by Lynn Burke
EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2018 Lynn Burke
ISBN: 978-1-77339-782-5
Cover Artist: Jay Aheer
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
For my lovies
DIGGER
Fallen Gliders MC, 3
Lynn Burke
Copyright © 2018
Digger
I leaned down, eyeing the ball and lining up my cue. “Fourteen into the six, into the corner.” Shutting out the eighties music overhead that Jonny insisted on playing in the club, I focused on my finger bridge and the balanced grip of my right hand. A gentle slide forward sent the cue ball right where I’d said, sinking the six into the corner pocket.
“Bastard,” Hawk grumbled around his toothpick, and Janie laughed. She was on one of her manic highs where she infused everything and everybody with life. I’d seen her lows—Mother Mary bless the girl and Hawk for his dedication to her.
She’d started their relationship on lies, but turned her back on her own father to prove her loyalty to Hawk—and our club. Draped against Hawk’s side, she snuggled against his much taller frame, her eyes sparkling and full of love as she gazed up at him. What a pair they made, always touching in some way, both looking at each other as though the whole world existed in the other’s eyes.
Got my poetic side going every damn time I hung out with them. Also brought on the beginnings of depression.
To find a love like that…
I turned back toward the table and lined up my next shot, breathing easy, focused like a laser even though my stomach twisted with longing for what they shared. I wasn’t about to find it with any of the club whores. I’d had them all, dozens of times and ways, but never felt anything more than the satisfaction of blowing my load and releasing tension for a while. Besides, I was a hideous motherfucker and found everyone and everything new suspicious.
Ball sunk, I meandered around the table, eying the few remaining. Only one clear shot, a combination that a novice would scratch on. Once more, I leaned down.
A shiver slid down my spine, standing the hairs of my neck on end. Brow furrowed, I called my shot and slid the stick forward.
I fucking scratched.
“Capone!” Hawk called, and I glanced over my shoulder with a scowl.
Capone, another of our Fallen Glider brothers, sauntered into the club, a woman tucked under his shoulder.
Long, pale hair like moonlight hung to her waist. Curves to kill for with just enough extra a huge man like myself wouldn’t have to worry about splitting her in half while fucking his way to Elysium. My cock swelled in my jeans as I stared at her.
Pretty boy Capone led her to the bar and pulled her down sideways onto his lap as he sat. He whispered in her ear, bringing a blush to her cheeks and a smile to her generous lips.
Lucky fucking bastard.
“Digger.”
I jerked my head around toward Hawk.
He smirked, and Janie laughed again. “Your shot,” he said, glancing past me toward where I’d been staring.
Jaw clenched, I focused on the game—or tried to. Lining up my next shot put Capone and his woman directly in my line of sight. I glanced up from the cue ball. She turned, and our gazes collided. Hazel eyes, bright like the stars…
I missed the ball completely.
Hawk chuckled. “The fuck, Digger?”
Face heating, I shrugged and moved back, cue wrapped in both of my hands, the butt resting on the floor. Unable to help myself, I turned my attention back on the woman, fighting to not run my hand over my disfigurement. She continued to watch me as Capone talked to Jonny, our president, on the stool beside him.
I wished I remembered how to smile, but the scar down the side of my face to the left corner of my mouth made me look like the Joker. An ugly brute, built like a fucking bull was how my brothers described me.
Wasn’t far from the truth. At six-foot-six and over two-hundred and seventy pounds of solid muscle, tatts covering my entire upper body, and that fucking scar my blond beard couldn’t hide… I only got laid because women wanted my cock. Just shy of a foot long and girth enough to fill any woman’s eyes with fear. No matter how wet or willing, most women couldn’t handle it all, and I longed to find someone who could take me balls deep—and enjoy it.
My dick ached, and I shifted my stance as Hawk pocketed a couple.
One side of the woman’s lips quirked, and she slid her gaze down over me. Took her damn time, too. My pecs jumped as though on their own. Quads flexed. At least I kept my hips still as the bulge in my jeans snagged her attention. She fucking licked her lips.
I groaned although my mind said she must need glasses.
“You playing?” Janie asked while hip-bumping me. She bounced back a ways, and I didn’t budge. The little butterfly of Hawk’s couldn’t weigh more than one-twenty soaking wet, and like the moon-haired woman, hadn’t given my scar a second glance when I’d first met her in Sturgis the summer before.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and struggled to find my groove. I’d run the first table, but fuck if I could concentrate for shit.
“Capone!” Hawk hollered across the club. “That kid you got in the kitchen covering your ass can’t caramelize onions worth a shit!”
A few of our other brothers laughed and yelled out their agreement.
“Can’t be in that damn kitchen every night,” Capone shot back with a grin, tightening his arms around the beauty on his lap.
Thursday night, and although the club wasn’t packed, enough brothers and whores had come in for the burgers Capone had made famous. A few more busted his balls before dropping the ribbing and going back to whatever the fuck they’d been doing before he’d come in.
Hawk finished the game for me, and rather than play a third, he and Janie headed out, hands groping each other. Going home to fuck, most likely.
