t switch off. It’s exhausting.

  Finding the bathroom, I quickly strip and step under the spray of hot water. My body sighs and sags in relief as the vigorous jets massage my aching joints. Although my cheekbone smarts, the gush of freshening water that spills over my head is a respite to the pain. My hair is matted in my fingers, and thankful for the motel’s initiative to provide cheap but welcoming toiletries, I vigorously work it back to health before wrapping an overwashed towel around me and stepping out.

  Steam has veiled the mirror. Wiping it with the flat of my hand, a gasp leaves me when I’m greeted by my reflection. My eyes are red and underlined with dark circles. The huge bruise on my cheek glows against the dampness of my skin, and my once soft lips are pale and cracked.

  Grabbing the edge of the basin, I close my eyes and blow out a steadying breath. I’m in better shape than Jenna.

  “Look, I’m not going to lie. She was with two sick bastards for a while before we got to her and she’s pretty banged up.”

  Slade’s words echo in my head, driving a phantom stake through me. My heart lurches when I think of what those bastards have put her through.

  “I’ll make it up to you, Jenna.” I whisper to the mirror like it’s magical and she can hear me. “I promise I’ll make them pay. All of them.”

  Anger twists my belly and I scrunch Slade’s shirt in my fist, my imagination soothing me when I think of how I’ll get my revenge on his brother. But I have to be careful. Slade seems kind enough, but he’s still the heir to Lilith’s Army, and his club comes before anyone, even his old lady.

  Old lady.

  I never wanted to be anyone’s old lady. I’d often dreamed of one day finally being able to leave the club life. I dreamed each night of college, of making something of myself–a life of my own. I knew my father would never allow me to leave permanently; I was lucky he permitted high school. I swear my dad just wanted me to roll over for a random brother and produce him lots of grandchildren. What kind of father wants that for his daughter? I miss my mother. My life would be so different.

  “Help me through this, Mom. Please.”

  Sighing, I banish my self-pity and slip the t-shirt over my head. I’m assaulted by Slade’s scent. Strangely, it’s quite comforting, and I’m not sure if I should pull it closer to my skin or gag at my own thoughts.

  “Coffee and candy,” Slade shouts through the bathroom door.

  My stomach growls at the thought of coffee, the promise of caffeine the only thing helping me through right now.

  Coming into the room I’m over eager snatching up the offered container of deliciousness.

  Slade laughs when I take a long sip and close my eyes in delight.

  “Good?”

  “Very.”

  Settling into the
chair, he pulls a blanket over him and watches me. “So, what’s the story with you and the cop’s kid?”

  His question turns the coffee sour as it hits my stomach, and I swallow hard. “I’d rather not talk about Dean.”

  His eyes narrow and he stares at me. “You loved him.”

  “No,” I reply honestly. “But I cared a lot for him.” Hot, angry tears scorch my eyes and I blink them away, refusing to show this man any more of my hurt. “He was good, decent. Not like biker bastards.”

  Coffee sloshes over my hand when Slade’s firm body pushes me against the wall. His glare is fierce, turbulent. “Not all bikers are bastards. And not all bastards are bikers, princess. If you’re to be my old lady and make me happy then you’ll learn to clip your fucking tongue!”

  My mouth falls open in shock. For the first time, I witness a side of Slade I don’t like; a dark side. I know without a doubt that I’ll see it again, but for now, I struggle to handle it. Fear slides over me and the tears I had forbidden call me a fool and topple over.

  Make him happy? Is he seriously deluding himself into thinking I would want that? To cater to my forced-on-me husband?

  “The bikers in my life were, are, bastards. In the same way as I’m sure all the women you’ve fucked are whores, my dear husband,” I add with a sneer.

  Will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut?

  The laugh that leaves him is cold, as icy as the way his eyes pin me down. He’s so close that I can feel his heart beating against my own and the aroma of lemon tea on his breath tickles my nostrils. For a long moment, the only dialogue between us is via his gaze, the fury in his eyes silently saying so many words. A part of me wants to push him away, but another part wants him to see my anger, the rage that simmers beneath my skin, like the violence and domination that slithers under his own.

  He bites his lip and my gaze involuntarily drops to observe how the plump flesh nearly splits under the force. I know he’s trying to rein in his anger with me but I refuse to back down. Instead, I try to meet him halfway.

  “Look, maybe things are different in your club, but in mine, I’m not looked up to because I’m the president’s daughter. There’s no respect in that. I’m a pampered princess to them. A brat. So forgive me if I don’t see things the way you do.”

  His eyes narrow further with each of my words and, slowly, he shakes his head. “How other clubs are run has no impact on my own shit, princess. But I’ll tell you now that if you don’t give me and my club respect then don’t expect it to be returned. You curb your lip and I’ll give you the respect you think you deserve.”

  “I don’t think I deserve it!” I argue, angry that he refuses to meet me in the middle. “I would just like to be regarded as something other than a fucking pampered bitch. My father has never spoiled me. In fact, he has always fucking hated me!” I’m getting too emotional, yet I can’t seem to stop the words and the truths from tumbling out of me. “I’ve never been good enough for him. His brothers are more loved by him than I am. Don’t you dare think you know how my life is, or who I am. You don’t know me, Slade. And until you do, I would appreciate you keeping your judgments to yourself.”

  Amusement flashes in his eyes. “You know,” he whispers in my ear, his warm breath making me shiver when it tickles my skin. “You’re pretty entertaining. You’re going to be so much fun to goad.”

  Before I can get over his words, he turns away and disappears into the bathroom.

  “Asshole!”

  “It’s too early in our relationship for you to offer up your ass to me, princess!” he shouts through the door.

