Bullet – Available Now!
It’s here!!
Copyright KyAnn Waters 2024
Excerpt
And here is an excerpt
I wanted to get to Stormy, but Steele had her attention. He leaned over his kid and whispered into Stormy’s ear. Her lips stretched wide with her smile.
I wanted to stalk her. I wanted in her fucking head because she was fucking with mine. What the fuck was she doing with Steele? Stepping around Scarlett, I crossed the room.
Jazzy plucked the sucker from her mouth. “Your new girl is tits,” she said to me.
Stormy’s brow arched. “Is that a good thing? And I’m not one of his girls.”
“Lucky for me,” Steele said and winked at Stormy as he tipped a longneck bottle of beer to his lips.
She fucking laughed. Nah, fuck that. “I need to talk to you,” I said to her.
“Save my place?” she said to Lili as she scooted her chair back.
“Don’t go.” Lili reached for her hand.
“I promise, I’ll just be a minute.” Her lips curled with a small smile. She sidled around the table. When she noticed I held her duffel bag, she tried to take it.
“I got it.” I nodded toward the hallway. She stepped in front of me. I reached to put my hand on her lower back but let my fingers fall to my side. I couldn’t touch her and not want more. Right now, I wanted my fingers around her neck, her breath on my lips, and her body writhing under mine. I’d settle for one of those fucking smiles she’d given to Steele.
“You met Steele.”
“Yep.” The one word landed with a snap. “I met Scarlett and Skye. Oh, and this morning, Lacey and Clover were here.” She opened the door to our room. “I thanked them for all the stuff, but they let me know you take care of your girls.” Her lips pursed. “And by take care of, I mean, they were explicit.”
I smiled, and she rolled her eyes. Whatever they said, wouldn’t come close to disclosing the shit I’d done. “Stormy—”
“Say less. I’ve heard enough.” She walked in ahead of me. “Levi made sure to introduce me to all the girls. I’m grateful most of the guys have their names on their cuts because I can’t remember them all.”
I paused. “Is this our room?”
I’d asked the girls to pick up some things to make her more comfortable, but they’d transformed the room. A soft gray comforter covered the bed with a few fluffy pillows at the head and a soft throw blanket at the foot.
I set the duffel on the dresser next to bottles of shampoo and shit. A cool evening breeze blew through the open window, but the room carried the provocative scent of wildflowers and vanilla. Her perfume.
“This doesn’t have to be our room.” She grabbed the duffel, unzipped it, and dug through the items. “Steele moved in across the hall. If I need anything, I can ask him.” She pulled baggies full of money from the side. Her shoulders dropped, and she let out a ragged exhale. “I’ll pay him for his services.”
“Not happening.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“I didn’t ask for your permission.” She set the money on top of the dresser. “It’s all I have,” she said. “It’ll be enough to get me the hell out of here.”
“You sound irritated.”
“Why should I be irritated?” She opened a drawer and shoved the clothes from the duffel inside. Then she grabbed the cash and dropped onto her hands and knees. “I just don’t want to, I don’t know… I guess I don’t want to be an interference in your life.”
Her words were muffled by her position. A position that had my cock pressing against the fly of my jeans. I adjusted before she could notice, and a low groan climbed up my throat. Her ass swayed as she pushed the baggie under the dresser as far as her fingers allowed.
“You’re my responsibility. You don’t need to hide your money. No one in the MC will steal from me. Since you’re with me, that includes you.”
She stood and pushed her bangs from her face. “No, I’m not. I’m not one of your girls.”
I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. “And you never will be.”
“Thanks. Although I doubt you meant it as a compliment considering your girls, but I’ll take it as one. I’m not going to get on my knees for you. I’m grateful to you, but I’m not paying you with sexual services.”
“Fuck, brown eyes.” I growled. “That isn’t what I meant. You’re beautiful—”
“I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“Let me finish. That attitude would emasculate most men.”
She cocked a brow. “I’m glad there isn’t going to be any weird attraction between us.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I said most men, not me. You don’t need me to tell you that you look good. Those assholes at the Landing Strip paid to see your pussy, not to hear you bitch.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Her shoulders stiffened as she stepped closer. Her eyes narrowed, and her brows furrowed.
“I don’t take clients to bed, so don’t even go there. Don’t forget you were fucking Bristol last night.” Breath gusted over her slightly parted lips.
I couldn’t forget. I couldn’t forget a fucking thing about Stormy. But I couldn’t deny her reactions to me were valid. Anyone but her, I wouldn’t’ve treated any different than one of my girls. I would’ve fucked her, rolled out of bed, and gone home.
But she was different. She was the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.
If I had known who was in the bed, I wouldn’t have been balls deep in Bristol. “I fucked one of my whores last night. Like you said, I didn’t know it was going to be a slumber party.”
She spun around and ignored my comment. “I appreciate the offer of help, but everyone is getting the wrong idea about us. You’re Bristol’s biker-boyfriend-pimp, and I’m a liability.” She finally looked at me. “But I’m not your liability.”
“I’m not in a relationship with Bristol.”
“You are. And one I won’t be in the middle of.” She was breathing hard, and her pulse fluttered in the hollow of her throat. She touched her tongue to her lip, and then swallowed. “I think if we wait a couple days, I can get out of town. If I go to Vegas, I can dance, and it’s far from here.”
She wanted to run. Maybe from her ex. Maybe from me. I couldn’t let her go, not until I knew she’d be safe.
“You don’t want to live your life looking over your shoulder.”
She rested her hand on my forearm. The soft touch of her fingertips burned like fire against my flesh. I uncrossed my arms and took a step back from her. Jesus, one touch had my gut knotted and heat slipping beneath my skin.
She tucked her fingers into the back pocket of her jeans. “I can’t stay.”
“Decide once you don’t have a reason to run.”
“Even without Emerson, I’m always going to have a reason to run.” She brushed past me.
Maybe she was right. No way was she sticking around. Not for a guy like me. And not for any of my Heller brothers.
“Stay away from Steele.”
She twisted and glanced over her shoulder. “Why?”
Because I didn’t like the way he looked at her, and I fucking hated the way she had looked at him. “Like you just said, you won’t be here long enough to make friends.”
“I know, and you’re right.” She tilted her head. “I hate that I need your help.”
Her gaze penetrated mine, hitting me in the gut and sinking lower. The brattier her attitude, the harder she made my cock.
“But I know I do,” she continued. “Because I don’t want to make the situation worse, I’m willing to do what you tell me to.”
She shouldn’t say shit like that to me. I’d tell her to keep those brown eyes locked on mine as I split her thighs and buried my face between her legs.
Her hand rested on the door handle. “If I need your permission on who I spend time with or become friends with while I’m here in the MC, then I’ll go. Because you don’t get to make those decisions.”
“I’m not talking about friendship. I’m talking about fucking my brothers.”
She turned and walked out, and I didn’t have to guess who she was going to.
Fuck. I wanted in her bed, but Stormy was never going to forget about last night. But she was mistaken if she believed I’d let her play old lady to another patch in my club.
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Fall From Grace – Adult Excerpt 18+
Copyright KyAnn Waters 2024
Excerpt
“Am I the first to be inside you?” I didn’t need words. She was so fucking tight, pulsing, and hot against my skin. I thrust deeper and curled my fingers, searching for the trigger to make her break. “Has anyone made you come?”
“No. Yes. I mean no one has touched me. No one has made me come.” Her fists tightened on the sheets. “I haven’t done anything, Stef. You were my first kiss. First touch. First everything.”
Fuck. First everything. First to show her pleasure. No doubt, I’d be the first to break her heart. First to make her feel betrayed. But I wouldn’t be the first man she hated. Her father had already claimed that first. I’d take the rest. Sin and darkness. Her light couldn’t change a soul that was already black.
