Biker's Bride: A Bad Boy Romance (Demons MC)

by B. B. Hamel

“So I’m just one more annoying bump in the road for you guys?”

  “Not to me,” I said. “My bike crushes bumps in the road. But you, I want to keep you around.”

  “Why are you doing all of this?”

  “You keep asking that,” I said, “but it should be obvious.”

  “You feel guilty about what happened between us.”

  I laughed an angry, rueful laugh. “Nothing for me to feel guilty about.”

  She looked at me. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m fucking serious. Doesn’t matter now anyway.”

  “It matters.”

  “Only thing that matters is how badly I want that pussy of yours,” I said. “I’ve been sitting here thinking about how I’d make you have the sweetest orgasm of your life right here on this couch.”

  “You’re so full of yourself.”

  “I’d rather you be full of me.” I moved closer to her. “I think you’d rather that too.”

  She stood up quickly. I saw her glance down at my hard dick, straining against my jeans, and the red blush that jumped onto her cheeks only made me that much harder.

  “No, thanks,” she said. “If you don’t care about what happened, then I don’t care about this.”

  “Pretend all you want, princess,” I said, “but I know how badly you want that wet cunt sliding down my hard cock. I’ll fuck that pussy like you’ve never been fucked before.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I don’t. Any time you want this cock deep in that tight cunt of yours, you let me know.”

  She made a face, turned, and marched into my bedroom, slamming the door.

  I chuckled to myself and chugged the beer. I got up and grabbed another one.

  I was still hard as fuck, but that was going to have to be okay. She’d come around eventually.

  And when she did, she’d understand what she’d been missing all these years.

  Chapter Fifteen: Caralee

  I sat in Ford’s bedroom, my pussy soaking wet, trying to get his words out of my head.

  He left you. You can’t forget that, I kept thinking over and over.

  I couldn’t give him another chance. I’d learned that the hard way in my life. You let a man fuck you over once and he’d keep doing it, again and again. That was just his nature.

  Ford had fucked me over back then. Got my hopes up, got my body interested, my mind interested, and then he just disappeared. I wasn’t going to make the same stupid mistake, no matter what he was doing for me.

  I sighed, frustrated beyond belief. I wanted to sit out there and have another beer, but he seemed so incapable of having a normal conversation. Besides, seeing my apartment torn to shreds had really shaken me to my core.

  I knew bad guys were out there looking for me. I wouldn’t have put myself through everything so far if I didn’t really believe that. But actually seeing my apartment in that state really hammered home the fact that I was wanted by some very, very bad people.

  I flipped open my laptop and began to scroll through Facebook. I had a couple hours to kill, and so I began to lose myself in mindless social media—the best cure for stress.

  Over an hour slipped away like that, but I soon found myself bored to tears. It sounded like Ford was watching football in the other room.

  It felt weird to be alone in his bed. I looked around the room for the first time, really taking it in. He had no family photos or anything like that, which didn’t surprise me. The decorating was simple, rustic. He had knives on his dresser and what looked like a crossbow in the corner. There were deer antlers on the wall, which creeped me out, but at least it wasn’t a full deer head.

  I got up, curious. His room was almost too plain, as if he had gone through the trouble of keeping anything too personal out of there. I knew I shouldn’t snoop, but I couldn’t help myself.

  I pulled open a drawer. It was full of socks. I dug around a little bit, and I let out a small yelp when I found a stash of condoms.

  Shaking my head, I quickly shut the drawer and bit my lip. Why did he need so many condoms? Was he really sleeping around as much as Janine said he was?

  I understood if it was true. It was easy to see why women would go for him. Hell, I was having a hard time keeping my hands off him, and I had more reason to stay away than most people did. His cocky smile, his dirty talk, it was all incredibly hard to resist.

  I didn’t know how I felt about any of that. I shouldn’t have felt anything, but I kept coming back to it for some reason. I had no real claim over him, and we weren’t really getting married for real. Or at least we didn’t really have feelings for each other.

  And yet just thinking about him made me wet.

  I heard the door open and my head jerked over. “Busy?” he asked.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Coming into my damn bedroom.”

  “You need to knock.”

  He grinned. “I need to knock on my own bedroom door?”

  “On my bedroom door,” I corrected.

  He just shook his head and walked inside. “I’m getting changed and then we’re leaving. Got your meeting soon.”

  “What’s the meeting going to be like, anyway?”

  I stared as he began to strip off his shirt. He tossed it aside, revealing his muscular chest and his tattoos. “Should be easy,” he said. “Just tell the truth.”

  “What are you doing?” I said quickly as he began to take off his pants.

  “Getting changed in my bedroom,” he said, laughing. “You can stick around if you want to enjoy the show.”

  I stared as he slipped his jeans off, revealing his tight black boxer briefs.

  And I couldn’t help but notice how hard his cock was. He was staring at me hungrily.

  “See you out there,” I said quickly, and I got out of there.

  His laughter chased me out into the main room. I bit my lip and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, drinking it down to calm my nerves.

