Savage and Racy: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Bad Boys MC Trilogy Book 3)

by Violet Blaze

  “Well?” he asks as I get lost staring into his eyes. Those full lips of his curl into a smirking grin. “Aren't you going to kiss me?”

  I rise up on my tiptoes as he curls his left arm around my back and pulls me close, the tight band of his muscles around my body a comforting sensation. Our lips touch, soft and tentative at first, just a gentle brush. But then something just explodes in both of us, turning us into hungry, hot, needy animals.

  Royal's tongue sweeps across my lower lip and dives into my mouth as he crushes our bodies together, the smell of blood tingeing the air with a hint of desperation. I can taste the scent of rainwater and spicy male shampoo on the back of my tongue as I return his kiss with just as much passion, just as much love as he gives to me. My husband.

  That word fills my mind until everything else disappears, my hands threading together behind Royal's neck, his cock pressing hard and greedy against his jeans. I need to take him into the bathroom or down the hall into the fire escape or wherever and get our clothes out of the way …

  The sound of a clearing throat interrupts our desperate make out session.

  At first I figure it's Agent Shelley, but when I turn around, I see my mother and sister standing next to Sully. The only thing I see of the FBI agent is her back as she moves away down the hall. That's okay; I'm sure I'll see her again, sooner than I'd like to probably. I don't know yet if Royal and Glacier found the men they were looking for today, but if they did, maybe we'll be able to help Heather Shelley. I'd like that. A lot.

  “You got … married today?” my mom asks cautiously, eyes weepy and distrustful as she looks over her new son-in-law. “I thought you were leaving for D.C.”

  “I was,” I say as I lean back into Royal's hard, warm body. He wraps me up in his good arm, and I feel a contented sigh escape his chest, one that I feel like he's been holding in for a long time. Too long. But we're together now and I know in my heart that everything else will fall into place. “But then I thought things through and decided that I was better off here. I love this stupid town, Mom.” I pause and glance to the side, at a bulletin board covered in pamphlets. I try to think of a way to explain the whole freedom thing to my mother, but then I realize that she won't understand. That's not her driving force. Mom, Kailey, Sully, Dad, me. We're all such different people, but you know what? I don't care. They may or may not be proud of me; they may or may not think I made the right decision today. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I love them, regardless of whether or not they reciprocate my feelings. “Besides, with Philip out of commission I'll be acting as interim mayor.”

  “Interim?” Sully asks as he tries to cross his arms over his chest and then cringes like he's just remembered my husband broke his arm with a hammer. Eh. Okay, so maybe Royal McBride isn't quite infallible. But he's mine, imperfections and all. “That speech you just gave, in your blood soaked wedding dress? It's already gone viral. Provided, of course, you still want to be mayor, you're pretty much a shoo-in to take the next election, and we haven't even started campaigning yet.”

  “Speech?” Royal asks with a raised brow as I turn and smile at him, digging my phone out of the pocket of my borrowed jacket, the one that smells like leather and earth. I search my own name on Google and then hand it over to my husband to press play on the video.

  He holds it awkwardly in his left hand and watches as I walk outside the hospital in my red stained gown and boots. The crowd hushes and then grows into a violent, confused murmur as I step up to the edge of the hastily constructed police barrier and take a breath.

  “As you might know, my name is Lyric Lenore Rentz, and I'm the Deputy Mayor for the City of Trinidad. At this time, Mayor Philip Rentz is in stable condition, but in desperate need of several surgeries to repair the injuries he's sustained today. While I cannot actively discuss the details of what happened today, what I can tell you is this.” The video-me takes a deep breath as the cameras zoom in on my wet hair and green eyes. Even I have to admit, I look pretty fudging cool there. “Today, the city of Trinidad—and the world—got a little safer. And not because we tried to hide or because we ran away, but because we fought. I don't condone violence—who would?—but when my people, my family, and my husband are at risk, I'll do whatever it takes.

  “You might be asking yourself why I'm wearing this jacket.” Video-Lyric pinches the leather shoulders of Royal's motorcycle jacket. “Well, today, I married the President of the Alpha Wolves Motorcycle Club.” The crowd explodes into yelled questions and raised hands, flashes of cameras and phones. “You might think you know something about the club. You don't. And to be honest, there's not a lot I can share with you right now. But as you may know, recently the city of Trinidad and the Wolves came to an agreement to clean up local highways, run regular charity drives, and help reduce crime. Well, today they went above and beyond that.”

  My breath hitches in time with the video, both versions of me taking a long moment to try and process everything at once. Shoot-outs, FBI intrigue, Dad's injuries, becoming mayor … marriage. Real-time me scoots closer to Royal, reveling in his strong warm presence, pressing my breasts against him as my leather jacket crinkles against his vest.

