Lucca (Made Men #4)

by Sarah Brianne

  “Are you sure you want to trust me? I never—”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  Lucca groaned when she dropped to her knees and took his arousal into her hand, inexpertly stroking his length. He stared down at her with fierce eyes as she leaned in closer.

  “You’re killing me, darlin’,” he told her, on the verge of a growl.

  Biting her lip, she started to jerk away, but his grip on her hair stopped her.

  “Don’t you dare stop.” The low growl finally escaped. “Open your mouth.”

  She timidly opened her mouth and took him inside. It was the most beautiful thing imaginable, seeing she pleased him. You could tell Lucca thought the same thing as he looked down at her with intense eyes. It cleansed away the ugliness of his world, just like when he had first looked upon her scarred face, her face that mirrored the scars he had carried inside his heart for his mother.

  Lucca started slow, giving her time to adjust before he couldn’t hold back and started pumping into her mouth faster. The feelings that arose inside of him were so intense that he had to jerk himself out of her mouth, afraid he would come.

  The want and need to be inside of her was evident on his face when his hands went to her ass, lifting her up until he placed his arousal where he wanted it. Then, when he pushed her against the glass, soaring deep inside of her in one thrust, she screamed out, feeling on the edge of pleasure and pain.

  “Lucca!”

  Pounding into her, he didn’t hold anything back, giving her all of him.

  The roughness and ferocity of him scared her, but only a little, as she allowed the boogieman to take what he wanted from her. He had been starving for too long, and she wanted to see the darkness still.

  “Harder …” she moaned.

  Lucca’s mouth covered hers, delving his tongue into her mouth as his hard length delved harder into her spasming center. Then he bit her bottom lip before slowly pulling back until he released it.

  “This what you want, darlin’?”

  “Faster …” she moaned when the orgasm began to claim her body, sending her into a beautiful nightmare.

  The boogieman had kept his promise as she began to beg him not to stop.

  He sent her off into the beautiful, dark abyss over and over until the beautiful nightmares replaced the devil’s nightmares, one by one.

  Fifty

  The Chains That Held Their Souls

  Lucca cradled her unconscious body in his arms. He hadn’t been able to look away from her face since the moment she had drifted off to sleep.

  It killed him that he had to put her to sleep. What he was about to do to her killed him. She wasn’t going to understand for a long while that he had to do it to save her and to set her and his mother’s souls free.

  Sitting down on the bed, he held her for just a little longer. This was the last time he was going to be able to touch her for a long while.

  He began talking to her, hoping that somehow, when she woke up, a part of her would remember the things he had said.

  “He was coming for you. He was going to take you away. He gave me no choice, Chloe. He tried to take you in the mall, and if I had let you walk ten steps farther, Lucifer would have had you.”

  Lucca stood, placing her slumbering body on the bed before he sat back down beside her, wanting, needing one more moment with her.

  He raised a finger to her porcelain face, stroking the scar he had dreamt about touching for seven months. Smoothing his finger over the mark, the darkness in him rumbled then stilled, becoming slow, steady, finding its purpose.

  He had thought he had already found his true purpose when he had seen her for the first time, but that had been only the half of it. His purpose was saving Chloe Masters, but his true purpose was them saving each other.

  Every day, he had felt himself become more insatiable. The darkness in him was walking a path of no return … And then he had touched her, and the heinous being inside that had been desolate and alone finally found hope. He was reborn.

  The boogieman had found another the world viewed as a freak, as a monster.

  Lucca smoothed his finger over her scar for just one more final moment. “I love you, darlin’. Please remember that when you wake up …”

  Chloe pressed herself closer to Lucca, wanting to feel the warmth from his body, as she rested her head on his shoulder. The light dusting of snowfall in January was so beautiful to look at under the lighted gazebo. It took her breath away every time, almost as much as when she looked into Lucca’s fully green eyes.

  She looked around, seeing the changes she and Lucca had created back here and the changes she had made within herself.

  Lucca took her hand in his, pulling it onto his lap. “Do you know what day it is, darlin’?”

  She raised her head to look into his green eyes, her breath once again being taken away.

  Unable to find words, she simply shook her head.

  “You met me right here for the first time … a year ago today.”

  Her heart swelled at the fact that he had remembered.

  “I can’t believe—” Chloe’s eyes drifted to her left hand as Lucca slid a diamond ring onto her finger.

  “It was my mother’s,” he told her bittersweetly.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, a single tear running down her scar as her gray depths took in the glittering diamond that was held by an intricate design.

  “Do you know what I had to tell the shop owner to talk her into selling me the music box?”

  Chloe shook her head as more tears fell from her eyes.

  “The day we first met under here, I went back after only knowing you existed for a week, and I told her I loved you.” He said it with such a fierceness that she felt the chains that held their souls together rattle.

  “I love you,” she breathed with all her being, sending her own message to their souls.

