DAMON: A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel

by Meg Jackson

  “You know….last night….I didn’t…I didn’t…you know, return the favor,” Georgia said, seeming nervous. Honey chuckled.

  “I didn’t even remember, to be honest. But it’s never too late…” she looked down, eyebrows raised, and saw the girl’s face flicker with worry.

  “Don’t worry, it’s easy,” she cooed, rolling onto her back beside the girl, who leaned up onto her elbows. Honey snaked one arm around Georgia’s waist and pulled her tight. The girl bit her lip, brought one hand tentatively towards Honey’s mound. One finger slipped between her slightly parted lips, exploring, running along her clit and down to her wet opening. Honey moaned and closed her eyes, letting her head fall back.

  “Mmmm, that’s a good start,” she said. Buoyed, the girl let her fingers linger, back and forth, tracing the inside of Honey’s lips. She leaned forward, kissing Honey’s neck, tasting her. She mirrored Honey’s approach, trailing her lips downward, but bypassed Honey’s breasts completely.

  Honey moaned as Georgia’s warm mouth grew nearer and nearer to her aching pussy, parting her legs wider. Georgia’s fingers were playing delicately with her clit, as though afraid of touching it too hard. The sensation was like thousands of feathers gently pricking at Honey’s flesh: beautiful torture. She wanted to grab the girl’s head and force it downwards, but she was patient. As Georgia’s tongue dipped below her belly-button, the girl re-positioned herself between Honey’s parted thighs.

  “Taste me, sweetheart,” Honey whispered, feeling the girl’s hot breath against her clit. She reached down and gently tugged at one of her blonde locks, encouragingly. Georgia looked nervous but curious as she looked down at Honey’s exposed mound, her fingers now stalled in their roaming.

  She leaned forward and gently kissed Honey’s clit, making it jump and quiver. Honey thought she might break in two from the way the girl was teasing her, holding back, making her wait. If she didn’t know better, Honey would have thought the torture was on purpose. She whimpered, her hands gently combing the girl’s hair, putting the slightest pressure on the back of her head.

  With a rush of electric pleasure, Honey’s efforts were rewarded as the girl tentatively stuck her tongue out and ran it along Honey’s clit.

  “Oh, yeah, baby, just like that,” she cried out, and Georgia repeated the move, lapping at Honey’s clit as it strained forward from its hood. As though inspired by Honey’s reaction, she began to lick faster, experimenting with different speeds and angles, now circling it, now flicking it gently.

  Honey felt her blood turning slow and molten as her desire rose, her pussy begging for attention, her face enflamed. She hadn’t realized how horny she was until Georgia’s tongue began to lick her sensitive button, how it was so tender it almost hurt as Georgia rolled it between her lips and hummed against it playfully.

  “Oh, baby, that’s so good,” Honey moaned encouragingly, hoping the girl would take it a step further. Her hopes were not in vain. Bolstered, Georgia pressed two fingers against Honey’s dripping slit.

  “Can I fuck you like this?” Georgia suddenly asked, pulling her face away; Honey looked up and couldn’t help but smile at the worried look on the girl’s face.

  “Please fuck me just like that, baby” she said, her hips automatically raising as her body cried out for stimulation. She raised her hands to her own breasts, pinching her sensitive nipples as she moaned, Georgia’s tongue once more finding her swollen clit and lavishing attention upon it.

  Honey felt her thighs quivering around the girls’ head, felt her body heating up one degree at a time, her nerves dancing and snapping inside her. With a satisfied groan, she felt Georgia push her two fingers inside Honey’s pussy, as deep as the knuckle, and began to stroke her inside, gently thrusting back and forth. Honey’s hips arched, and Georgia’s fingers plunged further into her cunt, her tongue never leaving Honey’s clit.

  “Fuck me, yes, baby, oh fuck me,” Honey moaned, wanting the girl to never stop, feeling her pleasure rising and rising inside her like a ship on a tremendous wave. The girl began to fuck her harder, faster, her fingers darting in and out while her tongue lapped and sucked at her clit. Honey kneaded her own breasts, tweaking the nipples violently, her muscles straining to the point of snapping as pleasure engulfed her.

