KNOCKED UP BY THE BAD BOY

by Nicole Fox

  My heart thundered even harder than it had during our lovemaking. I pressed my hand to my bare chest to still it, but it was no good. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes, and I just shook my head for a moment because I couldn’t speak. “Oh, Snake,” I finally whispered. “Of course, I will.”

  My husband-to-be slipped the ring on my finger, and I turned it slightly so that the light danced against it. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

  Snake pulled me to my feet and held me close. “So are you.” He kissed me, gently at first but growing more passionate as our tongues twirled together. Our naked bodies were pressed against each other, hiding no secrets, and it was soon evident that he wasn’t yet done with me.

  He laid me on the bed once again, but it was completely different this time. Snake slid back and forth slowly, his hips dipping and pulsing gently as he looked into my eyes. We weren’t doing anything wild or kinky, but a white light filled my body and sparked in my vision. I simply couldn’t exist without him. My body pulled him inside and gripped, refusing to let go of this wonderful thing I had found. I cried out softly as tears of joy ran down my cheeks.

  Snake kissed them away as he finished, barely holding himself back as his body became rigid on top of mine. We lay together afterwards, our arms twined gently yet possessively around each other’s bodies. I buried my head in his shoulder and heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction.

  “You know,” he said, his deep voice rumbling against me. “In the Warriors, you would have been called my old lady. It means someone you care deeply about, who’s just as much a part of the club as her man is. The term itself doesn’t really suit you, but the sentiment does. How do you feel about that?”

  I snuggled in closer, so content with my life. “You can call me whatever you want as long as I’m yours.”

  THE END

  ***

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  HIS SEED: Satan’s Sons MC

  By Nicole Fox

  HE’S GOT THE GIFT I DIDN’T KNOW I NEEDED.

  And he’s about to give it to me…

  All of it.

  All of him.

  All. Night. Long.

  I play with fire for a living.

  But Wheeler Blake is hotter than anything I’ve ever touched before.

  He stands out in the front row of my performance.

  There’s no one else like him.

  With those tats, those muscles, and those eyes that seem to strip me naked right then and there…

  I can’t help but notice him.

  And I know for a fact that he’s noticed me, too.

  Because I didn’t expect to end my evening on the back of his bike.

  But once Wheeler gets an idea in his head, there’s no turning back.

  He doesn’t just want one taste, or one night.

  He wants to give me the one thing I’ve been missing my whole life.

  But a man like him comes with demons on his trail.

  And Wheeler’s demons are looking for any way they can to hurt him.

  Unfortunately, their sights have landed on me.

  To be more specific, they’ve landed on Wheeler’s baby in my belly.

  I’ve danced with fire for a long time.

  But it wasn’t until now that I truly got burned.

  Prologue

  Ember

  That morning started out like any other. I woke up before everyone else and made my way sleepily into the front of the tiny trailer that I shared with my mother and my rowdy three brothers. It was still a little dark outside, the sun barely even peeking over the horizon. I was the only one in my family that was a morning person. I could wake up before the sun and stay up long after it had gone down. It made solitary mornings possible, though there was little comfort in the solitude.

  The dining room table was covered in bills—past due notices on the utilities, cards that my mother had taken out in the hopes of paying for things that we needed, doctor bills for my mother.

  The list went on.

  And on ...

  I made my coffee as usual, running my fingers over the envelopes stuffed full of letters from people telling us what we owed them and knowing that neither myself nor my mother had the money to pay them—at least not as swiftly as the bill collectors would like. There were simply too many expenses and they just kept getting more and more extreme as time went on.

  I sighed. I would need to leave soon—pretend like I was going to class when in reality ...

  My stomach clenched a little nervously. A stripper. I was going to audition to be a stripper. My friend, Melany, had brought up the idea to me when I’d had to drop out of school. I simply could keep up with the expenses for it and neither could my mother and father.

  “Strippers make, like, so much money!” she exclaimed. “You’ll be able to work and save a bunch—enough even to help out with your family or even go back to school!”

  It was a lofty idea, and I didn’t know how accurate that was actually going to be. Eyeing all the bills on the table, however, I knew that this wasn’t something that I was going to be able to back out on. Mom didn’t make much more than pennies, it felt, cleaning people’s houses. Dad didn’t work and was never around as it was, anyway.

  I finished my coffee and got ready before any of my siblings woke up. It was easy to leave without waking anyone up; being the only girl, I got the second bedroom all to myself. There were perks to being female.

  I was out as the sun was just rising, in time to make it to the bus stop not too far from our little home. It was early on a Saturday morning; people weren’t out and about yet, so I had the shabby little shop to myself. It gave me time to get my head together; I was so nervous. My heart pounded in my chest.