  Lucca leaned in, bringing his lips closer and closer to her scarred ones. “Marry me, darlin’.”

  Chained

  My body is chained, weak, and afraid.

  My mind is broken.

  The man who put me in these chains

  Owns me.

  My body is chained, tough, and brave.

  My mind is stronger.

  The man who put me in these chains

  Will not own me.

  My chains are old, weak, and afraid.

  They are broken.

  The man who put me in these chains

  Can no longer hold me.

  Sarah Brianne

  Please, if you or someone you know ever needs help, follow this link to get more information and help.

  YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

  http://www.victimsofcrime.org/help-for-crime-victims/national-hotlines-and-helpful-links

  Hunter

  Black Angels MC, #1

  A.E. Fisher

  Available Now!

  Prologue

  Mallory

  Just do it.

  You can do it.

  Say it straight out.

  “Oh, my God, I can’t do this,” I choked out, turning on my heels and racing straight back to my car. I fumbled with my keys, trying three times to get it into the lock before I stopped.

  I couldn’t run away. I had to tell him. I had to tell him everything. I lied, and this was the part where I had to come clean and repent for my sins.

  This time, my stupid actions weren’t only affecting me. I had dragged someone else into my mess, and now I had to try to fix it … even if that meant telling him everything.

  So, there I was, turning back.

  Anxiety pounded through my veins, urging me to run away, telling me it wasn’t worth it. My legs ignored the warning, dragging me kicking and screaming across the lot toward the tall, intimidating building that belonged to the very man I had screwed over. As a matter of fact, he screwed me, which was the whole problem.

  Before I could reach the door and start a whole new series of arguments with my
self, it swung open, and he filled the entire doorframe. I nearly cried.

  With broad shoulders, a height of six-foot-five that would make basketball players weep, the perfection of his muscles, thick thighs concealed behind jeans, tight abs peeking through a white shirt, and sculpted biceps that flexed as he leaned against the doorframe, he was very much my wet dream come true.

  My wet dream that did come true.

  Yes, the beautiful blond-haired man with the deep green eyes, a white-toothed smile, and slightly crooked nose made me want to relive it all over again.

  As the memory replayed in my mind, my body seared with heat as if it had been only a second ago that he had been buried deep between my legs, when it was over six weeks ago. The repercussion of my lie fit right in the space between.

  “Mallory?” he said with that soft, husky tone, and I saw our night flash before his eyes, as I had relived it. I swear his smile turned up a hundred watts, which made this situation so much worse.

  It would destroy him. Not because he was a bad guy, but because he was nice. Far too nice for this to fall on his shoulders when it was all my fault.

  I had trapped him.

  Suddenly, it became too much. So, what did I do?

  I burst out crying.

  Not even the pretty, cute sobs, either. No, it was the ugly, hard wheezing cries with snot pouring down my nose.

  “Mallory?” he questioned in surprise as he strode out of the doorway and straight toward me. He grasped my biceps then rubbed up and down my arms, trying to calm me.

  Because he was that nice.

  I cried harder.

  “Mallory, calm down,” he said with that soft, sweet voice. “What’s up?”

  “I’m so sorry, Noble!” I mumbled, though I wasn’t sure he could understand through my wheezing and sobbing.

  “I don’t understand.” Noble’s eyebrows pinched together as he looked me up and down, probably searching for a wound or anything that would clue him in on my breakdown.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I cried, the conversation beginning to spin out of control. “I’m so stupid … I … fork in the microwave … So stupid … I’m sorry!”

  His expression only became more baffled the longer I spoke until he finally decided he’d had enough.

  “Mallory!” he snapped with an authoritative fire I had never heard before.

  I snapped up straight, my spine stiffening like a board until I found myself looking him straight in the face as he leaned down to my height.

  He gave a relieved sigh and brushed a strand of my messy red hair behind my ear. He curled his hand into a fist and, with the gentleness I adored, bumped it ever so softly under my chin, forcing my eyes up to his.

  “There you are.” A relieved smile played on his lips. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we? What are you sorry for?”

  I probably should have said it better, phrased it differently, but the verbal diarrhea was the only option, overriding my fear. “I’m pregnant.”

  I could hear the walls of his life crumbling around him as he went still. His arms fell away from me, and I watched his black boots take one long stride back. The distance between us was suffocating.

  “You said you were on birth control,” he accused, the natural warmth in his voice gone. It was now cold, detached, distant.

  That was what it came down to. One itsy bitsy little lie that had spun so out of control it was like I was on a roller coaster, waiting for it to crash.

  “I’m so sorry,” I spouted, fresh tears in my eyes.

  What else was I supposed to say? I had lied so I could have him in a moment of lust inspired by a childhood crush. Now I had brought this upon him. A child was supposed to be a gift. However, a man who was as wild and free as him, it would hold him back … Trap him.

  “You lied to me?” Gone was the cold, detached voice, and in came the furious betrayal and anger.