  That man was so damn cocky, he just stripped down in front of me.

  And I just had to run out of there or else I was going to do something very, very stupid.

  A half hour later, we pulled up in front of the clubhouse. We climbed off Ford’s bike.

  “Just relax,” he said to me. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I’m relaxed.”

  “Good. Jetter used to be a member of our club back before he defected and became the leader of the Rebels.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised.

  “Really. Him and Larkin have history.”

  “What kind of history?”

  “The sort you don’t ask about,” he said. “Come on.”

  He led me inside and sat me down at a table. The place was pretty empty, with only the young bartender and the two guys named Clutch and Spoil.

  “Boys,” Ford said to them.

  They nodded back but didn’t come over.

  “Friendly,” I said.

  “Don’t mind them. They’re just pissed about this war thing.”

  “I thought all you bikers wanted to do was fight and kill each other?”

  “Not always,” he said, grinning. “Sometimes we like to fuck.”

  I opened my mouth to respond but was quickly interrupted by Larkin coming out from the back room.

  “You’re here,” he said to me and Ford.

  “Of course,” Ford said. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Jetter and his boys are on their way.” He looked at me, his face impassive. “Are you ready?”

  “She’s ready,” Ford answered.

  Larkin stared at me for a second longer and then nodded. “Ford, you stay with her. We’ll be nearby.”

  Ford nodded. Larkin gestured at Clutch and Spoil, and the three of them disappeared into the back room.

  “TomTom,” Ford called over to the bartender. “Whisky for me. Gin and tonic for the girl.”

  “How’d you know?” I asked him, surprised that he knew my favorite drink.


  “Lucky guess,” he said.

  TomTom returned with the drinks and gave me a shy smile. Ford slammed his back and I sipped mine a little more conservatively, worried about what was coming.

  Ford got another and sipped this one a little slower, looking at me.

  “Relax,” he said. “This is nothing. A formality.”

  “Seems like nothing to you,” I said, “but this is all new to me.”

  He nodded slowly, looking at me seriously. For a second, he seemed like he was actually seeing me. “This has happened fast,” he said.

  “You’re not kidding. Somehow we’re engaged.”

  He smiled, nodding. “Yeah. Never thought that’d happen to me.”

  “What, marrying me?”

  “Marrying anyone.” He took a long sip of his whisky. “You know, I used to watch you, back when we were kids.”

  “Sounds creepy.”

  “Wasn’t like that,” he said, a little annoyed. “You weren’t like the other girls in town. They all wanted a piece of my bike and a piece of my cock. But you didn’t seem interested in any of that shit.”

  “I wasn’t trying to end up just another pregnant teenager from our small town.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “You wanted more. You wanted to get out. I could see that in you.”

  “Why didn’t you ever say that to me?”

  He shrugged, staring deeply at me. “Because I was just some piece of shit kid from across the street. I could have given you a good fuck, but what else did I have to offer?”

  “You saved me that night, though,” I said, my heart beating fast in my chest.

  “Yeah, I did. Your old man was a real piece of shit.”

  I laughed softly. “Yeah, he was.”

  “You still talk to him?”

  I shook her head. “No. Not since I left. I’ve never looked back.”

  “Good,” he said. “Fuck that place.”

  I laughed, and before he could say more, the door opened.

  I looked up. Two men walked in. One was short and balding, and the other was taller with dark, slicked-back hair. He was smiling this huge, goofy smile.

  “Here we go,” Ford said softly.

  I nodded, downing my drink. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was. “Okay.”

  Ford stood up and gestured at the men.

  “Brother Ford,” the smiling man said.

  “Not your brother anymore,” Ford answered.

  “This the girl?” He ignored Ford’s comment and looked at me, smiling his big, sleazy smile.

  “This is her. Caralee, this is Jetter.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, though I felt like I wanted to puke.

  “It’s great to meet you.” He nodded at the bald man, who gave me a little smile and then walked over to the bar. Jetter sat down at our table.

  “Drink?” Ford asked.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Ford gestured at the bartender, who walked over. Jetter asked for a whisky, and I asked for another gin and tonic. When the drinks came, Jetter took one long sip and then looked at me, smiling.

  My heart was pounding in my chest. I took a sip to cover my discomfort. I didn’t know what he expected from me, what he wanted.

  “I get what Rod saw in you,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “You’re pretty. You have kind eyes. Rod was a sucker for kind eyes.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” I said, squirming under his gaze

  “Keep is professional, Jetter,” Ford warned.

  “I’m always professional.” He smiled disarmingly and took another sip. “Tell me, Caralee, how did you know our boy?”

  “I met Rod when I was at school,” I said.

  “Where do you go?”

  “The University of Texas.”

  “UT is a good school.” He leaned back in his chair, appraising me. I felt naked for a second, like he was staring through my clothes. It made me feel dirty. “So you’re not just some dumb bitch club slut, then?”

  “No,” I said, a little surprised.