  Would I be good enough? I was athletic, sure. Always in good shape, and I had always had good rhythm but this was ... so different. This was dancing and taking off clothes and while I wasn’t shy, it wasn’t like I had stripped before, either.

  I shook my head, getting on the bus. Now wasn’t the time to back down or have regrets.

  The ride across town wasn’t very long, and it was nice and quiet since there was only one other person on the bus with me, and they had headphones shoved into their ears and a hoodie drawn high up over their head. I didn’t even see what the person looked like.

  When I got off the bus, I still had a couple of blocks to go. I wished that I had something warmer to wear—it was chillier than I thought it was going to be, but that was my fault, I supposed. I hugged my body, trying to keep in the warmth.

  I didn’t notice the group of people until they were calling out to me.

  “Hey! Hey you! With the fire hair!”

  My brows furrowed as I turned around. It wasn’t a comment that I wasn’t used to; my hair was a shade of red that a lot of people referred to as flames. Bright and deep and wildly curly—untamable just like fire.

  The women stood around a little makeshift fire pit down an alley that I had almost passed. That in itself was kind of suspicious. Living near the city had taught me not to trust strange people down weird alleyways calling out to you. That tended to get you robbed, or worse.

  “Um ... Yeah?” I kept my eyes on them, my eyes falling to the woman in the middle. She was impossibly pretty with thick black hair and wide green eyes. There were two other women with her, spinning what looked like ... wires or strings or something with balls of fire at the ends. They had music playing.

  Definitely weirdos.

  The main woman waved me over.

  “Hey. Fire hair. That shade natural?” she asked me curiously.

  “... Yes ...?”

  She laughed.

  “I told you, Delilah. You can’t get hair that shade of fire out of a bottle. You have a name, Fire Hair?”


  This was getting weirder and weirder.

  “It’s Ember.”

  The woman laughed again, looking over to the girl that she had called Delilah. She continued twirling her fire, dancing around, moving her body in sensual rolls. It was almost mesmerizing, but I wasn’t given a lot of time to admire.

  “Even your name fits. That’s amazing. Your mama name you that on purpose?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  She eyed me up and down, like she was trying to figure something out. I was getting more and more nervous. What was the likelihood that I had stumbled on some sort of alleyway human trafficker or organ pawner or something?

  “Say, Ember, where are you going this early in the morning? Nothing good here is open this early.”

  “Um ...” I started to back away a little.

  “Oh, no, no, don’t leave! I promise I’m not weird.”

  Right.

  “I have a work interview,” I said, figuring that would answer her fine without copping to the fact that my ‘interview’ was for ... a strip club. My precaution didn’t do too much, however; the woman raised a brow.

  “You’re going down to the club, aren’t you? They’re the only people that ever have ‘interviews’ this early so they can roll in new girls for the evening shifts ...” I blushed. I didn’t want to admit to her that that’s was what was going on.

  “Oh, pretty thing, don’t be shy!” she said. She waved me over. “Come here, would you?”

  I was hesitant. I didn’t know this woman. I didn’t know what she wanted. I had an interview. Audition. Whatever. I shouldn’t be here ...

  There was something compelling, though, about the sincere way that she beckoned me over. About the fire that blazed in the pit with her and her comrades. About the way that the two other women just kept dancing and dancing with their fire.

  It was like my feet just carried me over there of their own volition. I couldn’t stop it. I walked up to the woman, compelled and nervous but not running away.

  “You have such pretty fiery hair,” she said. “Delilah.” The woman waved her over.

  Delilah stopped her dancing and walked over to us. She tilted her head at me in interest before she looked to the other woman.

  “Yeah?”

  “Doesn’t she look like she should be handling fire and not dancing for a bunch of gross, gropey men?” the woman said, a conspiring smile on her face. “That complexion, that hair, the shyness—but I bet there’s something more under all that, too, isn’t there, Ember?”

  “Um ... not really ... no ...” This was all so sudden. I didn’t know what to think, but I didn’t tell the woman to back off when she took the flames from Delilah and got in my space to hand them over to me. I took them, bewildered, wondering what on earth this woman was doing. She stared at me again with that calculating look, as though she were measuring me up, sizing my worth.

  “God, look at her ... Just waiting to catch fire ...” She smiled. “My name’s Wanda. The other girl over there is Chloe. I think I have something better suited for you than dancing in a club, Fire Hair.”

  Chapter One

  Ember – Three Years Later

  California in the summer is the best time for fire. The skies are clear and beautiful and the air is buzzing with electricity and excitement. It fuels the enticement of the flames, the wonder of the one of the most powerful elements being manipulated by mere human hands.

