Living together is a huge step for us but it just feels right.
Cole and Rhyner let their apartment go, and since I was spending most of my nights in Cole’s bed, it only seemed like the next logical step. We haven’t told our parents yet, but I don’t think they wouldn’t approve. It was my dad who gave both of us the extra push to get over ourselves and make up. That night, the night of the accident, he was on his way to me.
Said he couldn’t take another minute without me. I don’t know what my dad said to him, but whatever it was, it did the trick, the same as his talk with me did.
The realtor looks over Cole’s check and smiles. “Here’s your keys. Congratulations on your first place together.” She hands the keys to Cole, telling us to call her if we have any other questions and then she is out the door and Cole’s hands are on me.
He brushes my bangs back, kissing the scar on my forehead. He kisses it often, says it reminds him of how it would feel to lose me. It makes him appreciate what we have now.
I twist away from him, going to the picture window. “We really get great light in here. This will be perfect for doing my paintings.”
“I want to paint,” Cole says with a sexy smirk.
“You do?” I look at him like yeah right.
“Wanna paint your body with me. Get naked. Time to christen the place,” he taunts, raising his shirt over his head.
“We don’t even have a bed.”
“Who said we needed one.” He winks and pushes his jeans down as he kicks his shoes off, all without managing to fall over. Granted he is using the kitchen counter for support.
“Why aren’t you naked yet?” His voice is full of hunger.
“Cole.” I blush as he walks toward me, his manhood jutting out, growing harder with every step.
“Too late to get shy on me now, kitten.” He steps into me and starts undoing the buttons on my shirt, as I wrap my arms around his neck. “You drive me wild,” he whispers against my neck, before torturing me with tiny kisses along my jaw. “I’m going to kiss you all over. Especially here.” He grabs my sex and I squeal.
“I love you, Cole.”
“More,” he says with a growl, tugging my shirt down my arms. “I want your palms against the glass.” He spins me around and shoves my leggings down to my knees. “Good girl, you aren’t wearing any panties and already so fucking wet for me,” he observes, running a finger over my clit as I brace my palms against the window.
“What if someone sees?” I question, as my nipples harden through my bra, feeling the cool glass pressing into them.
“Then we’ll give them something to talk about, won’t we.”
He drops down on his knees behind me, spreading my thighs, kissing each one as he thrusts a finger inside me.
“Oh God,” I moan.
“Not God, but close enough,” he teases, biting my ass cheek.
My boyfriend continues to tease and please me with his mouth and fingers until I am on the edge, teetering on my release from his sweet agony.
His hand comes up, plucking at my nipple. His mouth is on the back of my neck as his hot breath whispers, “Play with your clit for me.”
Working my finger over my pulsing bud my hips arch as he slides into me. Cole fucks me so hard and deep I am afraid we will break the window and plummet to our deaths. But what a damn fine way to go, with my man deep inside of me, filling me with his love.
I tense up.
“You gonna cum for me, Morgan?” He pulls back on my hips, driving deeper inside.
“Oh God, yes, harder,” I tell him, as he pumps in and out slowly, keeping me on a fine line. “I’m so close.”
He pulls my head back and claims my mouth as our bodies move together.
Coming away for a breath, he says, “I want you to marry me.” That’s my man, not asking, telling me. He truly is a Black Rebel man.
I lose it; what little control I had left escapes me, and I shatter, freefalling into an oblivion of orgasmic bliss.
“Yes, Cole. Yes, I want to marry you.”
He drives into me as my hands slide down the window, unable to support myself. I feel his warmth coating my thighs and he pulls out, bringing me to the floor with him in a sweaty tangle of arms and legs as he holds me to him, whispering how happy I have made him.
“There’s just one thing,” I tell him.
“What’s that?”
“You have to tell your folks and mine.”
He laughs and kisses my shoulder.
Epilogue
Sara
California
Four years later
Some say history repeats itself. That life is already mapped out for us and we keep being reborn, repeating the same cycle until we get it right. I wonder if that’s true.
When I was twelve years old my brother gave me a diary. It belonged to my grandmother. Her name was Gypsy Red. It’s strange to have never met someone and yet I know all of her deepest and darkest thoughts. I feel so close to her and yet so far away. My parents don’t know I have it, even though the truth finally came out. My family was in the witness protection program. They were already in it when I was born. It did one hell of a number on Cole. He’s okay now. It’s been four years. He lives in Kentucky, carrying on our family’s legacy. He’s part of a motorcycle club. The Black Rebel Riders’ MC. My parents say that they left that life behind and we returned to California after Morgan, my brother’s wife was found safe. I don’t get to see Cole as often as I would like to, but we are going back today. There’s a funeral.
Thinking about death and going to Drag Creek is what made me remember I even had the diary. I keep having this strange feeling, like someone stepped on my grave. Like a bad omen has been served onto my soul, and I don’t even know why.
I am excited to see my brother of course, but I can’t wait to see my cousin, Harley. We’ve kept in touch since we met through social media and text messaging.
My mom is nervous about going back, says there is too much bad crap from the past that she thinks about that is tied to her former life.