  “Just remember that behind every person, there's a motivation. There's a force. And there's a reason to fight. Today, the Alpha Wolves, the Mayor's Office, Trinidad PD, the Humboldt County Sheriff's Department, and the FBI worked together to fight for one thing. And that's to keep this city—and its citizens—safe.” In the video, I curve my lips into a smile. “Safe to work, play, live … safe to love. If you have any further questions or would like an official comment, please contact the Mayor's Office and a representative will get back to you. For now, hold your mother, sister, brother, father, child, or lover close and remember how goddamn lucky you are.”

  Video-Me raises her hand and winks as Royal presses pause, looking up at me with a smile tracing his full mouth.

  “And I thought you said when you came back to me this morning that you were giving up politics?” His eyes sparkle when he says that, taking me in with a hungry gleam that melts my heart and turns my skin to flame.

  “Well,” I start and then shrug, taking the phone and slipping it back into my pocket as Royal puts his left hand on my hip and looks into my eyes. “Nothing becomes an impossibility unless you let it.”

  “Cheeky little twat,” he murmurs affectionately before capturing my lips with his again, pulling me close, making my heart thunder in my chest.

  You know, with Royal McBride around, with him as my husband, I don't think it'll ever stop beating like that, like the frantic flutter of a bird's wings, like the gallop of horses' hooves … or the patter of a wolf's paws.

  The President of the Alpha Wolves Motorcycle Club holds me so tightly in his arms that I know for sure: his heartbeat, it thumps perfectly in time with my own. Two halves of a whole. Lovers. Partners.

  Mates.

  Three weeks later …

  I'm lying on my back in my husband's bed—our bed—and wondering why it always seems like I'm lying on my back when Royal's around.

  “I do occasionally have to get to work, you know,” I tell him haughtily as he climbs onto the bed, jostling my body on the mattress, and hovers over me, putting pressure on his right arm that he really needn't be doing. “I am the acting mayor of Trinidad. I have so much to do I'm strongly considering wearing one of those skirt suits you hate.”

  “Impossible,” Royal murmurs as I look up at him and run my fingers over the tattoos on his chest. “When you moved all your stuff in, I burned them. All of them.” I give him a faux punch in the shoulder and he grins, leaning down to kiss me with that perfect mouth of his. Shortly after showing him that video in the hospital, he pulled me into the bathroom and fucked me against one of the blue tile walls. I'm hard-pressed to find a moment between then and now that we've stopped fucking.

  “Are you coming to the hospital to visit my dad with me?” I ask and Royal sighs, dropping his head to nuz
zle his face in the crook between my shoulder and neck. The touch sends warm chills through my whole body.

  “Do I bloody have to?” he asks, but I smile because I know he'll come if I ask him. “Your family looks at me like I'm a viking that's stolen you away on his ship to ravage you.”

  “Interesting analogy,” I laugh as I grab a fistful of his hair and pull him back so we can look in each other's faces. “It's partially true—the whole ravaging bit anyway.”

  “Ah, right,” he purrs, running his warm hand down my side. “I suppose you're right about that one.” Royal starts to kiss my neck, rubbing his stubbled cheek against my skin and pulling a deep, throaty moan from my lips. A second later, there's a massive wobble as the mattress moves and the wolf dogs hop up like they own the place. “Bleeding hell,” Royal curses as he tries to kick the animals off the bed.

  They ignore him completely.

  “Get,” I snap and they slink off to curl up together on their bed in the corner, just a blur of gray and black fur pressed against the dresser. If you look closely enough though, you can see Lake's dark brown eyes glaring this way—just like Royal's.

  “They only listen to you now, Pint-Size. The hell did you do to them?”

  “Must be my imperious attitude,” I say and he chuckles, rolling off of me and standing up from the bed, his body a long hard stretch of muscle covered in gloriously brilliant pops of art. Eventually, I think I'll get a tattoo of my own. Just not yet. After the election, I think. I'm already pushing a lot of political boundaries here. I think a tramp stamp on my lower back or a tribal tattoo on my upper arm might be going a little far. “Where are you off to right now?”

  “To the compound. Glacier's back today and the last of our out of town boys are finally heading home. Besides, if I don't stop in every once in a while, shit goes to hell. You wouldn't think these assholes would need their president to run an auto body shop, but it is what it is.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” I roll onto my belly and then sit up, dressed in nothing but a pair of red crotchless panties and a lacy bra with a giant bow in the center. Royal looks at me with half-lidded eyes, like I'm a present he so desperately wants to unwrap. I don't miss the thick bulge of his erection in his gray boxer briefs—or the tingle between my thighs that promises we just did that not too long ago. “Make yourself scarce tomorrow evening. Fauna's finally ready for an outing, so the girls are coming over to bake.”

  “I thought you didn't bake?” Royal asks with a smirk and I roll my eyes. “Getting all domestic on me now?”

  “Hardly. I said they are coming over to bake. I will be watching with a glass of wine.”

  “Figures. My wife's more comfortable with a pistol in one hand and a ready-to-deliver speech in the other. Did I ever tell you that you're a badass?”

  “Bad … arse?” I ask and Royal roars with laughter, coming back to the bed and pinning me against the mattress. “You haven't been British enough lately. I need more. You people are so quaint when you talk.”

