Wicked Revenge: A Wicked Angels MC Novel

by Zoey Derrick

  “I’ll be back.” I smile again and turn back toward the bar.

  The door to the bar swings open, like it’s done all damn night and I don’t know why, at this moment, I decide to look and immediately I wish I hadn’t. “Fuck,” I mutter under my breath before bending over another table.

  “Hi there, what can I get y’all tonight?” My phony accent serving its purpose and they smile up at me.

  After a few more moments, I’m headed toward Loni and the bar with my order.

  “Whatcha need?” Loni asks.

  I give her the drink order and I do everything I can to stop my eyes from roaming around the bar to look for him, but I fail. My eyes land right on his as he’s looking at me. I pull my eyes away quickly. No need to blow my cover so early. If he finds out who I am, I’m gone, and I won’t be able to do what I need to before skipping town for good.

  If I get mixed up in a man, I will lose my focus and I will never get out of here. I have no choice.

  Loni finishes my order, setting the drinks on the tray. “You got a new table.” She darts her head in the direction of the man I’m trying to avoid and his friend with the familiar eyes and nasty scar.

  “Thanks,” I mutter and she laughs.

  “Oh, take this to table eight.” She slides me a handmade paper envelope. I know the drill. I tuck it into my pocket, leaving just a tail hanging out.

  “How much?” I ask.

  “Twenty.”

  I nod in understanding and Loni smiles at me.

  It came as no surprise when she told me about the backdoor dealings of Iron Wings Saloon. It’s a biker bar and owned by the Wicked Angels. No matter how much I know they’ve tried to clean up, they can’t make the money necessary to get out of the drug trade and keep the members happy. At least not yet. I’m sure without goons like Rooster and Gunnar running this shit, this charter could run like a well-oiled, drug free machine.

  The sluts are another story.

  I drop my drinks at the right table, add empty glasses to my tray and stop by table eight. “Hi boys.” I wink.

  “Where?” the guy asks.

  “Right hip pocket, twenty,” I tell him and he shows me the bill before stuffing it into my pocket and taking his drugs in its place. I wink and move on to the dirty drop bucket before making my way to fuck-knuckles one and two.

  I set the tray down on the table and lean forward, giving both men a shot of my assets. Catching names on their cuts. Though I knew the first one immediately, the other is a familiar mystery that’s making me crazy trying to figure out.

  Loki smirks, looking down at my rack and the other guy, Pyro, turns his eyes away. Maybe he’s celibate or some shit. I shrug it off. “Evenin’ boys, what can I get ya?” I ask, chewing my gum.

  “Whiskey, neat,” Pyro says.

  “Same,” Loki adds while leaning forward to get a little closer to me. His eyes are a little wild as he grabs a strand of my hair, bringing it to his nose before it falls from between his fingers. “Strawberries?” he says in a voice that has my sex heating up hotter than fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  I give him my best ‘try me’ look and he smirks, sitting back and stretching his arms across the back of the booth, an invitation or cocky-asshat, I’m not sure which just yet.

  I make a show of letting my eyes roam slowly over his body, landing on the outline of his gorgeous cock in his tight jeans. I slide my tongue over my upper lip. “Two whiskeys coming right up.” I grab my tray and take off.

  The next thing I know, a hand snakes its way around my waist and I’m pulled backwards until I’m sitting in Loki’s lap. His erection pressing into my hip. “What time you off, sugar tits?” The name grates on me and I want to roll my eyes.

  “Long after your bedtime, sweet cheeks.” I gently smack his cheek, both in warning to watch it, and just so that I can put my hands on him.

  He’s changed, grown broader, more muscular, as if that was possible. His hair is long, landing between his shoulder blades, but shorter than it was six years ago. His face is covered in a well-kept beard that makes me want to rub my legs together to find relief. His eyes are still blue, but they’ve darkened some, or it’s just bad lighting.

  He gives me a knowing smirk but releases me when I stand up. He gets one more dig in by smacking my ass as I walk away.

  I get about five steps away before I let out the breath I was holding.