  “I didn’t mean to … I-I just …” I had never been good with people getting angry at me. I submitted after the first five minutes to avoid conflict. But this? This was ten times worse because it was all my fault.

  “Just, what!” he roared. “You’re like them, aren’t you?”

  It didn’t take a genius to know who he was talking about—those girls I never wanted to be. The ones who trap men like I was trapping him.

  “You wanted to cage me, didn’t you?” His voice was harsh like a whip, lashing against my soul and leaving an agonizing burn wherever it touched. “You wanted me all to yourself, like everybody else.”

  “No!” I wailed. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then tell me why?” he demanded. “I thought you weren’t that kind of girl.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him everything—the truth—but before I could get the words out, my jaw snapped shut.

  When I recited my reasons in my head, that was when I realized what I would say wasn’t much better. It wouldn’t excuse anything. I had promised that one night would be a one-time thing. Only now it was crumbling to pieces because of one stupid mistake.

  Of course, he didn’t know about the huge crush I had held for the last ten years. He didn’t know how many nights I had dreamed about having the single opportunity to lie with him after hitting puberty, and how many hours I had spent thinking how nice it would be to live a life with him.

  I had been in love with him for years from afar, knowing he would never have wanted this. And it all happened because of my selfish desire to have one night with him, because neither of us had a condom. I knew, if it hadn’t happened that night, I wouldn’t have had the same opportunity ever again. That was why I knew right then I couldn’t tell him any of that.

  Noble was right. I had trapped him. Not on purpose, but I had trapped him into sleeping with me. And now I was trapping him with this. I couldn’t tell him the truth.

  So, I lied.

  “There was no reason,” I whispered, my voice as small as the size I felt. I was the smallest, most insignificant piece of dirt in the world. “I lied.”

  With a harsh jerk of his chin, he turned and walked back inside, slamming the door shut behind him, accepting what I had said without a shadow of a doubt.

  Who knew it would be the last time I ever saw him?

  One

  Hunter

  Three and a half years later…

  “Adair!”

  The blond-haired child turned to face the woman who was calling him. He was in the front yard, his face covered in mud that couldn’t hide the distinct green eyes that stood out against the small square jaw he harbored beneath his baby fat.

  He looked at the open doorway, and then at the worm in his hand with panic. Then he toddled over to the bushes and threw the worm into it just as his mother appeared in the doorway.

  She took one look at his dirty face and hands, and scowled. “Adair Michael Ward,” she growled, stalking across the lawn to stand in front of him, hands set on the small curves of her waist, looking down with her disapproving mom stare.

  Adair smiled, hiding his hands behind his back like she hadn’t seen him.

  She raised an eyebrow before giving a heavy sigh and scooping the child up. “What have I told you about getting covered in mud?” She might have passed for mad had she not been trying to fight the light-hearted smile turning the corner of her lips.

  Her eyes went soft with adoration at the child’s features. His happy smile was all that was needed to completely win her over.

  “Sorry, Mommy.” Adair pouted.

  Mallory May Ward narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to do it again?”

  Adair shook his head with such force his chubby cheeks wobbled. “No.”

  Mallory waited a few seconds before she caved, and at the change in her expression, the little rug rat slung his arms around her neck and squeezed.

  After a few minutes of cuddling in the front yard, Mallory turned with her son in her arms and walked up the drive of the old Denver ranch house that was one accidental bump
from collapsing.

  Once they were inside, I fired up my engine and drove the last few feet toward the front of the house, pulling my liquid ink Harley up onto the driveway and cutting the engine.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw a face dart from the window as I swung my leg off the back of the machine. My cut hung over the expanse of my back, my colors and patches clearly showing who I was. Or, at least who I belonged to.

  I knew Mallory wouldn’t recognize me. She would, however, recognize the black-winged skull stamped on my back, and her reaction would be as I predicted.

  I heard silence from the house that only moments ago had been filled with laughter, and as I approached the door, I heard the sharp click of the chain link behind it.

  Like that would stop me.

  I pressed my ear to the door and heard the soft patter of footsteps racing away from the door to the other side of the house. Then I lifted my boot and kicked, the door giving away under the force and swinging open, golden links scattering across the scratched wood-floored hallway.

  I squeezed through the tiny doorway, stepping over the wreckage as I headed down the hallway. That was when I heard the slam of a door on the other side of the house.

  Wasting no time, I marched down the short hallway where another corridor led me to three more doors. All were shut. I kept my ears on high alert as I checked each one in silence.

  As I reached for door number two, I heard the kid’s muffled whimpers.

  I grabbed the handle, and as I went to turn it, it jammed. Locked.

  “Mallory!” I yelled through the door. “Unlock the door.”

  No response.

  “Open this damn door now, or I’ll bust it down myself.”

  This time, her fear-strained voice came from beyond the door. “I’ll call the cops!”