I grabbed a beer and sat in a corner where I could keep an eye on things. On Capone’s woman of the night, really. For a half hour, I watched her, sipping my beer while imagining all the things I’d do to her if given the chance.
Capone and I had shared women before, but only on invite—never because of self-inclusion. Fuck, did I wish he’d give me the look, the tip of his head indicating he was in the mood for a threesome.
She glanced my way enough to make me think she’d be game, but when Capone whispered in her ear again, stood, and led her upstairs to the third-floor rooms, I got left behind.
I took off a few minutes later, driving through the freezing rain to the house I’d bought a couple months earlier where no one waited for me. Nothing but a cold shower and wide palm to ease the ache in my balls Capone’s woman had caused.
For the first time, I wished I had a woman to bring home with me—one to stay rather than leave after being tied to my bed. My fucking defenses towered over my brain like an unscalable wall, though, so even if a woman truly gave me the time of day beyond wanting my cock, trust issues that festered inside of me would keep them locked out.
Fucking sucked ass, my shit for luck.
****
Couldn’t catch a fucking break. Saturday night, the moon-haired girl hung on Capone’s arm. Although she was hot as fuck with an ass made for pounding, I studied her actions. Where her gaze lin
gered when not on Capone or me.
When I’d shown up at the club earlier, a dark sedan sat two blocks down. Darkness had fallen so I couldn’t make out more than two people sitting in the car, but that fact kept me alert, walking the edge of violence my mind often fell into. Hawk had taken over as Sergeant at Arms earlier that year, but my personality fit the mold better than his. I let him deal with the talking since I sucked with communication, but if an altercation came to blows or knives, I took over.
Capone’s girl seemed innocent enough, and for Jonny to give him the go-ahead to bring her to the club, she must have checked out all right. Coincidence, I told myself that the sedan with the tinted windows and the moon-haired girl showed up at the same time.
As with Thursday night, I sat nursing a beer in the dark corner furthest from the door, keeping an eye on things, all too aware of the near stranger in the club. My attention lingered on Capone’s woman more often than not, her smile and lone dimple. The soft curve of her cheek. The deep cleavage between breasts hugged by a tight t-shirt.
Capone wrapped his hand in her hair, and I stared as he kissed her, my cock swelling. A whisper against her lips, a nod of her head, and they disappeared upstairs.
Fuck.
I glanced around the club, noting a woman fawning over an uninterested Jonny, and the other whores already spoken for. The stairwell drew my attention again. Head home or head upstairs?
Fuck it.
Setting my empty bottle on the table, I stood, mind made up on relieving my brewing balls to the sound of her cries. If I couldn’t have a wet pussy or ass, my hand would have to do. Again. I hurried up the stairs after Capone, and caught sight of him disappearing into one of the hotel-like rooms on the third floor. A fucking perv, I let myself into the one beside them, knowing the thin-ass walls would let me hear every noise they made.
I unzipped my jeans, palmed my cock, and lay down on the bed. Lazily stroking myself while waiting, eyes closed and imagining myself in Capone’s shoes as she went down on him. Lying back on the bed, legs spread, pussy dripping and needing to be stuffed.
A bead of pre-cum slickened my hand, and I clenched my jaw against the need to jerk faster.
Eventually, a moan sounded—female and breathy—drawing up my balls.
Goddamn…
Minutes later, the cheap bed in the room next door squeaked. Thumped with a set rhythm. Gasps, groans, and cries from her lips spurred me on, until I pumped down my length with a brutal grip, imagining her tight pussy squeezing me, milking me as Capone fucked her mouth.
“Oh, God!” she shrieked through the wall. “Yes! Fuck, yes!”
My body convulsed, and I cupped my free hand over the head of my dick and shot into my fist, groaning as I emptied myself. Hardly satisfactory, but better than fucking blue balls or a cold shower. Capone’s deep groan came on the final thump.
Lucky fucking bastard.
I should have joined them at the bar. Dropped a few hints. Maybe he’d keep her around for a while or even offer to share next time.
Fucking hope stiffened my dick again.
Maci
Capone got the job done again, I’ll give him that much at least. Not a mind-blowing orgasm, but good enough he scratched the itch I’d been dealing with since first seeing him a few weeks ago at the grocery store.
Thick black hair, vibrant blue eyes, and a sexy beard … a solid six feet of pretty boy hotness any woman would love to fuck—even if he did sport a ring in both his eyebrow and lip. We’d struck up a conversation the third time running into each other at the store, and when he asked to take me out for a beer, I’d jumped on the chance to do something for myself for a change—even though I knew guilt would eat me alive later. I also agreed since he seemed the type who’d want to be balls deep inside of me before night’s end, and it’d been one hell of a long time since I’d gotten laid.
He wasn’t really my type personality-wise. Happy-go-lucky and vanilla is all good and well, but I preferred the broody, sullen man who needed a reason to smile, whose stare brought all sorts of fantasies to mind. Like the blond giant downstairs with the scar and scowl, both of which shone clearly through his light beard. The thought he might enjoy some rope play. Offer a little pain with the pleasure the huge bulge in his jeans promised. Hands wrapped around my neck, releasing endorphins to create an unforgettable climax I’d yet to experience. Make me forget the reality of my life for a while.
