Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  Both May and Gurly smiled at him when he got to them. He nodded, then turned his attention to Johnnie.

  “I need you to get to your room and look after my son until me and Megan can come get him.”

  Johnnie finished his beer and wiped the froth from his lips, before whispering something to May and patting Gurly’s ass. He didn’t seem to mind that he’d have to leave behind some sure pussy. None of the guys did. They doted on his boy because they doted on his mother. Besides, as long as she was happy, Christopher was happy.

  With the baby’s sitter seen to, he got back to his office—and found it empty. Was he ever getting Megan’s fucking pussy tonight? He thrust a frustrated hand through his hair and turned on his heel. A few moments later, he opened his door and walked inside the bedroom, hearing a hard guitar riff resounding from his CD player.

  Megan rose to her knees in the middle of their bed, wearing nothing but a hot pink thong. She met his gaze, her blue eyes captivating him, and raising her hand to her breast before squeezing, for his pleasure because she disliked the sensation of the milk sliding down her champagne-colored skin. Thin lines on her belly, thighs, arms, and legs, reminded him of the cuts she’d given herself to cope with all the bullshit that had been going on in her life at one time. She had the slightest little belly pooch left over from her pregnancy that Christopher only noticed because she pointed it out. Where pussy was concerned, size, age, or race had never mattered to him. Add in how much he loved Megan, she could’ve turned into the female version of the Incredible Hulk and he still would’ve wanted to be with her. Seeing her now, in nothing but her thong, made his dick turn to stone. She was teasing him with her body, taunting him with the vibrating lead guitar, and increasing his suspicions that some bullshit was going on.

  He wouldn’t bring the shit up now. He wanted to fuck her too bad.

  Only about fifteen footsteps separated him from her but, by the time he sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt, cut, and belt was already off and his pants were unzipped. He didn’t waste time getting everything else off, her hands roaming his body and the kisses she planted along the way ratcheting up his need for her to animalistic. With a hard pull, he ripped off her thong.

  He turned and guided her back onto the pillows, climbing over her and pressing his cock stand against her belly. He took her mouth in a hard kiss, spreading his fingers through her pussy curls and tasting her tongue with his, wanting to devour her. Still kissing her, he opened her pussy lips and thumbed her clit, slipping one finger into her. She was slick and hot, ready for him. He added another finger and she groaned against his mouth, lifted her hips, searching for her orgasm.

  For some reason, he was fucking pissed with her. No, not some fucking reason. One fucking reason. She’d decided to go to Seattle without even asking him if he wanted her away for his bachelor party. She fucking knew him. If he didn’t fucking want her there, he would’ve told her to get the fuck away while his party was going on. Even more fucked up was, if he had told her he wanted her gone, she would’ve turned into a jealous little bitch and would’ve been madder than a motherfucker.

  He brought her to the brink of coming before pulling his hand away. Her dazed eyes and swollen mouth made him grit his teeth against plunging into her and letting her come all over his dick.

  “Christopher,” she whispered. “Don’t stop. I want you inside me.”

  He kissed the tender skin behind her ear and slid his tongue across her throat. “You like my dick, dontcha, Megan?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, yeah, in-fucking-deed, she did. She twisted and pushed her pussy against his thigh, grinding against him.

  “That ain’t my dick, Megan,” he pointed out, unable to hold back his laughter. He grabbed her hips and stilled them. His cock throbbed. Demanding he shove this bullshit aside until after he got inside Megan.

  She growled in frustration, her hazy passion deserting her when she lifted her head and glanced at him, her hair pooling onto the pillow, her body already flushed from arousal. “You’re angry.”

  “No fuckin’ shit, genius.” He glared at her, refusing to allow her big, blue eyes to suck him in. “If I woulda told your fuckin’ ass to leave, you woulda turned into some psycho bitch. Yet, you make that fuckin’ decision and I’m supposed to be fuckin’ happy about it.”

  “You’re so frustrating,” she complained, flopping her head down. “If I would’ve stayed here for your bachelor party, everyone would’ve accused me of being clingy and not wanting you to have fun. Not trusting you.”

