by Lynn Burke
“I’d do it all over again—fifty fucking times, Dasia.”
She laughed lightly. “I don’t mean all the illegal stuff—I’m talking about healing me.”
I lifted an eyebrow, my focus dropping to her plump lips. “How so?”
“Showing me the difference between sickness and healthy kink. For showing me the difference between sick obsession and overwhelming desire that can be rewarding as hell.”
We stared at one another, her smile slowly fading, the energy growing to a crackling level between us. My dick swelled, priming with pre-cum to slicken my glide inside her tight pussy—my pussy. My woman.
“No one has ever made me feel this way,” she whispered. “No one has cared the way you do. No one in my life has ever made me feel loved.” Her breath caught, and she snapped her lips closed, that word ringing between us.
My slow smirk swelled her pupils—the girl couldn’t hide her lust for my lips. “I do love you,” I said.
Her gaze ripped off my mouth to my eyes, her gaze piercing—searching.
“I’m not lying, pussy cat,” I told her, my voice serious as fuck even though I still grinned. “You’re the fucking light of my life, cheesy as that sounds. You’re the best reason a man could have for opening his eyes in the morning and think about while jacking off.”
She laughed, and I pressed my lips to hers, cutting her off.
“Fucking love you, Dasia,” I whispered against the soft cushion of her mouth. “Now, tomorrow—and forever. You’re my number one.”
The wetness of her tears slid between our lips, and I pushed her back onto the bed, standing to rip off my shirt.
“You’re more than just a set of thighs to rut between,” I said, shoving down my jeans as she shimmied out of her leggings. “Don’t ever fucking doubt that, pussy cat.”
Dasia reached for me, and I slid home, my forehead pressed to hers, our breaths mingling between us as I held still … waiting to see how she wanted it.
“I love you too, Adrian,” she whispered, and my chest seized up tight as fuck while I dragged my dick back out to the head. She squeezed her thighs tight around me. “But I need more right now than making love.”
“Call me Devil,” I told her with a growl and slammed back in, pulling a shriek from her lips.
Fuck, yeah. She wanted it rough, she could have the devil inside.
She fucking owned him, made him her bitch.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dasia
A week after the big take down, I finally got to hear Stacey’s voice. She hadn’t been raped—thank God, but it had been Ivan and his goons who’d grabbed her off the sidewalk while she’d been walking home from school that Friday. And yes, I’d mentioned Pia to her that day on the phone—and she’d known Pia had moved to the north shore to be with her motorcycle man.
Learning she’d gotten two black eyes and one smashed finger to get that information out of her made me feel like absolute shit, but also gave me that same sense of belonging, as though I had a true friend in my corner.
Stacey had spent time in a basement, same as me, and had been tossed into the container at the harbor less than twenty-four hours prior to the arrests and the women’s rescue.
Two weeks later, she’d healed and felt well enough to drive up to Topsfield to hang with me at Adrian’s house, my forever home, for a couple days.
Adrian felt it was safe enough for us to head out for a girl’s day since there were no known Russian goons or Martínez cartel members on the loose. Not a single one cuffed that day had been given bail, and although three of the Russians were wanted in their home country, the US refused to ship them home without standing trial for their crimes against our citizens.
We got our nails done, hit up a bakery for sugar and caffeine, then on a whim, I decided to stop at the tattoo shop—and not tell my man.
“So he’s it, huh?” Stacey asked, chin in her palm as she leaned on the arm of the chair beside me while the burn continued along my lower back.
“Without question,” I answered, never more sure of something in my life.
“Eighteen is kinda young to settle down,” she muttered, her lips downturned. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you—and you obviously don’t have that PTSD shit I’ve got going on. You’re nuts for settling for him.”
“I’m not settling, Stacey,” I said with a frown of my own. “He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Seriously. The day we left the club for his place, he swept me up into my arms to carry me over his threshold like some goddamn gentleman of old. He claimed if I wanted a picket fence, he’d have one put in. If I wanted his walk-in closet, it was mine.” I huffed a snort in memory of the next line. “He even told me if I wanted kids, he’d give me ten—whatever I wanted.”
