by Madison Faye
That was, until about seven months ago.
See, Becca and her dipshit boyfriend were deep in the meth scene. Fuck, I knew they were drunks, but if I’d known it was that bad, I’d have kicked in the door and stolen Kyrie away long before, the fuck with the judge’s orders. A teacher of Kyrie’s finally put two and two together though, and when CPS came by, Kyrie was out that shit-hole. Becca had no other family, and so then, just like that, my star-shine came back into my life.
I’ve done a lot of bad shit in my day. I’ve killed, in hot blood and in cold. I’ve put people in shallow fucking graves. I’ve done what I had to do, for my club, for my brothers. But the one thing I did right, the one thing that shines out as the light of this life of mine, is that precocious little girl.
And now here I was, playing house and single dad there in Blackthorn. The road to where I was had been a long and broken one too. Four years before, my club, The Lost Riders, had been ambushed by a rival gang and a hitman they’d hired who’d infiltrated our ranks. The night of the attack, I thought I’d lost everything, and I’d hated myself for years after I went into hiding down in Mexico for not being there the night they slaughtered my brothers.
It was years down there, wallowing in my hatred and loss, and then slowly making my way up to Vegas for a while. It was there that I’d opened a bike shop with my buddy Roman. I’d even given him a hand handling some deep shit he was in with the mob family he worked for. But revenge was always on the horizon, and it was chasing Miles Harding, the man responsible for the deaths of my brothers, that’d brought me here to Blackthorn. And in doing that, I discovered that Axe, my best friend and VP of the club had also somehow survived that night, and had also been off the grid, chasing the same man.
That man was dead now. My purpose for being at Blackthorn was in a shallow grave with a bullet in his skull. And yet, there I was.
Still at Blackthorn.
Maybe it was the air up here in the woods, and the solitude of the mountain. It let me think, and let me fuckin’ breathe for the first time in years. Or maybe it was the way being there just fuckin’ lit up my little angel’s eyes like nothing I’d ever seen. It’d been six months since I’d found Axe and killed the man who’d murdered our brothers. At first, I’d been all set to head back to Vegas and to the bike shop and the slim semblance of a life I had down there. But, that was before CPS called, and before I got Kyrie back.
So, that’s why we stayed here, I guess. Vegas was no place for Kyrie, and besides that, Roman had full control of the shop. Plus, I had Axe, my old VP up here. Him and the strange sort of family he’d found up here. For one, there was his girl, Larkin. Way too hot for that asshole, for sure. Too smart, and too good too. Or at least that's what I liked to bullshit around with him. Then there were the other men of Blackthorn, and the women they’d found. The quiet Russian, Vlad, with his Chloe. Braun, the loudmouth with that firecracker bride of his, Katrina. Then there was Austin and Dallas, the twins, with the girl — not girls, girl — they’d found.
Yeah, it was a weird cast of characters, but shit, I’d lived my whole life around weirdos. Bikers, outlaws, vagabonds, freedom seekers. You name it. Fuck it, give me the weirdos any day of the week.
Axe and I set up a shop of our own not long after I got Kyrie back. Mountain Steel Motors got its fair share of jeeps and pickups from the local folks, but word was getting out that we were the spot for motorcycles in the Blackthorn Mountain region. Especially vintage shit.
When I’d first shown up, I was hell bent on getting our old club back together. But when Kyrie came back, I knew what my path was. Dad. Provider. Protector of my family. And just like that, I didn’t need that outlaw shit anymore to feel alive. I had Kyrie. I’d bought a little house and a few acres that were just up the street from the shop, and I’d been fixing it up whenever I wasn’t tooling around with bikes.
Life had been blissfully fucking boring the last few months. Wonderfully so. Right up until the damn second she walked into my shop. Right up until the moment I turned to meet Braun’s wife’s cousin who was going to be our new bookkeeper and my new tenant in the little apartment I’d fixed up above the barn.
And just like that, life had gone from calm to fucking chaos inside. And all it took was one. Damn. Look.
My muscles had tightened. My jaw clenched. My fucking cock throbbed hard as fucking steel in my dirty jeans. And the fire inside of me had burned hotter than it ever had before.
“Uh, Mr. James?”
Fuck, that voice. Soft, sweet — so innocent and so fucking sexy at the same time.
“Just Ryker,” I growled.
“Oh.” Her cheeks flushed this adorable shade of pink, and when her lip caught between her teeth like that, twisting as she chewed it, I almost fucking groaned out loud. Shit, if that sweet little slice of temptation knew what she was doing to this hungry man’s cock with that lip bite, she’d have run the fuck out of there. If she was smart.
My eyes slid over her, my blood pumping like diesel through my veins as I took in every single curve, every single smooth inch of bare leg under that skirt. The way her tits filled out that preppy sweater. The way that skirt fell over her tight little ass and sweet hips. The growl lodged in my throat as I imagined tearing those clothes away from her and running my dirty hands all over her.
“Come,” I finally muttered, trying to get ahold of myself. “The office is back here. We’ll talk there.”