I was named after her sister, Sarah, who was brutally murdered.
For my sake, I sure as hell hope I don’t carry on her legacy.
Danny
Drag Creek, Kentucky
“You owe me a rebel daughter. You owe me!” Marek roars in my face. “Get in the truck. Drive to the local high school. There is a basketball game, she will be cheering.” He flashes a photograph in my face. “Grab her and bring her to me. I don’t care what you must do to get her. We clear?”
Flexing my prosthetic hand, I still haven’t grown accustomed to it. I stare at the photo. Fuck, she’s young. I can tell she still has baby fat in her cheeks. Crumpling the photograph, I toss it in the trash.
I get in the truck, hating what I have become and what I must do. If I don’t comply, Marek will kill Harper, not that she probably doesn’t deserve it after all the terrible shit she has done, but she’s my sister. I can’t let him hurt her more than he already has. Besides that, she’s pregnant.
Her child deserves a mother, even if it will be her, as sadistic as she is.
I get to the school and buy a ticket for the game, attempting to blend in, avoiding making eye contact with anyone.
I take my seat in the stands and scan the cheerleaders, looking for my target. I spot her easy enough. She’s beautiful and stands out so much more than the rest of the girls, appearing mature for her age. That is until I see the girl who brings her a water. Her red hair flames next to the bleach blonde hair of her friend.
I watch as they talk briefly and then she starts toward the bleachers, coming up and sitting in my section; I can’t take my eyes off her. I shouldn’t be checking her out. I’m at a high school basketball game for Christ sake.
She sits three seats away from me. Perched on the edge as though she’s nervous. I can’t help but wonder why.
Her eyes meet mine and they are so striking. I can’t look away. I feel damn near entr
anced. Her lips lift into a smile.
I can’t stop myself from asking, “What’s your name?”
“Sara.”
“That’s real pretty. Pretty like you.”
“Thanks,” she says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your name?”
“Danny,” I tell her my real name knowing that I shouldn’t. “You go to school here?”
“No, just visiting my cousin, Harley.” She points to the blonde as she shouts a cheer. “I’m here for a funeral and to see my brother, Cole.”
Fuck. I’ve just hit the jackpot. Cole is the fucker who put us all in this mess. If Harper hadn’t been so hung up on him…I never would have had to choose. I never would have lost my hand. If I deliver the sister of that fuck to Marek, maybe he will consider my debt paid, and maybe he will let my sister go. He sure as hell isn’t interested in the baby in her womb.
“How long are you here for?”
“A few days.” She shrugs.
“I’d love to show you around while you’re here,” I tell her.
“Thanks, but my folks would never go for it.”
“Who says they have to know.” I wink, then I glance at the scoreboard. “There’s over thirty minutes left. Plenty of time to take you on the grand tour of Drag Creek,” I lie.
“I don’t know…”
“I don’t bite, unless you ask me to,” I say with a laugh.
“You’ll bring me straight back?” She pulls her purse up on her shoulder.
“Of course.” I smile and stand. She holds out her hand to mine, and I help her up, loving the way her hand feels in my good one. I don’t think she has noticed my prostatic. It doesn’t matter. I don’t plan on spending enough time with her for it to matter.
To Be Continued…
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Thank you for continuing to ride free or die trying with me and my Black Rebel Riders’ MC. Don’t worry The Diary of Gypsy Red is on the way and will lead into Sara’s story, which will be book 11. I don’t know how many rides we have left with the BRRMC, but I do have plans for Rebel’s kids. I plan to expand the Born Sinners, where I will continue Rhyner’s story, and there will be a spin off with the Devils Rejects. Book one of the Born Sinners is available now. Be sure to check out the Asphalt Gods Series by the fabulous Morgan Jane Mitchell! Much love and happy reading!
Glenna
PS. If you love the rebels leave a review a line or two will do. Thank you for being a faithful Black Rebel
About the Author
Glenna Maynard is a Kentucky native with a passion for romance, best known for her bestselling romantic suspense novel I'm with You and The Black Rebel Riders' MC series. When she isn't arguing with the voices in her head or drinking reader tears, she enjoys watching classic TV shows with her two children and longtime leading man.
You can also find Glenna on several social media sites including Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Instagram, WordPress, Google+ and Goodreads. You are also invited to join her reader group on Facebook just search for Glenna’s Rebels.
You can find her website at www.glennamaynard.com
Available Now
Grim The Beginning
Rumor
Baby
Striker
Romeo
Heart of A Rebel
A Rebel Love
A Rebel In The Roses
Blood of A Rebel
Beauty & The Biker
I’m with You
The Suffocation of Katie
Dirty Love
Dirty Truth
Dirty Neighbor
When It Rains
Drunk On You
Born Sinner
The Boom
Preview Born Sinner
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.
Chapter 1
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 nodde
d, 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.
Wherever Opal was that’s where I’d be, the library, school, the dentist…I was always watching, trying to keep her safe.
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.
Blood Of A Rebel (Black Rebel Riders' MC Book 9) Page 18