  “Fuck you, you silly Yank,” he whispers in a rough voice, running his tongue along my lower lip and making me moan, my back arching off the bed into his touch. “Now, give your husband a good-bye fuck so he can have a good day at the office.”

  “Give your wife a good-bye fuck, so she can drive to work and deal with media hounds and residual inquiries from nosy FBI agents.”

  “Did I ever tell you how much I bloody love you, Pint-Size?”

  “Everyday,” I reply with another smile. “Every goddamn day.”

  THE END

  Want more Alpha Wolves MC? Get ready for "Glacier". His real name might be Saint, but he's a monster.

  Releases February 2017. Preorder Now!

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at Violet Blaze's next novel ... Coming April 2017. Preorder Now!

  Dash Buchanan should never have walked into my life.

  When he did, he made a mess of it.

  A hot, wicked, tangled mess that I'm not so sure I want to crawl out of.

  If only I'd been more careful, if only we hadn't been seen.

  One night, one mistake that changes everything.

  Dash and me, we're in way over our heads, drowning in our demons.

  I can only hope he has the strength to swim.

  ***

  Adelaide Vaughn should not have been at my concert.

  Hell, she shouldn't have been anywhere near me.

  As the son of the CEO of Buchanan Bikes, there are a lot of rules.

  First, never touch a Vaughn girl.

  Second, never let anyone see your weaknesses.

  This girl, this daughter of the Weeping Bones Motorcycle Club …

  Damn it, but I'm pretty sure she's going to make me break all of them.

  CHAPTER ONE

  DASH

  I love it when my dad calls me into his office – mostly because I like to screw his secretary.

  “Fuck,” I groan, grinding my hips against the petite little blond's, twisting my fingers in a handful of her hair. She tilts her head back and gives me access to her pale, perfect throat. I run my tongue along her skin, tasting the sweat that's beading there, eating up the proof that I'm doing this right, doing her right.

  See, I don't just like to fuck women, I want to pleasure them, shake them to their core and feel them tighten around me when they come. Can you even believe Laura didn't have her first orgasm until she was twenty-four? That's a goddamn travesty if you ask me. Thankfully, I was able to take care of that for her. Imagine how many other women must be suffering in the same way.

  I might just be one man, but I aim to make the world a little better"”one hot, frenzied fuck at a time.

  “Oh my god, Dash,” she moans as I ram her into the granite countertop of the ladies' bathroom. Hopefully nobody walks in on us. But if they do? Oh well. I'm the prince of this palace so to speak, future CEO of Buchanan Bikes. They can deal. “Deeper, Dash. Deeper.”

  “Turn your ass over and I'll be happy to oblige.” I slide out of Laura's slick, wet heat and spin her around, pushing her chest into the sink. We both groan as I fill her up again, pound my pelvis into her firm round ass.

  And I thought working for my dad was going to be boring?

  Hell, if this is on the agenda for my workday, I'll gladly quit the band and come over full time.

  I glance up and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, sweat beading on my forehead, a stray droplet sticking to my lower lip. I flash a grin and then lean over, curling my fingers gently around Laura's pale throat, drawing her head up so I can meet the eyes of her reflection. She bites back a gasp, tucking that red rouged lip of hers beneath white, white teeth. Her eyes are ringed in liner, and they look huge, open, bare as I keep our gazes locked, ramming into her again and again and again.

  An orgasm catches her first; I can see it building in the curl of her spine, the tightness of her fingers as she claws at the countertop with her perfectly manicured nails.

  “Dash!” she screams, loud enough that I wouldn't be surprised if one of the security guards came traipsing in here. “Oh God, yes.” Her voice breaks like a wave cresting on a rock, crashing around me as she squeezes tight, holding my body captive for one, perfect moment. One fucking perfect moment where I don't have to be anyone or anything except myself. Sex is like a drug, isn't it? And I can't seem to stop myself from leaping between highs. “Wow,” Laura says as I pull away and drop my used condom in the stainless steel trash can. I fix my jeans as I watch her turn around and gather herself together, smoothing strands of blonde back into place, adjusting her suit jacket and skirt, pulling up her panties. “That was amazing. Please tell me you'll be coming into the office more often?”

  I shrug and reach into my back pocket for a smoke.

  “I'm going on tour this summer with the boys,” I tell her and pretend not to notice when her face crumples. Laura's nice and all, but she's got this attention to detail that drives me nuts. Everything with her is so perfect, so put-together. I lik
e messy girls, girls with frizzy hair, makeup on one eye but not the other, a bedroom floor strewn with books and T-shirts and high heels still in the box. I don't have to ask myself why or get introspective about it – I know why I like chaos. The answer's pretty simple: my father made me this way. “I'll see you when I get back?” I light my cigarette and watch as Linda's eyes crinkle at the corners. Last time I saw her, she gave me a packet of brochures on the dangers of lung cancer.

  “Sure thing, Dash,” she says and then points a red-nailed finger at me, “just don't tell your dad we did it again.”

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