Hard Rider (A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Wild, Nikki

  I couldn’t help but look.

  In fact, once my eyes locked on its throbbing magnificence, I couldn’t tear them away. My jaw dropped. So this was what all the fuss was about. It was gossip worthy, that was for sure.

  That thing should be in a museum somewhere.

  Liam Mercury and his brother Ian were the most talked about rock stars on the planet. Not only were they known for their out of this world ability to completely shred a stage, leaving crowds of thousands panting and begging for more every night, but Liam was just as famous for leaving women begging for more in the bedroom.

  His cock had met more than its fair share of supermodels and actresses and although his professional reputation was beyond scarred, every woman he’d ever dated only had wonderful things to say about him…and his cock

  It was almost as famous as he was.

  And here I was ogling it for what had suddenly become an uncomfortably long amount of time.

  Liam’s reputation out of the bedroom wasn’t exactly stellar.

  He was known as a cut-throat businessman, a spoiled and unrelenting artist, and difficult to handle prick, to put it bluntly. He’d gone through so many managers and PR agents, his label was having trouble finding anyone who would work with him.

  That’s why I was here in the first place.

  I’d been hired by Rolling Stone magazine to pen a cover story that shows that Liam Mercury in a better light… A misunderstood artist. A good man…

  I needed to show that Liam Mercury is still worth the millions his label is investing.

  I was supposed to prove that despite all the parties, the booze, the groupies, the tantrums, the interviews walked out on in a rage, the drunken fights with his brother, all the concerts started hours late or missed completely - leaving pissed off fans demanding their money back - despite all that, I’ve been assigned the task of proving that the irresponsible, bad boy reputation of Liam Mercury is all just one big misunderstanding.

  Of course, following around an arrogant rockstar for a week is hardly my idea of a dream assignment, but my options are limited right now. I’d much rather be interviewing a serious subject, writing something that could change the world.

  Hell, anything but this.

  The last thing I want to do is babysit an immature party boy for a week.

  But, as another famous rock star once said, “You can’t always get what you want.”

  I was stuck. The offers weren’t coming as fast as they used to. Everyone got their news in a hundred and forty characters and the world seemed to be much more interested in who the Kardashians were screwing this week instead of a serious in-depth look at the civil war in Syria or the economic crisis in Brazil.

  Unfortunately, my journalistic integrity came second to my stomach. I still had to eat, so here I was, paying the bills by accepting this job.

  Which was basically professional slumming, as far as I was concerned.

  This week couldn’t pass quickly enough. I’d write my puff piece, try to shower off the filth from being in this bus, and never think about Liam Mercury ever again.

  I was glad my dad wasn’t around to see me do this.

  “Mr. Mercury, I’m Catherine Donovan, your manager let me on your bus,” I tried once more, raising my voice. “I’m here from Rolling Stone magazine. To interview you? I’ll just wait up front until you’re…,” my voice trailed off as I realized I had reverted to staring at his cock again. I snapped my eyes up quickly, my gaze clashing with his, “ready.”

  “Don’t I look ready, luv?” His blue eyes taunted me and he reached down, sliding his fingers around the base of his cock and waving it at me. He was ready. I swallowed hard, and forced my gaze back up and away from that famous masterpiece.

  “I’m not here for that,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice curt and professional. The ginger squeezed in tightly next to the brunette and they began kissing each other and moaning loudly.

  “What a shame,” Liam said, with a wink. “There’s enough of me to go around, you know.”

  The blonde erupted in giggles and flipped her long locks over her shoulder. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  Stay professional, I thought to myself.

  “I’ll be up front. Whenever you’re ready for me…” my voice trailed off as my eyes raked down his muscular chest and landed once more on his throbbing cock.

  “Don’t hold your breath love. If you want to interview me, it’ll have to be on my terms.” His voice was teasing me, and he still had his hand wrapped around that snake between his legs.