I pulled my fingers from her panties, slid the two glistening with her cream into my mouth, and sucked her flavor from my skin. The first to taste her sweetness.
Her eyes widened.
“Open.” My fingers, still wet with her juices and my spit, touched her lips.
She shifted onto her knees, and her small hand wrapped around my wrist, but she didn’t move to taste herself.
“I’m not sweet, Angel, not like you are. If you stay in my bed, I’m going to fuck you filthy.”
“I’m not afraid.” She touched her tongue to my finger.
With the fragility of a butterfly, a touch so light I almost couldn’t feel it, she sucked my finger into her mouth. Her tongue fluttered around the tip, and I nearly came in my jeans.
“Angel, you should be afraid of me.”
“That’s what you don’t understand.” Her voice was a quiet whisper in the room. “I know I should be.” Shadows cut across her delicate face as she took my finger deep into her mouth again, pulled her lips along the length, and cleaned me of her cream. “But I’ve never not been afraid…until you.”
I growled, surged up, fisted my hand in her hair, and devoured her. I sucked, and tasted, lashing my tongue against hers and gently biting her lip.
Her moan of surrender morphed into a dark twist of need. Shedding her insecurity, she kissed me back with equal ferocity. A wild unleashing of tongues, teeth, and spit. I groaned, needing more.
“I want tonight for me.” She searched my face, and her fingers scraped softly along my jaw and brushed over my lips. “Our first date might be our last date. I’m here. I want to be with you.”
I covered her hand with mine, pulled it away from my face, and kissed her palm. “No promises,” I said to her. “Not from you and not from me.”
“No promises,” she repeated.
I lowered my hand to her lap and pushed our fingers between her thighs.
She sucked in a breath. “I want you to fuck me filthy.”
“Open your mouth.”
She stared into my eyes and did as I asked.
Shifting onto my knees, I towered over her. With one hand fisted in her hair, the other grasped her jaw. I licked her lips, hovered over her, and spit into her mouth. Heat slipped through my veins, a testament to the power I wanted over this girl. My palm slid onto her neck. Her pulse raced against my thumb as I applied pressure.
Her lips closed and she swallowed.
“I’m going to be in every part of you, Angel.” I kissed her, tangling my tongue with hers.
Once she leaned back on the pillows, I sipped kisses along her neck, across the contour of her collarbone, and the crest of her breast. Then I had her nipple in my mouth. A hard suck had her bowing off the bed, gripping my hair, and biting her lip.
With a roar, I surged up. I stood at the end of the bed, tugged her to the edge, ripped her panties down her thighs, grasped her knees spreading her wide, and covered her pussy with my mouth. Kneeling on the floor, I sliced my tongue through her soft, dewy folds, instantly addicted to the tang of her arousal.
She was drenched, soaking my face. I slipped two fingers into her slickness, fucking her with my hands and mouth. I smiled at the socks slipping off her feet as she dug her heels into the mattress.
“Stef, oh god, Stef.” Her hips bucked against my mouth.
An aural seduction of whimpers from her slightly parted lips had my cock throbbing. I hummed, knowing what she needed and unwilling to break from the taste of her. I was gluttonous for the scent of her arousal, the velvety texture of her folds, and the sweetness of her cream. I licked the length of her cunt, flicked the hood of her clit, and dipped into her hole with the tip of my tongue.
Sweat beaded on her flesh as she writhed on the bed, thrashing against my mouth, making me chase her pleasure. She was wild and uncontrolled, lost in the delirium of having my mouth on her pussy.
She tasted like the ocean. Clean, a touch salty, and no matter how long I drank from her, I couldn’t quench my thirst. At the first quivers, I screwed two fingers into her tight passage, and sucked her clit, rasping my tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Stef, I can’t breathe.” She gasped, and I sucked harder, sending her over the edge of sanity.
Celine cried out, biting hard into her lip, and shattered. Her smooth thighs clamped against my shoulders, and her fingers gripped handfuls of my hair. I sucked and licked until the final pulses faded to soft flutters.
I stood at the foot of the bed, unzipped my jeans, and pushed them, along with my boxers, down my thighs and kicked them off.
Celine scooted up the bed and leaned back on her elbows. Naked, pale skin and blonde tangled hair against my black sheets. An angel’s fall from grace. Blood stained the seam of her lips, bite marks denting the luscious fullness. Moisture dampened her lashes, and her eyes had gone from stormy ocean blue to bright with unshed tears.
“Spread your legs.”
Her gaze stayed with mine as her thighs fell open. I fisted the base of my cock, stroking the length. Fluids seeped from the slit.
She twisted onto her hands and knees and crawled across the bed toward me.
“Do you want your mouth on me?” I angled my dick toward her lips. She nodded and licked the slit.
Tunneling my hands into her hair, I held her head. The wet warmth of her mouth surrounded the crown. My grip tightened. I was too hard and too close to coming for this. But fuck, her mouth was stretched around my girth.
“Relax your throat, Angel. You suck me so good. Fuck me with your mouth.”
She tried to take more of my length. Licking, sucking, and slurping her way down the shaft. Spit trickled over her fingers and dripped onto my balls.
Pressure built low in my groin, and my buttocks clenched. “Fuck.” I ripped her off my dick. I wasn’t going to come in her mouth, not this time.
Bracing my hands on the ladder of her ribs, I urged her to her knees, and I kissed her deeply, licking the stain of blood from her lips, claiming her mouth the way I wanted her body.
She broke the kiss. Silence lingered between us, both of us motionless.
“Open,” she said, a shy smile tempting me to kiss her again. She waited for me to comply.
Fuck, but this girl followed my example. I parted my lips, and she spit into my mouth. I tipped my head back, feeling her saliva slide down my tongue, and swallowed.
Celine rested her hand on my chest. Quivers rippled through my abdominals as she grazed her nails lower, tracing the V of my groin with her fingertips. The need to cram her full of my cock bit painfully in my gut.
“I want inside you, Angel. There’s no way to undo this. No way to ever forget tonight. No saving yourself for your future husband.” If she were a mafia princess, taking her innocence would have me married or buried. I’d still want her in my bed.
“Fuck me filthy, Stef. Make me feel…everything.”
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Fall From Grace
(early ARC excerpt. Not final edited version)
COPYRIGHT 2024 by KyAnn Waters
Series page on Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CGB3K1QF
From Chapter One
My heart stuttered. That particular feeling when you knew you were being watched made the hair at the back of my neck tingle. I found the source, only I wasn’t the one being stalked.
A man stared across the room with his gaze locked on my father. It wasn’t as if he even tried to hide the callousness in his penetrating glare. My fingers absently went to my throat as I tried to take a breath.
God, he was too beautiful. It was like I’d tuned into a commercial for expensive whiskey. Black tux, black tie, and a black shirt. He was older than me, but not by much. Maybe twenty-five. Dark lashes framed his eyes. I couldn’t see what color they were from this far away. He slid his hand into the pocket of his fitted trousers. Maybe the commercial could be one of those sexy cologne ads.
My mind immediately nosedived into the gutter. It probably sounded cliché, but seriously, I had never felt this warm from staring at a guy. I didn’t imagine hot men naked or surmise the size and thickness of their dicks. That was a lie. Sometimes I did, but not actual guys standing in the same room as me. Who hadn’t imagined Henry Cavill naked?
I could never picture myself as the slutty temptress out for seduction. I wore hoodies and jeans and sucked on hard, ginger candies.