  The wave crested, broke, and Honey felt herself trembling as her legs snapped shut around the girl’s head, her silky hair against Honey’s thighs like a cool compress to her skin as she bucked and came underneath the girl’s tongue and around her probing fingers. Honey felt her orgasm shaking her body to its core as she peaked and then slowly fading, leaving her buzzing and humming with pleasure. Releasing her thighs, she sighed happily and let her head roll back further against the pillow.

  “Oh, girl, you’re a natural,” she said. Georgia giggled and wiped her mouth as she pulled away and crawled up to join Honey in the bed. Honey extended her arm, inviting the girl to nuzzle into her. She did, and Honey let the sweet smell of Georgia’s hair fill her nostrils. She liked this girl quite a bit. She hoped she’d stick around. If she did, Honey would take good care of her, make sure none of the men roughed up her heart. If they did, she’d always be welcome to come heal in Honey’s bed.

  As she drifted off once more, listening to the gentle breathing beside her, the sunlight streaming in over them, illuminating their soft curves as they lay in the bed, Honey’s mind lagged once more, tripping over that unsettling feeling that had plagued her upon waking.

  With a sudden start that shook Honey’s whole body, her eyes popped open. Somehow, it didn’t disturb the sleeping figure beside her. She remembered now what she’d see the night before. A stranger, though not a stranger, really. He’d been in the bar for a few days…she hadn’t noticed anything odd about him at first but…but last night…

  Yes, last night. He’d done something odd. She’d noticed him first staring at Reign and the little thing he was trying to help, then again, when she was outside after Reign had rode away. She’d seen the man slinking off towards the motel. But he wasn’t a guest. There were only three people even staying at the motel, and he wasn’t one of them. And he’d been headed straight for room 7.

  Honey’s stomach flipped. She cursed herself now for having drank too much, for being too wasted to notice just how suspicious all that was. She could sense trouble a mile away, but it had been sitting right in her own damn bar and she hadn’t done a thing about it. There was definitely something up with that stranger, and it definitely had something to do with that Gabriella girl.

  I told Reign she’d be trouble, Honey thought, her contentment draining away as she tried to put all the pieces together in her mind. The duffel bag, the bruise, the girl, the stranger, Reign…

  She’d need coffee if she was going to start working on whatever this was. Loathe to leave the comfort of her bed, not to mention Georgia’s pleasurably soft flesh, she groaned and sat up.

  Some day off, she thought sourly, but her irritation was just a façade concealing a pit of worry that was growing in her belly. This wasn’t good. Not at all. Not at all…

  17

  He was very pleased with himself. He wasn’t the sort of man who generally liked patting himself on the back, but this time he’d really outdone himself. Of course, he wasn’t too proud to tip his hat to luck, which had set him up real pretty this time.

  It was lucky that the girl had found her way straight into Reign’s arms. It was lucky that she was running from a situation that he could use to his advantage. He was lucky that her husband seemed a lot more concerned with finding his wife than figuring out how she’d gotten the balls to get away. He was lucky that the cops, the rest of the cops, were only curious about her possible involvement in the hotel murder – they hadn’t yet gotten to the point of putting out a warrant or asking too many questions.

  He was lucky in all sorts of ways. And he was a man who knew how to get the most out of his luck.

  He sat outside the small, wood-sided house. Cute digs, he thou
ght, noting the happy “welcome” sign hanging on the front door. He also noted the garden, which looked like someone had recently cared for it, but not for a few days. The guy inside that house definitely wasn’t the gardening sort, nor did he seem like the “welcome” sign sort. He seemed like the sort who’d throw a punch as soon as he found a good reason – and that reason could be any reason at all.

  He didn’t think that the fact that this Jeremy guy was a cop would impede his mission. This guy wasn’t the sort of cop who did it for noble reasons, protecting and serving and all that. No, Jeremy was just a good old-fashioned bully, and a police uniform gave him the authority to bully people on behalf of the great state of Colorado.

