Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “All right!” she yelled, holding up her hand. “I get the frigging point. Will lady bits or vajayjay suffice?”

  He folded his arms. “Vag.”

  “Vag?” She frowned. “That sounds worse than vajayjay. Vag?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed. “All right. I can live with vag.”

  The moment she capitulated, he was upon her, snatching any more conversation from her head with his gaze refocused on her. Meggie kissed his chest, still covered with his long-sleeved T-shirt and his leather cut. The ridges of his six pack bumped her fingertips as she slid her hands lower and dropped to her knees, helping him to bare himself to her.

  He fisted his rigid flesh. “What are you about to do to me, Megan?”

  She slid closer to him and licked one of his testicles, his hand bumping her nose.

  “What, Megan?”

  “I’m about to suck you.” She wrapped her lips around his other testicle and suckled. “Make you come in my mouth.”

  “Play with your pussy while you suck my dick,” he demanded, guiding his manhood to her mouth, which she greedily accepted.

  She slurped him into her mouth, closing her eyes in bliss at the scent of him, the smell and taste of her own body clinging to him. Gripping his base with one hand, she slid two of her fingers inside herself, pressing her thumb on her clit, caressing it to the rhythm of her sucks. Christopher’s grip on her hair and deep grunts ignited her blood and pooled in her core. The tips of her breasts tingled and she tongued the dark, mushroom-shaped crown, the fluid already bubbling from him sticky in her mouth. The nub between her legs tightened against her fingers, the pressure building low in her belly. Her womb clenched and she quaked against the movement of her hand, the taste of Christopher driving her wild.

  Bright light exploded behind the lids of her eyes and she released his hardness from her mouth, crying out in pleasure, the touch of Christopher’s fingers massaging her scalp combined with the sensations rocketing through her.

  He lifted her to her feet and dragged her toward the barstool. “Bend over,” he rasped.

  The red vinyl of the seat cooled her flushed skin and the grooved chrome surrounding it pressed against her belly. Christopher laid one hand on her back, spreading her legs with the other one. He circled her clit, dug into her entrance, and spread her juices, stroking up, opening her butt cheeks and aligning his erection to her.

  He stroked her back, crooning to her, preparing her for the invasion she still found foreign. He eased the head into her and she tensed.

  “Relax, baby,” he whispered. “Remember, what I told you? It hurts worse if you stiffen up.”

  She nodded, felt him push a little more of himself into her and she drew in a deep breath, the sound of his voice grabbing her out of the depths of her fear and loosening her muscles.

  “Good girl.” He pushed further into her, found her clit again and she groaned, pain and pleasure slicing through her. “You feel so fuckin’ good, Megan.”

  Inch by inch, he eased into her until he’d embedded himself deep within her. He bent over her and began moving in and out of her cautiously, taking more care with his thrusts while he was inside her this way.

  He licked her ear, then bit her neck and her shoulder, fisting her hair into his hands. “I love you, Megan. So fuckin’ much. You’re mine, baby. Every part of your beautiful body belongs to me. You’ve given me that fuckin’ gift.”

  She twisted against him and he sucked in a breath.

  “Every fuckin’ part of me belongs to you, too, especially my fuckin’ heart and dick.”

  His body covered hers, her back pressed against his wide chest and hard stomach, his heat and power surrounding her, possessing her. She gasped and sobbed his name, his continued stimulation between her legs and his thrusts into her merging the pain and the pleasure into something powerful and explosive, her body a slave to his.

  “Yeah, baby,” he growled, easing into her again, his testicles slapping against her clit and making her tremble. “I’m fuckin’ comin’, Megan.” He yelled her name and shuddered against her, his manhood jerking inside of her. He went limp against her, breathing heavy.

  She squirmed under him and he raised up, pulling out of her. She groaned and came to her feet, wincing at her wobbliness. He steadied her and they stared at each other, the awe in his eyes sending heat rushing to her face.

  He bent and kissed her lips. “Thank you.”