I could sense her hesitation, but then I could hear her steps following me back to the cluttered office. Larkin, Axe’s wife, was a miracle worker with this end of the business. I mean Axe and I knew bikes like the backs of our hands, but without her book smarts and business savvy, we’d have gone under five times already. I only hoped Addison was more than just a gorgeous face and could pull the weight that needed pulling.
I had bunch of questions I’d thought up ahead time. I had bookkeeping problems Larkin had written up as part of the interview. I’d even practiced the “stern but fair boss face.”
And yet, all of that shit went out the window the second she stepped into that small office after me. Maybe it was being in such close quarters with her — maybe it was whatever perfume or shampoo or if it was just her candy-sweet little college girl pussy I could smell.
Fuck if I’ll ever know what it was. But in any case, everything else just disappeared when she walked in, and I was saying the words before I could fucking stop myself.
“You’re hired.”
She blinked, her face growing pink and her jaw dropping a little, like she was shocked.
“I— wait, really?”
“Yeah, really.”
Fuck, no. No, the move there was to say thanks and please get away from me. Please step back, please leave before I fuckin’ tear your panties off and drive every inch of my cock inside of you.
Somehow, I got ahold of myself. But then, there I was opening my damn’ mouth again.
“You’re hired,” I said it again, and her face bloomed a little redder.
“I— thank you! Look, I’ve got references if you need. And if you want to do a trial run, that’s totally cool. You really won’t regret this!”
Wanna bet?
This was a mistake. I was going to regret this. When I had her raking her nails down my back and dripping her sweet cum all over my balls and screaming her pleasure into my mouth, I’d regret this.
But until then, I was going to enjoy every second of it. Because I knew right there, in the span of three fucking minutes, that little Addison Hale would be mine.
She’d be all mine.
3
Ryker
I slept like shit that night. I woke up easily a dozen times, my fucking brain never just shutting up and my thoughts streaming like water from a tap.
…Take a wild fucking guess what every single one of them was about. Or rather, who.
Blonde haired, blue eyes, pink-lipped temptation kept my cock throbbing rock hard and my blood pumping hot.
I tried wrapping my hand around it, groaning as I closed my eyes and imagined her in all sorts of filthy ways.
I pictured her pulling that top off, letting me feast my eyes on that soft, supple body — those firm young tits and what I imagined to be sweet little pink nipples. I imagined her lifting her skirt and showing me her little panty-covered pussy.
Don't you want to bend me over and fuck me like a bad girl?
I stopped, growling as my fantasy jumped the fucking rails. What the fuck was I even doing? What the fuck had I done fucking hiring this chick at all? The only reason I was even alive was that I’d used my damn head through all the shit that’d landed on me. The head on top of my shoulders that is. I always had, even in my younger even wilder days. Hell, it was the reason I’d been president of the club.
I’d used my head. I’d thought things through, and seen the logical ending to scenarios. I hadn’t let my emotions take over, even when all I wanted to do after the slaughter of my club was hunt down every single one of fuckers responsible and execute them with a dull, rusty blade. I knew laying low and surviving was the move, and so that’s what I’d done. Hell, even before then, when things were good with the club, I’d resisted women when I knew no good could come of it.
I’d lived my entire life on the edge, knowing exactly where to step to not go over it. My whole life until that fucking afternoon, when I’d hired Addison in about thirty seconds. Yeah, she came recommended by Katrina. Yeah, we needed a bookkeeper before we drowned in unpaid invoices and bills. Yeah, she probably was going to be good at it.
…But that ain’t why I’d hired her, and I knew it.
I’d hired her because she made my dick pulse. I’d hired her because she made my balls ache and fill with cum. I’d hired her because all I wanted to do was claim her sweet young body and spray that cum deep inside of her.
I groaned, my hand tightening on my cock, stroking my length once before I growled and pulled my hand away. Shit, this was bad. Having her near me would be a mistake. Hell, her being in Blackthorn at all was a damn mistake. I mean, a girl like that did not belong in a place like this. Those dainty, unblemished white freaking boat shoes? I mean, really? She was about to work at a damn motorcycle garage on a damn mountain, and that’s the shit she’d rolled up in? Those and the flirty skirt, that blue and white striped sweater. She’d looked like she was ready for a regatta boat race, or fucking sorority tea luncheon.
No, fuck this. Her being in the shop was going to throw me off. Fuck, I was already off my usual game, having hired her at all for the reason I knew deep down I had. That next day she’d show up to work, and to get the keys to the apartment above my barn. I groaned. Fucking hell, I’d forgotten about that part. Working in my shop and living forty feet across my backyard from me?
No fucking way.
I’d already agreed to give her a place to stay while she visited. I wasn’t about to go back on my word on that, especially since I knew Braun and Katrina could use the space without a houseguest to prepare for their kid. But the job? No way. Bikes and that shop were my Zen, and having that hot little piece of temptation prancing around in that little skirt with those big blue eyes making my cock hard and those lips begging to be wrapped around it is something I couldn’t have. Let her go wait tables for the summer or some shit.
I sank into the sheets, scowling up at my bedroom ceiling. No, the next day, I’d make sure she made the decision herself that the shop wasn’t the right place for her. Outright firing her would bring a shit-storm down on me from Axe, and probably Braun too. Definitely from his wife. But then, I could be a not nice motherfucker when I wanted to be. I knew from the way she’d looked at me earlier that she was a little scared of me.
