Breaking Weston (Bloody Saints MC Book 3)

by Roxanne Greening

  “You almost didn’t make it here. This is a mistake…” I even winced at what she said. Fucking Gage had to hand her over to that fucked up piece of shit.

  “I’m sorry, Ronnie, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Savanna’s voice was gentle and full of sadness. Her shoulders droop. I could see the pain written clearly all over her face.

  “You almost didn’t make it out,” Ronnie pointed out.

  Made it out of where? Then with a slow realization, it hit me. She was one of them. The Albanian mob wives in training.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Wildcat snapped. Savanna’s eyes dart to me, leaving no doubt who she’s talking to.

  “I don’t need or want your pity,” She blurts.

  I take a deep breath and beg for the patience that I usually have in abundance.

  “I don’t pity you, Hellcat,” Weston said.

  “Thought I was Wildcat?” She asks with a slight curl to her luscious lips.

  “A Hellcat and a Wildcat, sweetheart,” I smile as she glares at me. Her eyes betray her with a hint of humor in them.

  I’m enjoying this way too much. Her anger makes her face flush, and her lips purse slightly. My dick hardens, and my stomach twists at that.

  The moment she climbs on my bike, I know my life will change. The thought has my fight or flight instincts kick in.

  “Don’t make me take you,” Gage says quietly.

  The thought of her wrapped around him with her pussy pressed against his ass. Her arms holding him close as her fingers rest just inches from his cock has me wanting to fight my fucking VP.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  Chapter 8

  Savanna

  Present Day.

  He was going to drag me to the clubhouse, kicking and screaming. I could see it in his eyes. The fuck I would let him.

  He smirks, making me believe that he’d like it. Shit, the quiver in my stomach tells me I might like it as well. The thought of his hands on my body has everything in me wanting to lean closer and beg for it.

  I’m starting to believe that he’s more dangerous than Besin. I need to turn around and run. I have to get to that door even if I have to fight the two men standing there. Probably waiting for me to do just that.

  My fingers itch to grab the knife that’s strapped to my back. Maybe even release the spring-loaded one strapped to my wrist.

  “Sav don’t,” Ronnie pleads. Her voice fills with sadness and the hint of tears.

  I start to turn and look at her, taking my eyes off the man in front of me. It was the biggest mistake I’ve made in a long time. Arms circle me like steel bands. They drag me back to the hardest male body I’ve ever felt.

  My breath quickens. Not in fear but in need. My panties become wet, and I have to fight the urge to rub my thighs together to quill the throbbing in my clit.

  All this from his arms around me? The heat of his body soaks and warms me. The cold from the outside and my own memories cling to me.

  Weston’s like quicksand. Beautiful, fast-moving, and can suck you in. The more I struggle, the harder he grips me. Not hard enough to hurt or leave bruises, but enough that I know I had to stop.

  Closing my eyes, I take deep breaths inhaling the scent of leather, motor oil, and Weston. My heart twists as my mind binds the scents to memory.

  “Listen, you’re going to come with me,” Weston’s hot breath fans over my ear as he speaks.

  “No,” I whisper.

  “I’m going to take you to the clubhouse and protect you. I won’t leave you,” he promises.

  My shoulders sag, and for the first time, I feel safe. I believe Weston. Deep down, I know he will be there for me. His arms tighten around me, and before I can stop myself, I’m nodding my head. The prospect of warmth and safety has me sagging slightly into him.

  “Maybe she should stay here,” Ronnie tells Gage.

  The moment the words are heard, Weston’s arms tighten on me. As if to say you aren’t taking her anywhere. The feel of him pressed against me feels right. And that thought scares me.

  “Listen, Wildcat. We have books and music. Let’s go have some fun, and maybe you can let some of that sexy pink hair of yours down,” Weston whispers in my ear.

  Fun? Like the free kind where I don’t need to look over my shoulder and pray? Fun with books, music, and dancing?

  I feel all the muscles in my body slowly relax, and the tension leaves my body. The prospect of safety, fun, and seeing more of this man is too much to pass up. I’m only human.