  “If you tell the boys I’m doin’ this shit, I ain’t ever gonna be looked at the same again.”

  Meggie giggled, her third glass of rose champagne tingling through her veins and combining with Christopher’s lovemaking. She felt boneless and giddy and stuffed from the crab cakes and French fries she’d cooked. They’d enjoyed their first glass of champagne while they chomped on fresh Rainier cherries, and then went upstairs to their bedroom and indulged in a bath, where they washed and massaged one another with a bath oil she chose for its spicy scent. Christopher would never have agreed to smelling like any type of flower.

  Now, they sat at the round table in their bedroom. Bedroom was a little understated because of its size, sitting room, walk-in closets, and huge bathroom.

  “I can’t believe the fuckin’ shit you get me to do.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me you played Monopoly, Christopher,” she said calmly. “And it isn’t like this is the first time we’ve played the game since you let slip you remembered playing the game with Johnnie years ago.”

  “Seein’ as how this is Valentine’s Day, I propose we play strip Monopoly. Every time one of us land in jail, we have to remove a piece of clothing.”

  She narrowed her eyes and frowned. “Aren’t we already naked?” She couldn’t be that drunk that she’d imagined neither of them bothering to dress after they’d finished with the bath.

  Christopher leaned back in his chair and grabbed the second bottle of champagne, chilling in the silver bucket next to him. He popped the cork and Meggie squealed, clapping her hands. Cork popping always made her think of happiness and celebrations and she’d had so little of that until she’d met the beautiful man across from her.

  “Well, I’m callin’ a fuckin’ rain check until we can play Monopoly my way.” He swigged from the newly opened bottle.

  Meggie drained her glass and held it out for Christopher to pour her more champagne.

  “Watch it, little girl,” he teased, licking his fingers when the bubbly fizzled over. “There’s a dirty old man who’s trying to get you drunk to fuck your brains out.”

  “I better not tell my husband then. I don’t think he’ll like that too much.”

  His gaze on her breasts, he drank more champagne, then sat it aside and folded his arms. “I gotta talk to you, Megan.”

  The seriousness of his tone straightened her spine and she swallowed. What caused the sudden change in his mood? She knew he still had the incident with Cee Cee lurking in his mind, but they’d been having such a wonderful time, she didn’t believe he’d bring it up tonight. “Okay. What’s up?”

  While he studied her, Meggie focused on Christopher’s face so she wouldn’t salivate over his chest. His hair had the I’ve-been-fucked style guys got after women pulled and caressed their strands during sex. If she got up and slipped her hands through the dark mass, she’d—

  “You willin’ to learn how to shoot guns?”

  His topic relieved her because he’d sounded so harsh. “No.”

  “What the fuck you mean? No?”

  “Just what I said, no.” She rubbed a finger through the condensation on the glass she held. “Guns kill people.”

  He glowered at her, slanted his head to one side and then the other. “Guns don’t get the fuck up and start shooting themselves. It’s motherfuckers with guns who pull the trigger and kill other motherfuckers.”

  “Point taken,” she agreed. “But the principle is the same. If you didn’t have a gun in the first place, people wouldn’t be killed.”


  He snorted in disbelief.

  “You and the guys have an entire arsenal at your disposal. There’s no reason for me to have to get near a gun.”

  “Except it’s the luck of the fuckin’ draw, baby. I can have an entire fuckin’ army and if another motherfucker gets a fuckin’ drop on us—“

  “Whether I know how to shoot a gun or not, someone could still get the drop on you.” She didn’t want to think about anyone besting her husband, so she shifted in her seat to dispel images of the past carnage she’d been subjected to. “I understand why you want me to learn how to shoot. To protect myself and CJ.” She couldn’t imagine ever picking up a gun and pulling the trigger to kill someone else. “Just teach me self-defense techniques.”

  Knowing he wouldn’t win the argument, he grabbed the bottle and drank it dry. “Keep these doors fuckin’ locked when you’re here until I get everything in place. I shoulda put you over my fuckin’ knee when I walked in and found you naked with an unlocked door.”

