Satan’s Devils MC -Colorado Box Set: Books 4-6

by Mellett, Manda

  It signals the end of our evening. People start getting out phones, or Brice, who hasn’t had much to drink, gets out his car key. My phone’s still in my hand, so I call up the Uber app.

  Skull notices. “I’ll give you a ride home if you want.”

  My sharp eyes land on him. I don’t know this man at all, and he rides with a motorcycle club that he’s just told my co-workers is yes, a lot like Sons of Anarchy. I’m someone who’s watched the whole series twice, well okay, three times. Like so many women, I’m secretly in love with Jax. But know I wouldn’t be able to handle a real-life biker.

  “I’m okay, thanks.” I tap on the screen. “There, done. My Uber’s only a couple of minutes away, so I’ll wait out front.”

  I pick up my purse, pull on my jacket and stand.

  “See you Sunday,” Beth shouts out.

  “Yeah, see you Sunday, Melissa.” Skull winks.

  To my relief, he doesn’t try to follow me out.

  When I get home, I don’t go anywhere near the drawer which holds my vibrator. Skull’s got me riled and uncomfortable, but no longer in an arousing way. I’m not old enough to be his mother, but I am older and by a lot.

  Questions keep running around my head. What does he want with me? Was he serious when he suggested I go out on his bike with him? If so, why? I wasn’t dressed in a ‘I might meet someone I desire so might as well get dolled up to attract them’ way. There was nothing to suggest I was on the prowl for a man—unlike some of the other women I’d been out with. Why did he focus on me?

  I end up convincing myself I’m being used in some way. Maybe he was attracted to Sian, for example, and is going to use a friendship with me to get close to her.

  After a restless night—the few bouts of sleep I did drift into being haunted by dreams of scenes from the Sons of Anarchy series, but instead of it being Jax’s face, it was Skull’s instead—I wake tired and irritable.

  My solution? Obviously, to bake. An activity which calms and soothes me.

  I’ve just finished icing the final batch of cupcakes when my phone rings. I jump for a moment, then sigh with relief, seeing Beth’s name on the screen.

  “Hey, Beth. Got cupcakes, chocolate chip muffins, those cheesy biscuits you like, cookies, a carrot cake, oh, and a pecan pie.”

  “My God, woman! You opening a shop or cooking for my get-together?”

  I look around at all the Tupperware filled to the top. Maybe I have overdone it. “If there are any left over, people can take it home.” I consider the arrangements. “I’ll bring it in my car tomorrow and drop it off. What time do you need it?”

  “You’re thinking you’ll leave it and go, aren’t you?” Her tone warns me to be careful.

  “Look, Beth, we both know me saying I was going to your party was just an excuse I concocted to appear to be busy. You know I don’t like to socialise. Did enough of that yesterday.”

  “Skull said he’d come.”

  I huff a laugh. “Like he’s actually going to.” And if he does turn up, that’s a very good reason for me not to be there.

  “Oh well, if he’s here, and you’re not, I’ll give him your address.” She says it so breezily it takes a moment for the implication to sink in.

  When it does, I hiss. “Don’t you dare. He’s a biker, Beth. Who knows what he wants to do with me? Don’t you find it suspicious it was me he approached?”

  “No, I don’t. Melissa—”

  But I’m in full flow. “The reason’s simple. He thinks I’m easy. Thinks I’ll be flattered. Thinks a fat old woman like me would just be grateful for the attention. I don’t know exactly why, but there has to be a reason. I won’t be made a laughingstock.”

  “Have you quite finished?” She can’t see my nod, but from my silence assumes it. “I don’t know where you get these stupid ideas from. You’re gorgeous Melissa. Okay, you might carry more weight than Sian or Holly, but you’re the only one who worries about it. You’ve got amazing eyes, your hair is beautiful, and your face is so expressive. I don’t know who you think you see when you look in the mirror, but you’re clearly not seeing the same things I am. I don’t find it odd that Skull targeted you.”

  “He’s young,” I cut across her objections. “I must be ten years older. What would we have in common, Beth?”

  “That, you’ll never know unless you give him a chance to find out.”

