Gunner (Devil's Tears MC Book 1)

by Daniela Jackson

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Always together.”

  “Always together, baby.”

  ***

  We return to the US and get married in the same chapel where Axel and Sive said their vows. Sol wears a 30s satin white dress with a very low back and has her hair styled in waves and gathered on the back of her head in a low bun. She looks very elegant. Her feet are naked though and I fucking love it.

  I wear my real cut. Mom wanted me to wear a white shirt and a suit, but Sol preferred my cut.

  My father-in-law wants to kill me at first, but finally he changes his mind and forces me to drink two bottles of vodka with him instead. I feel sick for a week. We receive the invitations for Christa and Hawk’s wedding and the whole family’s attention diverts to them.

  ***

  Sol has a blue satin dress on and it hugs her perfect curves so she looks like a goddess. The open back exposes her flawless white skin.

  Her face turns to mine and it hits me hard again how beautiful my wife is. The most beautiful woman in Chaviva’s garden. Yes, Dimitri is the host as always. Nobody defies that old git.

  The glasses clink. The chants resound and echo; hoots, howls and laughter waft through the air. My glance meets Yegor Voronin’s from across the dance floor. That dick looks the embodiment of a good grandpa, but he’s a born Mafioso. We have to tolerate him.

  Auntie Sive takes Asher from me so I grab my wife’s wrist and pull her towards the dance floor.

  “You know how not Gunner that is?” Sol says with a pinch of sarcasm.

  I pat the front of my cut and lean in to kiss her lips. My hand massages her round tummy. She’s four months pregnant.

  Christa, the bride, is seven months pregnant.

  “It’s very wolf-like,” I say into her ear. I plant a kiss on her cheek. “After the dance we’re going to find a hide-out.”

  Her arms wrap around my neck. “A hide-out?”

  “Yes, a hide-out.”

  Her eyebrows knit together then she bites her lower lip and we sway on the dance floor.

  “This dress is really nice,” I say.

  I can’t wait to gather it up to Sol’s waist and drive my hard cock into her pussy from behind.

  The music stops playing so we turn towards the stage where DJ has his equipment spread. Jax and Aphrodite stand on the stage, holding their guitars, as the wedding guests clap their hands and shout their enthusiasm. I see warmth and pride in Athena’s eyes.

  Jax and Aphrodite start singing as the whole family sway as one; they clap and cheer and bang their fists on the tables.

  Yeah, they can sing. Aphrodite is singing like a diva.

  Dad stands beside me and lays his hand on my shoulder as Mom wraps her arm around Sol’s back.

  After the performance ends, Sol and I dance then I grab my wife’s hand and drag her behind me to fuck her in one of the bathrooms. I shove her inside and slam the door shut.

  Sol puts her hands on the marble surface around the washbasin as I stand behind her, gather her dress up and pull her panties aside. I open my trousers and my hard cock springs free. Sol’s lips part into a smile. I drive my cock into her hot wet cunt and watch her face in the mirror. Her eyes flutter and she drops her head back.

  “Good, baby?” I rasp.

  “Good,” she gasps.

  It’s swift and we come together. We correct our clothes and walk out of the bathroom, bouncing off Brianna and making her look at us with pity.

  “This bathroom is contaminated, right?” Brianna says with sarcasm.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Auntie,” I say.

  “You think I was born yesterday?” Brianna frowns at me then a warm smile parts her lips. “Go have fun on the dance floor.”

  I salute her and we go along the corridor. I see Sheriff Ashley leaning against the wall and Tyler leaning over her with his forearm above her head. He turns to face us as Ashley’s face turns bright red.

  “Another wedding in the family,” Tyler says.

  “Yeah,” I say and nod at him.

  Sol tilts her head as her eyes slide over Tyler then over Ashley and curiosity flickers in her gaze.

  I know Tyler has been trying to make Ashley splay her thighs for him for a while, but our lovely sheriff is adamant. She’s eight years older than him.

  “A shot of vodka?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Tyler says and strokes Sol’s pregnant belly.

  Aphrodite joins us and wraps her arms around Sol from behind.

  “Tete,” I say. “Go grab a bottle of vodka for us.”

  She stirs and rushes towards the stairs like my order has whipped her.

