Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “I’m gonna talk to her my-fuckin-self when I fuckin’ feel like dealin’ with her,” he snarled before the line went dead.

  Each cold word that had fallen from her beloved Christopher’s mouth pierced Zoann like a dagger, cutting through her and slicing open her soul until her heart bled.

  “Believe me now?” Big Joe taunted and it was too much.

  She’d lost her virginity and her dignity. She’d lost Granddaddy. But losing her hero, her Christy, did what nothing else could—broke her.

  Trembling, she stared into Big Joe’s cold, blue eyes, mocking her as much as, or more than, his voice had. He’d known Christopher’s feelings and she hadn’t believed him.

  They faced off and he waited for her next move, waited for her to fall apart.

  Instead, she narrowed her eyes at him, seeing nothing but a mean, nasty biker. Just like Christopher.

  No wonder Granddaddy had hated bikers. She sucked in a sob at her rising grief and jumbled thoughts.

  “Get the fuck away from here and do us all a fucking favor. Don’t come back. I swear, Bitsy, if you fuck with his head, I will fucking strangle you and dump your body in the Columbia. Just go fucking die before you fucking ruin Christopher’s life.”

  She processed the words, then spat in Big Joe’s face and ran away.

  Away from any retaliation he intended. And away from the brother she now hated.

  Part Two: Innocence Given

  Chapter Five

  21 months ago

  “It’s Zoann. We’re all here. Momma, me, Ophelia, Bev, Nia and Avery. All of us. Squeeze my hand. Let me know you hear me.”

  Tears slipped down Zoann’s cheeks. Christopher wouldn’t move. He lay quiet and still, his fingers limp. He’d been shot and it was bad, made worse because of all the bleeding he’d done. But the same girl he’d brought to the emergency room a few days ago returned the favor and rushed him to the hospital.

  Not any girl, though. Big Joe’s girl. Meggie, almost the same age Zoann had been when her life had been shattered. She wanted to lash out, act on all her different emotions. More than anything, she wanted to hate Meggie. She belonged to Big Joe and she seemed to have some type of loyalty from Christopher that Zoann never really had. But Meggie was innocent and, most important, she’d saved Christy’s life. For now, at least. But he had all types of tubes in him. He hadn’t been out of surgery for very long and he still needed breathing assistance with the ventilator.

  Swallowing, Zoann ran her fingers through his black hair, unable to stop her sob. Arms encircling her waist surprised her and she turned, expecting Johnnie, but finding Matthew instead. She sank against him and gave in to her tears.

  “He can’t die. Not my Christy.”

  Right now, it didn’t matter why he’d stopped loving her. If he ever had. She just needed to know he sauntered through life with the audacity only he pulled off.

  “It’s okay, babe,” Matthew whispered, tangling his hands in her hair.

  She hadn’t even gone on duty. She hadn’t been able to. Until her brother opened his eyes and they went back to disliking each other, she wouldn’t be able to do anything.

  “Outlaw’s tough. And he got Meggie here. He fucking need to figure out what to do with her.”

  Meggie seemed nice enough, so she could always move in with Zoann. It would also get her away from that biker world imbedded in her brother’s blood.

  “They’re lovers?”

  Val pulled away from her and thumbed her tears, smiling. “Always fucking nosy.”

  They stared at one another a moment and Zoann wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and never leave his side. In him, she saw the hours before she’d been raped when her innocence and trust remained intact. She was so lonely, though, and so frightened for Christopher.

  “A-are they?”

  He sighed, passed his thumb over her lips. “If they aren’t yet and she doesn’t leave soon, they will be. Never saw him look at a girl the way he look at her.”

  Zoann was mean and selfish and evil for wanting to use whoever as long as she got her brother back, but she didn’t care. If it took Meggie to bring him back, then Zoann would use her. She turned back to Christopher and kissed his forehead. His lashes fanned his cheekbones and she prayed he’d raise his eyelids and say something awful to her. But, no. He stayed still and silent, the only noise that of the ventilator and heart monitor.

