Sweet Sin: A Wild Hawks MC Romance

by K. S. Ellis

  I will give her one bit of free advice before she leaves though, and that will be to stay the fuck away from Cory Channing in the future. I don't care if he is her fucking brother. Shit's fucked up between those two.

  I grab a bourbon when my Mom finally comes back down our end of the bar. Shit's busy tonight. Strafe, some young kid from San Remo, has just prospected to the club, and Conrad, Killer's younger brother, has just patched in, so this is sort of a celebration. Hence Killer organizing the strippers, who have just arrived. Someone has cranked up the tunes, and the girls are lapping up the crowd's attention. Killer leaves my Dad's side and beckons one of the girls over to his brother, who is so drunk he's practically fucking cross eyed, and definitely won't be walking straight when he manages to stand up. The boys appreciate the lap dance she gives our youngest member, though he probably won't fucking remember it. Hell, I'd be shocked if he even managed to get it up during that dance, he's that fucked up. Once the round of cheers for Conrad's lap dace die away, the strippers disperse into the party. They'll make a fucking killing tonight. They're always happy to come and dance at the clubhouse, probably for that very fucking reason.

  'How'd you go settling your little toy in,' my Dad grins at me, cocking an eyebrow, speaking low enough so that my Mom can't hear. She definitely wouldn't approve, especially if she finds out that Lena was offered to my Dad first. It wouldn't be the first time the Prez's old lady started throwing full bottles of liquor at people while screaming fucking murder, but it's something that I know Dad would definitely rather avoid, especially tonight. I shrug, downing my drink and reaching over the bar to grab the bottle and refill both our glasses.

  'She seems fine. I told her she doesn't need to come down here tonight.' He just nods and sips his drink as he looks around. Then he grins, a slow, evil fucking look crossing his face. I'm just about to turn to see what he's looking at when one of the strippers, maybe her name is Sarah? Katie? Hayley? I don't fucking know, a brunette one, runs her hand along my arm and starts dancing in my lap. Unfortunately for her, my cock got enough action upstairs, and is not fucking on board for this, no matter how hard she's working for it.

  'Not going to happen,' I tell her with a smirk, spinning on my barstool as she stumbles away from me. Then I see what my fucking father was grinning at. Lena is standing at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a very short dark green dress covered in white polka dots with long sleeves. The dress wraps around her middle with a little bow, and her white heels have been replaced with black stilettos. Her hair isn't up anymore, and the pearls are gone, but she still looks like she should be at a party at someone's country club. She's holding the post at the bottom of the stairs with both hands, her eyes wide as she takes in the crowd around her. They narrow slightly as they take in the stripper now stalking away from me, pissed that she got rejected, and didn't get paid, and Lena's cute little nose wrinkles a bit. Not sure what that's about, but suddenly I'm curious to find out.

  Dad and I aren't the only ones who've noticed her though, and Curly, an old timer around my Dad's age closes in on her, grabbing her wrist as he leans in to talk to her. Whatever he's saying, she doesn't fucking like it. In fact, she looks a bit like she's about to fucking hurl. Her eyes flicker over towards me, and she says something to Curly, who laughs and looks in my direction as well. He better fucking remove his hand from her wrist soon. I frown and stand up, pounding back my drink before stalking over to them.

  'Hey now,' I hear my Dad calling after me as I leave, but I ignore him. When I'm standing right in front of them, I tower over Lena's small five foot five frame, and Curly only stands at five foot nine. Fat little fuck. My eyes narrow as they zero in on Curly's fingers, still clamped around her wrist. She's trying to tug it away, I can see, but she's not having much luck.

  'As I was saying,' she speaks louder, still looking at Curly, but apparently this is for me to hear. 'I have an agreement with Aric, and I'm not sure what the rules are, so you'll have to take your request to him.' She sounds like a fucking receptionist at the dentist. What fucking request? And what fucking agreement? Curly throws a somewhat dismissive glance over at me, which has me gritting my teeth. Some of the old timers, like fucking Curly here, think I'm too young to be VP, and they are borderline disrespectful, and think they can get away with it because they've run with the Prez for so long. But they'd never try that shit in front of him, so I have no idea why they think they can fucking get away with it just because he's not around. I'm fucking sick of their shit.

