by Dez Burke
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Curve Lullaby
Big girl Starla Parks has spent two frustrating years working for wealthy philanthropist Cole Mason as his personal assistant. Don't get her wrong, the man is a saint—with the body and face of a very dirty angel. Deep down, however, she is certain no matter how egalitarian and sweet Cole really is, he's just too rich, too handsome, too everything to notice the way his plump Girl Friday feels about him. She's just happy to work by his side and entertain a few choice fantasies after hours.
Happy, that is, until she stumbles across a secret folder on his laptop, one filled with plus-size sleeping beauties ravished as they slumber. When Cole requires Starla to spend that very weekend at his private estate on a rush charity project, she begins to wonder—what would happen if she staged her own sleep in? Could his secret kink make her fantasy finally come true?
Outlaw Kind of Love: Prairie Devils MC Romance by Nicole Snow
I: Backstabbing Bastard (Rachel)
I didn't understand why he was tearing up. It scared the hell out of me.
Dad never cried. One minute, we were having a perfectly normal conversation as I rode in his big shiny Escalade. We were talking about something or other, my intern plans in the Fall at the veterinarian's office, or maybe what he was going to get his new girlfriend for their six month anniversary.
For once, he wasn't berating me about putting college on hold or whining about the way I dressed. He was in a good mood, and happiness was rare for my father.
Then his face went dark. We pulled off the highway into an empty lot, an abandoned weighing station for big rigs that hadn't been torn up yet.
“Hey! What's up, Dad? Why are we stopping here?”
He shook his head. A slow, red faced shake, as if it took all his strength to turn the wheel, guiding the vehicle to the side of the road.
I looked out. A blinding orange summer sun was just setting over the distant ranches, sending us into an early North Dakota night.
“I'm...I'm so sorry, Rachel. If there were any other way to avoid this, I would. God, please forgive me.”
My heartbeat doubled. And that was before I heard the terrible roar up the road, the deafening blast of motorcycle engines. A lot of motorcycles.
“Dad? Dad! What the fuck!”
His face tightened. “Stop using that language. I don't care how hard things are about to get. You'll keep acting like a lady...no matter what they do to you.”
The last part croaked out under his breath. His face crinkled and lost a few of the tears pooling in his eyes. He wiped his wet cheeks as five or six hairy bikers encircled us, bringing their bikes to an abrupt stop.
They had us surrounded. Confusion and terror gave way to panic. I began to scream, pounding on the glass window and reaching for the handle.
Not that I could've outrun them. Big, powerful, and ruthless men like that?
Good luck. And all the luck in the world had abandoned me.
Fight-or-flight kicked in. Dad clicked the lock shut before I could pop the door, reluctantly lowering the window as a man who looked like a bearded gorilla appeared at his side.
“You got her or what?”
“Yeah. Don't hurt my Rachel. Please. I've given you everything you wanted and more.”
The stranger tipped his head back and laughed. It was a bawdy, harsh sound, almost as fearsome as he looked. He reminded me of a pirate captain from those cheesy old movies, but there was nothing lighthearted about this.
“Mister Mayor, we're the ones doing your ass a favor. And don't you forget it.”
Dad's face turned beet red. His head looked like a fat, wrinkled sac of gunpowder ready to go off.
“I won't forget,” Dad said with a sigh.
I blinked. Jesus, what was this?
Nobody ever got away with talking to my father, the mighty politician, that way.
“Good man. Now let the bitch out. Tell her not to run. Wouldn't want Blow's hands to rough up that pretty little face.”
I stopped pounding my thighs in panic. My arms, my legs, the very blood pumping through my veins went numb. I turned to Dad one last time, defeated and horrified.
“Do what he says, Rachel. This is...this is for the good of our family. You'll understand someday.”
I didn't move. On the driver's side, he punched the button for the lock. I heard the click and then the door flew open.