  “Fuck you!”

  “As I said….” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He can’t because he’s laughing too hard.

  My dick is hard in my hand. What is it about the surly bitch that affects my cock so much? Her feistiness makes me want to bend her over the fucking bed and spank that fire right out of her. The water is hot, refreshing, but it still doesn’t tame the strength of my hard-on.

  Being almost pinned against her, having those fat tits push against my chest, and those daring green eyes have done it. She’s a fighter, and that little spark is a huge turn on. I’m used to bitches fawning all over me, following me around like a begging dog. Getting nothing from me only makes them try harder. No woman has ever talked shit to me, stood up for herself, or had the balls to call our club or brothers names. Although it won’t be tolerated, can’t be, her fire triggers my own.

  “Fuck!” I hiss when I give in and start to stroke my hand up and down.

  I’d been hard since she had walked out of the bathroom in my tee, the impression of her perky nipples visible through the thin material, and those creamy legs smooth as sin.

  I close my eyes and imagine climbing those legs like a fucking ladder, licking my way higher and higher until I reach heaven. I bet she tastes like fucking heaven on my tongue too. The fantasy of her moans echoes in my ears and I fuck my fist harder, eager for release.

  Cum splatters the tiles and I bite down on my lip to suppress the loud moan I know will be overheard. My body jerks in pleasure and I gasp for breath, trying to calm the fuck down. Fucking bitches. I’m sure God only created them to taunt the shit out of men.

  I am surprised by what she told me though. Usually, club’s prize president’s daughters, treating them like trophies to show off, and for some reason, it angers me that Brig appears to be the opposite. I had held respect for him, but now I’m not so sure. I’m not sure I want to do business with a man who holds no family values. Family—blood or not—is fucking paramount. When the princess becomes my old lady, she will instantly get respect from me and my club. That’s just how it is. Although, I won’t tell her that. Our own princess, my baby sister, Rhiannon, is adored by every brother in our club. She is a princess and acts like one. She’s the polar opposite of Avery.

  I can smell her scent on the towel as I dry myself, the sweet aroma that is entirely her, so I take my time, hoping she’ll have that tight little body of hers tucked up in bed by the time I finish. A part of me wants to slide my hands up the outside of her creamy thighs, slowly lifting my tee to see what hidden treasures she’s covering up. But I know she’ll never want that.

  As predicted, Avery is already curled up in bed with the duvet tucked under her chin. She’s using the damn thing like a fortress, wary of what I might do.

  “Don’t worry, princess. As I said, I have no intention of touching you. You don’t need to suffocate yourself.”

  She doesn’t answer me but I know she’s not asleep. My eyes remain on her still form as I settle into the chair again, pulling the sheet up and around my waist. It’s too fucking hot in here to be doing the shit she’s doing; she’s obviously willing to die in her sleep from heat exhaustion.

  “Slade.” Her voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

  “Yeah.”

  She pauses.

  “Spit it out, princess.”

  I hear her lick her lips. Although I’m patient and wait her out, what I really want to do is shake the damn anxiety out of her.

  “I…” She turns to face me, and I’m surprised by the look of worry on her face. She bites her bottom lip, the action once again playing shit with my dick, and blows out an encouraging breath. “I don’t think you understand how my father works.”

  Tilting my head, I regard her and wait for her to clarify.

  “He’ll kill you all for this.”

  Hearing someone tell me that is agitating. I want to laugh, dark and cruel, at her foolish words. She clearly doesn’t know who she’s held by, but it’s concern on her lips, not a threat.

  Clicking my tongue, I consider what she’s saying and shrug. “But you said yourself that your father hates you. Maybe he’ll be glad to be rid of you.”

  Hurt covers her face and I watch it sink in. I’m right, and I’m not sure whether I like that fact or not. I hadn’t meant to hurt her, just mock her false worry. She acts as though she fears for me, but in reality, she’s
hoping her daddy will ride up and save her.

  She nods slowly. “Yeah.”

  “Sweetheart,” I try when she turns back over, but she shakes her head, dismissing me. “What’s Cutters’ loss is Lilith’s gain.”

  Her body stiffens and, once again, I’m angry at where this fucking compassion is coming from. I shouldn’t give two shits about her feelings or what she wants, but there’s something about this chick that bites at a part deep down inside me. It’s not a good feeling. It’s like an annoying flick inside my gut, a twitch in my mind, and I need rid of it.

  “Sleep!” I demand, firmer than I’d intended.

  Her body sinks into the bed and her breathing levels out, her exhaustion, and my command allowing her to quickly give in to what she needs. The curve of her form as my cell lights up on the nightstand has me biting my lip again.

  Avery doesn’t even flinch when I grab my phone, the deep sleep she’s in annulling any disturbance to her resting mind.

  Prez: Brig’s on the hunt for the bitch. Make it tomorrow.

  Sighing, I slip my phone in my pocket, leaving his message unanswered. She told Brig she’s staying at Jenna’s, but if he went there and they were absent, he must think she’s up to something. She’ll need to message him tomorrow to get him to back off.

  I should bury Brenner in this fucking hole he’s dug for me and lay him to rest in his own fucked up shit. All my damn life I’ve been mending whatever he broke, fixing all the fuck ups he’s made. But this time, the cost of his kill spree is of epic proportions. And, of course, it’s a price that I have to pay, not him.

  Fucking married. To a Cutters bitch, no less. I’m not husband material; I’m not even relationship material. I give bitches an orgasm and nothing else. I have a couple of chicks I like to let my dick visit, and they are women who have no part of my world. They know the score and never ask for more, and if I ever thought they were getting too clingy, I’d end it and find a new warm body to park my urges in.