  “Meggie needs you,” she whispered. She needed him, too, but that didn’t matter to him, so those words wouldn’t bring him back. The ones she did use got no results. Nothing. No movement. No anything. Her lips trembled and another sob broke free. “Please, Christopher. You’ve got to come back for her. She needs you so, so badly.”

  Still nothing. Hysteria began to set in and Matthew wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her back.

  “C’mon, Zoann. Let’s take a walk.”

  Ignoring her grumbling stomach—when had she last eaten?—she shook her head. “He might wake up. Meggie is…” She didn’t know where. Maybe, she’d dropped Christopher off and then left.

  “Meggie’s downstairs in the cafeteria with Mortician. We’re trying to keep her there at least til that fucking ventilator’s gone. She don’t need to see that. And neither do you.”

  “I don’t want him to be alone.”

  “And he don’t want you crying yourself sick. You need to eat. At least do that. If you want to come back to the room after, I won’t stop you.”

  Hunger curled through her and she needed a shower to wake herself up. “Do you promise you won’t leave him?”

  “I am leaving him to make sure you get something to eat.”

  “I’m going home. I-I need a shower,” she admitted, bowing her head in shame. Some part of her still desired him.

  “Go home and get your shower. I’ll meet you there and bring burgers and fries.”

  Zoann was still towel drying her hair when Matthew knocked on her door. Although she wore a robe, she didn’t feel comfortable meeting him with so little on. He’d break her door down by the time she dressed, so she grabbed her coat from the door hook and struggled into it as she ran to the door.

  She checked through the peephole. His rugged features and wide shoulders filled up the viewer and she drew in a breath. She opened the door and unlocked her screen, not saying a word when he brushed past her, the scent of the French fries floating to her. Mouth-watering and stomach growling again, she rushed behind Matthew, grabbing the bag out of his hand and stealing a fry peeking out from the brown paper.

  His laughter floated over his shoulder as she followed him to her kitchen, remembering she needed to empty her dishwasher. She also had another load of laundry to do, but all that would wait. As soon as she finished eating, she’d dress and return to her brother. He’d never have to know she’d been at his bedside, but she’d know, the most important thing.

  Matthew sat the drinks down, secured in a cardboard cup holder. He held onto the tiny table that she’d crammed into her kitchen, then pulled out a chair and dropped into it, dwarfing her furniture and swallowing the space with his overwhelming presence.

  He inspected her from head-to-toe, his turquoise gaze burning with amusement. “You expecting a fucking snowstorm?”

  She paused stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth. “Huh?”

  He laughed and nodded at her. “The coat. You walk around in your house dressed in a fucking coat all the time?”

  Chewing and swallowing the fries before she answered, she blushed at his amused tone. He’d never understand her reasons. “This is my fucking house, asshole. I can walk around wearing a coat, gloves and hat.”

  His amusement turned to a glare and she whirled away from the disapproval entering his eyes, not knowing how to stop the meanness she always handed out.

  “I need to get dressed,” she mumbled.

  The thump of his boots alerted her to his advance and she turned back to him, thankful she’d had a warning that he crept behind her.


  What was wrong with her? She never turned her back on anyone, a man especially. She never allowed men in her house, for that matter. Her worry for Christopher had her defenses down.

  “I need the fucking bag, Zoann,” he growled, snatching it from her. “I haven’t eaten either and if you’d care about anyone, you would’ve fucking figured that out.”

  “Then you should’ve gone to eat and left me the fuck alone,” she shrieked, shoving him. “I didn’t ask you to do anything for me. You volunteered. I’m quite used to taking care of myself and doing everything on my own.”

  He stomped back to the table. “Alone because most bitches like you do end up alone.”

  To her horror, tears rushed to her eyes and her chin wobbled.

  Matthew closed his eyes a moment, then turned to the table to focus on his food. “Don’t cry.”

  “Why not?” she spat. “Because bitches don’t cry?”

  He hesitated, then stood up again to reach for her. She slapped his hand away, wishing she could knock his head off, instead.

