Satan's Devils MC Boxset 1

by Manda Mellett

When I don’t reply he continues, “Two? Three? Yeah, we’ll go for three, shall we?”

  What? As I look at him bemused, certain that’s not possible and not sure I’d ever recover if it was, he starts to move. Again he’s gentle, long strokes in and then out. Over and over again, in, out, in, out, and every time that darn piercing rolls over that spot. It’s not long before my muscles start contracting. His mouth covers one nipple, laving then nipping, and a tingle travels down my spine straight to my clit. As my thigh muscles clench, he does the same to the other one with the exact same effect.

  As his strong hips drive his cock into me, he bends one knee and changes the angle slightly, and then I’m lost. He lowers his head and swallows my cry with his mouth, his tongue sweeping inside as one hand cradles my head. When I start to come down, he continues to thrust, an even rhythm, but so deep, and exciting every nerve ending. I’ve depleted my reserves, I’ve got nothing left.

  But he takes no pity, just keeps pumping in. Totally unexpected, I start to tighten again.

  “Fuck, you’re strangling my cock,” he murmurs into my ear. “That’s right, baby, squeeze it. You’re gonna take it for me, aren’t you darlin’? You’re going to take everything that this filthy dirty biker wants.”

  It must be his words. My body tenses and I’m reaching again. He quickens his pace slightly and lowering his hand, starts assaulting my clit. I inhale sharply, holding my breath—my body’s on fire—and then I release.

  “Two,” he says softly. “Knew you had it in you, babe. Now let’s work up to another one.”

  It’s impossible. But he’s intent on proving it’s not. Now he powers his hips, thrusting a little harder, bumping my cervix each time he pushes in. I’ve never felt so alive, so good. My senses are reeling, the intensity of the feelings driving me crazy. I’m just a collection of sensations, and all of them good. Like an overwound clock, everything’s taut and I’m shaking, a quivering mass on the bed. I can’t possibly… But I’m going to. He’s pushing me higher and higher.

  “That’s right, darlin’. Gonna come with you this time. Gonna flood this condom wishing I was shooting my cum up inside you. Fuck, you feel good. You’re gripping onto my cock darlin’, it loves being inside you. That’s it. You gonna come for me?”

  I can’t.

  He presses on my clit as though it was a button and that’s all it takes. He lowers his head once again, my muffled scream absorbed as I swallow his. He works through his own release, little pumps into the condom.

  We both gasp and struggle to get air into our lungs.

  Christ. If that’s the way bikers make love, it’s no wonder Jill is addicted. But I’ve no desire to try anyone else. Slick is the only biker, the only man, I’ll ever want.

  “Fuck, babe,” Slick starts when he’s at last able to breathe. “Fuck, you were made for me, you hear that? Never. Been. So. Fuckin’. Good.”

  “Hmm, I think I like biker loving, Slick.”

  He raises his head and smirks at me. “Babe, I haven’t fuckin’ started yet.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Slick…

  After making love—yeah, making love not fucking—last night, Ella went back to be with Jayden. Knowing Paladin’s actions had upset the kid, I understood why she left me, but fuck it if my bed didn’t feel empty. Another sign I was right to take her as my old lady. Even after just a few nights I no longer want my own space. So different to the whores who I’d kick out of bed as soon as the deed was done.

  Poking my head around their door this morning, I’d seen they were still both sleeping so peacefully I hadn’t the heart to disturb them, but I couldn’t help myself lingering for a moment just watching them. My girls.

  Laughing silently at myself, I make my way down to the clubhouse, and wouldn’t you just believe it, the first fucker I come across is Paladin. Although it had been his actions that made me end up sleeping alone, there was valid reason for it, so I pause for a second to tell him, “Hey, you did good, Brother.”

  The pain radiating from his face surprises me as his eyes meet mine, and he says tersely, “Did it work?”

  “Sure did.”

  His hand brushes back the hair flopping over his face. “Hurts like a fuckin’ bitch, man. I didn’t want to upset her.”

  I slap his back. “You had to. She’s got a lot of things to work through. Best you keep your distance, it’s confusing for her.”