Good.
Tomorrow, I’d show her just how scary the big bad biker could be, and by lunch, I’d be watching that sweet little ass run it’s way far away from my bike shop.
…But you know what they say about the best laid plans.
“Morning!”
The sound of her voice lilting through the quiet morning stillness of the shop teased through my ears. I glanced up from the brake-lines I’d been checking under the hood of the pickup I was working on, and instantly, I growled lowly.
Fuck.
She’d looked like temptation the day before. Now, she looked like pure original sin. Sin in a new flirty little skirt, a pure white tank top, and heels.
Are you shittin’ me?
I mean, I wanted to be angry. I wanted to be the dick and say something. Thing is, I couldn’t fucking look away. I couldn’t keep my damn eyes off of her, and couldn’t keep my cock from instantly throbbing to full thickness between my thighs. I groaned, watching the bubbly, blonde little tease skip her way around a stack of hubcaps. She smiled at me, her whole face beaming like she was at fuckin’ Disney World, not my damn bike shop.
She held up her hands, holding two to-go cups and a brown bag.
“I brought coffee and breakfast!”
My stomach grumbled. I’d had all of four sips of coffee and the crust from Kyrie’s toast from breakfast that she refused to eat for food so far, and I was starving.
…Looking at her, I knew I meant that in more ways than one.
“Braun dropped me in town, and I stopped by that cute little diner on the way here.”
She beamed at me, sauntering over and offering me a cup. I eyed her, trying to hold back the beast inside that wanted to show this little lost lamb how far she’d strayed into the wolf’s cave. I wiped my hands off, grunting as I took the cup.
Operation: be a dick was still in effect. Tempting or not, teasing as hell or not, I couldn’t let her get past my armor. Not like I had the day before.
“Cream and sugar okay I hope?”
“I drink it black,” I growled, frowning at the cup.
I watched her smile falter a little bit. “Oh, sorry. I can scoot back over to—”
“It’s fine,” I grumble. “Thanks.”
I turned away from her as I took a sip anyways, hating myself for it. Being an asshole to most people was easy. Being one to her fucking sucked.
I went back under the hood of the Chevy, purposefully not saying another word before she cleared her throat.
“Yes?” I muttered into the engine.
“Um, so where should I start?”
“The office would be a good bet.”
I was being a dick, but it was for her own good. Being near me was bad news, for the both of us, but certainly for her. Because with her being near me, I knew it was just a matter of time before I broke the last of my resolve and just fucking claimed her. It would just be a matter of time before I put my hands on her and fucking ruined her for any other man.
I shook my head, realizing she’d said something and that I’d just been standing there with a coffee in one hand and my cock rock hard in my jeans.
“What?”
She blushed. “I was just wondering where you wanted me to start in the office. Like, bills? Invoicing? I could reconcile up your accounts and figure out where you guys—”
“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out,” I grumbled as I tightened my jaw and brushed past her. Fuck, being near her made my head swim and my hands clench tight into fists. I could smell that scent of her shampoo again, and felt the brush of heat from her bare arm against mine. And it was like throwing gasoline on the fire roaring inside me as I fought to stay in control.
I heard her huff quietly behind me. Goddamnit, I knew I was being an asshole, but it had to be done. For her sake.
“Okay, well, I’ll just go…figure it out I guess.”
“Great.”
I turned just as she did, my eyes sweeping over her as I watched her walk towards the office. She stopped suddenly, turning quickly and glaring at me.
“Yes?”
She opened those soft pink lips, and I could see her about to say something, when she stopped and shook her head. Her mouth snapped shut.
“Nothing,” she muttere
d, her brow furrowed. “It’s noth—”
She turned to keep walking for the office. Problem is, her feet started walking before she’d pulled her eyes away from me. I watched it happen in slow motion, her turning, her heeled foot catching on the rim of a double stack of used tires, and her whole body suddenly going tumbling head over heels over the wall of rubber.
Shit. I lurched after her, hurdling over the tires and almost falling right down on top of her.
I groaned.
She was sprawled out on the dirty floor — her hair across her face, dirt and grease across her lily-white tank top and bare arms… and that sexy little skirt of hers right up over her ass. The beast inside of me roared, my eyes locking onto the sight of her little white cotton panties pulled up tight against that sweet little cunt.
It was like time froze for a second — me half straddling her, my cock about to tear a fucking hole through my jeans, with my gorgeous little temptation sprawled out under me flashing me every inch of her smooth legs and her teasing little panties.
Her groan — a real groan of real pain — wrenched me from my filthy thoughts. I snapped out of it as I reached down, grabbed her hand and hoisted her upright.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, shaking my hands off and backing away. She winced again, her brow furrowing as she hissed and glanced down. I followed the look to see one of her strappy heels half ripped off and a little scrape across a few of her toes.
“Shit,” she muttered, making a face as she glanced down.
“I’ve got a first aid kit back in the—”
“I said I’m fine, okay?”
My blood boiled at that sass and that attitude in her voice, and my jaw hardened.