  “That’s my fucking cue to leave, you miserable fucking bitch.” He brushed past her.

  She wanted to call him back and beg him to stay, just as long as he didn’t leave her alone.

  Leaning against the wall, Zoann wrapped her arms around her waist and burst into tears, big, fat tears that streaked her cheeks and slid over her lips and chin. Her period was due, one reason she was so emotional, but not all of the reasons. Christopher, still the center of their family and now the leader of one of the most infamous MCs around, was so badly injured. Her rampant feelings confused her. How could she dislike him but feel so brokenhearted at how close to death he hovered?

  Unexpectedly, hands grabbed her and she screamed, stricken with terror. She balled her fist and swung. “Get away from me!” she demanded, not knowing who she spoke to.

  “No, babe. Not until you calm down and stop with your juvenile fucking outbursts.”

  She spun to Matthew and jabbed him in the chest. “I’d prefer to be juvenile than an unfeeling reptile like you.” He’d frightened the shit out of her, grabbing her as he had. “Why are you still here? Leave.”

  His gaze gentled and he ran his fingers through her still-damp hair. She didn’t realize his intent until his mouth landed on hers. She tightened her lips, determined to deny him entrance. She couldn’t…she just couldn’t…

  “Open your mouth, Zoann,” he whispered, nipping her neck just as he had so many years ago.

  This time, though, shame and fear dampened her desire. “No—“

  “I can make you forget everything for a little while. Make it all go away.”

  No one could ever make it all go away. Ever.

  “We’ve always wanted one another,” he went on, being the Matthew she remembered. Of course, she’d rarely seen him in the last few years. But association with other jackasses made him one, too. Christopher and Johnnie were dummies and, now, so was Matthew.

  She narrowed her eyes. “So why act on it now when you’ve ignored me forever? Because Christopher is…is…” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head, unable to finish, not wanting to, afraid that if she spoke it, it would come to pass.

  “Answer me, Zoann. Haven’t we always wanted each other?”

  Matthew no longer had hair and now had a tear drop tat beneath his left eye, but he offered comfort and familiarity. “Yes,” she whispered, her belly tightening with shame.

  “Outlaw’s gonna get the fuck out of that bed and walk the fuck away. If you don’t fucking believe that, I do. I’m just…” He drew in a deep breath and backed away, the bleakness in his eyes turning everything inside her upside down. “Never mind, babe. I…what the fuck am I thinking?”

  She was frightened and confused. A part of her had died over the course of those horrible days. “You’re thinking about c-comfort,” she whispered, unable to meet his gaze, so ashamed of her sudden desire for him and need to be with him vomit churned in her belly.

  She studied her toes, the heavy coat uncomfortably hot, the weight of his gaze pressing into her. A moment before his rough fingertips stroked beneath her chin, he tipped it up, then bent down and claimed her mouth.

  Resist. Resist. Resist.

  Her mind chanted that one word to her and she wanted to heed it. She needed to. She’d never bared her body to anyone since Big Joe and Rack had humiliated her and watched her bleed her guts out. They were another reason she didn’t bother with doctors. But this was Matthew and he was different. She’d known him…she’d kissed him…before.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she leaned into his kiss, tasting his mouth, afraid to take too much or give too much. Not that she needed to do either. Matthew took control and lifted her into his arms. Turning on his heel, he never lost contact with her mouth, his kisses heated and demanding.

  The lighting changed from the brightness of her kitchen to the dimness of the tiny hallway to the softness of her bedroom. A moment later, he stretched out beside her on her bed. His drugging kisses continued through the removal of her coat and the opening of her robe, allowing cool air to sweep over her flushed skin and hard nipples.

  She was naked.

  God. God. God.

  She stiffened and tore her mouth away, turning her head, her rape replaying in her head and—

  Matthew swiped his tongue over her nipple, his hand cupping her sex, his finger massaging her slit. Her breath caught but she needed to tell him to go. She had to.

  “Jesus H. Christ,” he growled. “You have the most beautiful powder puff.”

