Born Sinner
Glenna Maynard
Copyright © 2016 Glenna Maynard
This is a work of fiction. Names characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, business, establishments, locals or events is entirely coincidental. Any reference to real events, business, organizations or locals is intended only to give the fiction a sense of realism and authenticity. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Before you read
Born Sinner
Epilogue
Bonus Scene
Closing Remarks
About The Author
Available Now
Chapter 1 Grim The Beginning
Acknowledgements
A big shout out to all my Rebels, y’all make me smile. You know who you are.
Michelle Simm once again woman, you are my rock star. Thank you for being my alpha reader and for all your awesomeness. My author pals who have been with me along the way, I adore you and our shared passion for the written word, you know who you are. My SOA Widows, you bitches always make me laugh, and you are my favorite bitches to bitch about bitches with. To my family, your support and encouragement means the world to me. Thank you for supporting me while I chase my dreams.
Special thanks to Chelsea Camaron for lending me her likeness and crush on a certain mechanic on TV. I love you woman. Special thanks to Needa Warrant for the mention of her Satan’s Fools MC. Much love.
Dedication
To the free spirits, we are all born sinners, who dare to be different.
When a born sinner gets a taste of the reverend’s daughter he becomes hell bent on making her his.
Trigger Jennings has only ever wanted one woman on the back of his motorcycle, Opal Willoughby. Now that she’s eighteen, nothing will stand in his way. Not even her daddy, the reverend who's got a vendetta against his club, the Born Sinners.
Before You Read
Dear Reader,
Please be aware that I do not claim to be an expert on biker life or culture. This book is meant for entertainment only. My book is no way associated with any real clubs or their practices. I made this up as I wrote the story. I hope you keep an open mind and remember it’s fantasy and not reality.
Thank you for escaping between the pages with me,
Glenna
Born Sinner
Trigger
Today is the day I’ve been waiting on for three years. No, I take that back, I’ve been waiting all my life for today. Opal Willoughby is out of high school and eighteen. Opal was made for loving me. I know it and she knows it. We’ve been in a struggle of push and pull since we were kids. Me trying to push her away while she has tried like hell to pull me in.
I knew not to touch her before she was of legal age.
Her daddy, the local Reverend, woulda sent me upstate in a flash had I touched his precious angel a day before she turned eighteen.
Now there’s nothing he can do to stop what’s been set in motion for years.
When I was in high school, Opal was still just a girl. I knew it was wrong to see an eighth grader and want her, but Opal had this something, she still does. Even though I knew lusting after a reverend’s daughter was wrong, I didn’t care. I wanted her and knew that one day I would make her mine.
When the woman she has become smiles at me…the sensations I feel travel straight to my dick. Opal’s gorgeous, long blonde hair, big wide almond eyes, and that tempting mouth. Sweet Lord, the things I’d love for her mouth to do to me.
As much as Opal revs my engine physically, there’s so much more to her. She has the biggest heart, always doing for others. Not because she has to either. I’ve seen her go above and beyond for the kids in this town.
When she was just a kid in grade school she started up a program with the school to make sure no kid went home on the weekends to an empty cupboard. Because of Opal, every student goes home on Friday with a bag of canned goods.
However, there was always this sadness behind her eyes.
She’d come to the county pool when I was working as a lifeguard and dip her toes in the water. Never getting in, she’d sit near my lifeguard post and grin at me.
One day, a little asshole decided he was gonna have fun with the Rev’s daughter and threw her into the pool. It was obvious she couldn’t swim, even though the water wasn’t very deep. The part of the pool she was in only had a depth of four feet. She could’ve stood had she bothered to stop flailing her arms and legs long enough. I jumped in after her, furious with the kid, he could have broken a bone by tossing her in shallow water like that. Asshole.
I shouldn’t have looked, but when I was getting her from the pool, I could see down the back of her suit. The bruises and welts marking her pale skin didn’t escape my notice.
Anger flooded me, I wanted to kill whoever had hurt her.
She was all that was good and pure in the world. Someone would pay for putting their hands on her and tarnishing her porcelain skin.
Once I had her secure in the office drinking a soda, I jerked that runt from the pool by his hair, daring him to ever even breathe the same air as Opal. I’m positive he pissed himself. He never looked in Opal’s direction again. I made damn sure no man or boy ever did. Opal was meant to be with me.
Back in the office, I kicked the filing cabinet imagining I was kicking the kid. Opal jumped and a slight squeak left her lips.
“No reason to be scared of me,” I told her, trying to steady my breathing. Trying to concentrate on finding out where the bruises originated from. I needed to keep my cool in front of her. Didn’t want her believing I would hurt her too.
“Your back...what happened?”
She shrunk back, folding a skinny arm around her middle, looking anywhere but at me, as though she were ashamed of something.
“Don’t bullshit me either. That kid, he do that to you? Does he pick on you a lot?”