  Chapter 9

  Weston

  Present Day.

  I felt it the moment she surrendered to me. Gage also saw, and he seemed at war with himself. He knows she needs to come with me, but his wife wants her to stay. He hates seeing her unhappy. The man is fucking whipped, and it was sickening.

  The smile I felt forming began to turn down. The fucker better not give in.

  “She needs to come with me. It’s safer for all of you,” I point out. It was low using Ronnie and Savanna’s safety.

  “He’s right, Raz,” Savanna whispers sadly.

  Raz? What the actual fuck?

  “Raz is short for Rosaline,” Ronnie tells me with a smile and shrugs.

  “Shit, I’m sorry, Ronnie,” Savanna winces.

  “I miss it. Please don’t stop calling me that Sav,” Ronnie tells her with a sweet smile.

  Savanna's shoulders droop slightly. I could see all the shit settling on her again. For a moment I thought she was really going to let go.

  I want to get her out of here, and the thought of seeing her hips sway has my cock so hard. I even feel the teeth on my zipper imprint on it. Savanna’s ass shifts and rubs enticingly against my hard dick. I groan as she does it again.

  “Keep that up, Hellcat, and I’m going to bend you over and fuck you hard,” I growl into her ear.

  I felt every one of her muscles tighten as she tries to pull away from me. My eyes go to her face as she looks anywhere but at me.

  Fuck, does that mean what I think it does? The thought of her being tight enough to cut off my blood supply had even more blood flowing south. Man, I was so hard.

  “I need a drink,” she says to no one in particular as she pulls a little more firmly against my hold.

  “Then let’s go, Hellcat.”

  Her laugh strains as she turns towards the door. But instead of going in that direction, she turns towards Ronnie. Her arms wrap around her as she pulls her close.

  “I love you, Raz,” Savanna says into Ronnie’s dark locks.

  “I’ll come see you tomorrow,” Ronnie promises.

  I watch as the girls embrace, and Gage looks at his wife with concern.

  “Come on, Wildcat,” I tell her as I reach for her arm. “Time to head out.”

  Chapter 10

  Savanna

  Present Day.

  I was once again thrust into the cold night air. I watch as Weston makes his way over towards his bike. He looks over his beautifully muscular shoulder at me with one raised brow as if to question why I wasn’t following him.

  Instead of heading in the direction of his bike, I turn towards mine. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving her behind. No matter how much I want to climb on the back of his bike and never get off.

  I want to smile when he completely turns in my direction. Even in the porch’s dim light, I can see his muscles coil. It’s as if he’s ready to strike if I try to run.

  A laugh threatens to escape as his beautiful green-blue eyes widen. I swing my leg over my motorcycle, and a sigh of happiness escapes my lips as the seat settles between my legs.

  There hasn’t been much happiness in my life over the years, and riding this baby always puts a smile on my face. Even though it’s only a recent thing.

  “Lead the way, Hulk,” I call over to him.

  His eyes narrow slightly as if he’s judging my every move. Questioning if I’m going to follow him or not. I have nowhere else to go. I could be nice and tell him that,
but I like how alert he is.

  The bike rumbles to life as I give him an aspirated look. I want to feel the wind in my hair, and the freedom of riding gives it to me. It’s like a drug, something I need to keep breathing.

  Shaking his head, he follows my lead and climbs onto his bike. This causes my panties to dampen. I tell myself it’s just the bike, and it has nothing to do with its owner. The snort my subconscious makes insinuates that it disagrees with me.

  His eyes dart to mine one last time before he revs his engine and takes off. I’m quick to follow, and the harsh cold air pulls at my clothes as we speed down the road. As much as I love this, I hope it isn’t far. I’m cold, and I need to get warm. I hope the heat is on wherever we’re going.

  The idea of warming up in a comfy bed with the freedom to sleep without worry is kind of exciting. On top of that, having the safety this man is promising, is everything I’ve wished for months. A sliver of guilt pricks me since I’m still putting them all in danger.

