by Amber Burns
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
More Erotic Romance From Amber Burns
Rebel
Boneyard Brotherhood MC Romance - Book 3
By Amber Burns
The following story is full of romance, sex and sensuality. See the preview below for a bit of foreplay.
I groaned and tugged her shirt up. I shifted down, my knees hitting the floor, and I followed the path of her shirt with my mouth and tongue. I licked a line up from her belly button until I was halted by the underwire of her bra. I tugged one cup up and drew a line underneath it with my tongue, not at all perturbed by the saltiness I found there. I traced its outer edge until I swirled back around to her nipple. I sucked the nub into my mouth, tonguing it to a peak until I scraped my teeth against her. She arched up in response, moaning low as she did. Still, no command to stop. How far would she let me go?
I hadn’t considered my lust for my partner in the short time we had been together. I chose to ignore it. But here, with the muddled inhibitions of my mind, I couldn’t help it. I wanted her to the point that I couldn’t think past the vision of her wrapped around me.
I decided then to just give in, take what I’ve wanted since I first saw her. I was done suppressing it. I started to tug at her jeans, unbuttoning them and tugging down. Beneath the determined cop apparently was a woman that enjoyed lace and pastel colors. A little bow greeted me when I got her jeans down her thighs. I caught her panties with my teeth and jerked them down. She twitched as my whiskers rubbed against her thighs. No complaints and she still she didn’t say stop. I didn’t bother trying to get them off of her, just shoved them down so I could duck under them and spread her thighs as far as they’d go given she was still partially dressed. It was enough for me to fit my head between her thighs and swipe my tongue along the length of her outer lips. Her breath came out in a startled whoosh, and I glanced up to see her expression to see if she was going to make me quit. Nothing.
Join the Scarlet Lantern Publishing Newsletter to get a FREE BONUS CHAPTER to Rebel.
You’ll also receive SIX FREE STORIES, updates on all of our author’s latest releases, and a chance to win a $25 Amazon Gift Card!
Copyright © 2017 by Amber Burns & Scarlet Lantern Publishing
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language.
All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.
Table of Contents
Rebel
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Rowan
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
More Erotic Romance From Amber Burns
Prologue
“Miller!”
I snapped to attention, though it had been long enough that I no longer stood and saluted. I had been contemplating my new partner, Tara Dunn. We had been together two weeks, and she was fresh out of the academy. I turned my attention to the Captain, trying to not feel guilty.
“Sir?” I responded.
“I need to talk to you for a sec,” he nodded back towards his office. “Now.”
I suddenly felt sweat gathering at my brow. Had he caught me checking her out? It was hard not to. Tara was a little thing, all fire and sass wrapped up in a five foot two package. She had her brown curls tamed back in a tight ponytail and a set of hazel eyes that seemed to pin me whenever she caught me looking. Maybe she complained? I hadn’t figured out how to handle being paired with a female yet, it’d only been two weeks. I got up and prepared to take my knocks.
I followed Captain Harris back into his office, and I stood uncertainly while he moved around his desk to take a seat. He was a man in his fifties, probably spent the majority of his life on the force. I’m sure he had a better idea how to handle a female partner than I did, maybe after he finished his lecture I’d ask. I’d worked with women before, in the Army, but women in the Army ain’t the same like civilian women. You say something to offend an Army girl and she ain’t scared to knock you flat. Civilians aren’t as tough.
“Sir?” I fidgeted with my belt, trying to alleviate some of its weight off my hips. “What did you want to see me about?” I’d play dumb until he gave me the reason, it’d give me time enough to figure out a solid apology.
“You were in the military, right?” He asked, catching me off guard.
I blinked, confused now. I sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk, and I nodded, “I’ve been on the force for nearly two years. I haven’t had any inclinations of PTSD. The last psych eval I had the Doctor said I seemed fine.”