  “He’s a biker!” I snarl, as though that makes all the difference.

  At least it gives her pause for thought. “Okay,” she begins again, slowly. “I’ll give you that. Haven’t heard much about the Satan’s Devils he rides with, I just know they run a strip club, but they also have an auto-shop and a family orientated bowling alley. Those things don’t give much away about what they really get up to. Look, maybe I wouldn’t be happy with you going off with him alone, but tomorrow you’ll be in company. If he comes, spend some time talking to him. At least you can let the poor boy down gently, but you might surprise yourself.”

  I’m quiet. Thinking.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice to come eat things you haven’t baked yourself? Sian’s bringing some steaks, Holly’s making salad. Mom’s inside right now conjuring up all manner of dressings.”

  She seems to have got everyone bringing stuff. “What are you doing, Beth?” I chuckle.

  “Oh,” she replies airily, “I might risk straining myself and open a few bags of chips.”

  I laugh, dutifully, knowing my friend will be doing a lot more than that. She’s probably already running around making sure she’s got tables and chairs set up and has plans in place in case it rains.

  “Say you’ll come, and stay.”

  Another moment to think. She’s right. At least there will be people all around, and all I need to do is to tell him firmly I’m not interested.

  Shouldn’t be difficult. It’s not as if he knows enough about me to be serious.

  Chapter Three

  Melissa

  Sunday dawns. I won’t say I’m not a bag of nerves, I am. I’m usually quite balanced and sure of myself in any situation. But the thought of meeting the biker again does make me uneasy. If he turns up, I don’t know what to expect, or, more accurately, what he expects from me.

  I certainly don’t want him to use me to get to one of my friends. Uh uh, no way. That would make me feel dreadful, and I’d have to warn whichever of them he’s targeting. A man who plays such games is not one to be trusted. But why else would he pretend to be interested in me?

  He won’t turn up.

  He was probably drunk on Friday night, seeing me through the bottom of his beer bottle rather than over the top. When he sees me again, he’ll realise he’s woken up in a bad dream. Even if he comes to Beth’s party, he won’t stay long. He’ll soon go once he realises I’m not who he thought I’d be.

  To that end, I choose my clothes carefully. I’m for whatever makes me comfortable. I no longer feel I need to dress for anyone else, and today I’m looking for something that makes me clean and presentable, but not sexy. No, definitely not that. Huh, I laugh to myself, as if I could look sexy if I tried.

  I choose a long gypsy skirt and team it with a flowing blouse, nothing figure hugging at all. I leave my long wavy hair loose, and put on minimal makeup, just a little foundation and powder to keep the sun off my face. No lipstick to draw attention to my lips, and nothing to enlarge my eyes.

  When I’m ready, I pack up the car with the results of yesterday’s efforts and leave.

  Beth has the door open and is already walking toward me before I put the car in park. Without being asked, with just a quick ‘hi’ my way, she’s filling her arms with my baked offerings.

  “Mmm! These smell and look so good. You’ve outdone yourself, Melissa.”

  It’s always nice to be appreciated. I glow with pride.

  “And you’re looking gorgeous.”

  Oh. Am I? Glancing down at the clothes that I’m wearing, I assume she’s just being polite.

  Tak
ing a few of the Tupperware tubs she hadn’t managed to carry and balancing the plate holding the pecan pie, I follow her inside.

  Beth lives with her mom, and Patsy greets me. “Hey Melissa. You look lovely.”

  Politeness runs in the family. “So do you, Pats.” She does. She looks rocking for a woman approaching her sixties. I can’t wear shorts like the ones she’s wearing even now, my thighs are far too large. I sigh. Even if I could resist sampling the goods that I bake, nature would still work against me.

  I help setting up what I’d brought and then lend a hand getting everything else set up. The table looks amazing, and I tell Beth and Patsy so, while my hand finds my stomach, realising I’ve little chance of doing more than adding to my weight today. Everything looks so tempting.

  I mingle with my friends and soon find myself laughing and starting to relax. As expected, the biker hadn’t turned up, and I tell myself the only disappointment I feel is in men who say they’ll do something, and then don’t.