  The son-of-a-bitch still smells the same.

  Nothing’s changed.

  No, everything has changed.

  “G’night, Loni,” I call as I head for the door.

  “You coming back tomorrow?”

  I smile at her. “Bet your ass I am.”

  “See you at six,” she hollers as I step through the doorway. It’s late September and the night is cooler than I expected it to be, a cold shiver slides down my spine. The bar was hot, so it’s a welcome relief to the sweat.

  I’m walking out, on my first night, a Wednesday no less, with over seven hundred dollars in tips and my percentage of drug sales. Only two percent but still. This bar moves some serious narcotics.

  As I approach my car, I realize how much I miss my trusty Altima as I’m stuffing the key in the door. I had no choice but to get rid of it. I couldn’t bring it back here.

  I turn the key and the light clicks on in the car at the same time I catch a glimpse of someone behind me. I’m about to scream when the man behind me presses into me and covers my mouth with his hand.

  The scent assaults my senses and my heart skips a beat. It kills me that after all this time he still has this effect on me.

  “Don’t scream.” Loki’s sinful voice slides over me.

  “What…” I mumble through his hand, fighting the urge to lick it. He removes his hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Taking you home.”

  I laugh a humorless laugh. “Hardly. You’re drunk. You think I’m climbing on the back of your bike?” I ask incredulously, but secretly, I want him to take me home.

  “Then you can drive me home,” he counters with a nonchalance I wish I could own the way he does.

  “Call a cab.”

  He presses his cock into my ass. Desire explodes through my veins. What I wouldn’t give to have that cock inside me one more time.

  “Get in, slugger.” The words are out before I can process their meaning. Fuck, I’m driving him home.

  “You make habits out of taking random guys home?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrow and disbelief in his voice.

  “Well, you’re Wicked, right?” I ask.

  “Right.”

  “Loni runs this joint, right?”

  “Yeah,” he answers.

  “And I’m guessing Wicked Angels own Loni?”

  “So?”

  “You fuck with me, I tell Loni, Loni tells your Pres and your ass is grass, right?”

  “Huh?” he says with disbelief about my understanding of the order of things around here. It was obvious the moment I met Loni that she’s an old lady. The cut she wears is a dead giveaway. It wasn’t until tonight that I saw she’s owned by an Angel named Cowboy. When I asked her about him tonight, she said he’s usually at the bar with her, but he was taking the night off. She hinted that he was probably hanging around the clubhouse, but never confirmed it.

  I turn, raising an eyebrow to him when I realize he hasn’t moved. “Am I taking you home, or not?”

  “Yup,” he says then sways slightly before he rights himself to walk around my car. A part of me wishes I’d driven my bike tonight. Wouldn’t that have been a fun turn of events? Riding bitch behind a woman. I want to roll my eyes. I know that will never happen, no matter how drunk.

  He stumbles his way to the passenger door and climbs in. I go to climb in and a momentary slice of panic runs through me as my eyes land on what’s sitting on the backseat. I blow it off. It’s directly behind him for one, and two, he’s too drunk to give a shit, he ain’t gonna notice.

  “Where to, sl
ugger?” I ask him, maintaining my southern accent. Though in his state of mind, I doubt it matters. I could be a brick wall for all he cares.

  He mumbles his address. I shake my head; some things never change. He’s still living in the same house he grew up in, a house that’s right down the street from mine.

  He leans over the center console, again taking a strand of my hair and pulling it to his nose. “Strawberries,” he slurs.

  Is it possible?

  Nah.

  It’s been six years.

  Too many things have changed, I’ve changed.

  He’s changed.

  I risk a glance in his direction as I pull off my heels.

  His scent assaults me in this confined space, sending little pulses of desire to my clit.

  I catch his arms in my peripheral and I can see quite a few more tattoos covering his arms than before. Regardless, he’s sexier now than he was six years ago when he snuck into my bedroom, stripped me naked and stole my virginity.

  We drive in silence, but I keep looking at him to make sure he doesn’t pass out on me. He’s studying my features. If he honestly looks too closely, he’ll put two and two together. I’m not ready for him to do that just yet.