  “Fuck everyone,” he yelled, his eyes drawn to her opened thighs and her glistening pussy, begging to be licked. “I’ve made up my fuckin’ mind and you ain’t fuckin’ leavin’. Case fuckin’ closed.”

  She blinked and narrowed her eyes, her entire body stiffening. Fuck him. He knew the belligerence dropping into her features. His nostrils flared, her anger overwhelming him with the need to possess her.

  “What did you just say, jerk?”

  He threw her a dirty look, fisting his hands so he wouldn’t pin her arms above her head and fuck her senseless. “As if you didn’t fuckin’ hear me.”

  She scrambled up, her breasts heavy with milk, her nipples swollen. The sight of her golden pussy hair, wetness glistening off the curls closest to her cunt lips and her thighs, made his mouth water.

  “You don’t own me, Christopher. I’m your wife, not your child. I love you as a grown woman, not a little girl.”

  He scowled. “I know what the fuck you are, Megan.”

  She raised her chin and folded her arms, lifting her succulent tits. “You can’t stop me from going wherever I want to go.”

  He glowered at the ceiling, unsure why he was acting like such a controlling motherfucker with her. Well…Okay, so, maybe, he was slightly controlling where Megan was concerned, but, fuck him, he didn’t want anything to happen to her. She crossed over him, her intent to get out of the bed quite clear.

  Nope, wouldn’t fucking happen.

  Before her feet hit the floor, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back against him. She tried to squirm away but he pinned her arms above her head, flattening his other hand against her belly to hold her in place. Nothing worked until he bent his head and suckled one of her nipples. Hard.

  She groaned and arched her back. Her milk was sweet and watery and the way her body provided for their son fascinated the fuck out of him. Assured of her compliance, he released her arms, still latched onto her nipple, and spread her legs.

  His kissed his way down her belly, grasping some of her pussy hair between his teeth and tugging.

  “Christopher.”

  He ran his nose along her seam, smelling her essence. “Ain’t nothin’ I love more than eatin’ this pussy, Megan.” He ran his tongue along the same path his nose had taken and she shivered against him. Opening her lips, he licked her tender pink flesh, swirling his tongue around her clit, inserting it into her pussy and lapping her inner folds. “I could worship at the feast of Megan’s pussy for hours.” He wrapped his lips around her little clit and sucked, careful not to bite to hard, but still applying pressure. She trembled against him and he worked his mouth, tongue, and teeth faster until her pussy juice dripped down his chin and her breath was nothing but short, little pants and cries.

  Fuck, his balls were so full, the moment he buried himself in Megan he would fill her up with his cum. But, fuck, if it wasn’t worth it, to have her body flushed and limp beneath him, sweetly open to take every inch of him inside her. He inched back up her body, kissing every patch of skin he met, until his body covered hers. Bracing on one arm, his other hand met hers at his dick and they guided him to her entrance. He thrust into her and grunted at her wet heat. She dug her nails into his biceps and canted her hips.

  “Fuck, Megan. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “Come in me,” she whispered, her intense regard holding him captive.

  He slammed into her, his body shaking when his cum began to pour
from him. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus, but his head was filled with the scent and taste of his wife. The more he thought of her, the more he shook. The more he shook, the more he felt little droplets of cum seep from him and into her. She licked the sweat from his shoulder and he wanted to fuck her again. Instead, he opened his eyes and found her staring at him.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  “I love you, too, Megan,” he said hoarsely, brushing strands of her damp hair behind her ear and rubbing his nose against hers.

  She licked his nipple. “My turn, Christopher.”

  She pushed at his shoulder, his cue to lie on his back. Clutching her ass, he reversed their positions. Disappointment surged through him when she lifted herself off his dick and fell to his side, then raised herself up on an elbow. He supposed she wanted to talk.

  “Did the priest really say we can play the Wedding March?” She laid between his legs and kissed around his navel, wrapping her hand around his cock and funneling him in her hand.