  I glanced at Ford, and he was visibly holding himself back. Jetter ignored him.

  “Good,” he said. “You don’t look it, but you never know.”

  “Rod came to a party at school. That’s how we first met. I like motorcycles, and he offered to take me for a ride. We were friends. That’s all,” I said.

  “I believe it,” Jetter said, laughing. “Rod never did have much luck with the ladies.”

  “He was a nice guy.” I didn’t like the way people kept talking about Rod, as if nobody cared that he was gone.

  “Nice,” Jetter said, musing. “That’s not exactly a good quality in our line of work, you know.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said softly. “He still was.”

  “Probably how the dumb fuck got himself killed.”

  I flinched as the memory of that night came back to me briefly, but I didn’t say anything. He was clearly trying to bait me into getting upset, though I wasn’t sure why.

  “Something you want to ask her in particular, Jetter, or are you just being your usual self?” Ford asked.

  Jetter smirked at him. “Watch it, Ford. I’m a club president.”

  Ford clenched his jaw but said nothing.

  Jetter returned his gaze to me. “Did you kill Rod?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Do you know who did?”

  “Other bikers. I was too far away to see exactly.”

  “What happened?”

  So I went through my story again, beginning with the joy ride and ending with the murder. Jetter’s face remained impassive the whole time, almost as if he had heard the story already. I hated telling it again, hated reliving that night, but I knew I had to get through it all. I gave as much detail as I possibly could, even though the night had been so dark and I had been so terrified.

  Finally, he looked at Ford. “What do you think?”

  “She’s telling the truth.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  “I know her,” he said. “She’s not a part of this shit.”

  He nodded and looked back at me. “What did these guys tell you about me?”

  “Not much,” I said honestly. “You used to be one of them. Now you lead a different club.”

  “How do you think that happened for me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He leaned forward, downing his drink. “Like I said, being a nice guy isn’t the best thing in this business.”

  “I see,” I said, suddenly afraid.

  “I killed a lot of people. That’s how I got to my position. I cut throats and showed absolutely no mercy.” He smiled at me, a sickening thing. “Your friend Ford here isn’t much different, you know.”

  “Different enough,” Ford said.

  “We’re all this way, you know,” Jetter went on. “Killers. Thieves. We live outside the law because we can’t live any other way. Rod, he just wasn’t built for this life. It takes a certain kind of man to survive it, to thrive in it.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked him.

  “Because I’m trying to understand who you are, Caralee. It may not seem like it, but I am very, very angry that my boy is dead. I want to find his killers and I want to cut their throats wide open.” He paused to sip his drink. “Right now, you’re my only link.”

  “I’m sorry. I told you everything I know.”

  “Rod wasn’t cut out for this life, but that doesn’t mean that harder men like me can’t at least get a little revenge for him.”

  Jetter stared at me for a long moment, and I looked back.

  “I want you to get that revenge,” I said softly.

  “Good.” His sleazy smile returned and he looked at Ford. “I think we’re done here.”

  Ford nodded. “Good.”

  Jetter stood up and gestured to the bald man sitting at the bar. “Caralee,” he said, “if you think of anything, let me know.”


  “Okay,” I said.

  “Give my regards to Larkin,” Jetter said to Ford.

  “Will do.”

  Jetter turned and left, followed by the bald man, who simply leered at me before disappearing.

  I slammed back my drink and exhaled heavily. I felt like someone had just sat on my chest for an hour.

  “You okay?” Ford asked.

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Good.” He finished his drink. “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  “What about your boss?”

  He shrugged. “He’s fine. He heard all that.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home. Maybe I’ll strip in front of you again.”

  “Is that all you think about?”

  He stared at me seriously. “Caralee, when you’re around, fucking you really is all I can think about.”

  I looked back and suddenly forgot all about Jetter and his creepy associate for a moment. I felt a thrill run through me, and I wanted to sit on the back of Ford’s bike, feel the power between my legs, feel his hard body as we rode.

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  We headed out then, got on his bike, and rode.

  I felt more excited than I had in a long time.

  Chapter Sixteen: Ford

  I woke up, hungover and bleary, back aching from lying on the couch all damn night. My cell phone was ringing, so I grabbed it.

  “What?” I barked.

  “It’s me,” Larkin said.

  “What’s up, prez?” I asked. “It’s early as fuck.”

  “Got a job today.”

  That made me sit up. “What’s the deal?”

  “Meeting with the Mezcals. Buying a little shipment.”

  “Time?”

  “Two hours. Down by our favorite cactus patch.”

  “Who’s coming?”

  “A few guys. Meet here in twenty.”

  “Got it.”

  I hung up the phone and sat up, grunting. I checked the time and frowned. It was barely past six, and the sun probably just rose not long ago.

  Damn Larkin and his fucking early morning meetings.

  I stood up and put some coffee on. My memory of the night before was hazy, but I knew nothing had happened. As soon as we got back to my house, Caralee had disappeared in my bedroom, and I had drunk whisky until I could finally pass out on my uncomfortable couch.