by Lana Grayson
I snorted. “This ain’t free. You never see how I have to pay for it.”
Lyn’s cherry-bomb red lips hummed. “Only Luke can handle the extras that come with it.”
She ground against my cock, purring as she knew how uncomfortable it was digging against the zipper. Just meant she swirled a little harder, running her fingers over my shoulder, behind my neck, and shimmying close until I got drunk on the sweet violet scent of her mixed with the roughened leather.
Her lips pressed against my ear.
“I need you.”
I lived for the quiver in her voice.
“Don’t think that comes with the dance, Princess.”
“My club, my rules.”
That it was. Lyn moved with absolute grace, even when hopping off a man’s lap and twisting her hand into mine to follow. Anathema hollered. I gave a shrug.
“Ladies’ choice,” I said. “Sorry, guys.”
Lyn chose the VIP room with a door. She winked at the bouncer and dismissed him. I claimed the sofa. She was on me in seconds.
“How’s the leg?” I whispered.
Her nails dug into my shirt, scratching to my jeans. She flipped the button and yanked at my belt. She didn’t answer the question. Her hands wrapped around my cock instead.
“Good enough.” She pumped me twice, and I nearly exploded in her waiting grasp. “Wanna test it out?”
“You up to it?”
Her kiss sealed against me with a stroke of her tongue and the squeeze of her hand. I gripped the swell of her hips as she guided herself over me. Lyn didn’t bother taking the thong off.
Christ, I was in for the dance of my fucking life.
The music swayed her to a fierce beat. She ground her slickening pussy over my cock, and the silk of the thong only teased her more.
The cut hid too much of her. I knocked the leather off her shoulders and sucked in a breath as her budded nipples swayed before my face. I captured one in my mouth, rewarded with her sucked breath and a quick gyrated bump of her hips.
I bit her nipple. It only got her wetter. Lyn twisted her fingers behind my neck and grinned. The most beautiful woman in the world teased me, and somehow I was the lucky bastard who earned her favor.
She slipped her legs wider, running a hand down my chest and to hers. Her manicured nails painted a bright crimson, matching the silks. They flashed over her pale skin, lower, lower, lower until she grinned as she pressed against the wettest part of her. Her lips parted with a sigh.
And if I didn’t sheath inside her in a matter of seconds—
Lyn anticipated it. The perk and torture of bedding such a tease. She knew exactly how much she could get away with. She tested my limits every damn day, every fucking hour, and with every squeeze of the vice she packed between her legs.
And she hated to admit it, but I pushed her too. It was the reason she abandoned a dance and ground herself hard against me.
“Fuck, I’m so glad that cast is off,” I grunted as her teeth nipped against my neck. I rubbed her smooth leg, marveling in the strength that remained even after the surgery and splint.
“Full recovery.” Lyn pumped my cock once more before she settled over it. “This is just part of my physical therapy.”
The tightness gripped me. I held my breath and clutched the sofa to prevent shooting off too quick inside the best damn pussy that ever impaled itself on my cock.
Her throaty groan didn’t help. She ground against me, dancing to the beat of music I couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in my ears. Her hands dug into my shoulders, and she rose forward and back. She’d fucking kill me with that abuse or delight me with that pleasure and it didn’t matter in the least.
She was mine.
Patched with my name. Healed from my mistakes. Using me for her pleasure.
I had her. I had the club, united, safe for the moment as Temple and ATF fought their own battles. I regained the respect of Anathema, thanks in part to the beautiful vixen bouncing against my cock.
All in all, not a bad fairy tale, with an even better princess and one rotten fucking knight who forced a happy ever after for the woman he loved.
I brushed Lyn’s cheek. She gasped with the seductive beat she wove over my hips. Her eyes widened, breath shallowed. Every part of her tensed in the promise of her delicious agony.
“I love you,” I whispered. “Come for me.”
“You too…” Her words trailed into a pleased mew. “Love…you…”
The only weakness Lyn ever showed was how much she wanted me. I’d give it to her.