  He stares at the ground and kicks at a stone. “I know. I know I should keep away, Slick. Fuck, I don’t want to make things worse. Thing is, she doesn’t act her age, you know? She seems so much older.”

  “After what she’s been through, she probably does.”

  He nods then walks off. I carry on, entering the clubroom and stepping over bodies. Fuck, there must have been one hell of a party last night. And you know what? It doesn’t even bother me I missed it. I’ve got Ella, and what we did together was better than any party I’ve ever been at. My mouth twists into a grin remembering her amazement as I’d squeezed those orgasms out of her.

  Drum’s coming out of his office, weaving his way through the hungover bodies. Reaching me, he waves his hand. “Sometimes I wish all the brothers had old ladies. We’re the only ones awake and fit to do anything today. Come with me, Brother? Hyde’s got a problem down at the gate.”

  Sure, I’ll accompany him. I give a chin jerk to agree and walk down by his side, curious to know what the issue is.

  Hyde’s learned his lesson. He’s letting no one inside unless it’s someone wearing our patch. The prospect’s standing this side of the entrance, stoically impassive at the ranting and raving from the other side. It’s the woman who I’ve no desire to see again, Crystal’s mom, and the same loser with her. Drum and I exchange glances and I’d bet good money we’re both thinking the same thing. Why are they here, and how quickly can we get rid of them?

  With a meaty hand slapping down on the prospect’s back, Drum indicates he’s done good not letting them in.

  “What do you want?” He stands at the metal bars, obviously with no intention of opening the gate up.

  “I want my grandchild, that’s what,” Crystal’s mom sneers through the fence.

  “Nothing has changed. She’s staying here until we find out what her father wants,” Drum tells her, sounding bored.

  “Dale’s as good as dead. It’s only a matter of time.”

  Yeah, unfortunately, as the days pass with him showing no improvement that’s what I’ve started thinking, but hearing her say it makes me see red. “You fuckin’ bitch…” I start, but the prez’s hand shooting out and grabbing my arm shuts me up.

  “Heart’s still in the land of the living. We ain’t giving up on him yet.”

  “You’ve no right to keep the kid.”

  Drum sighs. “Why do you want her? She’s happy here.” He indicates her clothing which is dirty and worn. “Why would she be better off with you?” He throws a look toward her companion and his face twists in disgust.

  “Because I ain’t a filthy biker. Fuck knows what you’ll do to her. You into kids?”

  Now it’s me that’s holding my prez back. Daring to accuse us of that? The woman’s got balls, I’ll give her that.

  “My wife’s looking after Amy.” Drum spits out the words. “And I’ve already fuckin’ told you, that’s where she’ll stay.”

  She’s not giving up. “Crystal’s funeral will be on Friday. She ain’t doing no good above ground. I want the kid there.”

  Fuck! That’s only a couple of days away. Drum steps forward, his hands curling around the bars and the look on his face should probably warn the woman she’s lucky the gate’s shut. “Heart should be the one making any arrangements.”

  “Heart’s a fuckin’ dead man. He just doesn’t know it yet.” Now she’s screaming. “And it’s my daughter we’re talking about. It’s my right to arrange it and I want this done. Dale’s got no say in this. He killed her on that fuckin’ bike.”

  Christ, it’s ba
d enough that we don’t know whether Heart will come out of it or not, but what if he does to find his wife dead and already buried? No chance to say a final goodbye.

  But what can we do? Drum throws me a look full of emotion, and I know what he’s thinking. This is all wrong. But while he’s the personal representative in terms of Crystal’s will, in Arizona that doesn’t make him an authorising agent and able to organise her funeral. Only a next of kin or spouse can do that, or someone with a healthcare power of attorney, and Drum’s none of these. Without Heart conscious, no one can stop her burying her daughter. As I stare at Drummer, I see he seems to be struggling for a response. Then, taking a deep breath, knowing there’s no point in arguing, he says curtly, “Let me know when and where and we’ll come pay our respects.”

  “I don’t want no biker scum there,” she screams back. “Your club is the reason she’s dead!”