  Powder puff? “Wh-where?” she asked, attempting to sit up, her confusion taking away all her other thoughts. “”I don’t have a powder puff.”

  His breath fanned across her stomach as he laughed. “I mean the hair on your pussy.”

  She’d been so busy at work, she hadn’t had time to groom her feminine area. Why she kept herself bare down there, she wasn’t sure. Maybe, to see the scars left over from Cee Cee’s belt. Or, maybe, to remember her innocence before the scars.

  Matthew pushed her thighs apart and Zoann shot up, attempting to squeeze her legs together, his head and shoulders making it impossible.

  “Don’t do that!” she ordered, a little frantic, knowing what he intended. “Don’t! Please.”

  Not listening to her, he gripped her hips and kissed the inside of her thigh.

  “I know you want your pussy eaten. All women do.”

  “You mean all sluts do,” she cried, trying to wiggle away from him but unable to get away from his tight hold.

  He gave her one, long lick, ignoring her insistence that she hated oral sex. He wasn’t listening to her. This had been a mistake. She never should’ve trusted him with her body. He’d perform oral sex on her and say all types of filthy things to her and humiliate her.

  “Relax, Zoann. You’re acting worse than a scared fucking virgin. And I know you aren’t.”

  “Mat…Val, please—“

  He licked her again and she whimpered.

  “I’ve been dreaming of eating up your pussy for years, so keep still, babe. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to make you fly to the fucking moon and back.” He twirled the tip of his tongue around her clit.

  She grunted, squirming against him, feeling the wet heat of his tongue deep in her belly and right up in her nipples. “Matthew?”

  He didn’t stop, widened her legs further instead, and applied more tongue pressure. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gripped handfuls of her comforter, not wanting to encourage him but giving up on discouraging him. His mouth pleasured her so much better than her fingers. No matter what he said to her afterwards, for now, he represented familiarity and succor.

  The wet brush of his tongue focused entirely on her clit and he alternated between long, slow licks and fast, quick ones before he speared his tongue inside her entrance, slurping her juices. She arched her back, her legs trembling, his greedy tongue pulling cry after cry from her. Tiny explosions er
upted in her center and fanned out over her entire body.

  As she spiraled down, she heard the unbuckling of his belt and the unzipping of his jeans, then a frustrated growl, the sound snatching her back and clenching her muscles in fear and nerves all over again. She lifted herself on her elbows and frowned at Matthew as he placed one knee on her bed while stroking his hard dick.

  “I don’t have a condom.” Sounding pained, he licked his lips, still glistening with her, and groaned. “Come suck me off, babe.”

  She scrambled up and clutched the edges of her robe to cover herself, forgoing the coat. Why bother now? “I don’t suck dick,” she snarled. “And if you try to make me, I’ll cut your cock the fuck off.”

  His fingers tightened around his dick. “Lay on the bed and play with your pussy while I jerk off.”

  She was torn between wanting to do that and wanting to crawl under her bed. He put the other knee on the bed and inched closer to her, grabbing her elbow. He bent and kissed her again. “I need…” Gasping, he grabbed her hand and put it on his straining cock.

  She should know what to do with this, but she didn’t, so she pulled her hand away. “What do you need?”

  “Relief, Puff,” he said roughly.

  Puff?

  “Please…I have to…my dick’s hurting.”

  It looked angry, purple, and menacing. He wasn’t forcing her, though, and he wasn’t being mean. She’d always wanted to feel him inside of her and she didn’t think she’d ever allow him to be with her this way again. Already, nausea bubbled in her belly. She’d prefer sex without a condom, then being subjected to having his penis in her mouth. Trying to jerk him off would be even worse. Then, he’d guess her inexperience.

  She scooted down and leaned back, spreading her legs. “I, um, I-I w-want you i-inside of me.”

  Not arguing with her, he growled and stretched out over her, slanting his mouth over hers again and sinking into her in one, long thrust. She flinched at the pain.

  “Fuck, Zoann, you have one of the tightest pussies I’ve ever had.”