My hands clutched over her waist, but I didn’t move her. She fucked me with her own strength, proving her leg healed, her strength returned, and she had as much control over me as I had over her.
Maybe less
Maybe more.
Who fucking cared as long as she fucked me and I fucked her and together we peaked in a violent heat.
Lyn captured my kiss. I gripped her hard, slamming her against my cock as my muscles rent and balls tightened. She gasped over the flood of heat inside her as I melted into her tightness.
She collapsed against me, panting and sweating, beautiful and sexy. Her fingers twisted behind my neck as she kissed my shoulder.
“You made me break my own rule.” Lyn chastised me with another grind of her hips. She perked up almost immediately, regaining her smirk and tease. “No sex in the VIP room.”
“Always did have bad judgment,” I said.
“Not anymore, you don’t.”
“Tryin’ not to.”
“You have me. Means you’re on the right path.”
Lyn kissed me, her eyes an impish green. I couldn’t argue with that. I’d made enough bad moves, fostered enough terrible ideas, and suffered enough dire consequences.
Loving Lyn was the easiest decision I ever made.
The End
Thank you guys so much for reading! If you keep scrolling, I’ve included a sneak peek for SAINT, An Anathema Novella as well as TAKEOVER, book one of The Legacy Series!
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Part of the Possess Alpha Anthology
Featuring Novellas From:
Joanna Blake ∙ Cora Brent ∙ Lana Grayson ∙ Jordan Marie
Cleo Peitsche ∙ Winter Renshaw ∙ DG Whiskey ∙ Rebecca Yarros
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No biker is ever given a second chance—he has to take it, especially when it’s his life, his baby, and his club at risk.
And Gold will stop at nothing to protect what’s his.
Chapter One
Gold
My baby’s cries screeched over the whole damn neighborhood.
The kid never wailed like that when I was at home. What a welcome.
I cut the bike’s engine. The wheels sunk into the mud leeching through the gravel. The truck blocked the garage. Alexis left the door ajar. Again. The light flickered in the cabin.
Christ. How much would a new battery cost us?
The bike would be fine outside. No safer in the garage. Alexis opened every goddamned window in the house anyway. Didn’t take a genius to realize she had been smoking and didn’t want to get caught. Whatever. I didn’t care about the cigs, but leaving the windows open after eleven o’clock at night invited more than the goddamned rain into the house.
The skies opened when I was still on the interstate. I hadn’t minded then, especially as it washed the blood from me. But ruined carpets would set us back another couple hundred, even if I did the work myself.
The door clattered shut behind me. The curtains stuck to the walls—damp. The window sills puddled with water—damp. The kitchen sink cluttered with dishes—damp.
No wonder the kid cried. She was probably wet too.
“Alexis!” I tossed my helmet on the dining room table. The mail scattered. More yellow envelopes than white this month. No surprise there. “Where are you?”<
br />
She didn’t answer. And why would she? When I left for the job, she was ignoring me. I didn’t complain. Better than the usual string of profanities she used to garrote me.
I dropped my jacket over the chair. My shoulders ached from the ride. A shower and blowjob would make me feel human again, but a quick tug was safer than dealing with a pissed off Alexis and her demon teeth. She’d want something in return to play nice, and I wasn’t paying my own girlfriend to blow me. I sure as hell wasn’t handing over The Couple hundred I made from the run to protect my goddamned balls from her fist.
Sleep was just as good.
But the baby cried.
Screamed.
“Alexis!”
Nothing. I expected her to ignore me, but the kid?
My boots might have kicked through the bedroom door to get Alexis out of bed. Wasn’t worth it. Instead, I gently edged into the baby’s room with a soft whisper. No sense scaring the piss out of the girl—wasn’t about to smuggle another pallet of cigs across the state lines just to buy more diapers.
But I wish I had sold my soul for more diapers.
“Christ, Silver.” I greeted my baby with a grunt. “What the hell happened to you?”