Damn. My pussy contracted at the thought of him. I’d yet to meet someone who could satisfy my cravings for … a bit more in the sack. Not that I had much time to check out the fish in the sea with Mom being sick.
“Here ya go, darlin’.” Capone handed me some tissues and collapsed onto the bed beside me.
“Pretty convenient,” I said after cleaning up.
He turned his head toward me, his blue eyes rimmed by dark, thick lashes a woman would kill for. “The rooms?”
“Yeah.”
“Lots of whores. Lots of brothers.” He shrugged. “Need some place to go.”
“You have a cleaning lady or something?”
“Jonny’s cousin. She’s in and out most of the day picking up after us.”
I grimaced. Cleaning up after a bunch of bikers fucking their way through every club whore and date they could get up the stairs… “Can’t say I envy her.”
Capone laughed. “She’s a sweetheart. A bit older, single, and motherly-type.”
“Still.” I huffed, taking in the simplistic room. Definitely made for fucking and little more. No pictures on the gray walls. No decoration or flair. A simple bathroom with hotel-style necessities and white, fluffy towels.
I turned my attention back on the muscled man-beef stretched out beside me. A right-nice slab, but… “You boys ever share?” I asked, wondering at maybe fulfilling one of my fantasies.
“Sometimes, yeah.”
Damn. I bit on my lower lip, contemplating the conversation I’d had with a few other guys who got me into bed but weren’t interested beyond a vanilla wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. “Spanking? Bondage?”
One of his brows rose. “You into that?”
My turn to shrug. “Thought about it. Haven’t done it, no.”
“Shit.” He chuckled and rubbed a hand over one of his thick, tattoo-less pecs. “I should have invited Digger up here with us. Sounds like you two would get along.”
“Digger?”
“One of my brothers. He’s into that sort of shit. We’ve shared women a few times.”
“You’ll have to introduce us.” I let the thought fly since Capone himself had told me he wasn’t looking to get tied down. A player if ever I’d met one.
He laughed again, his gaze sliding down over my nakedness. Rolling to his side, he reached out and pulled me close. “Next time.” A few brushes of lips, and he deepened the kiss. The man knew how to use his lips and tongue—no fucking doubt. My engine considered turning over again, but I couldn’t get my damn mind off the blond I stared at both times Capone had brought me to the club.
I pulled back, licking my lips. “I could go for a beer.”
His smile and twinkling eyes should have melted my heart. “Sure.”
“Up for a game of pool?” I asked while grabbing my jeans off the floor.
“I’ll kick your ass.”
I snorted a laugh while checking my cell phone for calls, relieved to not find any. “You can try.”
Two minutes later, I followed Capone back down to the club. I swung my gaze toward the pool tables, but same as Thursday night, no Blondy. A quick glance around the club revealed he must have left when we’d gone upstairs. Or, else he went upstairs with one of the club whores.
A slither of jealousy twisted my stomach, but I pursed my lips. I had no right or reason to be jealous seeing as how I’d never said two words to the hot man-beef and had just fucked one of his brothers again. Beers in hand, we made for the only available pool table.
Capone grabbed a handful of my ass as he passed me.
“Gotta get me more of this,” he whispered in my ear.
I smiled, wishing his words turned on my pussy juice faucet rather than just made me tingle. Not cutting it…
Heaving a sigh, I swigged from my beer and sat it on one of the bistro tables beside the cue rack. While I was no pool shark, I could sink a ball or two—as long as they weren’t combo or bank shots. Who was I kidding? I sucked at pool and only suggested playing because of Blondy—and the fact the thought of another round with Capone didn’t tickle my clit.
Blowing a breath between my lips, I grabbed a stick. That tingle of awareness I’d felt when we first walked into the club Thursday night licked at my skin. I turned around.
Blondy stood in the stairwell. Alone. Staring at me as though he wanted to devour every inch of me and then some.
Hot damn and hallelujah, my faucet squeaked open, and I squeezed my thighs together. Yes, please, and then a little more. I smiled and shifted my weight onto one leg to pop my hip out. Might as well work my curves, right?
I cast a glance at Capone, who racked the balls, and Blondy started toward us. My heartbeat kicked up a few paces, sending jitters clear through to my toes.
“Capone,” the non-jolly blond giant said, his deep voice sending a spasm through my pussy.
My date for the night lifted his head and grinned. “Wondered where you got to. Someone you need to meet.” Capone nodded toward me. “Maci, this is Digger. Digger, Maci.”
Well tie me up and fuck me upside down. I tried not to grin like an idiot and probably failed.
Digger moved close and stuck his hand out.
The fresh scent of laundry detergent wafted off him with enough maleness to make my mouth water. “Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice breathless and hand shaking as I peered way up into his face.
He didn’t smile, but the lust in those dark eyes weakened my knees. His warm palm swallowed my hand, sending an unfamiliar flicker of flames up over my arm and down to my nipples. “You, too.”
