BROKEN: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Satan's Wings MC)

by West, Naomi

  “Just fine,” he said, checking the time, “can read it just fine. Almost opening time. You think the bosses are ready?”

  She nodded as her eyes glanced towards the clock on the wall. “If they're not, they better be soon.” She tapped her foot. She was impatient, but she also felt something else ...

  On one hand, she was ready to get this over with. She knew it was going to be bad. Up to this point, the entire morning had already sucked. She'd woken up early to the sounds of a frayed and edgy Smalls on the phone and a defeated Cutter in bed. Then, when they'd decided to try and do something about Wyland's shenanigans, she'd had to rush through getting ready. She'd worked with the guys for the last three hours, desperately trying to get the restaurant back into a somewhat presentable shape. On the other, she realized she was actually a little excited for the shift ahead. This would be the first time she'd really worked a job since college, since Wyland had limited what she was allowed to do. The prospect of working at the Farm to Fable, even just for one shift, may have frightened her a little, but it also made her feel a little valuable. Like she was going to get to be part of something bigger than herself.

  “Liona, babe,” Cutter roared from the back of house, “last check. Come on, girl!”

  She went scurrying around the front counter and headed in back. The kitchen was back to being a spotless as the Vanguard clubhouse's. Cutter and Smalls were standing in front of the prep table with Squirrel, and the smell of sauces and soups filled the air.

  “Alright, guys,” Cutter said, his eyes traveling around the group, “ain't gonna lie. Next three or four hours are gonna be brutal. I know it, you know it. But, we ain't got much choice, do we?” Both men nodded silently in agreement with him. “Only way we're gonna get our boys out is by standing up for ourselves, and keeping this cash flowing in. Ain't that right?”

  “Right,” they both said.

  Cutter's eyes wandered away from the men and settled on her. “And someone reminded that this asshole can't stand it when people don't just give up and give in. Ain't that right?”

  She felt herself blush. She gave him a tight smile and nodded back.

  “What're we gonna do then?” Squirrel asked.

  “Stand our ground,” Smalls said, nodding fiercely.

  “Damn straight, Smalls. We're gonna serve as many customers as we can. They wanna know what's going on, you tell 'em we had a refrigeration malfunction, so we're on limited menu. Got it, babe?”

  “Got it,” she said, nodding again.

  There was a knock, outside on the front door. Squirrel broke away from the little pow-wow and went up to the dining area.

  “We'll keep a tab on what's running low, and what's run out,” Cutter said to Liona, not breaking stride in his pep-talk. “You got any problems with complainers, you send 'em to Smalls to deal with.” Beside him, Smalls narrowed his eyes and gestured pounding a fist into the palm of his hand.

  “Really?” Liona asked, suddenly unsure of all this. What the hell had she gotten herself into? “Is he gonna beat them up or something?”

  “Nah,” Smalls said, laughing, “I'm just messing with you. I got some gift certificates already written up back here.”

  Relief flooded Liona. “Smalls,” she chided. “Let's focus, here.”

  “Hey guys!” Squirrel called as he came pushing in through the double doors from the dining area. “Hate to break up this love fest, but we got customers stacking up outside. And they look hungry enough to eat a road hog with no ketchup.”

  “Then let 'em on in,” Cutter said. “Let's get this shit-show started!”

  # # #

  Lunch was over and done with before Liona could even think to blink or even sit down. She hadn't even had a chance to really check the time until the constant flow of customers began to taper off a little bit, down to a more manageable level. Her waiting skills had kicked in after the fourth or fifth customer, and she hadn't had many mishaps during the shift. She switched up a couple orders at a table, but nothing too serious.

  But, still, the last time she'd done this job she'd been a little younger, a little faster, and was definitely more used to being on her feet for long stretches of time. Now, as she sat at one of the tables with Squirrel, massaging a foot through her sock, she recalled just how painful that waitress job had really been. Somehow, she must have repressed those memories.

  “You handled everything real nice, girl,” Squirrel said from across the table. He was kicked back, his feet up on one of the adjacent chairs. “Real nice job today.”

  “Thanks,” Liona said, grinning despite her pain. Eventually, though, she couldn't hold it back anymore and winced a little.

  “Foot pain don't ever go away, neither,” he said, grinning. “Just gets worse and worse.”

  She laughed, more from delirious exhaustion than anything else.

  He clapped his hands together, almost like he'd just remembered something he'd been forgetting. “Well, guess we better start getting everything put away,” he said.

  She nodded and put her shoes back on. She got up and, together, the two of them put up all the chairs and swept the dining area. In the back of house, she could hear Smalls and Cutter groaning through their own cleanup duties. Their dishwasher was out with a bad case of jail, same as everyone else, and there was literally a restaurant's worth of dishes that needed to be cleaned still before they all went home for the night. After Squirrel and she were done with the dining area, they headed in back to help with everything.