My eyes widened as I stared at him. Even if I wanted to turn away from him, I couldn’t because I couldn’t stop imagining how it would feel to have him look at me, only with lust instead of the loathing he directed at my father. He was tall and thick. Muscles and mayhem.
I imagined him towering over me, stripped out of his clothes with his cock in his hand because he’d demanded I get on my knees. I swallowed the extra spit in my mouth.
I was freaking salivating.
And how could I be sweating and still have goosebumps chasing over my flesh? I tipped my glass and drank the rest of my cocktail. The alcohol scorched my throat and flared through my chest.
His gaze scanned the room, pausing on me. The corner of his mouth quirked in a devilish tilt. A flutter swirled in my belly, then seeped lower. I braced a hand to my pelvis because I think my ovaries just melted.
A group gathered in front of me. I was getting warmer so I tugged off my jacket, and shifted to where I could see him again.
Light glinted off his dark hair as he raked his fingers through his bangs. His hair didn’t have a style. It swirled around his head with soft curls and brushed against the collar of his tailored tux. Intentionally messy, but totally hot. He was fit as hell with a quiet intensity.
He didn’t come off as the political type. He wasn’t schmoozing the crowd or casing the guests for those who could make a sizeable donation to his campaign. Nor was he kissing ass. I’d guess him to be some tech giant or crypto currency guru except that he wasn’t arrogantly flashing his success and bragging about his accomplishments.
Like me, he was alone.
Even in the brightly lit room, shadows seemed to cut across the hard angles of his face. Full lips didn’t smile, but slightly parted as he tipped his glass and finished his drink. A cube of ice tumbled into his mouth. As he crunched the cube, his jaw flexed and moved.
He reminded me of a panther in the jungle. Alone, predatory, and deadly. As if stalking his prey, his focus was on my father, his gaze unwavering. I’d never seen him before. I’d remember the cruel intensity in his eyes.
I cautiously made my way to the coat check. Why did I even feel nervous? Except that he was stunningly provocative and somehow, he was connected to my father.
That made him dangerous.
I continued to check over my shoulder while I waited in line at the coat check.
“Thank you,” I said, once she took the jacket from my hands.
I gripped my clutch and shifted closer to the stranger.
My breath held when he set his empty glass on a table. He didn’t just walk across the room. He commanded the attention of those around him as he moved with confidence to intercept my father.
My steps were hesitant. Next to my father, the man’s shoulders seemed broader, his arms stronger, and his expression more sinister. I wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but my father’s posture stiffened.
Tension coiled in my gut. I wanted to get closer. I controlled my breaths and tightened my fingers on my clutch.
“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me,” he said.
The deep gravelly tone with his thick Italian accent did wicked things to me. It was like my body belonged to someone else because this wasn’t anxiety, but arousal. I should have kept my jacket on to cover my breasts and the embarrassing display of nipple poking through my dress.
“Are you threatening me?” My father’s voice wasn’t nearly as controlled. Although he didn’t cower easily either.
“I’m simply pointing out that we have a situation that needs to be addressed. I’m offering you a way to rectify the issue before it becomes complicated.”
My father dusted an invisible spec of lint from his jacket sleeve. “I’m not interested in negotiating with you.”
The man took a step closer to my dad. “I like to keep things simple. I don’t negotiate.”
“You’re outside your purview, Bruno.”
Bruno. I’d heard the name just a couple of days ago through the vent in my room. I’d written it down in my insurance policy, a notebook with the names I’d heard from my father’s lips. His enemies and his accomplices. Since it was my only weapon, I was biding my time. When I ran, I’d leave with the names and dates of his crimes.
My father’s office was directly below my second-floor bedroom. In a big house he probably assumed he was insulated from having his secrets overheard. But sound travelled. And the heating and air conditioning ducts were a conduit for his deviousness.
The man must have crossed my father. He didn’t bring his legitimate, legal work to his home office. The men who met with my father at home were the reason I carried pink lip gloss, my pink phone, and a pink pen.
“I work for the people of my city,” my dad continued. “My responsibility is to them.”
“And we both know you don’t have shit on Caruso. Byrne has you on his payroll, but he can’t protect you when he’s not in control of his own organization.”
My father lowered his voice. “Byrne was always expendable. Just ask his brother. He’s here tonight.”
The stranger’s focus shifted from my father to the people around them. Then his attention centered on me.
Those piercing eyes were the color of whiskey and narrowed with a savage intensity. I swallowed, needing a bit of saliva to moisten my dry mouth.
My father jerked his head around. I took a step forward just so that I could be closer to the stranger. His nearness made me breathless, and inside, I trembled.
Yet, I shivered from the smoldering heat in his eyes.
A predatory tilt lifted the corner of the man’s full lips. “Beautiful. Is she legal? Is she for you or Byrne?”
My father glared at the man and rested his hand on my shoulder. I tried not to flinch from the cold touch of his fingertips. But the heat in the stranger’s eyes chased the chill caused by my father’s hand.
“Can you give us a moment?” He spoke to me, but his glaring eyes never left the probing depth of the stranger’s glower.
“I’m going to go over to the auction tables,” I said, and lifted my gaze to the man one more time memorizing the small scar in the arch of his brow, the fall of his dark hair across his forehead, and the soft fullness of his lips.
I felt his penetrating stare burning through me as I walked away.
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My story, Pretty Deadly is coming soon to a multi-author anthology!
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Bella Emy – USA Today Bestselling Author
Charmaine Louise Shelton
VK Holt
Euryia Larsen
Rachel Radner
Darah Lace
KyAnn Waters
Tara Lee
Tristina Brockway
Ali Rivers
Dilana Rose
Courtney W. Dixon
Sneak Peek Excerpt
Pretty Deadly
He’d keep me or he’d kill me. Either way, he wasn’t going to let me go.
Eric Spade
Lust and a beautiful woman can make a man weak. Pretty deadly. She makes me question my purpose. She’s in bed with my enemy. To take down a king, sometimes you have to sacrifice his queen.
Nalini Bryan
Fear is my constant companion. I’ve been held hostage by the Kyng of the cartel until a stranger takes me, stealing me from my nightmare. I thought he had come to rescue me. I was wrong.
Excerpt
I wasn’t just a killer. Some men wielded power like a weapon. They sharpened their knives of intimidation, yet hid behind the false security of walls, guards, and guns.
Real power came from patience. Like a spider spinning an intricate web, I only needed to wait for my prey to vibrate one of the gossamer filaments. To make one misstep. Once I had him, I intended to make him suffer the same fate as his victims, to watch life slowly fade from his black, soulless eyes.
The cartel Kyng peddled his poison on the streets while wearing Brioni like Bond. The man reeked of hypocrisy while reigning over his empire. His day of reckoning had come.
I’d become an artist, torture my medium. Kyng would be my masterpiece. He’d die a slow, agonizing death. I’d perfected my craft and refined my pharmaceuticals. In small doses, scopolamine could make my targets groggy, but I wanted their bodies stiff with the incapacitating effects, and I wanted their minds paralyzed with fear.
The first kill had gone unnoticed by law enforcement. Another drug dealer dead in the street, caught in the crossfire of a dangerous profession. Another followed. Both were members of Kyng’s cartel.
A smug smile curled my lips. Not even Kyng realized he had an enemy at the door. Then I killed Laf, the one considered his top general. As long as the medical examiner continued to rule the deaths as drug overdoses, I’d continue to send them to hell.
Sitting in the corner of Inferno, Kyng’s posh playpen of iniquity, I flicked open the lid of my lighter and rolled the wheel, striking the flint. Flames licked the wick. I breathed in the scent, snapped the lid closed, and then flipped it open again.