  Drum plays his trump card. “You want us to bring Amy. Ain’t sending her on her own.”

  Her face twists, but she knows when she’s beaten, and then snaps out the time and the place. Once that’s done, she turns, drags her companion away by his arm, then they both get back into a beat-up car and disappear down the track.

  Drum’s head drops forward onto the bars of the gate. “Fuck, Brother,” he starts, “if Heart doesn’t come around before Friday this will destroy him.”

  Placing my hand on his shoulder, I agree. “I know, Prez, but I don’t see we have any choice. We’ve no claim on Crystal. Not when it’s what her mother wants.”

  “Fuckin’ bitch.”

  I can’t argue with his assessment.

  The sound of bikes firing up and revving comes from behind us. The brothers leaving us today are obviously making their move. For the next half hour, I stand beside my prez saying goodbyes and thanking them for their assistance the day before and watching them leave. When the last of those who aren’t staying have left the compound, I wait while Drum fills Wraith and the other Tucson chapter brothers in on the funeral arrangements for our fallen sister. No one is any happier than the prez or I, but none of us can see a way around it. As each day passes, our insistence on waiting for Heart to wake up seems less and less rational.

  Prez is lingering by the gate, I stay too, wanting to fill him in that his plan to separate Paladin and Jayden seems to have worked. As the others fade away, I ask if I can have a quick word, but before I can start talking a bike comes up the track. Unlike the healthy rumble of a Harley, it’s a high-pitched annoying whine. Oh, the bike’s pretty impressive if you like something like that. To me it looks like a green monster pretending to have street cred. It’s a fuckin’ Kawasaki.

  Drum shakes his head at Hyde as he tilts his head in question as to whether he should open the gate. Nobody wearing one of our patches would be seen dead on such a piece of plastic crap. Except Road perhaps, but even then, it would be a trials bike, not a sports bike like this.

  The rider dismounts, takes off her full-face green helmet which perfectly matches her bike, and shakes out her hair, which she’s wearing tied up in a ponytail. She takes a step forward.

  “Drummer?”

  Well, I’ll be fucked if it isn’t that detective bitch, Hannah.

  Rolling his head back on his shoulders and sighing as though this day’s already brought enough shit, the prez goes to meet her. “Detective Hannah,” he snarls, using the tone that normally makes brothers quake.

  She shakes her head. “I’m off duty, Drummer. The names Marcia. Marcia Hannah.”

  “Marcia, Hannah.” He waves his hand in dismissal. “Whoever the fuck you are, don’t see we’ve got business with you.”

  “I think you have,” she contradicts. “And I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

  Another deep sigh, Drum looks at me. I raise my eyebrow. Then he nods at Hyde and tells him to let her inside. Marcia steps through, wheeling her bike and putting down the kickstand just inside.

  “Follow me. We’ll talk in my office.”

  I tag along, not really needed, but I’m curious just the same. The clubhouse is at least empty of bodies now, and Road and Jekyll are carrying trash sacks and picking up the remains of last night’s party. Drum makes no excuses for the mess as he takes her on through and out back to his office, calling for Wraith to join us as he sees him at the bar. I hover at the door. I’m not an officer, but I’m hoping to be included.

  Drum notices and nods. “Yeah, come on in, Slick.” At least I’ll be another witness. None of us want to talk to even an off-duty cop on our own.

  The prez pulls up another chair to go with the two that normally are in front of his impressive desk and takes his seat under the large flag. Marcia studies it carefully for a moment and then looks at Drum, who’s tilting his head, waiting for her to speak.

  She’s a cop in an outlaw biker club, but she returns his stare steadily. “You’ve got problems,” she starts, then pauses waiting for a reaction. When she gets none she continues, “and so have I.” Again she breaks off, but this time she’s not looking for any comment. She frowns as though she’s gathering her thoughts. “I’m squeaky clean, I’m not on the take. And I’m going to stay that way.”

  “Never suspected different, sweetheart.” Drum sneers the endearment.