  All through it, Liona marveled at how, even though she was bone-deep weary, and about to collapse on her feet, she still felt accomplished. Like she and the rest of the guys had pulled together like a team. Sure, it wasn't climbing Mount Everest or anything, but it was still more than she'd done lately. And, to her at least, it mattered.

  A couple hours later, this time with more laughing and horsing around than before, and they were all standing around staring at a perfectly clean kitchen. Sure, they were finished a couple hours later than they normally would have been, but given the circumstances it was a win.

  “Alright,” Smalls said, stumbling a little. “That's it for me.”

  “Yup, yup, yup,” Squirrel agreed. “I don't wanna see another dirty dish long as I live.”

  “Maybe now you'll be more appreciative of Slim's work,” Cutter said with a chuckle. Slim was their dishwasher.

  Squirrel put his hand over his heart. “I ain't ever gonna say shit about how Slim does his job, I fucking promise on my granny's grave.”

  “Believe it when I see it,” Smalls grumbled, but with a knowing grin on his face.

  “You guys get on outta here,” Cutter said, waving them both off, “We'll lock up and see you at the clubhouse in a bit.”

  “Ain't gonna argue with that,” Smalls said, sounding winded and beat half to death. He immediately turned to the front door and pushed through. “See y'all in a bit,” he said back over his shoulder.

  “Yup,” Squirrel said, seconding his sentiments as he followed right on Smalls's heels. “We'll have a cold one for y'all. Promise.”

  After both men had left, Cutter turned to her. She could see the exhaustion in his eyes, but she could see something else, something that resided even deeper. “I wanted to thank you,” Cutter said, after a while, his voice low and smooth. He took a step or two, coming closer to her.

  There had been something about the way they'd worked together. He'd known what order she was about to put in before she'd even mentioned them. He'd have a table's food ready just when she needed the most. And, somehow, she'd known exactly when he was about to tell her something was low or running out. It was like they were in the same head-space during their shift, like they were working from the same consciousness. It had been almost magical. And, she could almost feel it now, that same sense of connection from when they'd been turning tables together.

  “For what?” she asked, even though she knew the answer.

  “Not letting me give in, for one,�
�� he said, taking another step closer to her. “And, second, for your help.”

  That connection was greater than just mind reading, though. She could tell from the way his hips were, how he held his hands, and cocked his head that he had a special way to thank her.

  “Yeah?” she asked, taking a step closer to him.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, putting his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

  She didn't resist. His arms were like steel cords, despite his exhaustion, and she felt safe and under his power at the same time. She gazed up at him, her lips parted. She'd never wanted a man as badly as she wanted Cutter in that moment. He reached up, brushed hair out of her eyes, and trailed a fingertip down her cheek. She licked her lips as he made her wait. She just wanted to feel his mouth on hers, to feel his hands on her body.

  “Thank you,” he said again, lowering his lips to hers.

  She groaned as his lips crushed hers, as he pulled her into his body. She felt light as a feather in his arms. She knew she could collapse right then, and he'd have more than enough strength for both of them. As they kissed, she could feel him beginning to harden against her belly. She wanted him to show her just how thankful he was, and do it in the most pleasurable way possible.

  He opened his mouth a little, ran his tongue over her lips as his hands went lower and grabbed her tight jeans-clad butt. She opened her mouth, inviting him in. He didn't need much of an invitation, though. They kissed like that, in the kitchen, their hands roaming over each other's bodies. His lips broke away from hers and traveled down her neck as he began to tug at the hem of her shirt.

  Finally, good sense began to take hold of her, no matter how badly she wanted this. “Cutter,” she said as he began to pull her top over her head, “we can't do this here. What if someone walks in?”

  “Who's gonna walk in?” he growled. “I'm the owner, remember?”

  She giggled as he pulled her shirt up over her head with one hand and began to unsnap her jeans with the other. “Cutter!” she squealed again.

  “What?” he asked, his rough paw of a hand finding her crotch.

  Pleasure radiated through her body, and her knees went weak as she let loose a little moan. She wobbled a little, but Cutter's hand kept her standing as she leaned a hip up against the central prep table.

  “Like that?” he asked as he continued to stroke the front of her jeans, and the fires raging inside her. He ran his callused hands over her body, massaging and kneading her bare skin.

  “God yes,” she purred back, pressing herself into his hand as she put an arm around him. With her free hand, she reached down and unzipped the front of her jeans.

  He kissed her again as his hand slipped down the front of her panties, finding her sensitive little clit. She moaned as she sucked his tongue into her mouth and thrust her hips into his expert fingers. She wanted to feel him inside her, wanted to feel his hardness filling her. She reached down and stroked him through the front of his loose-fitting chef pants, stroking him lightly. He growled low in his throat as began to tug her pants down the swell of her hips.

  She'd never wanted to be out jeans so badly in her life. She kicked off her shoes and wiggled and shimmied, helping him to get her out of the confining denim. Together they worked them off her as he continued to cover her body in burning hot kisses, his teeth nipping at her skin. Soon, her jeans were pooled at her ankles, and she kicked them off from around her feet. “How do you want it?” he asked, that throaty growl filling her ears as his hands traveled over her nearly naked body.