People crowded onto the dance floor of the posh downtown nightclub. Chrome, glass, and exclusivity. Music droned out the chatter of voices. Women wore leather. Sweat slicked their skin as they pulsed and gyrated on the dance floor. I didn’t come to dance. I was here for a specific purpose.
In the corner, roped off in a private area, Kyng surrounded himself with guards. Massive men scanned the crowd, protecting their boss. I lifted my cola to my lips, letting my gaze linger over the rim. The man smiled and laughed, arrogant in his position.
No one was untouchable. Every man had a weakness. Madden Kyng’s stood to his left. Nalini Bryan. My prey was stunningly beautiful but deceptively deadly.
Heat slipped under my skin with the hunt. A cascade of dark hair draped over her bare shoulder. Long lashes framed sultry brown eyes rimmed with black. Red slicked across her luscious lips. Leather pants rode low on her hips. The flawless flesh of her full tits played peek-a-boo through a red, lace-up corset. A diamond jewel winked from her bellybutton of her exposed midriff.
She was petite. I could span her waist with my hands or crush her throat with one fist. Movements were fluid as she swiveled her hips to the music. The song changed to something popular with a faster beat. The crowd cheered. One of the other girls tugged her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor.
Kyng grabbed her, wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and yanked her onto his lap. His palm covered the tit cresting out of her corset, and his mouth slammed onto hers. He kissed her, groped her, then shoved her off his lap and smacked her ass.
Nalini stumbled to catch her balance as she wiped smudged lipstick from her face. Kyng bent over the table and snorted another line up his nose.
As Nalini and the blonde moved onto the dance floor, Kyng nodded at one of his men to follow them. In the crowd, I was just another guy dancing, looking to get laid.
I had the ability to blend in when I needed camouflaged but also to intimidate when the situation required it. To quote the movies, I had a particular set of skills that made me dangerous to men like Kyng. I could find anyone. Some might call me a killer. They’d be right. I killed. But I didn’t see it as murder.
I balanced the scales of justice.
True justice was an eye for an eye. Kyng was a drug dealer. His victims died with his poison in their veins. He didn’t know it yet, but he would. I was his endgame, and he’d meet the same fate.
Planning my next moves, I waited for an opportunity for checkmate. To kill the king, I’d take his queen. The one thing he couldn’t live without.
I slipped my lighter into my pocket. Staying near the edges of the dance floor, I worked my way closer to the women. Bodies with sweat-slicked skin bumped into me. The pungent odor of sweat blended with the cloying scent of perfumes. Lights flashed, and the bass of the music matched the steady rhythm of my pulse.
I wasn’t immune to the spike of adrenaline or the coil of tension knotting in my gut. I’d hunted, cloaked in the shadows. The fucker understood the game too well. Moves and countermoves.
It wasn’t enough to kill him. I wanted him to suffer.
For weeks, while watching Kyng, I’d watched her. She’d become an obsession as much as Madden. I wanted them both.
Rise To Power Adult Excerpt
Coming Soon!
Adult (18+) Excerpt: (pre-edit)
The sight of blood was an aphrodisiac. It warmed my gut and seeped lower into my groin like a secret lover. I could feel the flare of anticipation in the pounding of my heart, and the sizzle of heat along my spine. My cock hardened as my enemy weakened.
“I don’t know anything.” I didn’t expect Greco’s sniveling whimpers. More evidence the fucking rat had betrayed me. For five years, he’d worked under my brother, had been trusted.
My brother had trusted too easily. Now, he was dead.
Father Lodi searched for the virtues of men, but it was the seven deadly sins that made men dangerous. The truth, trust no one. I said a silent prayer in my mind. This wasn’t just about business. Power, money, loyalty, and family were interwoven and unable to be separated. They were worth defending—worth killing for.
Standing in front of Greco, I rolled my shirt cuffs one more turn, covering the blood splatter staining the white linen.
His voice quavered. Fear was a powerful weapon. But not always enough to get me the information I wanted. A thousand cuts strategically inflicted to cause pain, but not death, could be highly motivating. So were the two-hundred and six bones in the human body.
I rested my hand on his trembling shoulder. With a hard, fast thrust, I rammed the heel of my palm against the ridge of his clavicle. Bone snapped, giving beneath the stretched skin where his shoulder met his neck.
Greco screamed. The piercing wail sliced through the room, echoing off the walls, and warming me like the smooth notes of a merlot. Some would say the Bruno men were brutal. I would hate to disappoint them.
Meet Marco’s brother, Luca Bruno in Perfectly Played: Initiation into Submission: High Protocol. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BGCT44VY
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Romeo
Was he going to eye fuck her all night?
I loathed the way he put his hand on her hip, nuzzled her neck, and licked his fucking lip after he had his mouth on hers. He towered over her and tucked her close to his side.
I really hated how she gazed up at him with those sultry summer eyes, golden amber and bronzed like the sunset over the ocean. He was a god of the gridiron. He should focus those hands on catching footballs.
Feelings weren’t my thing but fuck all if I didn’t hate the idea of her having a boyfriend. Greyson Cooper, running back for the Eminence University Rooks didn’t belong in the MC, and he sure as fuck didn’t belong with Levi.
“It’s good to hear her laugh.”
I snapped my gaze to Dozer, one of my best friends. He’d mistakenly thought my attention was on Pippa as she danced with Levi and Hana. Pippa had been our girl, but then bad shit happened. The kind of shit nightmares were made of.
I’ve been in some fucked up situations. That was life in the motorcycle club. I didn’t catch feelings, but I loved Pippa. Not a romantic love, but she was important to me because she was important to Dozer. I loved my brothers in the MC. Dozer more than the others…because of her.
Some would think I’d lost part of my soul for Pippa. But I hadn’t killed for her. I’d killed for Dozer. He was the fighter, but that night, the one that changed her, and changed me—that night Pippa had come before his need for vengeance.
Pippa didn’t tell me what had happened in those terrifying fourteen hours of hell. She didn’t have to. We’d found her, but not in time to save her. Not that she wasn’t fucked up from the savagery of a man who’d taken what was ours. He’d broken her, but she’d survived. He didn’t.
I’d never get the memory out of my head. Not of Pippa lying on a dirty mattress, wishing she were dead…and not of the beaten, bloody bastard who’d raped her.
Heller justice.
I’d broken bones. I wasn’t a fighter because I preferred to use my hands to get a girl off. But I’d never tasted the dark, satisfying flavor of blood and violence the way I did that night. He was dead because I’d killed him. He shouldn’t have fucked with the Hellers, shouldn’t have touched what was ours.
My hand curled into a fist on my thigh. Maybe I was territorial, but Levi was ours. I narrowed my gaze on her. Blood rushed through me hot and volatile. Her gaze met mine, and the laugh fell from her lips. She took a step away from Rook.
Good.
I’d never really had a girlfriend. The closest thing I’d come to caring was with Pippa and Dozer. We’d been good together, the three of us. But there was never going to be anything more than friendship between me and Pip. I wasn’t part of their love story—then the nightmare happened.
I couldn’t shut off my need to protect her, but I didn’t want back in her bed either. All I felt was relief. What the fuck did that say about me? I didn’t care about the girls I slept with, and I didn’t sleep with girls I cared about.
Maybe it explained my sudden possessiveness toward Levi. All I knew was my jealousy over her boyfriend simmered like acid in my gut.
I drank from a bottle of vodka like it was water although it wasn’t doing shit to improve my pissed-off mood.
“If he puts his hand on her ass again, I’m going to break it.”
Dozer paused with his beer at his lips. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“The juicer. Rook. Coop. Whatever the fuck you want to call him. I don’t like his hands on Levi.”