  I’d been with Wanda and the girls for three years and I had never regretted it. It was hard to believe that the soft-spoken girl that I was when I met her in that alley was no longer here—instead, I was the confident, scantily-clad woman dancing before a sea of people watching me raptly as I spun fire by my hands. My costume was essentially an intricate two-piece: red silky material that clung to my body’s curves in all the right places and gold embellishments that drove home the fire imagery—especially with every peek and glimpse of the nearly-new phoenix tattoo that sat on my shoulder. There were pretty gold and red ribbons in my hair, too.

  I was the main attraction right now, and I was having the time of my life.

  The music festival we were performing for would go on for a week. This was day three. Organized by a bunch of fancy fresh-faced executives and entrepreneurs from the Valley, it was a cushy gig. We didn’t usually do jobs like this, but money was money, and the money we were paid was good.

  “Whoo! Yeah, spin, sweetness, spin!”

  Well. The pay was good. The investors, not necessarily. These businessmen were a certain brand of enthusiastic that wasn’t necessarily good, if you catch my drift.

  I ignored the catcall like I had been ignoring them all during this whole gig and continued spinning and dancing among wolf whistles. This was the only bad thing about this gig so far. The entrepreneurs who had hired us were nasty little shits, to put it delicately. I was craving something a little more akin to what we were used to over these white-collar suits—something a little more raw and interesting and real.

  My hip jutted out, and I rocked it to the beat of the music as I did intricate movements with my flames and watched the way the men in the crowd gazed hungrily at my body—and noticed, as I watched the crowd, that it was slowly being filled with more than just the stuffy suits that were plaguing me with their irritating presence.

  Boys in kuttes and leather were beginning to spill in among the others. Bikers. My kinda men, honestly.

  But my set was ending for now. The music and my movements came to an amazing, shuddering climax and the men in the crowd roared with applause and cheers. A few of the bikers started walking forward, but they would find themselves a little disappointed if they had come in the hopes of seeing me.

  I hopped down neatly from the small stage that had been set up for the fire performances, giving a demure little bow after putting out my flames.

  “Encore!”

  “Again!”

  I smiled out to the crowd, catching the excited, enticed eyes of the men who watched me and the bikers that were also eyeing me hungrily. I gave a little smirk before walking off, retreating to my tent for the break that I was owed.

  Or ... that’s what I had intended to do. Someone grabbed my arm, their grip firm and needlessly tight around my forearm. My brow twitched as I looked at who had grabbed me.

  “Jameson.”

  Jameson Mathers was one of the heaviest backers for this music festival. As such, he thought that he owned every performer that had been booked for the event—especially the women.

  He was a handsome man, I would give him that. Blond haired, blue eyed—that classic kind of handsome that made most women weak between the knees. But he was as much a bastard as he was a looker, too touchy, and if it weren’t for the fact that we were getting paid well to be here, I would have told him from day one that he could go fuck himself.

  I didn’t, valuing the promise of a paycheck too much. Like the wolf he was, I knew he could sense that with the smirk that he gave me.

  “Ember. Don’t you hear the crowd? They want more out of you.”

  “It’s time for my break.”

  “You don’t need a break when there’s a crowd to please. What am I paying you for then, huh, If you just flit your little sparks away willy nilly?”

  “You’re paying me to perform, which I did. It’s my break now.”

  I could feel the eyes on the two of us, watching, even though he was speaking low enough for only me to hear him. It’d be uncomfortable if I wasn’t used to men treating me—and the other girls, really—as though we were property for what we did. But we were strong, and I was no exception.

  So it wasn’t uncomfortable, only infuriating, when he wrapped his arm around me and turned the two of us to properly face the crowd. He walked me back over toward the stage.

  “Ember here’s gonna give an encore!” he announced jovially. I tried to move away, only to have Jameson’s grip on me tighten at my bare waist. I gave him as subtle of a glare that I could manage. There was no
room to argue now that he had gotten the crowd involved and made that open announcement.

  I made my way back over to the stage. He was lucky that the only one doing any dancing tonight was me, and there wasn’t anyone else ready and available to cover his ass.

  I pulled myself up to more rowdy cheers. This time they were joined by the louder, drunker cheers from some slightly sloppy boys from the bikers that had come in. I had no idea where they had come from or why they were there (I couldn’t imagine that they were rubbing elbows with the men who’d organized this gig) but I enjoyed the looks on the white-collars’ faces. They were so damn pompous and uptight that these uninvited bikers were probably an affront to their delicate sensibilities.