  He wouldn’t find it part of his duty to report the man to his buddies on the force. He’d probably be happy as a pig in shit that the man had found him and was offering his very particular services. A one way ticket to Find-Your-Wife-ville. If the guy wasn’t pissed off enough about the girl running off in the first place, he was sure to blow his top once the man told him about her little romance with Reign.

  The man opened his car door slowly, in no hurry. He was re-calculating how much he stood to make off this whole fiasco. His payment from the Immortal Soulz, what he could take from the girl’s safe, what he could weasel out of her husband as a finder’s fee. He’d make enough off this one gig to coast him through a few good years in Costa Rica.

  And if anyone had a problem with him after it was all said and done, be it the police or the club or the husband, good luck finding him. The man could go ghost better than the best of them. He’d done enough of his own research to know that the Immortal Soulz were savvy, but nowhere near his level of savvy. If they were, they wouldn’t have hired him in the first place, would they?

  Climbing the brick steps leading to the front door, the man noticed the curtains shifting slightly. On the lookout, he thought with a grin. Yeah, the guy inside was probably pretty desperate to get his hands around his no-good, shit-for-brains, unappreciative wife. Specifically, her neck.

  Before the man could even knock, the door creaked open. A strong, pale, masculine face appeared in the crack. It looked drawn, as though he hadn’t slept in days, fueled by coffee, but still strong and determined.

  Almost psychotically determined.

  “What do you want?” growled the man in the door. His eyes shot from side to side, as though trying to see if there were other people on his tiny stoop.

  “Are you Jeremy Tunnock?” the man asked, unfazed by the crazy look in his subject’s eyes. After a long pause, the face in the door nodded, and the eyes settled on the man, examining him up and down. The man tipped his hat, trying to hide a sardonic smile. Guys like Jeremy were suckers for signs of respect.

  “My name is Silas, and I know where your wife is,” the man said simply, flatly. The face in the door shifted; the eyes grew wide, the chin trembled a bit before setting in a firm grimace, the sunken-looking cheeks puffed out slightly, turned reddish.

  “Where is she?” Jeremy demanded, his voice rough as sandpaper.

  “I rather think we have some things to discuss,” Silas said, taking a step closer. Jeremy, in turn, stepped back slightly, but made quick work of opening the door all the way. He stepped to the side to let Silas pass and stuck his head out, looking both ways, before closing the door once more.

  The living area was as cute as the outside, but seemed dark and dim. None of the lights were on, and the curtains were drawn. Throw pillows, tea cozies, framed photographs. Evidence of a happy wife, happy home. Trust not too much appearances, Silas thought.

  “How do you know where my wife is? Who are you?” Jeremy demanded, arms crossed, boring holes into the back of Silas’ head as he turned around in the living room, taking note of all the little details. When he was satisfied about committing the important things in the room to memory, he finally met Jeremy’s gaze, the benign smile on his lips a stark contrast to Jeremy’s deadly scowl.

  “I’m a man who finds things, does things, for other people, when they can’t do it themselves. And I happened upon your lovely little Gabriella on a job. I thought you might be interested in her whereabouts, and what exactly she’s been up to there,” Silas said patiently. “Shall we discuss this over a drink? Like gentlemen?”

  “Just tell me where she is,” Jeremy demanded, his voice so cop-like it almost made Silas laugh. Authority hadn’t scared Silas since he was still eating cereal with a Kermit the Frog spoon. As he’d expected, Jeremy was the type to throw all his punches at the first bell. If Silas didn’t manage to get this guy to understand exactly who was in charge of the situation, he’d likely pull out his Colorado PD-issued gun, and then Silas would have to wrestle it from him and shoot the poor sap. Silas didn’t want anything as messy as all that.

  “Well now, I don’t blame you for being impatient, but I really think we ought to try and discuss this in a civilized manner. I’m willing to tell you everything I know – for a small sum, which we can work out over a nice cold beer,” Silas said, clasping his hands around his back and standing up tall and straight. He felt a thrill as Jeremy automatically mimicked his actions, straightening his spine and dropping his arms, clasping them in front of his waist. But Jeremy didn’t verbally respond to the offer, and after a long pause Silas decided he would need to crank the engine a bit.