Dozer stilled as he stared at me. I knew what he was thinking. I couldn’t get jealous over a girl that I’d put in the friendzone. That didn’t mean I wanted her scoring with some juiced-up jock.
“Don’t be a dick, Romeo. You go near her, and you’ll fuck her up. Then I’ll have to beat your ass. Coop is headed to the NFL, he’s rich as fuck, and isn’t a biker. He’s fucking perfect for her.”
“He’s not one of us.”
Dozer drank his beer. “The only one of us she ever wanted was you. The only reason you’re interested now is because she’s found someone else.” He set his beer on the table. “Don’t fuck this up for her, Romeo. You’ll get bored in a couple weeks. I love you, brother. But you won’t be good for her, and Levi deserves better.”
That was the fucking truth. I was shit.
Besides Shannon, my foster mom, I had important women in my life. Levi, Jazzy, Hana, and Pippa. I suppose it was time to add Gabi to my list. They were off limits. Hana and Pippa were with Blade and Dozer. And Gabi was with Torch.
Levi was everything sweet and good. I’d wreck her, and I’d never been interested in virgins.
Outside of the special girls in my life, my pursuit of pussy was legendary. Always looking to get a girl off and get myself off. Females were beautiful. If I had a pussy, I’d spend all day playing with it. Sweet, wet, soft. I fucking loved sex.
Until the night Pippa was nearly taken from Dozer. Everything was changing. Including me.
Three years ago, Vance left the MC. Tonight, he’d patched back in, put on his cut, and took his place at our table. His return had a lot to do with his sister, Hana. The girl was a Heller before she ever wore the cut claiming her as the property of our president, Blade.
I turned to the girl next to me. Blonde, feisty, and overly opinionated, basically Jazzy was beautiful, but a bitch. I swear she had balls bigger than most of the patches in the MC. Her dad was the enforcer of the club. Apparently, that hardass-ready-to-fight attitude needed for the sergeant at arms patch was in the DNA.
Jazzy never backed down from a fight, especially one that could get a little bloody. Thank fuck she was more like a sister. A sledgehammer wouldn’t nail her down. If she had her way, we’d be skirting the lines of family. Not because she wanted me. Jazzy’s snatch had teeth like a Venus flytrap. I wasn’t getting close to her. Most days, I was just the biker with the good weed.
About now I needed a joint. I pushed away from the table.
Not only did I need to get high, but I couldn’t sit around and watch Rook take my crush. Fuck me.
I smiled, laughed, and pretended everything was fucking great. But my fuck-all life was shit. Had always been shit.
The story wasn’t a fucking fairytale. Maybe, like my name, it was more of a Shakespearean play. Life and death, love and hate, freewill or just destined to die a tragic death.
They called me Romeo. I was the pretty boy, the guy girls wanted to fuck at two in the morning. Too bad they didn’t believe me when I was honest. I wasn’t looking for anything more than getting my dick wet. As soon as they caught feels I was out. Emotional attachments were toxic.
But I had good friends, friends that I knew I could trust when there wasn’t much I could depend on growing up. I was a poor foster care kid who happened to luck into a house of Hellers. Shannon, my last foster mom, had a younger brother. She called him Rogue.
He was big, tough, and mean as hell. He was everything I wasn’t. And I had him to thank for everything good in my life. He took a scrawny kid, me, without shit to my name, hated people, hated to be touched, and brought me to the MC to make some friends. That’s when the crew made me one of them. We were tight then, tighter now.
This was where I belonged, a rented room in the back of the MC. I kicked the door closed and crashed onto my bed. With the flick of my wrist, I opened my Zippo, sparked the flint, and drew the flame to the tip of the joint.
The paper and weed burned, the sweet, pungent smell hitting me a moment before the mellowing burn as I inhaled. A curl of smoke escaped my nostrils.
A knock sounded on the door. Before I could tell whoever it was to fuck off, the door opened, and Jazzy let herself in.
“Thank god,” she said, bouncing onto my bed, snatching the joint from my fingers, and taking a few puffs.
“This is a private party,” I said.
“Good. I need a little quiet.” She passed the joint back to me.
“Hanging out in my room with the door closed is going to give the wrong impression.” If I had a girl in my room, it wasn’t usually to pass around a joint.
She snorted, flopped onto her back, and blew a stream of smoke from her pouty lips. “What’s wrong with us?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” I said.
She rolled onto her side. “Romeo, you can talk about her.”
I covered the flare of heat rushing through me with a smile. If she was talking about what happened with Pippa, nah, that shit would stay inside me. Pippa was where she belonged, with Dozer.
And no way could she know about the fucked up thoughts in my head about Levi. I couldn’t want her and would never touch her because I’d hurt her. I wasn’t ignorant of her feelings for me. I just wasn’t prepared for her to have feelings for anyone else.
Shifting the focus away from me, I asked her about Vance. They had history. “He’s engaged,” I said.
“Nice try, but Vance and I were over long before he left the MC. It’s strange to call him Torch now, but I guess it makes sense. He’s changed.” She turned her head. “Everything is changing. Blade has Hana. I’ve never seen a more pussy-whipped boy than Dozer. Levi has Coop.”
I sat up. That was the shit I didn’t want to hear. “Has she fucked him?”
I could bite off my tongue. The words tasted like shit in my mouth. Levi was saving herself, wanted to lose her V-card like a fucking Hallmark movie. Not with some football player on a break from jersey chasers.
“I hope so.” She rolled onto her stomach. “You should be happy. She’s finally given up on converting you.”
I growled and took a swig of vodka. Then another.
Jazzy rolled off the bed. “I don’t know if it’s what happened to Pippa, or if you’re pissed at Dozer, but whatever it is, it’s fucking you up.”
She wasn’t one to offer hugs. That was Levi.
Jazzy paused at the door. “Get your shit together, Romeo.”
Yeah, that was more of what I expected.
The problem, this was me having my shit together.
Levi
I must have a sick and twisted need for punishment. Mental torment. I was a smart girl, went to Eminence University, and was dating the varsity running back for the EU football team, Greyson Cooper. Everyone called him Coop.
Yet here I was in the Heller Raiders MC still hopelessly in love with the bad boy that had me since puberty. I think it was Pippa that had said it best about bikers. Ink, muscles, hard dicks, and Harleys.
I wouldn’t know. I didn’t have a tattoo. I did have my ears pierced, as in one hole in the lobe with tiny diamond studs that my grandmother, Willow, had given me on my sixteenth birthday.
I don’t recall ever having a birthday with my mom and dad. Both were incarcerated. My dad would never walk out of the state pen. That’s what murder got a man. My mother would be getting manicures with her celly for at least another five years. She’d already served nearly twenty. Even if she did get out, I didn’t plan to ever see her again. I wasn’t anything like them.
Thank god I had my grandma and grandpa. I called them mom and dad. In the MC, he was known as Bear. Original Heller and while sweet to me, I’m pretty sure he could crush a skull in his bare hands. My mom was his ride or die old lady.
I wasn’t anything like my parents/grandparents either. Riding on the back of a Harley was fine, but wearing a cut declaring me someone’s property wasn’t going to happen.
I’d be twenty-two in a few months, and sadly, I was still a virgin because I’d foolishly been saving myself for Romeo as he fucked his way through the entire female population.
But I had a boyfriend now. My thoughts shouldn’t have been on Romeo. Tell that to my heart that refused to get the message. Romeo wasn’t interested. So, I’d taken a bit of his advice. The best way to get over one girl was to get on another. Only for me, I was trying to get over a pretty boy biker with a rugged, fit-as-fuck footballer.
As I danced, Coop slid in close behind me and curled his muscular arms around my waist.