  How the fuck did she expect him to concentrate with his dick in her hand and her mouth so close to it?

  “Christopher?” Her hand slid up and down his dick again, still slick with her pussy juice. “The Wedding March?” Another tug and pull. A pass of her thumb over his cock head. “The priest flat out refused me to allow a secular song in the church.”

  God. Fuck. Jesus. He couldn’t even think of fucking words to explain why the fuck that fat motherfucker gave in. Even if he’d been inclined to, which he fucking wasn’t. He didn’t need Megan pointing out how threatening to gut a Man of God was probably a sin. She still didn’t get that he’d lost his soul ages a-fucking-go because she saw past all the bullshit and found his heart. Fuck, yeah, he had a heart for her and their baby. Any other motherfucker? All bets were off. Well, with the exception of Johnnie, Val, Mortician, and Digger.

  She squeezed his dick and he groaned, clutching the sheets to keep from yanking her by the hair and shoving his dick down her throat.

  “I can have the Wedding March?”

  Each diocese had different rules and this one didn’t vary much from others in that the Wedding March was considered secular music and wasn’t usually played within the confines of the sanctuary. But Megan wanted it, so Megan got it. No one had to know of the threats and dire warnings, especially her. That wasn’t important. Only the end result was.

  He choked. “Yes.”

  “Thank you.” Her breath fanned his skin and goose bumps ran along his body. “I love being your wife. I just want our marriage blessed. And, now, I’m going to have a perfect wedding. All because of you.”

  “Anything for—“

  The word ‘you’ flew right the fuck out of his brain when Megan dropped her saliva onto his dick and slurped him into her mouth. His eyes crossed at her hard sucks. She cupped his balls and he gripped her hair hard enough to fucking scalp her. Jerking his dick up and down, Christopher realized he’d corrupted the fuck out of her and turned her from an innocent virgin into a little firecracker in bed. Not that he’d change that, but still…

  His dick went back into the haven of her mouth, her head bobbing up and down, her face flushed. Her hand wrapped around his cock base and, as her head went up, so did her hand, giving him a blowjob and a hand job at one time.

  “Megan, baby,” he moaned, near the edge, hoping like a motherfucker he didn’t blow the back of her head off when he shot his load. Fuck! He pulled out of her mouth, grabbed her and flipped her over. He buried himself so deep inside of her, he was probably touching her tonsils. He growled and pounded her like a fucking animal until his seed exploded inside of her and he saw fucking stars.

  Chapter 2

  “Where are you going, Momma?” Megan called as Dinah squeezed past her in the cramped airplane cabin.

  Her mother paused and glanced back, discomfort in her features. She pursed her mouth. “I’m switching seats, Meggie.”

  Meggie shifted CJ in her lap, looking at his little sleeping face. She was already suspicious that her mother had given her son something to make him sleep so soundly. Dinah had taken him to the bathroom while they waited to board and, by the time the twenty minutes had passed, her son was asleep. Now, they had barely pushed back and her mother was switching seats with someone else?

  “No,” Meggie ordered. “I could’ve taken the window seat, but I gave it to you because I know you’d prefer that. I want you next to me.” She wanted to find out what Dinah had given her baby. It was one thing to totally leave her to hang dry as she had after she’d married that monster. It was quite another thing to do it to her son.

  “Sorry, Meggie,” Dinah said quietly.

  “Ma’am, excuse me. You need to take your seat,“ the stewardess said in a stern but kind voice. She had a casual look with a Polo shirt banded at the collar and sleeves in blue and a pencil skirt.

  It was the type of outfit Dinah would’ve once worn and looked great in as an assistant high school principal. Meggie suspected with a little maintenance to her hair and care to her face, her mother would still look fabulous. Maybe, she’d buy a few outfits for Dinah while they were on vacation and use the excuse of splurging during their girls’ trip.

  “Ma’am?” the stewardess prompted when Dinah stood, unmoving, a doe caught in the headlights with nowhere to run.

  “Sorry, we got it mixed up,” a man said. His voice was familiar but before Meggie could look at him, he slipped past her and sat in her mother’s vacated seat.