I had done a tour in Iraq before the shit with Afghanistan started. I figured the best bet after I finished up the fun in the sand box would be to get out before they decided to send me there next. War isn’t something I’d recommend anyone facing. While I had my moments the year after I got back Stateside, I made sure I hit the support groups and talked to all the doctors that were necessary to keep my head straight. I had plans that I didn’t want to fuck up, and I wasn’t ready to call it quits with life yet.
“Not what I asked,” he grunted and nodded towards the other side of the room.
By the door a Sheriff was standing with his arms cross and a sour expression on his face, he looked about the same age as Captain Harris but a little more fit. He was eyeing me hard like I was being measured for something.
“But you got the military background,” Harris stated more than asked as looked to the other man. “That good enough?”
“He looks like he’s still fresh out of it,” the sheriff commented. “How long you been out?”
“I’ve been attached to this precinct for almost two years,” I said, keeping my tone respectful.
They were talking like I was just released from prison or something. I guess, depending on the branch and the detail, it could be seen that way. I’m sure the guys at Gitmo felt that w
ay. Military life could be hard, and not everyone could hack it.
“Attached,” the sheriff snorted in apparent amusement. “Yeah, this guy looks like he’ll work.”
The confusion weighed down more, and I looked at the captain for an explanation, he had a grave look on his face when he met my gaze.
“I have a special case for you. You’re the only service man I got out here, and they’re setting up a sting on a few of the motorcycle clubs that are out of our jurisdiction.”
“I’m not a detective,” I started to argue.
I hadn’t even thought I had spent enough time to even consider going for something like detective. Wasn’t sure it was something I wanted. I’d be fine trading one uniform for another. It was only slightly less dangerous.
“I know,” he didn’t argue, but he kept talking. “But putting someone without any military service in this particular crew isn’t going to be the best of ideas. Only a serviceman will understand the terminology that they use. I put a regular man in that he’ll get caught and in trouble in no time. You, on the other hand, will know the terminology and the hierarchy better than anyone else I could tap for this.”
I’m a horrible liar. I couldn’t tell a story to save my life. But this was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.
“What do I do?” I asked with a bit more excitement than I probably should have let on.
“Well, first, we’ll need to rough you up a bit. Stop shaving,” the sheriff behind me started. “Got any tattoos?”
I shook my head and looked back at him, “Never really got around to it.”
“Are you opposed to the idea?”
“It will look like fresh ink, and it’ll be suspicious,” the Captain snapped.
“But if he’s not been out long they’ll understand. This group is all military. If he wants the ink and it’s out of regulation, bite the bullet. Overlook it and put it in his file why it's there.”
The captain grunted and shook his head, “Do you know how to ride a motorcycle?”
“I used to ride dirt bikes all the time as a kid. I don’t have a motorcycle, though. How is that going to help with this?”
I looked between the two men, having a sudden flutter of excitement. It wasn’t necessarily the danger that I was going into the got me going, it was the idea of getting to have a motorcycle. It was something I had been dreaming about since I finally got out. Now, this was an excuse to get one it seemed like.
“You’ll have to take a class,” captain grunted. “That is if you’re willing to do this?”
The idea of owning a motorcycle is probably what got me into this, “I’ll do what I can.”
After an hour on getting briefed on what would be expected of me, I was told that I needed to find a motorcycle in two weeks: “American brand, no crotch rockets.” Damn. It was also suggested I get some tattoos. I shook my head, and I couldn’t fathom what I would want to be inked into my skin forever. When I came out of captain’s office, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
“Are you fired?” Tara looked at me curiously from her desk. She seemed to be just as surprised as I was to be called into the captain’s office.
“Shift’s been over for an hour. Why are you still here?” I shot back as I wandered over to my desk and sat down hard. I looked at her as I continued to digest the detail I had been assigned.
She shrugged and leaned forward on her desk, “Am I getting a new partner or what?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing,” I shrugged at her. “You might want to check with the Chief on that,” I shook my head immediately. “Captain. Check with the captain,” I corrected myself. Some habits die hard.