  I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some small part of me that was interested in what exactly his terms might be…

  But I had a job to do. And that didn’t include jumping on top of Liam Mercury’s illustrious cock.

  “I was hired by your label,” I tore my eyes away once again, forcing myself to look directly into his bright blue eyes. I ignored the electric pulse that shot through my body. “I don’t work for you, and I don’t work on your terms. I’ll be on tour with you for a week. I’ll be reporting whatever I observe until we get to Los Angeles. What I report and how I report it isn’t really up to you.”

  “Is that so, doll?” He reached over and pushed the brunette and the blonde down between his legs.

  “I think you can see I’m busy. If you’re not here to shag me, luv,” he said, smiling up at me, his crooked grin slowly spreading across his insanely handsome face, “then piss off!”

  Chapter 2

  LIAM

  The shrill ringing seemed to go on forever. White-hot shards of pain shot through my head as consciousness washed over me. I pulled a pillow over my head, hoping to block out the pain, the sound, and the piercing light that was slicing through my peaceful revelry. The smell of sex and booze permeated the air and I felt warm bodies stirring beside me.

  And that incessant fuckin’ ringing that wouldn’t quit.

  What the fuck was that?

  I pushed at the body beside me. “Make it stop,” I muttered.

  “It’s your phone,” a woman’s sleepy voice replied.

  “Fuck it,” I said, ignoring it and willing my body back to sleep. Warm limbs wrapped themselves around my hips, and the unmistakable softness of breasts pushed against my chest. My cock stirred.

  “Fuck!” I hissed. I was hoping for more sleep, but there was no ignoring my raging cock in the morning. Hell, there was no ignoring it ever. The bloody ringing stopped, thankfully. Warm fingers wrapped around the base of my cock, and I groaned, turning to my side and pulling her closer. She rolled over on her back, and I lay on top of her, opening my eyes for the first time and looking down at her.

  A blonde this time. One of the girls from last night. I reached over to the nightstand, pulling a condom free and sliding it down around my shaft. I was awake. No use wasting morning wood.

  We both jumped when the other kind of pounding started.

  “Liam, wake the fuck up!” My brother’s voice accompanied his sudden frenzied banging on the hotel room door. “We need to get on the road. Everyone’s waiting for ya!”

  I pulled out of the blonde and strolled over to the door, opening it straight into Ian’s red, fuming face.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, take the fuckin’ condom off your knob and get these girls off the bloody fuckin’ bus, you fuckin’ twat!” he screamed.

  “I’ll be there shortly, little brother,” I smirked, as I watched him storm away toward the driver. I loved pissing off Ian. Indeed, it was probably one of my greatest pleasures in life to get under his skin. It was right up there with fuckin’, and drinkin’, and of course, performing.

  I walked back into the little room at the back of the bus with a smirk on my face.

  “We’ll have to make this quick! My brother’s off his trolley!”

  Chapter 3

  CATHERINE

  After my first, and very rude, encounter with Liam last night, I’d left the circus of Liam’s tour bus, and found a taxi to my
hotel room. And now, here I was, smack dab in the middle of the circus again.

  The band had quite the entourage. I’d met almost everyone by now, and while they were all very nice, except for the self-proclaimed bad boy of the bunch, they were also very self-absorbed. I was definitely an outsider.

  Each band member had their own bus, as well as what appeared to be their own entourage. Everyone lingered around outside of the buses as they waited for Liam to appear.

  The bus drivers had started the engines half an hour ago and they sat idling in a row waiting on Liam.

  Rocket, who went by one name only he told me, was the drummer. He was skinny as a rail, with long blonde hair and sharp green eyes. He walked past me and after a quick introduction by Matt Reynolds, the tour manager I had met last night, he disappeared into his bus.

  Matt was a huge guy, with short black hair and tiny eyes that were way too small for his face. He stood across from me on the sidewalk, constantly checking his phone.