One of those big hairy apes was on me, unbuckling my seat belt, dragging me out of the car. My throat was already hoarse from crying and screaming, but I had plenty more for them.
“Mmmm! Got a real wild one here, Venom. You want to ride with her or should I?”
My little wrists flailed backwards, slapping at him pathetically. Dad's Escalade chugged to life, and I watched him drive away, beating a retreat from the horror show he'd directed.
“Give her here!” The bigger, older man who'd been talking to Dad snarled, reached forward, and picked me up by the waist.
He threw me across his shoulder like a caveman. I beat on his back until my hands hurt.
No effect. The ogre didn't let up as he carried me several feet to his waiting bike, and parked me on the backseat.
“You gonna shut up or am I gonna have to make you? I'm not listening to this shit all the way to Fargo.”
I ignored him, sobbing quietly in my seat. I couldn't make my limbs move anymore.
The four bikes up ahead thundered as the guys revved their engines. Venom threw his leg over the bike just in front of me, and told me to hold on tight.
This is fucking crazy! I'll go with you, asshole. But I'm not gonna touch you if it's the last thing I –
A resounding swipe to the side of my head silenced all my thoughts. He'd spun around and backhanded me. My whole body trembled in shock.
No man had ever hit me before. Let alone one who looked like an escaped con.
“When I talk to you, the answer is 'yes, sir,' or 'no, sir.' You give me the cold shoulder again and I'll rip it clean off, bitch. We're on a tight schedule. Got a quick meeting with some assholes and then it's a clean ride home to our clubhouse in Sioux Falls. You're Skulls property now.”
He paused, lighting up a fat, reeking cigar. “Put your little hands around me and get fucking used to it. I'm not telling you again.”
My brain locked up, scanning all its options. There was only one, and I did the sole terrible thing I could.
I obeyed.
Like a shaking animal, I leaned forward, grasping the demon's flabby body. Just then, I'd do anything to relieve the suffocating weight in my lungs, the agonizing certainty that this was bound to get a whole lot worse.
“Good girl,” he puffed, blowing his stinking tobacco back in my face. “Let's ride.”
I zoned out, somewhere between a waking sleep and a wide awake trauma. My hands stayed perched on his repulsive body, hovering near the place where his belt met his leather.
Venom shifted his hips occasionally. It didn't take a genius to realize he was fighting an erection.
When I noticed, I almost heaved, and it forced me deeper into my self-induced coma. I was alone with gnawing questions – almost as bad as the cold reality outside my head.
Why? Why, why, why had Dad given me over to these animals?
I knew he was into some shady shit. Shady was the middle name of our town, Cassandra, but he was the man who'd run on a platform of cleaning up the town, and never doing deals with the Prairie Devils MC like the last Mayor did.
Obviously, something horrible had changed his mind. He'd never been father of the year.
The Dad I knew was a cold, career driven man. Even holidays with him, the only times I really saw him, felt like carefully staged photo ops.
It only got worse after mother died. He hurled himself into politics, selling off the old family business, and dedicating his life to public service with a scary passion. He talked about it endlessly over those big family dinners, as if it was the most na
tural thing in the world.
I was only twelve when he revealed his grand plan to make me a Governor's daughter. First, the council seat, then the Mayor's office. With any luck, he'd get a state appointment or haul in some big cash from new friends, an easy bridge to North Dakota's lone Congressional seat and then the Governor's mansion.
When we were winding toward Fargo, I lifted my head, staring closely at my captor's back for the first time. I'd seen the Devils around town before – our little hamlet was home to their founding charter – but these guys didn't have the same winking devil and pitchfork patches I'd always known.
RAGING SKULLS MC, SIOUX FALLS was outlined in white banners on his leather in big blocky letters. The text patches surrounded a dark red screaming skull.
So much for those campaign promises, Dad. Looks like you've traded one group of crazy scum for another.
“What's so fucking funny?” Venom growled, his voice barely audible over the bike's roar and the nimble summer wind.