  “Christopher, there’s not even a driveway here. I have to keep my car at the club. There’s only one entry gate to the property.”

  “Don’t give a fuck if you needed to be airdropped in the middle of this motherfucker to get on the property or if a helicopter needed to land your ass on the roof so you can get inside the house.”

  He scratched his shoulders, drawing Meggie’s eyes to his newest tat that covered the healed wound in his shoulder. He’d had her name tatted on his left wrist and Little Man on the right one. She flirted with the idea of getting his name inked somewhere on her body and smiled when she imagined his surprise. She glanced at his shoulder again and the smile slipped away. The day Christopher had been shot was one of the most horrible days of her life and just another reason she wanted to stay far away from guns.

  “When motherfuckers want to get to you, they’ll fuckin’ find a way,” he continued, picking up on the conversation again.“ With dickheads advising you to go on trips and shit, I need to know you can protect your-fuckin-self.”

  “You’re right, but I’ll learn some type of martial art.”

  The remaining dampness in his hair rubbed onto his fingers when he thrust them through the gleaming strands. “We’ll continue this conversation another time.” He got to his feet and Meggie went to follow suit. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

  He sauntered to the bathroom, allowing Meggie to admire the tautness of his buttocks. His long, strong body gave new meaning to the word hot. A moment later, he swaggered back in, his penis rising from the thick nest of black hair trailing from his belly button and down to his groin. He smirked at her when he noticed where her eyes focused.

  “Raise you gaze from my cock long enough to get your Valentine’s Day present, baby.”

  “Your body mesmerizes me,” she admitted.

  “I know.” He didn’t allow her to respond, instead, dropping to one knee and drawing in a deep sigh. “Megan, baby, when we got married, I just kinda told you we was going to City Hall and that was that. So, you already own fuckin’ rings and I know you ain’t takin’ them off ‘til we get married in church so I can put them back on you—“

  He paused and scowled at the thought of their big wedding, then heaved another breath.

  “Fuck me, anyway,” he went on, scrubbing a hand over his face and opening the velvet box he held to reveal a diamond tennis bracelet, “would you do me the great honor of bein’ my wife for the rest of our lives?”

  It took a moment for her shocked brain to process Christopher was down on one knee, proposing to her. Her heart stuttered with emotion and she swallowed. “Oh my God! Christopher,” she screeched, launching herself into his arms and bathing his face in kisses. “I love you so much! Yes. Of course.”

  She held out her arm so he could attach the bracelet. After he fastened it, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed. Once he had them both under the covers, he rolled onto her and pinned her arms above her head. “I hope I did this Valentine’s bullshit right, Megan,” he murmured and sank into her.

  Meggie lifted her hips. “You did it just perfect, Christopher.”

  He grinned, the look in his eyes vulnerable, his face boyish. “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you—“

  He captured her mouth with his own, drowning out her response with the heat of his tongue and holding her gaze with his the entire time he made love to her with slow, gentle strokes and tender kisses.

  Meggie wouldn’t soon forget this night.

  Chapter 8

  Early the next afternoon, Meggie rushed along the pathway and away from her house. She, Dinah, and CJ had attended church and she didn’t have time to go to their room at the MC to change before she had to get to the meeting in the board room. As usual, Christopher hadn’t attended services and she was getting really worried because she knew if he didn’t cooperate, their wedding wouldn’t take place. Not only wasn’t he a parishioner, he was Agnostic, a fact she’d kept from the priest.

  Somehow, he’d gotten Father Wilkins to agree to her having the Wedding March—secular music—and the lone stipulation of attending pre-marital counseling. Father Wilkins was rumored to be a stickler for his rules—the demand that couples live apart for at least six months before their marriage; the requirement that they were parishioners; the preference that the couple not have children out of wedlock.

  Meggie suspected just how Christopher had gotten the priest’s agreement, but she didn’t want to dwell on it too much. Assuming her husband had threatened a holy man wasn’t something she wanted to sit around and think about. Not only from a moral standpoint but, because, doing his business in his world was bad enough. Having it spill over into mainstream life was horrifying and the quickest way to get Christopher behind bars.