  “No, wait!” Meggie called. But the stewardess was already leading Dinah away.

  “Nice boy,” the man next to her said.

  She glowered at him, startled to see a cut peeking out from his leather jacket. His face was weather-beaten, his head covered with a bandanna. But he sounded familiar and something about him looked familiar. She didn’t know what and felt like pitching her shoe at her mother’s head for leaving her in a lurch with this man.

  He gave her chills with the way his green eyes studied her and stared at CJ. Thank God, the flight wouldn’t last long. Still, it was going to be an uncomfortable seventy-five minutes. CJ’s little mouth moved and she smiled at him, her heart just not big enough to hold all the love she felt for her son. Or her son’s father.

  She was already sorry she’d agreed to what the guys asked her, but she also knew it wasn’t normal the way she and Christopher were attached to one another. Still, it was going to be difficult until she saw him again. She hadn’t slept anywhere but next to him for over a year.

  “I’m Cee Cee, by the way.”

  She cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you.” Not. She wished he’d shut up if he couldn’t go away.

  “You from around these parts?”

  Meggie’s nerves were frayed. Between already missing Christopher, being upset with how easily Dinah had given her seat to a stranger, and Meggie’s suspicion that Dinah had drugged her son, she didn’t feel very mannerly. “Cee Cee? That’s your name, right?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “I’m not in the mood to talk, so if you have to sit next to me, please don’t talk to me.”

  Soft laughter rumbled from him and he shifted in the narrow space, his leg touching hers, his arm brushing her breast. She stiffened and remembered Thomas, her stepfather. Christopher had taken care of him, but Meggie still carried the memories. And her husband wasn’t there now to protect her while she had a son to protect and a mother who hadn’t healed—might never heal—from the abuse she’d suffered at Thomas’s hands. In this, she had to take care of herself and her son.

  He flexed his fists and she noticed the tattoos on his fingers. He had big hands and, from his demeanor, Meggie suspected he’d used those hands in violence. He was tall and broad with a weathered face, sharp features, and an earring in his left ear. She realized he also had a black eye and a lip scabbed over.

  “You Outlaw’s old lady, aren’t you?”

  “And?” she asked with as much venom as possible.

  “Meggie
, right?”

  The moment he said her name, she remembered where she’d heard his voice. He’d been the one calling out to her last night.

  “I’m not from around here, Meggie,” he continued. “Not anymore.”

  No use in beating around the bush. “What do you want, Cee Cee? Tell me and I’ll relay the message to my husband.”

  He smiled at her. A mean, nasty smile that Meggie didn’t like at all. Yet, the curve of his mouth lured her. It was so eerily familiar, almost a mirror of Christopher’s.

  He shrugged. “He doesn’t really know me. Heard his mother got popped.”

  Meggie gasped. Speaking of Patricia’s death so casually told her he didn’t care one way or the other about the poor woman’s death. And thinking of Patricia made her think of Ellen and Kiera, two women who had been shot point-blank by Meggie’s lunatic brother. She shook a little, hating to think of that day. So many times she’d wondered if she’d done something different could she have saved them. Either of them. All of them.

  Christopher always said ‘no’. Nothing could be done.

  She squirmed in her seat. The man smelled fresh and clean with the scent of leather and alcohol clinging to him. She glanced across the aisle to her mother. Dinah was two rows back on the opposite side in an aisle seat. She looked unhappy and tired. Then, again, when had her mother been happy? Not any time in Meggie’s recent memory.

  “You’re not too talkative, are you?”

  Not when I’m dealing with morons. No. Instead of blurting that, she held her tongue, pretending to ignore him under the guise of shifting the baby. She watched the rise and fall of his little chest and slanted another evil glance to her mother.

  “You need me to hold your boy?” Cee Cee asked, already reaching for CJ.

  Meggie didn’t think. She just reacted and swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch my baby,” she snarled. He paused and lifted a black brow but she wouldn’t back down. Not where her child was concerned.