by Penny Dee
“I want you, little bird,” he groaned against my throat. “And it’s driving me insane.”
He had me crushed against him, the full length of his powerful body pressed hard into mine, and I could feel every wonderful inch of him. It was exciting. Intoxicating. And so damn delicious, it made me hungry for more. I was breathless and wet, my clit wildly throbbing in time with my racing heart, begging for more. Ravenous for more.
“I’m trying to resist you,” I moaned.
“Well, stop,” he growled.
His lips crashed to mine again, and they were warm and delicious, and so fucking irresistible, and I was ready to give into every fantasy and let him take me there on his desk.
But just as I was about to submit everything to him, there was a knock on the door.
It was a short, sharp knock. One he must’ve recognized because he sank against me, disappointed.
Exhaling with frustration, he took a step back and adjusted himself before replying. “Come in.”
The door opened, and Mrs. Stephens walked in carrying a clipboard.
She had worked for the Kings of Mayhem for years. Somewhere in her late forties or early fifties, she looked more like a boarding school matron than a personal assistant to the president of a motorcycle club. Tweed skirts. High-cut silk shirts. Modest heels. Horn-rimmed glasses. Brown hair tied into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. A face bare of makeup.
She looked like she belonged at the opposite end of the social spectrum to a bunch of booze swilling bikers who grew pot and talked about pussy.
But she was responsible for organizing all the events for the club, including the booking of jelly wrestlers and the purchase of blow up dolls for the occasional bachelor party. Tasks she did without batting an eyelash.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said, making eye contact with me. I blushed, certain she knew exactly what she was interrupting.
Bull signaled for her to come in.
Embarrassed, I stepped farther away from him and straightened my tank top as subtly as possible. But if Mrs. Stephens realized, then she didn’t show it. Forever the professional, she would never allow her emotions to show in her job.
I, on the other hand, was just about to give it up to my boss on his desk.
“These need your signature so I can organize the deliveries for this week,” she said, handing Bull the clipboard of papers.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I said, backing out of the room.
Bull fixed me with those bright, otherworldly eyes, and his expression told me that this wasn’t over.
But he was wrong.
It would never happen again.
BULL
My house was in a quiet part of town, a converted three-bedroom terrace overlooking the river. Ten years ago, I’d finally moved out of the little house Wendy and I had bought shortly before our wedding because I needed a respite from the memory of her lingering in every damn room. I lived alone and never invited anyone over. I had never taken a woman in my bed. Never touched a woman within these walls. My home was my privacy. My sanctuary from a world that could weigh heavily on your soul.
The clubhouse was for fucking, but I rarely indulged in it there either. If sex happened, then it happened in someone else’s home, or for privacy reasons, in a motel out of town.
But never here.
Never in my bed.
But now, as I lie awake and alone, my mind scratching over the events of the day, I longed for the warmth of a body next to me. For someone to touch. For the pleasure of skin on skin. To lose myself in the heat and the comfort of lovemaking. My body was tight with longing, to the point of pain. The mayor and I were well and truly over, and since her there had been no one. Hell, I hadn’t even taken care of the morning woods or random hard-ons in weeks because I had been so preoccupied by my lust for revenge.
As a result, now I was hard as fuck and completely at the mercy of my body screaming for me to do something about it.
I needed a woman.
No. I needed Taylor.
Beneath me.
Moaning.
My thoughts drifted back to today’s encounter in my office. The way she walked in and demanded we talk. The way my body had come alive the moment she set foot in the room.
The way my chest lit up with warmth the moment she opened her beautiful mouth.
I was aching to take her, so much so it was to the point of distraction.
But there was something else to it. I told myself it was just sex. Yet somewhere inside, I knew I was fucking lying.
She was much younger than me. Maybe too young. Even though she acted a lot older than what she was, there was still a significant age gap. Although, seeing how happy Chastity and Ruger were with their sixteen-year difference made the age-gap thing less of an issue.
I groaned and rolled onto my side, tormented.
Anyway. She’d made it clear that casual sex wasn’t an option. And I didn’t do relationships. Or commitment.
Frustrated, I rolled onto my other side.
Yet, I couldn’t shake her out of my head. Couldn’t help but notice her every time we were in the same room. The subtle moves of her body. The rich scent of her hair. The way her eyes shone and her lips broke into that beautiful smile whenever one of my brothers entertained her.
I wasn’t afraid of much, but something told me I should be terrified of her.
Before I could stop myself, I started to imagine her naked and tangled in my sheets. And then I couldn’t stop imagining her. Her creamy, lithe body, her pink, luscious nipples, her thighs parted just enough to tantalize. Those dark, black eyes heavy with lust and gleaming with a wicked light. Fuck, I was getting even more turned on. I closed my eyes, and couldn’t help but think of her sweet body writhing beneath me on my bed, moaning my name and clawing the sheets as I made her come, again and again.
I punched my pillow and shifted into a different position, ignoring my hard cock and the brief sensation of pleasure shooting along the shaft when it brushed against the mattress.