She sipped her Pepsi and shook her head.
I pinched the bridge of my nose knowing down deep the real cause of the marks that desecrated her skin. “Your old man then?”
Her face tensed, and I saw the flash of pain behind her eyes before her mask slid back in place.
I nodded, not needing any more information.
That day I vowed I’d always look after Opal, I’d rid her of the pain, and I’d make damn sure the Rev knew I was watching him.
I went to my club first. I was just a prospect and Wilcox, my president, told me to leave it alone, that it wasn't my business, it wasn’t club business.
I couldn’t do that though—leave it alone.
Opal needed me even if she didn’t know it yet.
Somehow she always seemed to find trouble whenever I was near.
And I always seemed to have the need to step in and save her.
I started attending church every Sunday.
I made sure the Rev understood what my presence meant.
He tried to run me off, he even called Wilcox, but that never stopped me.
I would’ve burned down the church if doing so wouldn’t have taken Opal away from me. Even my Uncle being the county attorney wouldn’t have gotten me off arson charges.
A biker burning a church in the name of love would’ve made one helluva headline though.
Our stolen moments together, as brief as they were, confirmed what I felt deep in my bones, Opal would be mine. She wanted to be mine.
I knew I should stay away, I tried like hell to fight my pull to her, drowning my sorrows on Saturday in liquor and club pussy. Then I’d attend church on Sunday and see Opal, and I’d pray that one day I’d be worthy of all that sweetness she directed my way. Those sweet lips would lift into a sugary smile when I’d walk in, hungover, but wearing a button down and dark jeans attempting to appear respectable. I even slicked my hair back and secured it in a rubber band.
River and Angus would give me shit, but those fuckers were cleaned up and sitting next to me.
Opal
Applying another coat of my vixen red lipstick, I’m ready to go on the prowl. I’m a woman on a mission. A mission to seduce a hot piece of man candy. Trigger Jennings has been my crush since I was in third grade. He won me over when he punched Jimmy Stevens in the nose for trying to lift my skirt up and show everyone my Barbie panties. Shit, with a name like Trigger Jennings, he was bound to be bad, and boy was he ever bad.
Trigger Jennings was exactly the kind of man my daddy warned me away from and didn’t that just make me crave him even more. You see, my daddy is a reverend. Being his daughter in this town means having a status to uphold, a show to perform for the good folks of Sunny, Kentucky.
Our town was founded on good Christian morals. My daddy intends to keep it that way, but he can’t stop me from wanting Trigger. And it sure hasn’t stopped Trigger’s motorcycle club, The Born Sinners, from growing larger. They have a clubhouse right outside the town limits, located in the backwoods.
No “Christian lady” of the church would be caught dead with the likes of Trigger and his outlaws, the Born Sinners. Most of the folks here snub their noses at the club. Except for me. God do I want to be Trigger’s girl. As big, bad, and tough as those bikers come off, I know they have good inside them. We all have good and bad in us.
However, Trigger and his boys come to church every Sunday and donate, while praising Jesus with the rest of us. Daddy can’t turn them away. They come showing their full respect for the Lord, dressed in their finest, no leather or colors on display.
Speaking of displays, I grin looking over my dress in the full length mirror. I’m eighteen now and boy does it show in this dress. I spin in my red heels, watching the red polka dots on my white dress swirl. I bought it online, it reminded me of my favorite movie, Cry Baby. Johnny Depp...when that single tear would roll down his cheek, sweet peaches.
Fluffing my fingers through my blonde curls I’m ready. I walk downstairs to go out with my girlfriend, Rhonda Jean, with no plans to return any time soon. When I reach the front door, my old man hollers at me, “Opal, make sure you wear your sweater.”
“Yes sir,” I call out with a grin, grabbing my red button down sweater from the hall closet with no intentions of wearing it. In my daddy's eyes, I’m still his little girl waiting in the front pew while he practices his next sermon.
I’m grown now.
I’m a woman now.
Trigger Jennings is gonna find out just how much of a woman I am.
I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, the day I finally get my man. Rhonda Jean is waiting outside in her yellow jeep; her graduation present. We graduated this morning. I turned eighteen today too. Funny how life works out sometimes in your favor.
I’ve been waiting to break free, free from the chains of religion my daddy tries to shackle me in. That man loves his religion.
Rhonda Jean waves frantically and honks her horn with the stereo blasting.
Her dark hair blankets her shoulders as she sings along to Cool for The Summer.
I climb in and strap on my seatbelt as my daddy watches from the window. I bet he’s shaking his head and debating calling me back in the house. He wasn’t so uptight when my mom was living here. He was still strict, but not as much as he’s been since mom left us.
I’ve not spoken to her since she took off for work one morning and never returned home.
Of course, she sends cards on the holidays, but the bitter man living inside my old man throws them in the trash.