  'I don't need to ask permission from Aric when I want to fuck a groupie,' Curly sneers, and then he crashes into the stairs when my fist smashes against his jaw. Fuck. That felt fucking good. And a long fucking time coming.

  Chapter 5

  LENA

  The bearded guy, old enough to be my father, releases my wrist from his death grip as he hits the floor with a crash. Aric's fist is still clenched, the knuckles red from where they just hit the other guy's jaw. I see the letters tattooed on his fingers on that hand spell out the word PAIN and, glancing down, I notice that his other fist spells HURT. I suppose it's so you know just what you're about to experience as you watch them fly towards your face. The guy with the beer gut who’s rubbing his jaw and glaring up at Aric like he wants to kill him didn't see it coming though.

  I rub my wrist a little, with a small frown. I can still feel this guy's fingers there, tightly holding me, forcing me to stay close to him when all I wanted to do was run far, far away. I know Aric told me that this party would be a little rough for me, but I'm no shrinking violet. I went to frat parties at college. I can take care of myself, or so I thought. Of course, I hadn't really thought what I would do if I was cornered by someone like this guy, and propositioned. Aric hasn't really laid out the rules. Like, am I here to be passed around? A small shudder courses through me at that thought, and I force myself to think about something else to chase away the nausea, wiling myself not to gag in front of them.

  'What the fuck was that?' the old guy growls, heaving his heavy frame back to his feet, taking a step towards Aric, his hands clenched into fists, like he's supposed to be intimidating or something. Aric just looks somewhat amused, but then a dark look crosses his face that reminds me that he's a really dangerous man, and I sure as shit wouldn't want to cross him.

  'Not a groupie,' he spits out, his hand grabbing my upper arm, tugging me away from the stairs and this guy. 'So keep your fucking hands off her.' Because he clearly has some sort of death wish, the guy takes a step after us, but Aric ignores him and I see an older guy over Aric's shoulder, who is looking in this direction and shaking his head. At first, I think he's shaking it at me, but then I realize that the hard look in his eyes and the tension in his jaw is focused on smelly Santa behind me.

  We head over to this other older guy and Aric's hands grip me on either side of my waist, and he lifts me up, like I'm a little kid or something, and deposits me on the bar stool there.

  'Lena,' the new old guy just nods at me, his eyes sweeping over me briefly before he turns his attention to Aric. Seems that he knows who I am, but I don't have the same advantage. 'Was it really necessary to punch Curly?' he asks, with a sigh. Curly must be smelly Santa.

  'I don't share,' Aric growls, and I slump a little in my seat with relief. Well, thank all that is goodness in the world for that. At least now I know I can tell the next guy grabbing me hard enough to hurt me and telling me to get down on my knees and suck his dick where he can shove it.

  There's a chuckle beside me and I run my eyes over our new companion with interest. He looks a bit like an older version of Aric, and when my eyes fall on his cut, I see the patch on his left breast that reads President above one that says H. Shaw. Aric's cut has a patch on his left breast that reads Vice President above A. Shaw, so I can pretty much guess that this is his father. It does strike me as kind of amusing that biker gangs have a similar structure to a corporate enterprise. They may all like to think that they're worlds apart, or rather, t
rain tracks apart, but they're all the same. Stupid men. The only thing at this point stopping me from snorting with mirth and rolling my eyes is self preservation, to be honest.

  The bartender comes over, her eyes narrowing on me, but then the President turns to her, a massive grin over his face, and I feel Aric's hands slide up on either side of the bar stool and the bartender's attention leaves me. Aric spins the barstool around so I'm staring at his black tee shirt, stretched across his broad chest. Then he places his hands on the bar, on either side of me, leaning down so that his face is all up in mine, and I can feel his breath blowing lightly on my face, a slight whiff of bourbon hitting my nostrils, not unpleasantly.