“You’re killing me,” he said against my neck. His hands roamed over my hips, teasing with the edge of my short, pleated skirt.
I spun in his embrace, ran my hands up his chiseled chest, and then looped my arms around his thick neck. Everything about him was thick and hard, including the cock pressed to my belly. A cock I’d yet to get up close and personal with. “I’d hate to be the cause of your death.”
He smiled, causing a dimple in his right cheek. Butterflies fluttered in my tummy as his breath caressed my lips, and his fingers brushed against the bare skin of my midriff. Coop was huge, with long fingers that could span my waist.
“Every time I kiss you, I worry I’m going to get my ass kicked.”
“I’ve seen the guys you face off against on the field. You can handle a couple of Hellers.”
He chuckled. “Good thing Dozer likes me. I know he carries a gun.”
“We all do. Don’t worry about Dozer. He doesn’t need the gun.”
He lifted a brow. “We?”
“Yes, but I’m a better shot than Romeo. I’ll defend you.”
“You know your friends are scary as hell.”
“I do, but you can kiss me anyway.”
I wasn’t one for public displays of affection, but I did like the way his full lips slanted over mine. I’m sure the butterflies in my belly were from his soft kiss as he parted my lips, not from my insecurity because Romeo sat across the room.
I curled my fingers into the silky hair at the nape of Coop’s neck. Warmth tingled in my breasts as his tongue licked into my mouth.
With a heavy sigh, I inhaled the expensive scent of cologne lingering on his flesh. I fell for the eyes first. I wanted my soul pierced. I wanted someone to look at me like they would fight just for a taste of me. After the eyes, it was the smell. Even in the dark, I wanted to steep in the masculine scent of a lover.
I think. I couldn’t be exactly sure because I’d never experienced either.
“Are you daydreaming?” he asked with that dark as sin voice, deep and naughty, and paired with a smile to convert a nun to depravity.
Coop’s broad chest pressed against me, and he pulled me closer. He might be a running back, but he was built more like a bodybuilder. His thick thighs aligned with mine as he rocked the hard edge of his cock against my pelvis.
Breath rushed from my lungs. I’d been in this position before, feeling the effect I had on him, but still not sure what to do about it because I’d seen him have the same reaction for a red Solo cup full of rum and a large pizza.
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Dozer
Being left alone wasn’t the same as wanting to be alone. Most of the time, I wanted to be left alone. Like tonight. I wasn’t good company. Not surprising since I didn’t like people enough to surround myself with them.
Yet, I was a patched member of a motorcycle club. Part of a brotherhood, whatever the fuck that meant. Family was a foul fucking F-word in my world. Other F-words that didn’t mean shit were fidelity, faith, and forgiveness.
Maybe there were a few positive F-words like father, fucking, and fellatio. But I wasn’t my father. He looked for the good in people, especially in my mother. Faye was at the top of the fuck-all F-word list. I knew the truth. People sucked. My advice, fuck them.
Music and raucous laughter filtered into the night air. I should be in the chapel of the Heller Raiders MC. Today one of my best friends, Blade became president of our club.
His old man had to die for him to inherit the throne. Razor had chased the dragon until the dragon slayed him. Some of the old timers would miss him. I wouldn’t, and neither would Blade. Razor was responsible for my old man sitting in lockup. He’d nearly destroyed the club with his heroin addiction.
I wasn’t sure Blade could save it. As much as I hated people, I loved Blade. One more for the F-word list—friends. I could count mine on one hand. Blade, Romeo, Jazzy, Levi, and Kiss. We all grew up in the MC.
Fuck, I missed Shae. We called her Kiss because when we were kids, she let us practice kissing her using our tongues. Now, she was in the Pacific Northwest at a rehab. Maybe this time she’d get clean.
Ninety days would give her a chance, and with Razor dead, he wouldn’t be able to tangle her up in addiction again. She’d still have her fucked up relationship with Romeo. She’d fallen in too deep, and Romeo… In the words of Friedrich Nietzsche, “Muddy the water, to make it seem deep.” The quote might have had a little more to it. So did Romeo.
Not that I needed to call him shallow. He pursued pussy with purpose. I loved my MC brother. He was smart as fuck. One day he’d figure out he had more to offer than his dick.
I wandered deeper into the shadows of the old church grounds. The chapel served as the Heller Raider’s clubhouse. When we were kids, we converted an old mausoleum out back into our playhouse.
How would we change now that Blade was president?
I sat on the broken and cracked stone step of the playhouse and pulled a blunt from my pocket.
“Come on.” I recognized the flirtatious, bubbly voice approaching.
Pippa. Romeo’s latest lay. My gut tightened. Jealousy was a dangerous friend, a secret lover whispering to me in the dark. There was something about a spark of light that I wanted to snuff out. Tingles chased along my spine. Pippa was a radiant fucking light. And yeah, I wanted to cloak her in my darkness.
The thing about light was that it burned brightest in the dark.
I stood from the steps and shifted into the shadows of the overgrowth and trees. I squatted on my haunches and leaned against the rough bark.
The full moon created a milky glow around the playhouse. Pippa giggled as she tugged on Romeo’s belt with one hand. Her other held a bottle of beer. She fucking giggled. The blithesome, social butterfly sprinkled her magical, happy, fairy dust with her smile. Those full lips smiled all the time.
“Are you going to dirty me up?”
Romeo couldn’t, not the way I would. Romeo was like Pippa. Fucking happy all the time. I had a black heart and a black soul. I was the epitome of dark and dirty.
My cock thickened as Pippa stumbled, dropping to her ass on the steps of the playhouse. Romeo followed her down. He chuckled as he reached between her legs.
She dropped her beer bottle as his fingers disappeared inside of her.
“Fuck, you’re wet.”
How wet? Was her cream thick and tangy or slick and salty? I salivated for a taste. I wanted more than a taste. I’d creep inside her head and twist her thoughts. I’d make her want things she shouldn’t. Then I’d shred her cunt, ruin her for anyone else because once I had her, I’d slither into her psyche and make her crave—make her crave me. I’d become her addiction. Just as she’d become mine.
She lifted her hips, and Romeo tugged her panties down her legs. Leaning back on her elbows, she spread her thighs.
My nostrils flared as if I could drink in her scent. Her head fell back, and she moaned as Romeo closed his mouth over her pussy and tasted her sweetness.
“Count it down, baby.”
Pippa squeezed her big, beautiful tit, pinching and rolling the nipple through her shirt. “One,” she whispered as she licked her lip.
I reached my hand into my jeans and adjusted my cock. Perhaps I should feel guilty. I could slip away before either noticed me. But I remained rooted to the spot because I wanted to watch her come apart. Fuck, she was beautiful. Her breaths came in rapid little pants.
“Eighteen, nineteen.” Her voice grew higher. Her gasps came closer together. “Ah. Can’t count. Twenty-five.” She shuddered, her back bowed, and a cry of release rent the air. “Dio mio. Oh my god.”
Romeo continued to lash at her pussy as her hips bucked against his mouth.
“No more,” she said, and gripped his hair, hauled him up, and kissed him.
“I love your pussy.”
“Ah, such pretty words from a pretty boy.” She threaded her fingers through his hair.
“You love this pretty boy between your thighs.”
She flicked her tongue against his chin. “I do, but you’re getting slow.”
Romeo worked his jeans open. “Or are you getting harder to please?”
“You just aren’t used to a challenge. You’re so freaking pretty that girls fall to their feet…or should I say they drop to their knees?”
“What more do you want?” Romeo braced on his knees and rolled a condom onto his dick.
My heart pounded as he prepared to pound into my secret obsession.
She braced her hands on his hips. “I want you to—”
Romeo thrust into her, cutting off her words, and ripping a moan from her throat.