  I’ve been here an hour before the sound of a motorcycle reaches my ears. While it’s strange to hear one so loud in this residential neighbourhood, I don’t think too much of it, expecting it to pass right on by.

  My breathing speeds up when the engine cuts out in close proximity to Beth and Patsy’s house.

  Oh shit. Is it Skull?

  I’m a thirty-four-year-old woman who’s never had a prime and doesn’t expect to have one. He must be a twenty-year-old with his whole life in front of him. My mind wanders back to the thoughts I’d had when I met him before; any attempt to get close to me is more likely to be the result of a bet rather than any desire to bed the curvy older woman that I am.

  He’s used me to get to know one of the other girls.

  Idly I wonder, which one?

  Beth herself? Could be. A lot of men don’t mind a girl being taller than them.

  I can’t help my eyes going to the entrance to the backyard, and my heart flutters—or part of me does anyway—as the man clad in leather despite the heat of the day comes into sight.

  Oh, my God. If anything, in daylight he looks even more attractive.

  He saunters in without a care, even though everyone here are virtual strangers. He pauses to survey the crowd, seeming to look for someone. As his eyes come my way, I turn my head, but not before I see a smile cross his face.

  “Did you get that report finished in the end?” Ian, one of my co-workers asks me.

  “What? Oh, yeah. Eventually. Getting figures out of the other departments was like getting blood out of a stone, but I got it done in the end.”

  “You know,” he remarks, conversationally, “you’ll have a ton of questions to answer.”

  I purse my lips looking glum. Yeah, any report prepared for the lawmakers results in hours of digging for information you know they don’t really want. But it’s the result of any committee meeting, asking for detailed follow-up data is just a way to prove they’ve read the report, and me, as the author, will be expected to provide it.

  “Par for the course,” I begin to tell him, as I become aware of a large shadow falling over me.

  It’s Skull. He’s made his way across to where I’m standing, having taken the chance to fill himself a plate while passing the food-laden table. It could be coincidence or deliberate, but he’s managed to snag a few of the items I brought.

  “These muffins are great. Beth said you made them. Mmm mmm. Very good.” The last is barely distinguishable as he speaks through a mouthful of crumbs, then wipes the back of his hand over his lips.

  Ian has exchanged a nod with Skull, and with an interested look back my way, has walked off to talk to someone else, leaving me alone with the biker.

  “So, how have you been since I last saw you?” Skull is now attacking one of the pastries I made.

  “Busy.” I point to his plate with a sardonic grin.

  A quick grin comes to his face. “There’s a mountain of food in there. Any left over, I’ll offer to take back to the clubhouse.”

  My food ending up feeding the Satan’s Devils? My eyes widen in surprise.

  “What about you?” I ask, slightly sarcastically. “Been scaring kids? Robbing banks?”

  He throws back his head and laughs loudly. “Yeah, something like that.” Then his face grows serious. “Seems you need some educating in what my club stands for.”

  “I need no education,” I snap. “I know as much as I need to.”

  His face hardens slightly, and he looks around. Beth and Patsy have a beautiful backyard. While people are milling around, most of the guests are keeping closer to the grills and the tables laden with food and drinks. There’s empty space down at the rear of the yard, including, a secluded gazebo. Skull nods that way now.

  “We need to talk,” he tells me.

  “I have no idea what about,” I say back, my teeth worrying my lip, uncertain whether I should give him the opportunity. But to do what? I too survey the gathering. My co-workers are here with their families, the yard is crowded with my friends. Nothing can happen to me, even if we’ll be tucked away in a corner. A shout would bring people running.

  I have no idea why this young man has become focused on me, but perhaps this is the chance to find out and knock any unsavoury ideas on the head.

  “Okay.” But I flinch and shake off the hand that lands on my arm possessively and take the lead instead.

  At the gazebo I sit on a comfortable chair, moving the cushion slightly so it better supports my back. Instead of taking the other chair, Skull leans against one of the upright supports, one knee bent and the flat of his sole against the wood.

  He grins, easily. “You don’t like me, do you?”