“Dork,” she stood and went to his office, she tapped on the door before opening it. She didn’t even bother to go all the way in. “If you’re firing Miller, what happens to me?”
“He’s not fired,” captain said loud enough for me to hear. “He’s on something special. You’ll be on desk duty until it’s done.”
“She can help him,” I heard the sheriff pipe up. “If he gets in deep giving him a girlfriend might help if he needs an out.”
I balked a little and stood, “Girlfriend?”
“Are you dating anyone?” I heard the Captain ask. He was soon at the door by Tara, and I could see her face turn a bright shade of red. She was probably ready to protest. “I don’t ever see anyone around the bullpen looking for you. So I assumed you were single.”
I shook my head and grimaced, “Nah, I’m not dating one. I guess it’s not a bad idea.”
“Fill her in,” the sheriff brushed past the captain and Tara. “I’ll give you a call in two weeks. Make sure you got your shit together by then.”
The fuck did I get myself into?
1
Two weeks later I had let go of some of my routines. Though my hair didn’t grow out much and I skipped the idea of getting tattoos. The idea of buckling under that pressure was enough to make me sure that I’d make a huge mistake I’d regret later. I stopped shaving. By two weeks I didn’t have a respectable beard that some bikers wore, but it was enough hair on my face that it didn’t fully resemble peach fuzz. Tara had the enjoyment of making fun of me as it slowly filled in.
“You are definitely taking me with you to buy the bike, though,” she looked excited by the prospect.
“It’s going to be used,” I warned her. “My dime I’m spending on it, too.”
“Well, all they have is patrol cycles. You use one of those, and that’s like waving a giant flag.”
I, or rather we, ended up finding a Sportster that was under two grand. It needed a lot of love, but I figured it’d be a good excuse to go to the shop the particular group I was trying to get into had opened up. I learned from the Captain that I was part of some sort of huge sting, that they were putting law enforcement into surrounding clubs to gather evidence so they could shut them down.
This one, aside from some dropped drug charges that had been put on one member, seemed pretty ordinary. It was like a gathering of veterans, and there didn’t appear to be any sort of outward signs that they were trouble. Hell, they even participated in the local parades for Veteran’s Day.
When I finally rolled into the shop, I had cold feet. How would I do this without selling myself out? As far as I knew, all the outward signs of being a cop were easy to cover up. All my uniforms were back in my locker. I didn’t have anything commemorative for being a cop in my apartment. Really, I didn’t have a lot of commemorative of anything in my apartment. I hoped it was enough and I wouldn’t end up getting shot the moment I walked in.
I wore a pair of dark jeans, riding boots, and a riding jacket over a white shirt. I was trying to keep my personal style in what I wore. The jacket and boots were second hand, so they had that well-worn look to them. As I approached the garage, I tried to shake out my jitters. Nerves had my gut tied up in knots, and I kept a mantra of ‘not a cop’ playing in my head as I jerked open the door to the waiting area. There was a ratty couch and a few rows of chairs on beaten linoleum and a fluorescent light overhead. It was a waiting room that you’d see in any garage. It was empty, and I didn’t know for a second where to go from there.
I decided to peek into the garage bays to see if there was anyone in there. There was a nineties model Toyota up on the lift and a battered Honda Shadow with its motor in pieces on the ground. Academy training had me carefully assessing the two bays with suspicion. It was quiet. There was an overwhelming urge to investigate as I thought that maybe I would run into something that could be useful in court.
That urge was quieted by the assumption that investigating might also get me shot.
I cleared my throat then decided to holler out: “Anyone here?”
“Yeah,” was hollered from a back room. “In the office, man.”
Curious, I'd carefully made my way through the bays to the door that I could only assume was the office. I paused just outside the closed door to listen in on any conversation that might be g
oing on. All I heard was a low groan and muffled talking. Concerned, I opened the door and peered in. Three men surrounded a battered desk, a fourth was seated and slumped over the top of it. I stepped in, I don’t know what I was going to do, but my instinct kicked in.