I slipped my lighter from my pocket. I waited, wanting her to know I was here. She clung to his shoulders with her luscious thighs bound tight to Romeo’s hips.
Her face turned in my direction as Romeo sucked her neck. I cupped my hands to dim the flare of the flame. I inhaled, igniting the paper, and releasing the first curl of smoke. Pot got me through the day. Tonight, I needed to be high to endure her shuddering with pleasure.
Her gaze focused on the flicker of my blunt as I sucked in another long pull. The weed crackled and singed, the ember tip glowing as it burned.
She stilled, her gaze unwavering, focused intently on my face. Electric current, charged by the shadows, and the secret we were forging as I watched Romeo fuck her, arced between us.
Romeo lifted and braced on outstretched arms. “Are you okay?”
I held my breath, waiting.
“Yes, you feel good. Don’t stop.” She pulled him down and kissed his lips, sliding her tongue into his mouth. Her body rolled, fucking him with her hips and mouth.
She lifted her thighs higher on his flanks, and her hands gripped his ass. “So good, Romeo. Oh god.”
She arched and turned her head to find me in the dark. I took a long drag, brightening the tip of the blunt.
Our gazes locked. Pippa sucked in a breath, and I held mine then released the thin coil of smoke to loop and twist into the night air.
Romeo continued to thrust into her. I stared at her, imagining the feel of her rippling and wet pussy. I wanted her, gloved around my cock, her soft body surrendering to the hard thrust of mine.
I dragged my thumb across my lower lip. Her gaze followed my hand as I raked it across my T-shirt-clad chest and down my abs.
Moonlight painted her face in shadows and light as she sank her teeth into her lower lip.
I pressed my palm against my dick.
“I’m coming,” she cried as her back arched. Lashes fluttered, and her eyes closed as she clung to Romeo, her fingers digging into him.
“Fuck.” He growled, thrust once more, then stilled as he rode his climax, and finally collapsed on top of her.
She found me in the dark again. I stood. My jaw clenched, and her gaze narrowed. Romeo might have fucked her, but she was with me when she came.
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Blade
Heller Raiders MC Book One
Heller Raiders MC romance series. Bad boy bikers, dangerous drama, and lots of steamy sex. These are gritty stories including violence, drug use and graphic language. Get ready for a wild ride. Some readers may find content disturbing.
Hana
I hate the Heller Raiders. They betrayed my brother, taking his cut, his bike, and his patch because he chose me over them when our parents died. Back then I was just a teenager crushing on his best friend, but I was too young for the hot bad boy, Blade. I never expected to see him again. He shouldn’t feel this good. I shouldn’t feel this good. Three years ago, I’d loved him. I’m afraid I still do.
Blade
Hana Vance is my best friend’s sister. Off limits. But he’s not in the MC anymore and she’s grown up. A badass, tattooed hell raiser. I want her on the back of my bike and in my bed, but my life is a wreck, and my club is on self-destruct. I’m going to break promises. My loyalty is going to be challenged. The MC has rules, but I’m done obeying them.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
COPYRIGHT 2023 by KyAnn Waters
Chapter One
Blade
What the fuck was her name again? Britt? Bree? Not that it mattered. “Baby, are you gonna swallow?” I fisted my hand in her light brown hair, holding her head as she sucked my dick. With the other, I tipped the bottle of Jack to my lips, letting the warm burn of whiskey slide down my throat. Two pleasures, booze and a blowie, but neither were bringing me any peace.
I leaned against the door of my room at the compound. An American flag hung on the wood paneled wall along with photos of friends and my life growing up in the Heller Raiders MC. My room. Another one of the perks of being the son of the club’s president. The other—there was no shortage of females ready to drop to their knees.
A fist pounded on the old, oak door. This place used to be a church. The offices and classrooms had been converted to rentable bedrooms for members, and the chapel was now the main assembly area for the club.
A large room in the basement, probably once the center for after service fellowship, had been transformed into storage. It’s also where we learned to fight by beating the hell out of each other.
The pounding came again.
“Get the fuck out,” I said because I needed another minute in—Brooke’s?—mouth.
“Got an emergency.” Pike, one of the club’s prospects, spoke through the door. “Romeo is freaking the fuck out.”
“I’m almost there,” I said to the chick gagging on my cock. Tears leaked from her brown eyes as she sucked and fucked me with her mouth.
Closing my eyes, I focused on her wet mouth, ignoring the hollering coming from the hall. My gut clenched, lightning streaked along my spine, and I shot my load into the back of her throat. She swallowed, her red artificial nails gripping the back of my thighs.
A smile curved her lips as she dragged her tongue along my shaft. She sat back on her ass and spread her thighs, apparently under the impression I would return the service. “Thanks, babe.” But I didn’t eat Heller whores.
I opened the door as I zipped up my jeans. Romeo, one of my best friends in the MC, leaned against the wall. He raked his fingers through his straight, dark hair. They called him Romeo because he was too pretty to be called handsome.
“Blade. It’s Kiss.” Panic laced the words falling from his trembling lips.
Pushing through the crowd, I forced my way to the bathroom. “Fuck.” Not this shit.
Shae crumbled against the side of the toilet. Vomit streaked along the porcelain.
I tapped her face. “Kiss, wake up.”
We called her Kiss because she was an amazing kisser. In high school, she’d make out with all of us in the basement—for practice. But later her name took on a darker meaning. Shae had a love for heroin and Xanax, otherwise known as chocolate bars. She’d worked hard to beat the beast. Seeing her now made me sick. Her addiction had its claws too deep.
“Kiss, baby.” I squatted down next to her and combed her tangled blonde hair from her face.
Frothy spit covered her mouth, her lips darkened to a muted blue, and her eyes rolled into her head. A bloody needle protruded from between her toes.
“I didn’t know she was using again,” Romeo said.
Shae claimed she had six months sober. Holding her wrist, I felt her pulse. “Get the naloxone.” I pulled her away from the toilet and laid her on her side. Spit poured from her mouth.
Romeo crashed into the room with the plastic medical box. When the fuck had we gone from passing out from too many shots of tequila and smoking a fat blunt, to keeping shit behind the bar to stop junkies from OD’ing in our clubhouse?
I knew when, and he wasn’t here to clean up the shit he’d brought into our house. I hated my old man. He was poison to the club.
Opening the medical box, I grabbed one of the pre-dosed syringes, popped off the orange cap, and stabbed the needle into the thick muscle of her thigh.
“Get the fuck out.” Rogue, Vice President of the Heller Raiders, cleared the hall. Everyone but Romeo scrambled back to the chapel.
“Is she dead?” Romeo asked.
“No. And she isn’t going to die.” I wouldn’t tell Romeo she’d be okay. But she wasn’t dying here. “Take a walk,” I said to Romeo. “Clear your fucking head. Did she have anything with her?”
“Yeah, like a purse and jacket.”
“Get them.”
Once he was out of the room, I spoke to Rogue. “This shit can’t happen here.”
Rogue was ten years older than me. My dad had patched him in at seventeen. Youngest prospect to ever earn his colors. Fifteen years later, he was VP of the club. But I wasn’t sure I could trust him.
“I know.”
“He’s getting worse.” He, as in Razor, President of the Heller Raiders, heroin junkie, and my old man. “He’s dealing out of the shop, chicks are shooting up in the bathrooms, and he’s so far out of his fucking head, he’s not thinking right. You know as well as I do that if the cops show up, we’re all going down for the shit he’s doing. We’re not an MC anymore. It’s a fucking drug house.”