  Chapter 11

  Savanna

  Present Day.

  I didn’t get a good look at the clubhouse last night. The ride and all my chaotic emotions drained the life from me. By the time we reached the sprawling building, I was ready for a bed and some warm blankets.

  My back rests against the headboard on Weston’s bed. My eyes are on the man as he sleeps sprawled out in a recliner. Another sliver of guilt hits me. I made this man sleep in that tiny thing.

  His eyes had been narrowed when I threw that pillow at him though. The memory has me doubling over in bed, and a snort of unrestrained laughter escapes.

  “What so funny, Hellcat?” Weston’s deep voice vibrates through me.

  “You and all of your oversized glory stuck in that tiny, little nothing of a chair,” I point at it and laugh even harder.

  “Tsk, tsk Hellcat, your claws are showing.”

  I feel my eyes narrow a little. Something deep inside me is pleased with these absurd nicknames. Something that frightens me.

  “Call me Savanna.”

  His smile grows bigger as he shakes his head. “I prefer Hellcat.”

  My eyes form little slits as I watch his every move. Maybe smacking him upside his too good-looking head wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

  “Why?” I ask, even though I’m terrified of the answer.

  “You remind me of a fierce hungry cat. Taking no shit and no prisoners.” He shrugs as if he hasn’t just melted a little hole in my heart. The damn man is unnervingly sweet.

  A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes mist over. Taking a deep breath, I turn from Weston to gather my wayward emotions.

  “Thank you. I think?” I laugh at the question I can hear in my own voice.

  My fingers pluck at the soft black pajama bottoms that have a gray outline of cat heads. They’re my favorite, and the sight of them makes me laugh.

  “Let’s go find some food,” he says gently.

  I could hear the rustling of clothes as he stands from the groaning chair.

  “Poor chair.”

  I hear his laugh. “Poor chair? What about me?”

  I shrug, knowing that he’s staring at me. A shiver of awareness wants to shake along my body.

  Then my stomach growls loudly to my utter amusement. If Weston thought anything sexy about me, that definitely just squished it. Loudly I may add.

  “Yeah, food before you turn feral.” His joke isn’t lost on me.

  “Ha, ha.”

  Swinging my feet over the side of the bed, I scoot forward. Dragging my ass across the bed and pulling my pant legs up with each move.

  His eyes go to my silky, exposed skin. A war starts inside of me. Pull the pant legs down or let them rise more. I’m lost in the battle, and I didn’t even notice I had stopped moving altogether.

  Say something, anything!

  “Feet, aren’t they pretty?” What the fuck just came out of my mouth? I fucking hate feet! Pretty is definitely not a word I would use to describe them.

  Chapter 12

  Weston

  Present Day.

  I want to laugh my ass off at her comment. Feet? The look on her face when her words registered just about did me in. I couldn’t remember the last time a chick made me laugh.

  I watch as she drags her pancake through the syrup. Almost making the fork dance as she does. Each bite is accompanied by a moan of appreciation. And I felt each one in my dick.

  “So Lola was standing there with her mouth open and closing like a fish. Frank’s toupee plopped into the whiskey neat she had set down in front of him,” her voice was filled with a tinkling laugh.

  She laughed with everything in her. Her eyes would light up, her face would blossom, her cheeks pinken, and her throat moves gently.

  Fuck. I’m so fucked! Who the hell pays this much attention to someone’s laugh? Is this what the guys felt? If they knew my thoughts, they’d take my man card.

  “Lola grabbed the offending clump of hair and gave it a good shake as she slapped it back on Frank’s head. The man was shameless. He still leaned forward with the whiskey dripping down his face and asked for her phone number,” she sighs, and her eyes become sad.

  “Hellcat?”

  “I just miss her. She was one of the few who made being on the run bearable.” Her head lowers as she once again drags her pancake through the syrup.

  “When this shit’s over, we’ll track her down.” The words were out before I thought them through. Her head snaps up, and she looks at me.