  The hours in the gym, coupled with the heels and a more defined and curvier figure helps throw off the similarities enough that in his drunken state of mind, there’s no way he’s putting two and two together. I hope.

  My tits are significantly bigger and my hair is much longer, though it’s no longer strawberry blonde like it was back then. Instead, this week, its lime green with black streaks. I’d done it on purpose. I’d hoped to see Loki and torture him with the prospect that my hair looks like a kiwi. I guess wanting him to figure me out always played in the back of my mind. I wanted him to pine for me, to make him crazy while I kept him at arm’s length.

  That is gonna be much easier said than done.

  In Colorado, I was away from him, out of sight out of mind, but now, being here, having him in my car, I want him to put two and two together.

  There’s a small part of me that wants to show him the woman I’ve become, the woman he’s missed out on for the last six years, but right now, this is too much fucking fun.

  A little payback is in order.

  I turn down his street. “Alright, slugger, which one?” I ask him though I already know the answer. I don’t need him to know that I know where, exactly.

  “That one, on the left, the blue one.” He points and I nod as I pull into the driveway. I put the car in park and reach for the parking break. His driveway has a steep decline headed toward the garage door, better safe than sorry. He reaches over and turns off the ignition, but leaves the keys in. Then he grabs my hand on the parking break and he puts it on his crotch. “Here’s a better knob to grab hold of,” He mumbles.

  “Oh really?” I tease him back. I let my hand roam up and down his length, feeling the thickness beneath his jeans. “You want a blowjob right here or would you rather fuck me in your bed?” I ask bluntly and his eyes widen at my brazenness.

  “Did you just…did I hear you right?” he asks.

  “Blowjob in the car or sex in your bed?” I ask again.

  “Fuck me,” he breathes.

  “I’m tryin’,” I tell him.

  “Bed,” he slurs.

  I roll my eyes but grab my keys from the ignition as I open the door and climb out. I slide my keys into my pocket before slamming the door shut.

  He hasn’t moved.

  Way to go, genius, put him off with your forwardness.

  I grab my phone from my back pocket so I can shoot off a quick text.

  Running late, be there soon

  The recipient of my text is sound asleep so I don’t expect a reply, but in the event she wakes up, I don’t want her to worry. I tuck my phone back in my pocket before he finally stumbles his way out of the car. “Where’s your keys, big man?”

  “Pocket,” he grumbles as he walks toward me. His hand on the hood of my car holds him steady. I meet him near the front fender.

  I put my hand on his chest, with the sole intention of teasing him. I let my hand slide down his chest, over his abs and finally I brush his cock on my way to his pocket. I reach inside, feeling the head of his cock just below the bottom of the pocket. Yeah, he’s that big.

  He shivers as my fingertips tickle the head of his cock. I wrap my fingers around his keys and pull them out.

  Hooking my finger through the ring, I hold them up to him. “Which one, slugger?”

  He looks at them. “The orange one.” He doesn’t slur as bad this time, making me wonder if this is all just an act on his part to get in my pants.

  I guess we’ll see.

  I grab the orange one between my pointer finger and thumb and grab him by the buckle of his belt, pulling him along toward the door. “Well, well, aren’t you eager,” he says as he follows along behind me. I reach his door and insert the orange one into the locks and undo both of them before I open the door.

  “Your house, lead the way,” I tell him. He nods and steps inside first, I follow closely behind him. My hand still on the waistband of his jeans. He stops just beyond the reach of the door and he closes it behind us. His body presses against mine and I’m pushed against the door.

  He wastes no time before he slams his lips against mine. The contact short circuits my brain momentarily.

  I’ve waited six long years to have him back in my arms, six years to tell him everything and yet here I stand before him and he’s completely clueless about who I am. I let that thought clear my mind and bring me back to the present and what I want to do tonight.