“Nothing,” I muttered. I hadn't even realized I was laughing.
Jesus. My marbles were really rolling right out of my head, and he hadn't even made me touch him yet. Not like that.
I didn't want to think about it. To think that I'd saved my virginity for nineteen years, only to give it up to this beast, old enough to be my own father.
Like it or not, it was coming. I saw the way he looked at me when we stopped for fuel. Not to mention the sour, ratty little laughs of his henchmen.
“Hope you're well rested for a wild ride when we get home tonight, little girl,” the man called Blow whispered into my ear when Venom was in the bathroom. “Our VP's gonna tear your sweet pussy up. Just hope there's still a little something left for the rest of us when he gets bored of you. The club needs new meat, and you're a very tasty looking cut.”
I should've run then, should've screamed, should've done anything to flag down the attention of the old couple who ran that little gas station in the middle of nowhere.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda.
I knew all about the biker gangs, though. Our local Devils and the men who came through every year on their way to Sturgis protected their interests like hungry wolves.
Resisting would just get others killed, and I wasn't okay with that.
Back on the road, Venom took the lead, driving the short distance into Fargo. Soon, we were sloping into what looked like the entrance to a city park. The motorcycle's roar became more noticeable at the slower speed.
Several shadowy shapes on other bikes were waiting. More than just his guys.
“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” he whispered behind me. “What goes down here is none of your business, and you're not gonna embarrass us in front of our new...partners.”
The last word came after a pause, like he didn't want to acknowledge the group of strangers. Venom lifted himself off the bike, throwing my hands toward me in a flurry.
He walked behind me and grabbed the small bag in the little compartment. His men flanked him as he carried it forward in the darkness.
I couldn't see much of the other group in the dull orange light streaming down from the park's lone functioning lamp.
“Evening, guys. Got your shipment right here. Your toll for letting us through through Devil's territory, as promised.” Venom's back was turned to me, but I knew he was smiling.
I'd seen his smile exactly twice. It was a big crooked grin with deep craters where several teeth were broken out.
Jesus. That's the smile you're going to see when he's got you under him, or somewhere even worse.
“Yeah, yeah,” a new voice said. “Jonesy, get up here! Let's count this shit and make sure everything's here. You can never tell with these bastards.”
The man came closer. I saw him in the faint light, a tall younger guy in his prime, maybe close to thirty.
He had a handsome face with medium sandy hair and long stubble. His bright eyes pierced straight through the pale orange fog. Broad shoulders, strong hips, the kind of man a girl would casually drool over if she was anywhere but here.
Venom's shoulders twitched. It was easy to see the stranger's bold defiance got underneath his skin. Mister Tall, Young, Dark, and Handsome had thrown disrespect in his face the same way that bastard had blown his cigar stink into mine.
A skinnier man ran forward, joining the young guy. They were both underneath the lights now, and I saw the trademark Prairie Devils patches on their leather jackets.
The two Devils began lifting big blocks in plastic bags out of the leather bag and counting. An older man with gray hair showed up behind them.
I'd seen him around town a couple times before. It was the President of the Devils, their founder, a man everybody called Voodoo.
“Hm. We're missing a couple, boys,” skinny Jonesy said. “Want me to recount, Throttle?”
“No,” the good looking guy said. “I counted right along with you, Jonesy. We're two short, Pop.”
“What the hell is this?” Vodoo said. He turned away from Throttle – apparently his son – back to a very pissed looking Venom.
“That's the price of our last trip up near Canada for you assholes,” Venom spat. “You wanted us to take that offbeat busted up road all the way to Montana...”
Venom stepped up, planting himself in the old man's face. “Well, one of my guy's got busted by a surprise border patrol pig about fifty miles from the border. Blew a couple tires on that shitty road too. You're lucky our whole fucking gun shipment didn't wind up in some sheriff's hands.”
Throttle cut between the two men, his big fists coiled at his sides.