  Her eyebrows press together into a v shape as she tries to dissect me like a fucking bug pinned to a corkboard. I resist the urge to squirm in my seat like a schoolboy, but I wait for her to bombard me with questions. Instead, she shows me mercy. As if she knew what I’ve been thinking and taking pity on me.

  Chapter 13

  Savanna

  Present Day.

  I was going to list everybody that I missed, and sadly it wasn’t many, but something held me back. And I had no damn idea what it was.

  Weston’s pale face had set me back. For a moment, I was going to tease him for his remark, but the way he paled had me reeling back. Did he feel this pull too?

  “I need a shower,” he tells me as he stands.

  I follow him back to his room, unsure what else to do. I thought about him in the shower washing his muscular body and caressing what I felt could be a magnificent dick. A small shudder of need shakes me. Oh god, I want this man like I want my next breath.

  “Do you want to shower first?” I could hear the need in his voice and had to fight the urge to swallow.

  “No,” my voice was steady and calm. Thank fuck it didn’t show any of the turmoil that I was feeling, or I was sure Weston would pounce on me the moment he heard it.

  He nods and heads into the bathroom. My eyes follow his every move while licking my lips unconsciously. A small gasp leaves my mouth, and my hand shoots up to cover it. What’s wrong with me?

  The bed’s inviting, but I take the chair instead. The black leather engulfs me. It’s way more comfortable then it looks but it’s still way too small for Weston.

  The sound of water reaches my ears and images of him naked flash through my brain. A strong need for him has me squeezing my legs together.

  I didn’t quite understand it. It’s like a pleasant needy buzz just under my skin, begging for Weston’s touch.

  Climbing to my feet, I reach for my bag. I shoot a quick look over my shoulder, making sure he wasn’t watching. Finding the doorway empty, I rummage through my bag.

  My hand finds what I’m looking for. The smooth, soft surface brings heat to my skin. I know this baby will help take away my desire to lay out and let him pound me into oblivion.

  I so badly want to rip my pants down and let it take me away to that beautiful place. My eyes once again dart towards the door.

  He’s still in the shower. I can hear the water running, and the idea of getting caught both terrifies and turns me on more than I care to admi
t.

  Slowly, I crawl over the bed, clutching my purple dildo. The moment my back hits the soft mattress, I yank down my pants and press the silky object to my clit. The pleasant buzz makes my head fling back and my lips part.

  Quiet moans slip out before I can press my teeth into my lower lip. My eyes again go to the door only to see it beginning to open. Weston stands there with only a towel wrapped around his waist while water drips down his chest.

  The vibrator falls from my fingers as I read the raw hunger in his eyes. My chest constricts, and I should be scrambling for my clothes. But I can’t bring myself to move; I’m trapped in his gaze. My body’s just sprawled out like a sacrificial lamb.

  “Fuck!” he growls, and my legs quiver.

  I try to tell my body to move, get dressed, just do something. What my body does is get wetter. More of my juices drip from my body, and the need is throbbing in my veins.

  The vibrator is still buzzing on the bed, and embarrassment heats my cheeks. I wait for Weston to turn away or maybe go back into the bathroom. But a part of me, a huge part, wants to beg him to stay and let the towel go and join me on the bed.

  He stalks me. That’s the best way I can describe how he moves. Every muscle flexes and shifts.

  My breath catches as he lifts one knee and then the other onto the bed. The way he crawls towards me reminds me of a panther getting ready to pounce.

  “Tell me to stop,” he pleads.

  My head moves in the unmistakable symbol of no. I didn’t want him to stop. I want him inside of me. I want to feel every inch of his tanned skin, and the heat of his body warming me.

  I feel his hands grip my shirt, and his eyes look into mine. He then pulls them in opposite directions. My shirt rips right down the middle, forcing my breasts to bounce free.

  “Oh god,” he groans as he lowers his head towards my breasts. Those luscious lips wrap around one of my beaded nipples, and my head hits the pillow hard as cries of pleasure are pulled from my throat.

  I don’t know how much time passes, but he plays with my body making it hum while I beg for more. All the while, pleading for mercy.