  “Why are you so mean to her?” Sol says, rolling her eyes.

  “She needs to know who the authority is,” I say and kiss my wife on the cheek.

  Tyler nods at me and shoots his arm towards Ashley, pulling her to him.

  “Hands off,” Ashley growls.

  Tyler shakes his head and sets her back against his chest as his arms wrap around her from behind.

  “Every woman here should know who the authority is,” Tyler says.

  “You’ll end up behind bars tonight, Tyler,” Ashley says. “I’m warning you.”

  “You can cuff me and ride me in the cell, baby,” Tyler says.

  Ashley sucks in a breath and Aphrodite returns with two bottles swinging in her hands.

  “Where are the shot glasses, Tete?” I ask.

  “In the library,” Sol says, frowns at me, and strokes Aphrodite’s arm.

  “Let’s go to the library then,” I say.

  I turn my head and see Nikko dragging pregnant Daisy behind him. They join us as I notice Ashley’s yearning glance sliding over my brother, Nikko. Right. This is why she doesn’t want Tyler. Happens I guess.

  I get drunk with Tyler and Nikko and I grope my wife the whole night. Tyler gets drunk to the point of unconsciousness.

  The next day, I wake up late in the afternoon and fuck my wife again.

  Then I load our bikes onto the flatbed of the truck and take my family to the Devil’s Tears’ compound. Tyler and Takis ride their motorcycles behind us.

  Sol is a good wife to me as she promised. She never refuses to spread her thighs for me. She’s always eager to give me a blow job. She enjoys it when I’m fucking her in the ass. Hell yeah. I’m a happy husband.

  Mike patches Tyler and Takis and they deal with the gun shipments for the Italians. I’m democratically chosen to be the vice-president of the club.

  The club members are happy with the way Mike is leading them. They trust him and they trust me.

  Soon, my daughter is born and two years later, my son is born.

  I live in my own personal heaven. My kids are wonderful.

  Asher is Sol’s clone, but Britt looks like my mom. Cotton is my clone.

  My wife is more and more beautiful with each day that passes. She refuses to get pregnant again, but I have a good plan to make her change her mind.

  Axel informs us that Sive is pregnant again which makes Sol roll her eyes.

  There is some shit between Rebel and Star to sort out, and it gets really bloody, but that’s another story.

  There is some shit around Aphrodite so Jax sets off to clean it up. But, that’s another story too.

  Epilogue

  Gunner

  I rock Cotton in the crook of my arm until he drops off to sleep. Asher and Britt are already asleep. I lay Cotton in his cot gently so as not to wake him and sneak out of his bedroom. As I walk into mine, Sol levers herself up on her elbow and her sleepy eyes slide over me.

  “Victory,” I say.

  “They are always so well behaved with you.” A pinch of sarcasm tinges her sultry voice.

  I lie down beside her and pull her soft curvy body to mine. The strap of her nightdress lowers, exposing her full breast. She’s still breastfeeding Cotton and that makes her tits absolutely perfect to me. I’m always mesmerised when I’m squeezing and massaging
them.

  “I need to lose weight,” she complains.

  “Don’t you dare.” I kiss the nape of her neck.

  I love her curves. Her body is just perfect now.

  I roll her on her stomach and cover her body with mine, pulling her panties aside. My cock aches to be in her hot cunt. I lower my pants and thrust into her hard, forcing a sweet moan from her mouth.

  I fuck her hard and cum almost at once.

  As the haze in my head clears, I roll my wife on her back and plunge my hand between her thighs, searching for her clit.

  Right. It’s been crazy with three kids. We’re always tired and busy feeding them, watching over them and cleaning the mess they’re doing. The sex is swift though intense. Regular as promised.

  Sol comes and chuckles. I kiss her and she curls into my chest.

  “We need to go on a vacation,” she says. “Just you and me.”

  “When Cotton is a bit older I promise I’ll take you to a nice hotel.”

  Her body shivers against mine. “I cried in the morning.”

  My heart leaps and iciness surges through my veins. “Are you tired or is it something more?”

  “I think I’m just tired.” She inhales deeply. “But it made me think, you know. What if my depression returns?”

  “What if someone chops my dick off?”