“I don't give a shit. You wanna do business going through Devils' territory, then you're gonna play by our rules.” He raised one hand, planted it on Venom's chest, and gave him a shove.
Venom swung, but missed, and barely caught himself before crashing to the ground.
That claustrophobic ache in my chest was back. I couldn't breathe.
Jesus, if these guys are going to put me in the middle of a gang fight...I can't take it. I won't!
I broke down and started to cry. Loudly.
The rival gangs were circling each other beneath that jack-o-lantern glow, Raging Skulls and Prairie Devils ready to tear into each other like feral packs. My shrill sobbing seemed to give everybody pause in the stillness.
“Hold up, hold up. Let him get on his feet,” Voodoo said. “It's not worth breaking the truce, son. Just as long as these fuckers go back across the border and cough up our two missing keys of coke, plus interest. And I want them by tomorrow night.”
Venom glared, kept his hands up, holding his boys back. The men were still sizing each other up, one wrong move away from a fistfight. Or probably something a lot worse than a hand-to-hand brawl by the way some of them were fingering their pockets.
I lost it. My nerves were fried. The latest uneven sob I gave up to the night became a full on scream.
“Hey, what the fuck is this?” Throttle crossed right past the glaring Skulls and saw me for the first time.
We locked eyes. I watched his widen, and then narrow as he creased his brow, hatred filling every part of him.
“Fuck! They've got a girl back here, Pop.” He came closer, closer, until he was just a couple feet away. “Doesn't look good.”
He looked me over, saw the red mark on my face. It had started to swell since Venom backhanded me on the cheek.
“She's hurt!” He growled, turning back to the men behind him, before moving all the way over to me. “Come on, baby. Let's get you off that grungy excuse for a bike.”
I whimpered as his strong arms wrapped around me. More commotion among the group, threats and curses. They didn't stop him from pulling me off Venom's motorcycle.
“What the hell do you think you're doing, Voodoo? This is our god damned business. Not yours.” Venom tore himself away from the old President, staring at Throttle and I. My mysterious savior wasn't slowing down.
“Put her back right now, asshole
! Right. Fucking. Now! I had to bust good balls to get my hands on that fresh meat. You take her away from me and I'll fuck up your whole crew.”
“Pop?” Throttle yelled over the Skulls roaring their agreement. “Still wanna keep that truce? Two keys of coke behind schedule is bad, but dealing with despicable fucks who beat up little girls...”
His words disappeared into a savage growl. Voodoo and Throttle stared at each other across the angry men lined up between us.
“Oh, God,” I sputtered, struggling for breath.
“Just breathe! Breathe, baby, and keep walking with me. None of these shitheads are gonna lay another finger on you. I promise.”
I saw Voodoo look from side to side, glancing at his boys. Then he gave them a slow, solemn nod. I threw myself into Throttle's side, burying my face, right as someone threw the first punch.
The sounds around me were terrible. Men screamed and swore, scratching and clawing at each other.
Throttle jerked away from me once. I screamed, suddenly all alone.
My eyes opened just in time to see him pick up Blow and throw him across the parking lot.
“Let's go!” His hand was on mine again, forcing me to keep moving. “See that bike over there? That's mine. That's where we'll be home free. Just keep on going and don't look at anything else.”
We went right past several guys on the ground rolling around. The metallic echoes on the ground were too sharp to be fists or belt buckles. Had to be knives, hammers, and brass knuckles slapping the concrete, sometimes making softer cracks when they impacted flesh instead.
A second later, he had me settled on the back of his bike, leaning close to whisper in my ear. “Stay here. I gotta finish this shit so we can take off.”
“No, don't go!”
I yelled after him, but he was already running into the fray. It looked like the Devils had the upper hand. I hoped so, anyway.
Several skulls were retreating toward their bikes. I saw Venom's big outline being helped up by another man. They helped him slow walk to the infernal machine I'd been forced to ride on.