Don’t do it, I warned myself. Don’t think about those long legs and the way those Daisy Dukes hug her sweet ass so tight and firm.
Groaning, I rolled onto my back.
Forget the way her perfect breasts press against her t-shirt.
And the way her thick hair falls around the smooth slope of her slender neck.
Or how tight and wet her pussy would be wrapped around every throbbing inch of me.
Fuck.
Now I had my hand on my dick and I was stroking it. I don’t even know when I started. But somewhere between thinking about her tight pussy, and the feel of her luscious lips against mine, I had reached down and clamped a hand around the thick shaft. Christ, I was hard. And now that I was stroking it, there was no stopping. The tension was already building in my belly, and I wasn’t stopping until I jerked her out of my head.
I gripped the base and jacked it slowly, releasing the tension after a few pumps to slide my fingers up to the head where I was slippery with semen.
I wiped my thumb pad across the milky liquid and trembled, a thrill running through me from my head to my toes.
I closed my eyes and bit down on my lip, thinking of Taylor’s beautiful face and the swell of her tits, and I started pumping again. Slowly. Teasingly. My hand firm around the shaft as I pictured her sinking her perfect ass onto me.
The swell was rising. My balls tightened and I could feel the wave coming. My hips took up the rhythm, subtly rising to meet every stroke of my hand as a shiver of anticipation quaked through me.
I thought of her captivating smile and her mesmerizing, smoky voice.
I thought about the scent of her skin and the warmth of her body as I had her pressed against the wall in my office, and I groaned, wanting her, wanting to feel her beneath me, wanting to feel her pussy milking my cock as I made her come.
“Fuck.” I thrust my head back into the pillows. I was so damn hard. So damn needy for her. I wanted her, g
oddamnit. I wanted her to drop to her knees in front of me and wrap those luscious bee-stung lips around me.
I wanted to hear her moan, and know it was because of me and what I was doing to her.
I wanted her to want this just as much as I did.
My lips parted as my breath hitched from my mouth.
I slowed my hand, but dragged it all the way up to the engorged head, needing to come, but holding back, torturing myself with slow, leisurely tugs until the dam finally broke in me with an untamable force.
A choked cry ripped from my chest, and I arched my back, digging my toes into the mattress as I started to come.
Taylor.
The strangled growl filled the room as cum roared from my body in thick, hot streams, and hit the rock-hard flesh of my abs. And it kept coming, and I kept moaning and pumping until there was nothing left in me, nothing left but the need for a woman I so desperately wanted beneath me.
TAYLOR
I stared at the sign hanging between the two oak trees that read, ‘Destiny Middle School Cookout,’ and mentally groaned.
Apparently, the cookout was a big deal on the school calendar. The whole town participated, with local businesses setting up food booths to help raise money for much-needed school resources.
Noah was already inside having opted to go earlier with one of his new friends from class. He was slowly getting more confident and making new friends, spending more time at sleepovers and at friends’ houses.
“Let the torture begin,” I sighed to myself, climbing out of my car and grabbing the tray of cupcakes from the backseat.
As soon as I entered the gates, I saw them.
Three familiar, big-haired trolls making their way through the crowd of students and their families.
The Destiny Middle School PTA.
Otherwise known as Hell’s Sisters.
In my mind, anyway.
I had a few other apt descriptions, but they were less appropriate.
They walked through the school grounds like homecoming queens, flicking their hair and ignoring the stares of the unpopular people as they passed by.
It was like fucking high school. They were the plastics, and the rest of us were fodder for them to pick on.
It was typical us and them bullshit.
But they ruled the PTA. And as a result, they ruled over every middle school event, from fairs and school dances, to picnics, carnivals, and today’s cookout
The leader of the pack was Audrey Scotsdale, a bone-thin bully who was a gazillion inches tall in her Louboutin stilettos, with big blue eyes and frosty pink lips. She had an air of friendliness about her, when she wanted you to think she was nice. But in reality, her smile was fake, her eyes cold, and her tongue was as mean as a cut snake.
The first day we met, she decided she didn’t like me. She’d cast an arrogant look over my Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt and denim shorts, her over-made-up eyes sweeping up and down with pure disdain as she shamelessly put me in the category of them.
Her two subordinates, who were never far from her side, were vapid clones who never reached her dizzying heights of Queen Bitch. They were two tight-faced women who had peaked in high school, and now followed Audrey’s lead so they could be a part of the cool kids.
Normally, I didn’t worry about women like that. After all, I was all about you do you, boo, and all that.
But some days they fell on the wrong side of my badassery.
Like today.
“Oh, you brought cupcakes to the cookout,” Audrey said, looking at the tray of chocolate cupcakes like they were frosted grenades.
“It’s not a dessert event,” Malory said, like I’d broken the cardinal rule of cookouts.
“It’s a barbecue…” Mary-Lynn added, offering no value to their argument whatsoever.
If this was a teen movie, she was the simple one.
Audrey gave me a condescending look. “I probably should’ve put it in the newsletter that we don’t encourage desserts at the cookout.”
Yes, you probably should have.