  'I thought that I said to stay upstairs,' he breathes, talking to me as though we are the only two people in the room.

  'Actually,' I clarify, and his eyebrow quirks, as though he can't believe that I have the audacity to do anything other than quiver in my stilettos, 'you said that it would probably be best for me to stay upstairs, because it might be too rough for me down here.'

  Chapter 6

  ARIC

  Really? She wants to fucking argue this point right after she watched me make Curly eat my fist? Fuck, the woman's got balls of fucking steel.

  'I made a calculated decision that it wouldn't be too rough for me,' she continues, her green eyes making me think of emerald green fucking country fields or some shit as they bore into mine, no hint of fear now. 'I've been to rowdier frat parties than this.' I can feel the smirk crossing my face. I can't believe I thought at one point that this would be a fucking drag. I'm having more fun than I've had in a long time. Too fucking long. The women around here are too fucking eager to do my bidding, so it's irritating as hell that she's not falling in line. Irritating as hell, and sexy as fuck. I lean in, watching her pupils dilate as I get closer, and I hear her breathing hitch, but I don't kiss her. Instead I veer away at the last minute, and press my lips against the sensitive skin behind her ear. Her breathing is definitely heavier now, and her honey blonde hair is tickling my nose as it falls in waves around her shoulders and down her chest. She smells florally, and her hair smells like fucking berries. Fuck me, but I want to taste her right now. My tongue darts out and teases her flesh and she gasps, her hands gripping the sides of her bar stool to keep her balance.

  'And at these frat parties,' I breathe into her ear, causing her to shiver, and my cock to harden in response. 'How many preppy little boys got knocked the fuck out because they touched what they fucking shouldn't have?' Her throat moves under my chin as she swallows.

  'There were fights,' she whispers, hedging. I smile against her skin, one of my hands dropping to her bare thigh, sliding slowly upwards. I feel her pulse jump under my lips and she's definitely panting now. Fuck, this is a dangerous game I'm playing, because while I'm getting her nice and worked up, it's also fucking torture for me. My cock is straining so hard against my zipper that I'm almost in pain.

  'And were any of those fights over you?' I tease, my hand disappearing up her skirt, and she tenses.

  'No,' she breathes, her head tilting back slightly as my fingers hit a lacy barrier. A very wet, lacy barrier. A groan tears through my throat and I quickly tug my hand back, as though my fingers have been burned, and her breath hisses out. I lean back quickly, and notice the desire pooling in her eyes, which have darkened to a deep green. Neither of us speak as I tug her off the stool and walk her over to the stairs, her back pressed against me, as I keep a hold on her hips. The small crowd near the base of the stairs cat calls and wolf whistles as I flash them a grin and we make our way up to the rooms above. As soon as we are in my room, I spin her around and push her up against the wall next to the door, kicking it shut with my foot. I can feel a wicked grin playing over my lips as I see Lena in her sexy, short dress, propped up against the wall, illuminated by the moonlight, eyes full of desire. She runs her eyes over me and fucking licks her lips, and I stalk towards her. She wants me to kiss her, I can tell, the way she angles her head up when I come to a halt in front of her. Instead, I slowly run my hands down her body, as I drop to my knees in front of her.

  She looks down at me, her eyelids drooping over her eyes, and a slow smile crossing her face as I run my hands back up her thighs, taking her skirt with them. Holy fucking shit. Does every single fucking outfit in that suitcase of hers have matching fucking lingerie? I've fucking died and gone to heaven. The lacy panties she's wearing are forest green and completely sheer. I tug them down and lift her thigh until it's resting on my shoulder, leaning in and breathing in the scent of her arousal. She sucks in a breath as my mouth finds her clit, teasing it with my tongue as she tangles her fingers through my hair, her eyes fluttering closed and her head tilting back to lean against the wall.