“You told him hell no.”
“Got that right.” Stacey knew I had no wish to bring a child into the world when I didn’t even know where I’d come from. “He doesn’t want any either, but the fact he was willing to cave for my sake...”
A resigned smile lifted my best friend’s lips. “He’s so gone on you.”
I laughed, remembering the way she’d looked at him looking at me that morning over the late breakfast I’d made for her arrival. “He is, isn’t he?”
“You’re so lucky.” Stacey sighed and sat back, the furrow between her brows appearing again. “I’m so fucked up in the head,” she muttered. “I can’t imagine allowing a man to touch me ever again. And that pain with the pleasure thing? Fuck, no. I’m so over that shit.”
I reached out a hand and clasped hers. “Give it time,” I told her, my voice close to breaking. “I’m ten times as fucked up as you, and I found the one man willing to sacrifice everything he has for my wellbeing.”
She nodded, but my heart continued to ache for her.
We stayed up until all hours of the night watching Marvel movies, Adrian leaving us for our bed and crashing long before either Stacey or I fell asleep on the sectional to dreams of my man Thor and Captain America’s ass.
I’d managed to keep my tattoo a secret by sleeping downstairs, and also avoided alone time with Adrian throughout the next day to keep him from seeing it before I could take the plastic covering off.
While he’d stolen a few kisses and handfuls of my ass, I held him off for over twenty-four hours, the longest we’d gone without fucking in some way or another.
When Stacey left at sundown the next night, I promised to tell her all the juicy details of Adrian’s seeing my tattoo for the first time. I should have prepared myself a bit because even though I’d grown damp at the thought of what he might do, I didn’t expect the rough toss over the back of the couch and him slamming deep inside my body before I could breathe.
One rough fuck later, he laid me on my belly in the middle of our bed and kissed every inch of my tattoo, giving me the softer side of his devilish nature. My nerd boy made sweet love to me, leaving me in a puddle of liquid bones, sweat, and sticky cum.
I felt like a million bucks with his declarations of love ringing in my ears.
We settled into a routine while awaiting two trials—the priest and the mob men.
I played the dutiful home maker even though I worked at the shop three days a week for Vigil. We continued with our karate classes, and Adrian couldn’t help but cop a feel every time we sparred.
Jack never looked my way again, and Lini smirked every time she caught Adrian grabbing my ass.
He had me show off my tattoo to the entire club after us both having a few too many drinks one Friday night while the place rocked.
I ended up dancing with Giada, Tina, and a couple of other women while the prego girls sat on their men’s laps. Giada and I ground against one another, earning hoots and hollers, but a new song started up where the last ended, the thumping bass one I’d danced on stage to.
Eyes on Adrian, I moved to the routine I’d created to stuff my G-string full of bills—but I kept my clothes in place, loving how not one tr
ace of discomfort or PTSD smacked me in the face. The devil filled his eyes, his smirk a heady sight I couldn’t tear my focus from. Everything faded but him. The amber glow of lust in his eyes, the sensual curve of his lips, the tension in his shoulders—and the bulge between his spread thighs he didn’t bother trying to hide.
I ended up on his lap, grinding away like a few of the club whores did to other brothers, but not one lick of embarrassment rose from my actions. I was simply Devil’s pussy cat wanting his attention, rubbing against him in the way I liked in order to get what I wanted.
I found myself tossed over his shoulder, hair dangling almost to the ground, his palm firm on my ass while striding toward the stairs. Laughing, I lifted my head to find the clubhouse cheering him on. My face finally flushed, and I waved, blowing a kiss to Ryker who lifted his tonic our way—without a trace of a scowl on his face.
My family.