“We frown upon sugary foods, you understand. Given that my Henry is a dentist and we like to promote dental prosperity,” she added matter-of-factly.
I didn’t know who Henry was, but I felt sorry for him.
And what the hell was dental prosperity?
“Well, they’re from Honey Bee Cupcakes in town, if that makes any difference,” I said brightly.
“Are they sugar free?” Mary-Lynn asked.
“Gluten free?” Asked Malory.
“Nope, just good ol’ cupcakes. Oh, but Honey made them especially for the cookout.”
“Honey made these for you?” Malory asked.
“Well, she made them for the cookout, but as a favor to me, yeah.”
“Why would she do that?” Mary-Lynn asked.
I gave her a strange look. Because like I said…the simple one. “I guess because we’re friends.”
Audrey looked at me in disbelief. “You’re friends with Honey?”
“Yeah, why is that so weird? I work at the clubhouse…”
Three pairs of heavily mascaraed eyes lit up.
“As in, the Kings of Mayhem clubhouse?” Audrey scoffed.
I narrowed my eyes at her obvious disbelief. “Is there another clubhouse I don’t know about?”
I felt the energy shift around us. Suddenly, Malory and Mary-Lynn were like my best friends.
Malory slipped an arm through mine. “Let’s sit down and have one of these delicious cupcakes you brought, and you can fill us in on what it’s like to work for the Kings of Mayhem.”
“Oooh, yes, I’ve always wanted to see inside of the clubhouse,” Mary-Lynn added.
I freed my arm from Malory’s grasp.
These women were something else. It was like I was suddenly in a different conversation with different people. People who hadn’t treated me like I was a piece of toilet paper stuck to their heels for the past three months.
Apparently, the Kings of Mayhem were a clique these women wanted desperately into, and I was their golden ticket.
“Wait!” Audrey said, putting a hand up. Her smile slipped, but she quickly restored it. “You expect us to believe that you work at the clubhouse? Next you’ll be telling me you know the president personally.”
“If you mean the president of the Kings of Mayhem, then yeah. If you mean the president of the United States of America, then no.”
Her eyebrow went up and she folded her arms. “I don’t believe you.”
Another sweep of her cruel eyes rattled my last nerve, and the hair on the back of my neck bristled. “I don’t care if you do or you don’t.”
“Well, I guess if you’re such good friends, then you won’t mind showing us.”
A smugness twisted in her frosted pink lips as she jutted her chin to something over my shoulder. I swung around and felt my stomach knot when my eyes collided with Bull. He was standing with Ronnie and Roberta at the Kings of Mayhem booth where Red and Maverick were serving up lettuce cups full of blue crab.
“Well?” Audrey prompted.
I turned back to her. “Well, what?”
“Go over there and say hello…I mean, if you’re such good friends…”
I wanted to go over there like I wanted a bullet in my brain. The last time I’d spoken to Bull, he’d put his tongue down my throat.
And I’d let him.
Now my body acted appropriately, or inappropriately, at the memory.
Should I go over there like Audrey dared me?
Normally, I wouldn’t bother reacting to a challenge from someone I couldn’t care less about. But there was that small part of me that wanted to prove these frozen, mean girls wrong.
“Whatever…” I turned and walked away, taking my black sheep cupcakes with me.
The moment Bull saw me, a small smile curled on his stupidly perfect lips.
“I didn’t pick you for a barbecue kinda girl,” he said.
“And I didn’t expect
to see the Kings of Mayhem president hanging around a middle school cookout.” I raised an eyebrow. “Or are you stalking me?”
“It’s all part of our community service, darlin’.”
“Sure, it is. I think the stalking scenario is more likely.”
I liked the way his smile pressed two dimples on either side of his perfect lips.
“We do it every year. We might work outside of the law sometimes, little bird, but we’re very much involved with our town.”
“Next you’ll be trying to tell me you go to church each week.”
“I do go to church every week, except, we call it chapel.”
“Hmmmm …”
“What does hmmmmm mean?”
“I was just wondering…”
“What?”
“Other motorcycle clubs refer to it as church.”
He looked mildly surprised. “Sounds like you’ve done your research.”
He was right. I had researched them.
And him.
“Why do the Kings call it chapel?”
He gave me a grin that was merciless as it slayed me. “Well, darlin, that’s because the Kings of Mayhem aren’t like any other club in the world.”
For a moment I lost myself in his beautiful face. He was too much. Too big. Too potent. Too tempting.
Stepping away from his magnetic pull, I reminded myself why I was over here.
“Do me a favor. Without being obvious, you see those women over there?”
“The ones who look like they’re about to star in an ’80s country music video…?”
“Yeah, they’re part of the PTA, and I have a feeling they’re big fans of yours.”
“Is that a fact?”
“And they really aren’t the nicest of ladies. Well, to me, anyway.”
“You want me to go over there and—”
“No, I don’t want you to go over there. Hell, they’d eat you alive.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“They seem to think I’m not good enough for anything in this town. Including working at the Kings’ clubhouse.”
For a moment his face darkened and his eyebrows pulled in. But in a second it was gone. “Now why would they think something like that?”