  “I like you fine,” I counter. “I don’t know you, is all. And I don’t know what you are after.”

  “Melissa, you seem to have some doubts about me. Let’s get a few things straight. I saw you at the bar and was immediately interested in you, not anyone else.”

  “I’m almost old enough to be—”

  “Stop it.” It’s nearly a snarl. “How old do you think I am, Melissa?”

  “Twenty?” I hazard.

  He barks a laugh. “I’m twenty-five, almost twenty-six, and you’re what…”

  “Thirty-four,” I admit, grumpily. “Just.” I add, accusingly, “You look younger.”

  “I don’t know whether that’s good, or whether it’s the bane of my life. It earned me the handle of Runt when I was a prospect, hated that fuckin’ name. Thank fuck they changed it to Skull when I was patched in.”

  Runt I might be able to understand, he’s skinny and probably not the tallest biker I’ve seen, but, “Why are you called Skull?”

  His lips narrow and his eyes flicker with something which looks like a bad memory. “Because I’ve got a hard head.” He taps his forehead. “Can take the knocks well.”

  I lose interest in his monikers. “Skull, okay, you’re older than I thought. But look at you.” I wave my hand toward him, wanting to get all this out in the open now. “You don’t have an ounce of fat on you, you’re good looking and could probably have any girl you want…”

  “Good looking?” His eyes crease, then instead his brow becomes etched with lines. “And I can have any woman I want? What if I want you, Melissa?”

  He’s actually said it. His question makes me fidget. I decide to point out a few things. “Are you blind? Look at me. You look like you keep fit, while I’m allergic to exercise. I bake and sample my products. I have a sedentary job while you… you… you probably ride around on your bike all day. I know just what I look like, I’m homely and curvy…”

  “And you’re just my type.”

  Suddenly he moves. Instead of standing, he’s now sitting beside me. I’m relieved he’s keeping a respectful distance, but his hand covers mine. “Melissa, I’m not proposing or anything, but from the moment I saw you, you intrigued me. What’s the harm in us getting to know each other a little more? Go out on a date or two…”

&nbs
p; “Bikers date?” I huff incredulously, not able to imagine it.

  Another laugh. “Bikers are people, Melissa. We eat, drink, and do what anyone else does. Oh, and we fuck.” He winks.

  It shouldn’t, but his easy reference to sexual pleasure starts a tingling in my body that it shouldn’t have. The gleam in his eyes makes me doubt it’s an empty promise.

  “I don’t,” I say, sharply. “If all you want is to get in my panties, I’m not the woman for that.”

  “Melissa, Melissa, babe. I want the whole package. Yeah, I want sex. I want to feel those magnificent tits in my hands, I want to see you come on my fingers and on my tongue. I want to know if you’re a screamer, and if you’re not, what I need to do to hear you scream out. You made my cock rock hard the first time I saw you…” He breaks off, and grins again. “But I also want to take you out, show you off. Date you like you deserve to be dated. Spoil you and have you on the back of my bike. Yeah, Melissa, I want everything. When you’re ready, I want you riding my cock, but not until that’s what you want too.”

  Jesus H Christ. My eyes widen at his declaration. I’ve never heard anything of the like. I’m the woman men want to cosy up to as I remind them of their mother and they think I’ll provide the comforts of home. Or, they want to bed a curvy woman just to see what it’s like. I’m not the woman men fantasise about, and I certainly don’t get offered the whole world, which, in my eyes, is what Skull’s offering.

  I object once more. “You want to show me off? Are you listening to yourself? What kind of couple do you think we’d make?”

  “A great one,” he replies without missing a beat. “You’re gorgeous, Melissa. You’re just the woman I want.”

  Chapter Four

  Melissa

  God help me, but I had agreed.

  As Skull continued to promise the world to me, my doubts began to slide away. He seemed so adamant, so sure of himself, and, that it was me he was determined to win. While doubting I was the prize he really wanted—was it because I was playing hard to get, that made him so sure? I found a hesitant yes coming out of my mouth. Sometimes in life you have to take a gamble, and if I expected the worst, what did I have to lose?