  She tastes just as fucking sweet as I thought she would, and her breath comes out in little flutters as I graze her clit with my teeth. She's fucking close to coming, and I stand up, spinning her around and pressing her face and chest to the wall as I roll on a condom and thrust into her. A groan escapes her, and her hands come up to brace on the wall near her shoulders. As I find my rhythm, thrusting hard, she comes, my name falling off her tongue, sounding like both a praise and a curse, her fingernails scrabbling at the wall underneath her hands. Burying my face in her soft, delicious smelling hair, I grit my teeth as I thrust harder, chasing my own release. Finally, I come, thrusting into her with enough force to lift her onto her toes, and I feel her pussy contract around me as she comes again with a small, throaty scream.

  This time, when I leave her in my room, she doesn't come down again. The brunette stripper is back, Alice? No, Kate? Whoever the fuck she is, she has the worst possible timing tonight, because once again, my dick is just too sated from fucking Lena to get interested in her. She curses this time when I tip her off my lap and tell her to fuck off, which brings drunken laughter from those around us. Dad and Mom have disappeared, don't want to fucking think about that, and Conrad and Strafe are passed out. Definitely saw that one fucking coming. Bruiser comes back into the clubhouse from outside, a semi glazed look in his eyes that means he either got laid, or he fucked some cunt up. The flushed groupie slinking in behind him, zipping her skirt back up means that we probably won't have to wash any blood off the concrete tomorrow. Thank fuck for that. Killer, the other member of my crew, is over in the corner, getting his dick sucked by another of the groupies. Yeah, the party is winding down, there are more unconscious people in this room than there are partiers now, and those that are left have lost any inhibitions they might have had at the start of the night.

  A bottle of bourbon appears in front of my face, and I snatch it off Bruiser before he collapses on the sofa beside me. The brunette stripper is working her magic on Buster, the head of the road crew, across from us now and Bruiser frowns at her.

  'Ashley?' he asks me, taking a swig of his own bottle.

  'Fucked if I know,' I sigh, taking a pull and feeling the burn down my throat.

  'Christ, they all look the fucking same,' he groans, leaning his head against the back of the sofa, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. I know what he fucking means.

  Chapter 7

  LENA

  He needs a new sofa. My neck is killing me, and I sit up as the sunlight filters into the room and stretch it from side to side. Trying to work out some of the brand new knots that my neck muscles sure didn't have yesterday. Before heading down to the party, I had made up the sofa for when I came back upstairs, and unpacked my belongings. Hopefully he won't be too annoyed that I hung my dresses in his built-in robe, or that I used one of the drawers in his dresser. Just as a side note, how many dark tee shirts does one man need?

  A glance over at the bed tells me that he made it back again, sometime after I fell asleep, and that he was mercifully alone. I don't think it would have been particularly pleasant to be woken up in the middle of the night by him bringing one of those whore-y women back here. I blanch at the thought. I know he said he doesn't share, but I'm no
t super comfortable with the idea of sharing him either. Not that I'm a school girl with a crush or anything, it's just an unsettling idea. Not to mention an unsanitary one.

  Creeping past the bed, I let myself into the bathroom and quickly take care of business before he wakes up. Then I take a long, hot shower. I put my toiletries in here when I was getting ready for the party last night, and he clearly hasn't been in here since, because they're all sitting where I left them. I frown as I study the cluster of hair products and body washes on the corner of the tub underneath the shower. They're the only ones I brought with me, so I hope he doesn't throw them out or anything. Maybe I should move them to the other end so that it doesn't look like I'm some stalker bitch who's moved in after one night together. But then again, I turn away, leaving them where they are, and focus on washing my hair, I am living in his room, and we are sharing this space. He can move them if he wants, as long as it's not into the trash.

  'Holy shit!' I squeal when I pull back the shower curtain and he's standing there, fully dressed, his arms crossed over his chest, smirking at me. His eyes drop, lazily running over my dripping wet body, and I can feel my nipples harden under his gaze, and the corners of his mouth quirk up as his tongue slips out, licking at his lip as he peruses me. It's the first time he's seen me naked, I realize, since all our sexual encounters so far have involved almost all our clothes. God, that makes me sound a bit slutty, doesn't it? Aric clears his throat, his eyes flicking up to meet mine, but he can't seem to tear them away from my body for long.