Adrian tossed me onto the bed we’d spent a couple of weeks in, and I soaked in the feeling of home.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Devil
I placed my right hand on the Holy Bible and swore to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. The fact I went by Devil wasn’t lost on me while reciting those words in a goddamn court of law.
I’d never been more ready to uncover the fucker’s sins to the public like I’d been kept from doing while a kid and make him pay. I was the third such man to take a stand to testify for the prosecutor, but it was the two younger boys and the images they had captured with a cell phone that sealed the priest’s fate.
Their devious means of catching the fucker after months of abuse tickled my damn funny bone. While the jury sat in deliberation, I clasped both their shoulders and told them to come find me when they turned eighteen. Their eyes gleamed when I told them I rode with the Vipers and promised to sponsor them if they ever wanted to prospect.
The jury took all of an hour to come to their conclusion, and as the gavel fell, sentencing the cocksucker who’d almost ruined my existence to spend the rest of his in prison. I felt as if the last piece of my life’s puzzle had finally slipped into place.
Clutching Dasia’s hand tightly in mine, we left the court house—free and clear for whatever the fuck fate had in store for us.
****
“He’s going to the maximum security prison over in Shirley,” Vigil told me as I walked into his office the next afternoon.
He’d called us in for church, but I left my pussy cat out at the bar with the other old ladies. While Warden wasn’t an officer, he tended to sit in as Vigil’s enforcer.
Stone, Vigil, and Ricky had already beaten me there, and I wasn’t one bit sorry for being late. I’d gotten a little … tied up with my pussy cat and the rings I’d had installed in our bedroom’s ceiling. My dick twitched at the memory of seeing her strung up in my ropes even though I’d blown my load all over her tits and face.
Clearing my throat, I sat in my usual sat across from Vigil and met his pale-eyed stare. “Got anyone in there we know?”
His smirk would send a shiver through a lesser man. “Darling.”
I huffed a laugh. “You’re shitting me.”
“Nope. He got transferred over there last month.”
“Well, damn.” I couldn’t keep my grin contained. “He’s gonna make that priest his bitch.”
“Goddamn right.”
Darling was a mean mother fucker Vigil had known as kids, and he’d been in the slammer for over ten years, doing hard time for a double murder. Even though the fuckers deserved to have their limbs lopped off for what they’d done to Darling’s mom, the jury he’d stood before didn’t feel the same enough to keep him from doing time.
He’d been a Viper prospect, but had gone off on his own quest for revenge, and the cops found him before his soon-to-be brothers could help him out, before our cleaners could cover his ass.
He and Vigil had kept in close contact over the years, and he’d been crucial in helping us get shit from other inmates we could use against those who’d tossed them in there.
Knowing the priest would soon be on his knees—probably toothless from fists—and sucking down a dick he’d have shoved up his own ass, fulfilled that need for physical revenge I hadn’t been able to dish out personally. Sick satisfaction coursed through me, and I glanced over to find Ryker watching me.
I nodded his way, finally understanding why he enjoyed ripping out throats so damn much.
“And what about that Ivan fuck?” Ryker asked. “Any news on him?”
“He’s the one spilling all the mob’s secrets in exchange for leniency.”
“Pussy,” Ricky muttered, slouched in his chair and broody as fuck—what else was new.
“He won’t see the light of day until he’s in his forties or so,” I said with a shrug, “but I’ll find his ass once he’s out. No fucking witness protection can hide him from me. I’ll bloody my hands one day. No fucking doubt.”
“And with the Russian mafia gone from our area and the Martínez cartel splintered to shit with him being found guilty already...” A wicked grin curled Vigil’s lips. “Seems we might have ourselves a bit of quiet around here for a change.”
“Good,” Ricky muttered.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky, little brother,” Vigil said, still grinning. “All these fuckers found their old ladies—maybe a set of twins, young juicy ones, will show up at the gate for us next.” He grabbed between his thighs and sat back, stroking himself in front of us without a fucking care of what we thought. “Don’t know about you, but the whores just aren’t doing it for me anymore. Need some fresh blood, I’m thinking. Someone who doesn’t know how to suck dick like a pro. Gagging and tears—all that shit. Fuck, yeah.”