  Rhys, the bass player, and Slade, the guitar player, could have passed for twins. They had long black hair that hung in their faces and they stood quietly smoking and talking together. They were both wearing leather jackets, and neither of them looked like they had slept in days.

  Ian Mercury walked up to me, accompanied by a beautiful woman with flowing black locks. I’d met Ian quickly last night, and while he was every bit as handsome as his brother, there was an air of restraint around him. He introduced his wife with exaggerated formality.

  “Rhone, meet Catherine Donovan.

  “Nice to meet you,” I replied, shaking her hand. “I’m doing a story for the Rolling Stone.”

  “Ian told me. Things can be kind of rough with the boys when they’re on tour,” she said, smiling at me. I’d already looked her up, so I knew she was one of the top supermodels for Yves St. Laurent. Tall, with legs that stretched for miles, her light brown eyes were filled with kindness. She was absolutely stunning. “Let me know if you need anything, or have any questions, okay?”

  “That’s so nice of you, thank you,” I replied with a smile. It was nice to have another woman around.

  “I’m going to kill that fuckin’ wanker if he doesn’t hurry up!” Ian exclaimed, pacing the sidewalk behind his wife. “Matt, you’re the one getting paid to make sure he’s ready to go on time. Why did I have to go wake his ass up?”

  “I apologize, Mr. Mercury, I would’ve gone…”

  “ — well, then do your bloody job next time, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Yes, sir,” Matt replied, looking back down at his phone.

  Waiting was not my strong suit, and I was feeling antsy, but Ian’s obvious frustration just made everything awkward.

  My gaze traveled back to the bus, remembering the scene that had greeted me yesterday. If I’d known what was going on inside there, I’d never just walked in like that, but Matt had told me to just ‘go on in’. I should have known what to expect… Liam’s reputation preceded him.

  I felt completely uncomfortable going back in there alone, so I stayed out on the sidewalk and waited until a freshly showered Liam walked up, his wet stringy hair somehow serving to make him look even sexier. He was barefoot, wearing only a pair of jeans and a white linen unbuttoned shirt, his muscular, tattooed chest on display once again. A thin, dark line of hair ran down from his navel, disappearing into a pair of faded Levi’s.

  Big D, the band’s bodyguard, stood next to him. He was one of the biggest, scariest men I’d ever seen and the scowl on his face was intimidating.

  “It’s about fucking time!” Ian sneered at him.

  “Piss off!” Liam spat back. “I’m bloody here now. If you keep naggin’ at me, I’ll fuckin’ go back to bed.”

  “We’re all so sick of your shit, Liam.”

  “Yeah? Well fuckin’ quit then, what the fuck do I care? None of you blokes would even be here if it wasn’t for me.”

  “You’re the most arrogant prick I’ve ever known!” Ian said.

  “And the most brilliant, Ian, don’t forget that,” he said teasingly. “Now can we get this show on the road?”

  He looked over at me and winked as he pushed past everyone and boarded the bus again. Big D followed. My eyes met Ian’s and he shook his head in frustration. I shrugged and slowly walked onto Liam’s bus.

  Here we go…

  As I walked in, his eyes met mine briefly and he looked away just as fast. This was not going to be easy, I suspected.

  I sat across from him, and met his gaze.

  “Good morning to you, sweet tits,” Liam said, with a little wave of his hand.

  “Catherine,” I said. If we were going to get anywhere, I couldn’t deal with being called ‘sweet tits’ the whole time.

  “Catherine,” he said, my name rolling over his tongue slowly. “That’s right…” He raked his gaze over my body, his head tilted as if he were trying to solve a puzzle. “Catherine, from Rolling Stone.”

  “Yes,” I replied curtly. “As I mentioned last night, I’m here for a week.”

  “A lot can happen in a week, Catherine from Rolling Stone,” he said, winking again.

  “A lot of that?” I asked, gesturing out to the sidewalk.