Perfectly Played – Excerpt
Perfectly Played
Initiation into Submission: High Protocol
Book Six
“Your safeword, Tinker?” His large hand splayed across her belly as he positioned behind her. Lips brushed against her shoulders and slipped across her skin to the tender tendon of her neck. He gently bit, sucking her flesh.
Shallow breaths tightened her chest. “Pickle, Sir.”
“No penetration,” he confirmed, his breath hot against her ear. “Here are my rules.”
The cool air of the room puckered her nipples, but the dangerous edge to his voice sent chills over her.
“Per favore—ah, excuse me. No, English is best for you. Please will be the only word from your lips. Do you understand?”
“Please,” she whispered. Her body trembled with his nearness. The scent of his cologne clung to him. She ached to bury her nose in his neck, taste the hotness of his flesh, and feel the power of his tightly controlled form against her.
The teasing glint in Luca’s eyes morphed into an erotic yet brutal glare. Did he see her as a challenge? He would know soon enough how pliant and submissive her nature was.
“You will not come from our play.”
She refused to lift her gaze. “Please?” How did she convey that she would need her release? The pleasure of BDSM was too ingrained within her to be quieted. But without his permission, she doubted her body would crest.
“Ah, sweet Tinker, if you want to come, you’ll give me the pleasure of your body.”
Her gaze lifted to his. Knots tightened her guts. The temptation, the whispered words, the powerful aphrodisiac of a Dominant in control tightened and coiled ready to strike.
Her heart pounded in her chest. She stared into his eyes, eyes flashing with the delicious arrogance of a Dominant. Luca Bruno clearly was a man used to getting what he desired.
But he couldn’t demand the one thing she held sacred. “Pickle.”
His gaze narrowed as a half-smile twisted his lips. “Mi scusi. Excuse me.”
“I’m sorry we couldn’t negotiate a scene.” She picked up her dress. Not bothering with her panties, she slipped on the sandals and draped the dress over her head as she went to the door.
Luca caught her and wrapped an arm around her waist. His touch released a riot of butterflies in her belly. She froze, fear and desire warring for dominance in her thoughts. Luca had the aura of a man not to be toyed with, but also the lure of a man who could master her mind and body.
“I am disappointed.” He released her. “Have a good evening, amore.”
Tinker slipped out the door. As she strode down the hall, her emotions overwhelmed her. She’d only just met him. She shouldn’t care, yet he’d left her with a hollow ache inside. She pushed through the door into the club, searching for the one face she needed.
Her gaze lifted to the platform. Alex laughed with Evelyn, Ronan, and Ronan’s submissive, Claire. Those weren’t the arms she needed around her.
In the distance, light glinted off a bald head. She weaved through the crowd. Sensing her approach, his gaze shifted to hers.
“Hey, Tink, what’s wrong?” The Professor opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace. Thick tattooed biceps circled her shoulders. Resting her cheek on his solid, warm chest, she soaked in the calming energy of her best friend.
“I used my safeword.”
He chuckled and his eyes brightened. “Good girl.”
She stared up into his face. “Yeah, but we hadn’t started our scene yet.”
His brows furrowed.
She didn’t want to tell him the whole story. She just wanted to move on from an unfortunate misunderstanding. Maybe it was the language barrier. Although the no sex stipulation seemed to be clearly communicated. “The Boss has a business associate in town, an Italian. He specifically asked if I’d do a scene with him. Do you think Alex will be upset with me?”
The Professor nodded toward a man storming across the room. “You can ask him.”
Alex approached. His sharp gaze rested on her. Lips pulled into a hard line. “Tinker, what happened?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
The Professor’s hold on her tightened. “You have to tell him, Tink.” His attention shifted to Alex. “I don’t know, Boss, but she said she used her safeword.”
“We have different needs,” she explained, “so I decided not to scene with Luca. Is that going to cause an issue for you?”
“Of course not,” Alex said. “Did Luca cross a line with you?”
“He understood my rule,” Tinker said. “No sex. But he had rules, too. He didn’t like mine, and I didn’t agree with his.”
The Professor lifted her chin. “What were his rules?”
She licked her lips. “He wasn’t going to let me come.”
Alex bristled, and the Professor laughed.
“What a dick,” the Professor said.
His large hand trekked along the ladder of her spine. She’d been at the end of his flogger many times. Trusted him to take away her senses, strip her fears, and take her into subspace. She’d felt his calloused fingers on every part of her body, felt the sting of his whip, and the tender touch of his aftercare. But the Professor wasn’t emotionally connected to her or anyone else that she was aware of.
Alex cupped her cheek. “I apologize. I’ll speak to him.”
She rested her hand on his arm. “You don’t need to. He was a gentleman in every other way. He’s going back to Italy soon so why add to the situation. I’m fine.” She rested her palm on the Professor’s chest. “I’m going to ask this Dom who knows what I need for a lesson, and then I’m going home for the night. I’m good.”
Alex nodded. He inhaled as if he planned to speak, but something over her shoulder grabbed his gaze. “Excuse me.”
He stepped away, approaching Luca as he entered the dungeon.
Luca’s focus drilled into her. Arrogance radiated from him, confident in his dominance. There was something about him. A mysterious edge appealed to her submissive nature. That made him dangerous.
The Professor rested a hand on her hip. “Tinker?”
“Thank you.”
His rough knuckles brushed her cheek. “For what?”
“For making me strong enough to say no.” Controlling men were her weakness, her drug of choice.
“What do you want, beautiful?”
“A demonstration.” She wanted Luca to see what he’d lost in negotiations.
“Are you sure you’re my sweet, innocent submissive?”
No, she hadn’t been innocent in a long time.
Dangerously Bound – Excerpt
Dangerously Bound
Initiation into Submission: High Protocol
Book Five
Was this going to be a brilliant moment or a colossal mistake? Just coffee and breakfast. She should walk out of the room, go home, and pretend Vance wasn’t hazardous to her health.
She glanced around the bedroom. There wasn’t just a bondage bed. In the corner of the room, a steel contraption was bolted to the floor. She touched the cold steel. The metal glinted in the light. She ran her fingers along the smooth finish.
“It’s a forced orgasm frame.”
Gabriella snatched her fingers from the metal and spun toward Vance. Her cheeks flushed.
He crossed the room, his movements stalking her. He gripped the eight-inch horizontal steel bar in the center of the vertical support. Two wrist manacles dangled from each end. “These anchor your arms behind your back.” He wrapped his arm around her middle. “The ones on the floor shackle your legs.”
She glanced to the base of the frame. Two more steel cuffs would keep her legs spread about eighteen inches apart. A large steel collar at the top of the main vertical support would wrap around her neck. A three-point attachment angled toward the lower part of the frame.
“It holds a wand.” He smiled, a slow seductive, secretive grin that caused a riot of shivers to chase along her flesh. “Have you ever come so hard, so many times that you gush fluids? The pleasure borders on pain, but you’re helpless to stop.”
“No,” she said a bit breathless. “I’ve never had any orgasm.”
“Ah, baby. You have to let me fix that.”
“I mean, I haven’t had one of those types of orgasms.” Could she blabber any more unfortunate truths about herself?
“You make me hungry, Gabriella.” He kissed her shoulder.
The dark tone of his words sent a blush of warming along her neck. “Maybe we should go eat breakfast.” Although, she didn’t think he meant food.
He chuckled. The sound vibrated into her, puckering her nipples. “Eggs and toast?”
“I’m easy.”
“If you were easy, baby, I’d be having pussy for breakfast.” He headed toward the door. “Scrambled?”
She nodded, too stunned to speak.
A few minutes later, she found him in the kitchen stirring eggs on the stove. “Can I help?”
“Do you know how to make toast?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m Italian. I can even boil water.”