The baby was more than my pride and joy. She was my last shred of dignity, bundled in a Harley Davidson onesie. Her big blue eyes welled with fat tears. Her mouth opened wide. One painful little tooth drove through her skull. I swore it bore into mine instead. I’d laid down my bike on the interstate before, even got a shiv in the side in County, but Christ. Nothing hurt me as much as that single spec of white breaking through her gum.
She screamed.
Straight-up, red-faced, lung-shredded screamed.
I didn’t fucking blame her. Her pudgy hands reached for me.
She was covered in shit. Just…covered.
“Silver, what the…”
I didn’t know how to pick her up without making it worse. Her diaper blew out at least a couple hours ago. The mess stained her crib, her blanket, her skin. She reeked, and her cries only got worse now that I was home. I recognized the sound. She was hungry.
But it was worse than that. She was cold and miserable and caked with shit. Her arms. Her legs. I stopped her before she brushed her face again.
Where the fuck was Alexis?
I kicked open the drawer to the changing table. Alexis hadn’t stocked it since the last time I went shopping. The two boxes of wipes were empty.
No diapers.
I rifled through Silver’s dresser.
No clean clothes.
A pile of baby clothes stacked behind the door, but I threw a load of laundry in before I left. Two goddamned days later, and Silver’s clothes still stashed in the washer, wet and rotting in the basin.
Just perfect.
I wasn’t letting the kid wallow in filth. Her old man did that enough, and I swore to her the day she was born she’d have a better life than that. Almost six months passed, and my only salvation was that my baby was too young to remember broken promises.
The crusty outfit peeled off. No sense saving it. It landed in the garbage. Her diaper, saturated and ruined, followed. She kept wailing, especially now that she was hungry, dirty, and freezing.
Broke my goddamned heart.
I didn’t care that she was a mess or reeked. I cradled her to my chest, hauling her to the bathroom. The tub had a clog. Stagnant water ringed an inch around the tub. Alexis’s makeup and hair supplies were tossed off the sink. Empty toilet paper rolls and tissues stuffed into the overflowing bin beneath the vanity. She hadn’t taken the garbage out and dumped an ash tray on top of it.
I resisted the urge to swear and held Silver over my shoulder. Her cries pierced my ears. I rubbed her back. It did nothing to soothe her.
Dishes stacked in the kitchen sink. I tossed them onto the counter as her tiny fists clawed at my shirt in a wild tantrum. Even she didn’t know what she wanted. I did my best to help her.
And no water came out of the faucet.
“What the hell.” I slammed a hand against the sink. The yellow envelope on the table taunted me.
A water shut off notice.
Jesus. The house didn’t used to have peeling wallpaper and broken windows in the basement. The neighborhood was trash, but I once grew a garden and had a game room. When did my house turn into fucking Tikrit? I spent an entire tour there just waiting to get home. All that I missed now was the sand and a blown IED under my foot.
“Alexis!” I shouted.
The kid cried louder. Great. I was the bad guy again.
Living in the Anathema MC meant I got my ass handed to me by the highway and our enemies, but I never complained about broken bones or black eyes. Didn’t ache as much as this. My daughter’s curled fists bruised beneath my skin. She hit my pride. Hurt more than a shot to the jewels, and Silver had a habit of kicking there too.
I swaddled her in a towel that didn’t have too many stains and set her in the high-chair. The books said not to leave her unattended in one, but proper parenting also meant not letting them suffer in their own shit for God knew how long.
I strapped her in and burst out the back door. I kept a bucket in my shed. If my neighbors saw me filling it from their spigot, they were smart enough to keep their mouth shut. I rinsed the bucket once then filled it to the brim.
The kid deserved better than a bath with water warmed over the stove, but once I washed the shit from her skin, her shrieking muted from panic-stricken to mild tantrum. She fought against the water because she was miserable. If she knew half the curses raging through my head, she might have told me where to shove the paper towel I used to clean her up.