Stone shook his head, as did Warden. I sat unmoved, unbothered by our president’s lack of filter.
“Goddamnit.” Vigil dropped his hold on his dick and smashed his palm onto his desk. “Get the fuck outta here—and Ricky, send in Tina, will ya? I can get her to gag sometimes if I catch her off guard.”
Biting back my chuckle, I headed out into the club behind Ryker, the too-loud country music some schmuck had put on whining from the overhead speakers.
Dasia sat with her back to me, chatting with the ladies, but as if she could sense my presence, she straightened and turned before I moved three feet in her direction. Her smile fucking dazzled, one I would never grow tired of seeing. Those lips, those unpainted blue eyes—all for me, and all mine.
I pressed up against her back, my mouth finding her neck. She smelled like spring flowers—my heaven, my fucking property. My teeth grazed her soft skin, and goosebumps rose along her arms as she went lax in my arms, head tipping to the side in complete surrender to whatever I wished.
My kinky pussy cat.
Grasping her chin, I turned her face toward me for a nice, long taste of her mouth. “Want to hang here,” I whispered, “or head home so I can string you up from our bedroom ceiling?”
She shivered and wet her lower lip. “Take me home, Adrian.”
“The name’s Devil,” I said with a wink and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the door.
THE END
I hope you enjoyed Twisted Devil. The series continues with Brutal Beast, Vigil’s story. Turn the page for a sneak peek!
BRUTAL BEAST, VICIOUS VIPERS 5
Chapter One
Vigil
My cell vibrated in my back pocket, and I cut the mower’s engine and swiped at the sweat running down my face before fishing it out. I grunted at the club whore’s name on the screen.
“Yeah?”
“Vigil!” Tina’s voice caught on a sob, and I scowled deeper at her unusual display of emotion. “Ricky and Bucky got into it—they’re still at it!”
A loud crash sounded in the background, and she shrieked.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
“You need to get down here!” Tina said, hysteria rising in her voice. “Bucky’s gonna kill him!”
Shit. “Did you call Ryker?” My Sergeant at Arms worked at the chop shop at the back of the compound.
“He hasn’t come in yet!”
“Be right there.” Scowling, I hung up and left my mower in the half-cut backyard. Stalking into my house for a shirt and my bike keys, I muttered more than my fair share of curses.
My younger brother had been in a majorly fucked-up funk lately. Moody and volatile to the point he’d broken a few noses and blackened eyes when provoked. I’d laid him out flat twice in the previous couple of months, but he refused to talk about what had shoved so far up his ass he’d turned into a little bitch.
He’d taken to drinking the hard shit and a lot of it. His ass had been drunk more often than not. I’d been thinking he needed a good talking to, threats and shit. Guess it was time.
A fucking Monday, ten in the morning, and he’d already gotten into it. Bucky might be a smaller guy, but he was wiry and scrappy as fuck. Ricky had barked up the wrong damn tree.
My Harley roared to life between my thighs, and I took off out of my neighborhood, the wind on my face a welcome respite from the damn August heatwave gripping New England. It took all of five minutes to get to the club, but the sweat still hadn’t dried by the time I got there. The gate to the Vicious Vipers MC began rolling back when I rounded the bend, and I had to slow before weaseling my way through the old thing without acknowledging whoever manned the guard house.
The club’s door stood open, my jackass brother stumbled through it into the sun, Bucky holding him in a headlock. Still fucking at it, the stupid fucks.
Still scowling, I parked my bike and kicked down the stand, the sounds of Ricky’s fists on Bucky’s stomach, their grunts and curses filled the air.
Tina appeared in the doorway, her eyes wild, mascara streaks down her pale cheeks.
Temptation to let the two men work their shit out warred over preservation of life. Just in case things did get ugly, though, I decided to step in.