  “What? My brother and I bicker every now and then. Are you going to write about that?” Liam asked.

  “Maybe I’ll mention it. I don’t know what I’m going to write yet,” I replied. His gaze was intense. Penetrating, seductive and fiery, his eyes seemed to tear right through me. My breath quickened and I tried to calm my racing heart.

  No wonder this guy is a star, I thought to myself. He’s got those eyes, that fucking body, that charisma. There was something about him that made you yearn for more. I couldn’t stop looking at him. My eyes were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

  “It should be a fun week,” he replied, a slow, mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I’ll try to make sure it’s interesting for you.”

  “I look forward to it,” I said.

  “My brother’s constant raving makes him look like a lunatic,” he replied, dryly. “He’s jealous that I get all the attention.”

  “And do you like that?” I asked.

  “What? Getting all the attention?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, luv, I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t enjoy attention,” he leaned towards me, lowering his voice. “Don’t you like attention?” he asked, his eyes grazing over my body again.

  “Sure, who doesn’t?” I shot back.

  He smiled, nodded in approval and sat back. He folded his arms across his chest, slowly looking me up and down again. I suppressed a smile.

  “Well, then,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he smiled at me. “Looks like we have something in common already.”

  “When can we talk, Mr. Mercury?” I asked, reminding myself to get back to business.

  “Not now,” he replied, with a sigh. “I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night. And we’ve got all week, right?”

  “Yes, but I was hoping to finish early —,” I began.

  “—Finish early? I don’t even know what that means!” he replied, bursting out laughing at his own joke.

  “That’s not what I —,”

  “—Don’t worry, love, there’s plenty of time,” he said, reaching over and putting his hand on my knee. The heat seared my skin and I pulled away quickly. He eyes shot up, looking at me curiously, before he shook his head and stood up. As he strolled to the back of the bus, I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on his tight, jean-clad ass. A wave of hot desire wash over me.

  This was going to be a long week.

  Chapter 4

  LIAM

  Catherine smelled like peaches.

  Her scent hit me as soon as she walked on the bus and it lingered long after I closed myself off in my bunk. She was fucking beautiful, that was for sure… But I sure as hell wished she wasn’t here. The last thing I needed was some fuckin’ reporter sniffing around and ju
dging my every move. I’d forgotten all about her until I walked up and saw her standing there. The events of last night came flooding back, and I smiled.

  So much for first impressions…

  I was a bit of a wanker, I knew that. But this business had left me jaded. Everyone wanted something from me, everyone wanted to be close to me, everyone wanted what they thought I had. But what did I have, really? Money? Who cares? My life was easier before the fuckin’ money. Women? I had them when I was still busking for shillings on the streets of London.

  That left Fame. Fuck that. If it wasn’t for fame, little miss reporter wouldn’t be out there trying to snatch a few juicy bits of knowledge to satisfy the vultures. They were never satisfied. They wanted to pour over every little detail of my goddamned life.

  It was like my life wasn’t my own anymore. My private life was public. I left my emotions on the stage night after night, baring my soul for the money that kept this monstrosity of a rock machine running… And for what? There was nothing left for me. Hell, there wasn’t much left of me, for that matter.

  It’s like I was some robot, mindlessly going through the paces every day. Wake up in a new hotel, a different city, get on the bus, drive to the next town, perform another show, get drunk, get laid, try to get some sleep, and wake up and do it all over again. It wasn’t fuckin’ glamorous, it was fuckin’ bloody exhausting, is what it was. That’s why so many of my friends were fuckin’ dead. They turned to the white stuff to keep moving. I wasn’t going to follow their example.

  I chose this path, though. I was blessed, everyone said. I was living life to the fullest, riding on the edge everyday, living a life most could only dream of… I was adored by millions of people who didn’t really know me at all.

  It was all a ruse. I couldn’t wait to leave America and get back home. I was completely out of place here, and it already seemed like the tour was crawling along at a snail’s pace.