  Loki continues at his frantic pace and slides his hands up my sides and cups my breasts, squeezing them, coaxing my nipples to harden beneath my corset. I feel his fingers tug downward on the tight leather until he realizes the material is going nowhere. I pull away from his kiss. "Let me help you," I whisper softly and his hands move back to my sides. I unhook the front of the corset. His impatience gets the better of him about halfway through the hooks in the front and he starts pushing the material aside. He has just enough room to slide his hands inside my corset. The closer I get to the bottom of the corset, the less tension there is against my chest and my tits fall free.

  Reaching under the material for both my nipples, only to stop short of rolling both of them between his fingers. He growls as he blindly takes in my piercings with the tips of his fingers.

  His fingers side to the underside of my breasts, his fingers brushing along the tattoo he can’t yet see and I shiver. His thumbs slide over the tight pebbles of my nipples between the hoops I’m wearing.

  He flicks his thumbs over them, hardening them and the sensation sends shots of desire pulsing to my clit. The little bundle of nerves is a live wire like they were our first night and I grind my hips looking for friction or release.

  His lips press into mine again as I moan.

  Somewhere in there I find the strength to undo the last two hooks on my corset and pull it wide. Exposing my breasts and abdomen to him.

  He pulls away from the kiss and looks at my body. A hiss cuts the silence in the house as his eyes widen at the sight of my tattoo.

  Underneath my breasts, I’ve added a tattoo that consists of ivy type vines with a tribal twist to them. The line goes from one side to the other. His hands slide along the ink and further south to my pierced belly button. That’s the newest of my additions. “Gorgeous,” he groans before wrapping his lips around my left nipple, sucking it in and flicking his tongue against it like he needs it for survival. Tiny clicks of metal can be heard with the passing of his tongue. He’s pierced. That’s new.

  Slivers of memories slide through my mind and I shake them off. I reach for his shoulders, pushing his cut down, trying to tell him that I want it off. He releases my other breast and my side so I can finish what I started. Once his cut is off, I want to throw it on the floor, but I know better, so instead I hook it on one of my finger
s, waiting for him to take it from me.

  His eyes dart to it and he takes it while releasing my nipple from his mouth with a pop.

  The lack of sensation gives me a moment of clarity. This seemed like a brilliant idea when I told him to get in the car, but now I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve lost my mind.

  Hold it together, you got this. Give him a taste of his own medicine.

  He hangs his cut on a hook next to the door before he comes back to me. Tramping down my guilty conscience, I reach for the hem of his t-shirt and start tugging upwards. He gets the hint and lifts his arms.

  Once he’s free of the t-shirt, it’s my turn to hiss because his stomach, though littered with tattoos before, is now completely filled in with various designs. Some of them are rather harsh, skulls and snakes, while the others are a little softer, more delicate, like a flower. I narrow my eyes at it. It takes everything I have not to fall to pieces before him and explain everything when I see the delicate lily tattooed just to the left of center, over his heart. I put my hands on his stomach and slide them up, giving me the chance to touch the tattoo. I notice that both his nipples are pierced, too, and they weren’t back then. Each one is adorned with silver barbells. I lean into him, moving his father’s dog tags to the side before kissing just above my tattoo It’s close enough to his nipple that my little secret kiss goes unnoticed when I lick and kiss my way to his nipple, sucking it and the barbell into my mouth.

  He growls again and I smile.

  The last time we did this, I wasn’t much of a participant, but times have changed and I’m determined to make him feel as good as humanly possible. I want this to hurt.

  Once I’m satisfied with its hardness, I leave that nipple for the other, leaving a trail of wet kisses across his chest. The small smattering of chest hair tickles my nose, but I keep going. I suck his other nipple into my mouth briefly, but frankly, I’m bored.

  I start kissing my way down his chest, his abs, until I find the happy trail that divides the perfect V disappearing into his jeans. I take the button between my hands and I free it, then lower the zipper. I stand, sliding my hand between his boxer briefs and his stomach until my fingers wrap around his meaty, rock hard cock. He groans above me. I smile and lower myself to my knees. I bring his jeans with me as I go, bringing them around his thighs, freeing his cock.