Part of me was curious once and wondered if she had written anything inside them. I tried digging one out of the garbage and my daddy caught me. A smack to my mouth and his belt to my ass later, I remembered that I hated her for leaving me, and I no longer cared to know if she had anything to say. I didn’t need her any more than she needed me.
Rhonda Jean has always said to me that my mom didn’t leave me...she left Rev Willoughby. The sentiment was sweet, but didn’t make me resent her for walking away any less. She sure as shit didn’t take me with her, or come back for me.
Whatever, I don’t want to think of the past. I want to focus on tonight. I want to focus on Trigger Jennings. Warmth pools in my belly just thinking of his dark hair that reaches well below his chin, but doesn’t quite top his shoulders. He has these green eyes that are a dark shade of forest green that pierce straight through my heart to the center of my soul. Tattoos cover most of his arms and his hands. They’re beautiful, like the rest of him.
I’ve seen him shirtless at the county pool, where he used to lifeguard in the summers. There’s a huge cross that spans his back with the club’s name proudly inked on his skin. I went to the pool just to look at him, even though I couldn’t swim and had to wear an ugly one piece. Not that Trigger woulda looked at me romantically. I was a child and he was a man, a man performing community service for wrecking a police cruiser during his senior year. God was he ever a man. His muscles would glisten with sweat under the sun. I couldn’t help but wonder if his sweat tasted as good as he looked.
I was young, but that didn’t stop the impure thoughts from forming in my mind. I’d fantasize about him often. Wishing he’d put me on the back of his Harley and ride me off into the sunset. I knew that was just a dream, besides he had his own troubles.
If he hadn’t been a minor at the time of the wreck he woulda went to jail. But being the county attorney's nephew earned him special treatment. I doubt he would have served long anyhow.
Enough about that.
Tonight, Trigger seeing me as untouchable stops.
There’s been a magnetic force pulling me to him since I was just a girl.
Rhonda Jean backs out of the driveway and we set out to cruise town. That's all there is to do around here on a Friday night other than cow tipping.
I look too damn pretty to go messing my heels up in cow shit and there won’t be any good parties to attend. The kids I went to school with wouldn’t invite me if there were. My daddy and his bible beating ways made sure of that. Guess they’ve always been afraid I’d tell the Rev on them for drinking a beer or engaging in premarital sex.
Least that’s what my best friend believes. Not that she cares about the parties. Her eyes have always been set on Kade Blevins. He’s a year ahead of us and attends college in Florida on a basketball scholarship, where Rhonda is following him in the fall.
Rhonda Jean looks real pretty in her cutoffs and brown leather halter.
Wouldn’t my daddy freak if he saw what she was dressed in.
There's not much to our town, and since I live a street over from main street, we’re the first cruisers on the scene.
“Wanna head over to the Quick Stop for a Slushie?” I ask, knowing good and well that Trigger and his boys might be there. It’s the only place in town that sells liquor.
The Rev tried to do away with that too, but the voters spoke and they didn’t agree with my old man.
If I know anything about Trigger, I know every Friday night he stops off at the Quick Stop to fill his tank, and to buy his beer and cigarettes.
Rhonda Jean got me to try smoking once and it made me sick. When Rev found out he made me eat a cigarette to prove a point.
“Drugs of any kind are bad for you and when you sin you have to answer for it.” That's what he said to me as he shoved the nasty little thing in my mouth.
That was a lesser punishment compared to others.
He overheard me calling Jessa Livingston a cunt on the phone when I found out she was supposedly seen on the back of Trigger’s motorcycle. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone having him—Trig, even I if couldn’t. Rev jerked me up by my hair and dragged me to the kitchen sink where he proceeded to tell me the devil had a hold on my tongue. He filled my mouth with dish liquid and made me wash my mouth six times as he prayed over me. That was two years ago, and I can still taste that damn soap in the back of my throat.
I’ve not been able to use Dawn liquid soap since.
To beat it all, I later found out it was a stupid rumor, Jessa wasn’t with Trigger and she sure wasn't on the back of his bike.
As nervous as the man makes me, I confronted him about Jessa. I asked him why that skank was good enough for the back of his motorcycle but I wasn’t.
He chuckled and gave me that damn smile that I know is reserved only for me and said, “Don’t know shit all about no Jessa. What I do know is you aren’t eighteen. As good as you’d look on my bike, until you’re legal baby, ain’t a damn I can do about that.”
So, we came to an understanding that day. When I turned eighteen all bets were off.
And it’s about to come to fruition—me on the back of his bike.
I squeal and bang my hand against the dashboard when I see the man of the hour is parked at the gas station. The one my momma used to work at.
Rev would tear the place down if he could. He refuses to buy gas here.
I told him that wasn’t very Christian like and he took his belt to me.
Enough about Rev though.
Rhonda Jean gives me a knowing grin. “I know why you wanted a Slushie you slut. Why don’t you just throw your panties at him?” She laughs, and I give her an evil eye.
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