  She reached down, stroked him with her small, delicate hand, then turned and bent over the prep counter, putting herself in the air. He dropped down behind her, and she could feel of his hot breath coming from behind. She spread her legs for him, widening her stance. The metal was cold, icy against her skin. She felt so deliciously wrong doing this here, of all places. More hot breath as his hand began to travel slowly up the inside of her thigh. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second, even without him doing anything. She moaned softly as she felt his breath on her sensitive lips.

  He began to slowly lick her, parting her folds with his tongue. She pushed back as she leaned forward, moaning as ecstasy began to slowly creep through her body. She could feel his tongue slip inside her, could feel it as it began to trace her lips and travel up to her starved-for-attention clit. He began to slowly, deliberately tickle the spot just below her clit, just off-center, with the tip of his tongue.

  Her whole body tensed and shook as pleasure erupted inside her. It was like liquid heat, running through her veins, threatening to pour out of her body, as he deftly began to bring her to her first orgasm. He slid a finger just inside her and found her g-spot.

  She erupted, then. “Oh, Cutter,” she cried, pushing herself back onto his hand and mouth, “oh, right there.” She nearly squealed as she felt her orgasm build inside her. Her body shook almost uncontrollably.

  He kept licking and kept rubbing her, not changing his movements or speed one bit. She felt her abs contracts, felt her body quake, as she came on his hand and tongue. She cried out, pushing back into him. He released her from her pleasurable torment, then, and slid his body up the backside of hers. Rough cotton, work-hardened muscle, and firm hands slid over her naked body.

  She went to move, to turn around to kiss him, but he put a hand gently, firmly, on her back. She sucked in a sharp, gasping breath and stayed where she was, not needing his words to tell her what he intended to do. Still bent over the table, with her ass stuck out to him, she heard his pants drop to the floor. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down her slit, parting her lips as he traced it up and down them. Nearly panting with excitement, she bit her lower lip and held back the urge to just backwards onto his manhood, to impale herself on his hardness. God, she wanted to, she wanted to so badly. He ran a hand over her ass, rubbed it teasingly, squeezed, and ran it up over her lower back until he landed on the latch of her bra.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “You just gonna play with me?”

  “Not quite,” he said as he reached up and unsnapped her bra. His hand traveled down beneath, ran up and over her flat stomach till it reached a pendulous breast. He lightly tweaked her sensitive nipple and rubbed his palm over the sensitive nub.

  “Cutter,” she groaned as she pushed her breast into his hand, filling it with her flesh. She pushed backwards, trying to slide onto him. At this point, and with how much he'd been teasing her, just the tip would be more than enough.

  His hand left trails of fire behind it as he crisscrossed her body, teasing her till she was practically begging for him to be inside her. He heard her pleas, though, and grabbed hold of her hips. He reached down between them and guided himself to her slick opening. She bit her lower lip, her breath coming hard and fast as her body anticipated what would come next. She needed this, needed it so badly. He pushed forward with his hips as he pulled her backwards onto his hard length. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she arched her back until her hands came up from where they'd been planted on the table and her bra slipped to the floor.

  “Do you like that?” he growled, his hand coming around to cup a full breast again.

  She nodded. “Y-y-yes,” she panted out as she felt herself filled with his warm hard length. She pushed back against him, encouraging him to go faster and deeper. She stroked herself up and down his shaft, craving more of his manhood.

  He pinched her nipple, tweaking it hard again as he pushed her forward, back onto the table.

  She planted both hands firmly again as she pushed herself against him, grinding herself on his cock. “Harder,” she plead. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

  Letting her breast drop, her grabbed both hips and pulled her, slowly at first, back onto his hard cock, stretching her fully. “You're still so tight,” he growled as he bottomed out inside her.

  “Please, just fuck me deep, Cutter!” she groaned. “Make me yours tonight!”

  He pulled her more roug
hly off his cock, then slammed her back on. She squawked in surprise as he rammed inside her, but the pleasure she felt filled her mouth and nothing but a dry gasp came out.

  He savagely pulled her on and off his cock, his hips slamming into hers as she braced against the prep table. “Do you like that?” he asked in that sultry growl of his, his words rising above the sound of their bodies coming together, “Do you love how I feel inside you?”

  “God yes,” she moaned, her head flung back. She could feel another orgasm, a giant white light of pleasure, tumbling towards her. Her legs were shaking her, body was sweating, and her consciousness seemed like it had been shoved from her body as the impending climax grew and grew inside. She growled like an animal, begged him to fuck her harder and harder.

  He pounded into her mercilessly, nearly moving the bolted down table as he plowed into her from behind. The bubble of warmth and carnal pressure loomed in front of her, so palpable she imagined she could just reach up and grab it from the sky. Her whole body cried out for this release, prayed for it, as Cutter had his way with her. At this moment, she needed this more than anything she'd ever needed.