I couldn’t blame her. She wanted a goddamned bottle. I needed one too. Whiskey. Beer. Whatever. Didn’t fucking matter so long as I could drink it to dull how it’d feel when I broke the glass and slit my wrists.
I hauled Silver out of the sink and wrapped her in a towel. No diapers. Whatever. At least she was clean. Her bottle was another crisis. Five hours before, I stared down a barrel of a gun and swapped a truckload of cigs for a bag of non-sequential bills. The empty refrigerator intimidated me more.
One lone bottle of water lurked behind an empty pitcher of iced tea and five cans of beer. It’d do. I mixed the formula and tossed everything into the microwave.
The dab of formula squirted onto my wrist. It soaked into my skin, scarred with a tattoo of barbed tendrils and violent letters. Just yesterday, it stained with blood. Now it dribbled with formula.
I preferred the formula. Never thought I would.
I hauled the kid into my arms and offered her dinner. She worked herself up too much. She wanted to scream, not eat. I tickled her lip with the nipple to bait her into taking the damned bottle. No dice. I wasn’t in the mood to bargain with Silver about her welfare. I’d squirt the formula down her throat while she hollered if it’d get her fed.
Fortunately, my baby idolized her daddy. At least, I figured she did, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of other sources to get her love. She clamped on the bottle and sucked it down. Her eyes peeked up at me.
Tearless, for the first time since I got home.
Should have nicknamed Sophie Sapphire instead of Silver. Those eyes would bring a man to his knees. Barely six months old, and she already won me over. Christ, she had me the instant they set her in my arms. Never thought I’d have such a perfect little creature love me, but I’d be damned if I ever betrayed that gift.
Unlike her mother.
The bedroom door was closed. Alexis probably heard our daughter crying and slammed it.
I kicked it open. Silver giggled. At least one of us did.
Alexis passed out on the bed, t-shirt barely covering an ass clad in only a bright pink thong. I used to like that ass. Hell, I stuffed enough cash in her panties while she danced at Sorceress to own it. But she played me good. After a few weeks of fooling around, I convinced her to shack up with me. It wasn’t a stable relationship, but the sex was o
kay, and it only cost me a couple hundred bucks in purses, makeup, and shoes to keep her in bed and out of my business when I did jobs with Anathema.
Once it got old, once I realized I could do better, I kicked her out. She was happy to go. I was happy to be free, especially since then I found someone worth my time. Someone beautiful. Perfect. Smart.
Then Alexis came back. Said I got her pregnant. And it wasn’t about me anymore. I had to work something out for the kid. I owed her that much.
A can of beer rested on the nightstand. That didn’t bother me as much as the new bruise sweeping up Alexis’s arm. At least she waited until the kid was born before shooting up.
Silver gripped her bottle. She could almost hold it to her own mouth. The internet said that was good, that she was developing quick. I didn’t want that to be the greatest source of happiness in my life, but it meant Silver wasn’t completely fucked up, despite whatever shit she slept in at home.
I didn’t ask for much. I just wanted to give her a goddamned chance.
“Alexis.”
She didn’t move. Her arm tossed over the curly shades of red blocking her face.
“Alexis!”
Nothing. If the kid wasn’t in my arms, I’d have rolled Alexis’s ass off the bed. She didn’t even wrap herself in a blanket. Not that she could. The comforter stained with an overturned bowl of spaghetti.
I smacked the bottom of her foot. Alexis stirred and peeked open a bloodshot eye.
“Where the hell have you been, asshole?” She spat.
So this was how it’d be? The starting gun fired, and I wished it aimed for her instead.
“What the hell were you doing?” I shrugged at the kid. “Silver’s been crying! Didn’t you hear her?”
“No.”
“Bullshit. The entire goddamned neighborhood probably heard her. You’re fucking lucky someone didn’t call the cops.”
“Ain’t no one calling the cops on Gold Mered’s house.” Alexis slipped from the bed. She yawned, but her skin stayed stretched and thin. She didn’t used to look like plaster. At least the makeup gave the illusion of sobriety. “Sophie’s fine. Babies cry.”