  “I can’t say I pegged you as a teetotaler, but no matter. It doesn’t have to be a beer. A nice cold lemonade would…”

  “Shut up,” Jeremy snapped, losing the cool he was trying very hard to maintain. Men with quick tempers hated nothing more than when their anger was met with placidity. It made them feel foolish. “I don’t negotiate with…with…with whatever you are.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, my good man. But, if you want, I’ll leave right now and leave you to your own devices. Best of luck to you, friend, in finding your precious wife,” Silas said, unclasping his hands and heading to the door.

  “Wait,” Jeremy said, his voice cutting through the room quickly, as though the idea of Silas leaving without giving up the goods incited panic in his heart. Or, more likely, his dignity, Silas thought, smiling as he paused with his hand on the doorknob.

  “Whiskey,” Jeremy said, sounding deflated, which was exactly how Silas wanted him to sound. “On the rocks or neat?”

  “Neat, if you would be so kind,” Silas said, turning back to face his newest client.

  Part III

  18

  Silas looked over. Pale, red-haired, lanky Jeremy sat white-knuckling the door handle with one hand, his other hand clenched in a fist. He’d been sitting just like that since they’d left Summit County. He looked ready to do some serious business: a total overhaul of his wife’s pretty face.

  Silas smiled. He felt a sort of wicked pity for men like Jeremy, middle-school bullies who grew up to be twenty-something bullies, who would just turn into middle-aged bullies, until their train came into the station at a nursing home, all alone, bullying the nurses who had the unfortunate job of giving them sponge baths and wiping the shit from their asses.

  Jeremy would experience a few blissful minutes of blind rage while he was unloading onto his wife, then he’d feel as empty and angry and unsatisfied and small as always. Guys like him were a dime a dozen; Silas had come across many an incarnation of Jeremy in his line of work. A few women, too. People who needed Silas’ skills to find their favorite punching bag, or who wanted to be tough but were too damn stupid and weak to get the job done themselves.

  After Silas had managed to calm Jeremy down over two glasses of whiskey, the cop had started in with the bullish questions. Silas had answered them as vaguely as he could, which was very vague, indeed.

  Who was he? Just a man with a knack for finding people.

  What was he doing at Jeremy’s house? Well, they’d already gone over that, hadn’t they?

  How did Silas know about Gabriella? He’d come across her on a separate job and wanted to save Jeremy the trouble
of finding her himself.

  How had he found out where Jeremy lived? A knack for finding people meant finding any people. Even cops. Even people who didn’t know they were being looked for.

  When it finally came down to talk business, Jeremy had been cagey, suspicious. Hell, he was still cagey and suspicious. But who cared? At the end of the day, he’d taken the deal Silas had laid on the table. A hefty sum, for sure, just to track down a wife who’d had some good reasons for leaving in the first place.

  What had really sealed the deal, though, when Jeremy had been on the fence, his face wavering from pure desire to find Gabriella and frustration at needing Silas’ help in the first place, was Silas’ admission that Gabriella wasn’t just hiding from Jeremy; she was recruiting for his replacement. A hint at what she’d been up to in the few days she’d been gone had been enough to push humpty-dumpty off the wall.

  And all the king’s men wouldn’t keep Jeremy from emptying his bank account to get his hands on the man who’d been plowing his wife. Making her smile. Putting some life into those sad, dead eyes of hers. Kissing away all the cuts and scrapes Jeremy had left on her little heart. Doing for her what Jeremy could never do in a million years, even if he’d wanted to. Which, maybe, he did.

  Silas had a lot of time to think on the ride, since Jeremy wasn’t much for talking. He was thinking about what made the cop tick. Maybe, just maybe, the poor kid was in such sorry shape because he wanted Gabriella to love him – but didn’t know how to make her. That almost – emphasis on the almost – made him sorry for the sack of shit. Whatever.

  Silas didn’t feel bad for Jeremy, not really. Just like he didn’t feel bad for the girl they were on the road to catch. He didn’t feel bad for anyone, except for himself when things weren’t going his way. Which, fortunately, was a rare happening. For example, the way he was playing it now, he was going to be able to get whatever he wanted for a few years to come.