  Waving to May, Gurly and Bin, she hurried through the main room and down the hallway, knocking on the door to the board room. She heard all sorts of juvenile snickering and rowdiness on the other side and knew their church had ended as well. Or, their version of church.

  “Come in,” Christopher called.

  Opening the door, Meggie smiled as she stepped in, laughing at the greetings thrown her way. A head count revealed all the guys she’d requested were present. She headed to where Christopher sat, bent and kissed him, wishing she could smooth away the frown marring his brow. For a few hours last night, he’d let go of some of his anger toward Cee Cee—his father—not even mentioning him or the newfound connection to the man. But Meggie saw the rage seething in him and the wall he was dropping between them in the light of day. His father had always been a sore spot with Christopher because of the violent way his mother had conceived him.

  Meggie couldn’t make it better for him, but she could let him know she was there for him. If he’d listen to her.

  “Megan, baby, c’mon. I got shit to do.”

  Johnnie glared at Christopher, who, thankfully didn’t notice. Christopher was spoiling for a fight—bloodshed, actually. With anyone.

  “All right. I’m not going to keep you guys long,” she said on a sigh, her gaze falling on Val. Shoot. She hadn’t had a chance to show him his son’s photos. Grabbing her phone from the pocket in her purse, she held up a finger. “One second, gentlemen.” Scooting between Johnnie and Mortician while pulling up the photos, she leaned across the table and slid her phone to Val. “These are for you,” she whispered.

  “What—“ His words choked off when his gaze slid down. For a long moment, he stared in silence, then swallowed and peeped at Meggie.

  She grinned, happy to see his smile. “Scroll through,” she encouraged. “There’s more.”

  “Where’d you get these, babe?” he asked.

  His gruff tone and scary demeanor could frighten a bear. Meggie took it all in stride.

  “I took them,” she answered.

  “What the fuck is that?” Christopher snapped, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. He looked ready to launch himself at Val and snatch her phone awa
y.

  Val held the device up. “My kid.” His brows drew together and he glanced at Meggie, shrugging. “Um, what’s his—“

  “Ryan Matthew Taylor,” she supplied.

  “No fuckin’ shit?” Christopher said, standing up and pulling her out the way to grab her phone. He scrolled through the photos himself, then handed the phone back to Meggie.

  Val looked as if he wanted to snatch it back from her, but he knew better.

  Meggie glared at Christopher and huffed. I have you covered, she texted to Val and fired off the photos. Immediately, his phone started vibrating with incoming text messages.

  “How did you come about those, Megs?” Johnnie asked.

  Christopher threw her a dirty look. “Do you ever fuckin’ listen to me?”

  She shrugged. “Of course, Christopher,” she responded without hesitation. “If I agree with you. As to how I came up with the pictures, I visited Zoann yesterday.”

  Christopher and Johnnie exchanged glances, then Christopher shrugged, too. Johnnie shook his head and Meggie knew he had his own opinion about his bitter cousin. Swallowing, Christopher directed his gaze to the wall on the other side of the room. The wall containing the huge photo of his mother and two smaller ones of Ellen and Kiera—all victims of Meggie’s brother.

  While she’d shared a very strained relationship with the two women—considering their relationship to Christopher—they’d been killed in cold-blood and they’d been regulars at the club for years. Meggie had thought it only fair their memory be honored in some kind of way. Deep down, she knew Christopher had had a soft spot for both women. He’d tracked down their families and paid for their funeral services. He’d even sent a lump sum of money with the message for the relatives to contact him if they ever needed anything.

  Meggie knew Christopher had had a life before he’d met her, so she didn’t begrudge him his grief over their deaths. They’d been her competitors and, yet, they’d shared an odd friendship. Frenemies, she supposed. Whatever they might’ve been to her, she’d grieved for them as well. Those photos to remember them felt right.