  She bursts into laughter. “You’ll fuck me with your mouth and hands.”

  I kiss her lips. “You see. I will be for you, Sol, like you’ll be for me, whatever awaits us.”

  I read about depression. I’ll know what to do if something happens.

  She encircles my neck with her arms. “You’re the love of my life.”

  “And you’re the love of my life.”

  ***

  Thank you for reading my book.

  Check out my other books:

  Shadow Wolves MC

  By

  Daniela Jackson

  ‘Sive’

  ‘Brianna’

  ‘Munroe and Stanka: The Beginning’

  Wandering: A Rock Star Suspense Romance (Seafra and Eavan)

  Planned books:

  Blur: A Rock Star Romance (Hale and Aphrodite)

  Rebel: Devil’s Tears MC

  Mike: Devil’s Tears MC (Mike and Daisy)

  Tyler: Devil’s Tears MC

  Athena: Shadow Wolves MC (Jax and Athena)

  Samael: A Dark Romance

  Please leave a review. Your feedback will help me grow as a writer.

  Thank you,

  Daniela Jackson.

  Wandering

  By

  Daniela Jackson

  A Rock Star Suspense Romance

  Chapter 1

  Eavan

  I’m not allowed to be among crowds, yet here I am, plastered to the metal fence separating me and the group of more than one hundred teenagers from him. The girls are waving their hands, squealing, and waking an urge of murder inside me.

  Sweat, hormones, and the fever of anticipation create a unique environment. It suffocates me, seeps into me, and kills me. I can’t breathe.

  Ruby, my sister, loves his songs. I have no opinion on his music. I’m too exhausted to have an opinion on anything. My insomnia and my job are stripping me of energy entirely, making my life nothing more than an agonising, breathless blur.

  He walks slowly along the fence, his movements springy, steady, perfect muscles bulging under his pale skin. He must work out every day. Two bodyguards are supervising him. Their massive frames look as threatening as two mountain peaks. Sunglasses cover their square faces and veins pop out on their arms.

  The upper railing of the fence digs into my stomach, causing nausea to waft through me. Slim bodies slap me on the back, one, two, two more. Hands slap my arms. I steel myself. This is for Ruby.

  My hands sweat. Thin streams of moisture trickle down my back. An elbow nudges my back; another elbow nudges my hip. This is for Ruby. I can do it. Focus.

  I run the back of my hand across my forehead, praying for this torture to end. I really can’t breathe. My heart races desperately as though I’m a scared bird. The crazy teenagers around me are going to crush me. Their shouts and squeals drill into my brain like thick long needles.

  I feel old among them. I will be twenty years old in six months, but I feel like I’m forty. Ruby turned eighteen three months ago. She is young again. She has recovered. I haven’t.

  The A4 photo rustles in my hand as the wind sweeps past me. Ominous clouds start to gather in the sky like the ghastly reflection of my soul.

  “What’s your name?” a husky voice asks.

  I raise my eyes to meet his dangerous glance. His eyes are shining. No—

  They’re blazing like the fire in hell and shining alternately, an eerie dance of fury and the broodiness of a deep blue colour tinted with grey, endless like the ocean touched by the summer sunshine and the shade of an occasional dark cloud. His shoulder-length hair is black with a blue tinge resembling a crow’s wing. With his unshaven face, asymmetric lips and eyeliner, he must make all those teenagers’ hearts race.

  I have no opinion. I’ve slept six hours in total this week. I’m too numb to have an opinion on his looks.

  “This is for my sister, Ruby,” I mumble, passing the photo on to him.

  “What’s your name?” he asks as though he’s having fun at my expense.

  He looks twenty-five at most and is the lead vocalist of ‘Red Asylum’, a rock band. Seafra, they call him.

  “Who cares?” I growl. “My sister’s name is Ruby.”

  I stare at him and my mind goes blank. He says something to me, a blurry disjointed echo, autographing the photo for me, but I’m unable to process anything at the moment. There is no oxygen in my lungs. A cold sweat floods my back even though it’s late spring and the air is warm.

  I blink a few times in a row and my brain switches on, but to a shaky wavering mode, as Seafra passes the photo back to me, grabbing my wrist. My eyes trail a line along the tattoo adorning his forearm-it’s a cobra with five small skulls surrounding it. Then my glance shifts to his.