  She picks at her fingernails as if removing dirt and then looks back up. “Look, I wanted to do this the right way, go through the right channels. But the thing is, I’m new to Tucson and I don’t know who to trust. My captain might be clean, but how am I to know? I just can’t stand by and see things going on that I know are wrong.”

  Drum pulls himself up straight, leans forward with his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his clasped hands. “And these things that are wrong. They concern us?”

  “Yeah.” She sits back and folds her arms. “Look, I’ll be honest with you. I’m a damn good cop. I got my promotion after I sniffed out something others had missed. Now there’s something going on here and I don’t like the smell.” She unfolds her arms and leans forward. “But I don’t need a load of bikers taking the law into their own hands. If I tell you my suspicions, you’ve got to work with me and inside the law. I need your word on that.”

  “And if I don’t give you my word?”

  “Then I walk and tell you nothing.”

  Drum sneers. “And forget about the stink?”

  She gives a snort of derision. “No fucking way. I’ll just do it on my own.”

  The prez’s eyes flick to Wraith, and then to me. I reckon she’s caught all our interest.

  “Okay, darlin’. You tell us what’s up, and if we can, we’ll do it your way.”

  It’s not a total promise we’ll stay on the side that she wants, but it’s all that she’ll be getting from him. She stares at the prez for a few seconds, then glances at the VP and me. She takes a deep breath and starts, “I think my partner’s dirty.”

  Drum huffs a laugh. “Not much doubt about that. My nose is as good as yours, sweetheart.”

  Ignoring him, she continues, “He’s intent on Mrs Norman’s mother getting custody of her granddaughter. He’s helping her with the paperwork, and I can’t understand why.” She shakes her head. “You’ve seen the woman. I’ve never met anyone less fit to look after a small child.”

  “She brought Crystal up right.” Drum’s playing devil’s advocate.

  “Unfortunately, I never met Crystal, so I’ll have to take your word on that. But however well Mrs Norman turned out is beside the point. Clyde doesn’t want the child, that’s plain to see. So, why’s Archer helping her against you?” She shakes her head as though it’s something she can’t work out.

  “Bikers don’t have a good reputation. If Heart dies and it goes in front of a judge, we could lose a custody battle based on keeping her here.” I decide it’s time that I contribute to the conversation.

  She acknowledges my comment with a slow nod. “That’s my concern. And why I thought you needed to know.”

  “So now you’ve told
us,” Wraith puts in, as though me speaking has loosened the floodgates. “Is that all you’re here for? To warn us?”

  “If it is, thank you. But you can go now.” Drum takes charge again.

  “No, that’s not all. Look, I don’t know what picture this jigsaw is going to make up, but I need someone else to know all of the pieces.” She sighs. “Archer wanted in right from the beginning. A simple road traffic accident, and he particularly asked for us to be given Dale Norman’s case. Which has now stalled, by the way. The information I gave you, well, it’s gone no further than that.”

  We all keep quiet that we’d done some investigating on our own.

  “I suspect you’ve done more.”

  That’s when I realise she’s not stupid.

  “Or at least I hope that you have. I’ve done some digging too.” Another moment of silence as if to increase the anticipation and emphasise the importance of what she’s going to say. “Archer has connections to the Herrera family.”

  “He’s a second cousin.” Drum confirms we already know.

  As she smooths her palms down her face, she stares at him, her expression conveying Of course you do. I notice she looks tired. Exchanging looks with Drum, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s thinking the same thing as I am. That she must be at her wits’ end to come to the club.

  “Do you want a drink, sweetheart.”

  For the first time, a smile. It transforms her face and I notice she’s really quite attractive. Her blond hair, reaching to her shoulders, has kept its style despite having been flattened by a helmet, and frames quite striking features.

  “I could murder a coffee.”

  Drum sends a quick text.

  “Okay, I’ll put my cards on the table.” She seems to be fighting an internal battle, confirmed when she scoffs at herself. “I’ve never done anything like this before. What I’m going to tell you could threaten an active investigation.”

  A knock at the door, Road enters with a tray. She’s given her coffee, the three of us take a beer. Road leaves as quietly as he arrived and she starts speaking again.