  “Fuck off,” I explode and tear my wrist away from his hand, backing up, elbowing my way through soft bodies.

  For fuck’s sake. He’s just violated my personal space. I hate it. Nobody is allowed to touch me, except Ruby. It’s been like this since I got sick one fatal night. Jack can sometimes touch me too.

  White flashes dance in front of my eyes. Breathe. Breathe, for fuck’s sake.

  The squeals of the girls gyrating around me hurt my brain like that dreadful sound from my past, the sound I fear every night, and will never forget. I teeter on the edge of collapse. Fuck. I can’t move. Red flashes appear in front of my eyes along with black patches then a veil of blackness covers my vision entirely for a second or two. I don’t feel my limbs. Blood pumps inside my ears. My surroundings waver around me, foggy, distorted, as the noise comes to my ears like echoes from a distance.

  Somebody shouts. Somebody squeals. I’m weightless like the surface of a sea is carrying me to my end, to my peace. I descend into a numb greyness.

  Somebody growls, a sharp masculine voice. Two masculine voices rumble.

  “I’ve got you, baby,” a husky voice says into my ear as the intriguing scent of cologne and sweat settles in my nostrils, earth after summer rain, spice and musk.

  “You’re irresponsible,” a deep male voice roars.

  “She’s collapsed, Tony, can’t you see?”

  I recognise Seafra’s voice, tearing its way through the grey fog in my head.

  “So fucking what?” Tony rumbles.

  My body sways. I realise somebody’s arms are digging into my back and outer thighs.

  “The autograph,” I murmur.

  “I will give you five of them,” Seafra says.

  I open my eyes and fix them on his face above mine. “Fuck.”

  “Yes, fuck,” Seafra says and one corner of his lips crooks up.

  He�
��s carrying me in his arms like I’m a kitten and he’s a giant. The guy is tall and beautifully built, I must admit. I feel his hard muscles working against my body, evoking my yearning for something I can’t name.

  I wiggle. “Get off me.”

  “Whoa, easy,” he says and tightens the embrace around me. “Don’t move or we’ll fall down together.”

  It’s dark around me; the cool air circles around me like I’m in catacombs. I was once there with Ruby. The cold air there carried the scent of earth and that of rainwater lingering in the shallow holes of the ground under our feet. It was tinged with a subtle deadness as though I was able to sense the decay in the niches, as though I was able to smell the naked bones and the past. Yet I wanted to turn into a bat and stay there forever. I felt safe there.

  We enter a room and the brightness of artificial light makes me squeeze my eyes shut. The all-pervasive smell of male sweat whips my nostrils.

  My body lands in a soft seat and somebody’s knuckles run up and down my cheek.

  “Don’t fucking touch me,” I hiss.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Seafra growls. “I’m just trying to be nice. I don’t bite.”

  Seafra

  She opens her eyes, her irises like two black chasms, but one mystery, never-ending, deep, perfectly dark like the universe. Her full seductive lips form an ‘o’ and I stifle my urge to kiss those moist berry lips of hers.

  Coyote, my cousin and our guitarist, walks in, his green eyes sliding over the girl, fingers threading through his short brown hair, and he whistles. “Tony is really pissed off. You’ve broken the rules again. He said he would quit.”

  “He won’t,” I say. “He loves this job.” I pat the front of my black t-shirt with my hand.

  Tony has been my bodyguard since the very beginning. He has three kids around my age and treats my band as he would treat them.

  “Who is that pretty princess?” Coyote asks, moving closer to the girl and I stifle my urge to shove him away from her.

  She’s not pretty.

  She’s stunningly beautiful, but not like all the other chicks I’ve met.

  There’s something ghost-like about her appearance. The dark circles under her eyes and the whiteness of her skin bring an image of a white lady in a medieval castle to my mind. Her black hair covers her fragile body like a cape, like a piece of midnight sky. I think about moths, about their allure and the beauty of death those creatures symbolise. The girl reminds me of them as though she doesn’t belong to the world of the living. Yeah, I could definitely fall in love with a beautiful ghost and maybe that’s why she’s so intriguing to me.