DIRTY DESIRES: A Devil Kings MC Story

by Nicole James

  “Well, I mean, she wasn’t showing skin or anything, but I saw some ink on her, and she was wearing biker boots.”

  “Could be a coincidence.”

  “Would some woman from the club be visiting my father?” I lift my head to stare at Gypsy. His eyes are on the ceiling, but I feel his hand on my back still.

  “Did she have red hair?”

  “Yes, how did you know?”

  “Sylvia.”

  I push to a sitting position. “Sylvia? Who the fuck is Sylvia?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tess—

  “Rat’s ol’ lady. Well, widow now,” Gypsy tells me.

  I frown. “Your old VP?”

  “Yup.”

  “What’s she doing with my father?”

  “Growler and Sylvia were having an affair.”

  “Oh, my God.” My mother is going to be devastated. That’s the only thought that runs through my head. I suddenly wonder if my father ever intended to let my mother have any of that money. “Her showing up at the prison—what do you think it means?”

  “I don’t know.” His hand moves to my hip and strokes up to cup my bare breast. His thumb brushes my nipple. “Lie back down, baby.”

  I’m not ready to end the conversation. “You think he’d tell her where that key is stashed?” My eyes widen. “You think she already has it?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t think Growler’s a stupid man. He’s not gonna want her to get her hands on that money any more than he wants your mom to.”

  I stare into space, thinking this all through. “He said he wrote my mom a letter. What do you think it says?”

  “No clue. What do you think it says?”

  I frown. “Maybe he’s going to ask for a divorce.” I stare down at Gypsy. “He’s already cut my mother off from visiting. And he’s apparently in another relationship.”

  Gypsy huffs out a laugh. “Fat lot of good it’s gonna do him. He’s in prison.”

  “Do you think what he said was true?”

  He’s still playing with my nipples, but his eyes lift to mine. “Which part?”

  “The part about getting his conviction overturned?”

  “I think that would take a miracle, babe.”

  I take a deep breath. “I’ve got to get my hands on that key. Today he teased me with a clue. Said it was closer than I thought. It’s got to be in the house.”

  “Makes sense. It’s got to be in a location Sylvia can’t get to, and that would be your house.”

  “Shit. I did something stupid today.”

  “What was that?”

  “He made me so mad that I lied to him and told him Mom was moving and some other people were already lined up to move in. You should have seen the look on his face.”

  “Then maybe he’s going to get Sylvia to get that key for him before that happens.”

  “How’s she going to do that?”

  “Try to cozy up to your mom, get inside the house. You’re going to have to make sure that doesn’t happen. You run into her, don’t let on that you know anything.”

  “Why?”

  “Never tip your cards, babe.”

  “Were they friends back in the day? Sylvia and my mom?”

  “Sort of, but I think your mom suspected something was going on between her and Growler.”

  “Maybe Rat did, too.”

  “Maybe. Maybe that’s why he set Growler up for forty years.”

  This was news to me. I pull back. “What the fuck do you mean?”

  “Rat’s the one who tipped off the cops and led them to bust your father.”

  My brows lift. “So Rat’s a rat?”

  “Yup.”

  “I thought the club was all about loyalty. What kind of shit is that?”

  “The kind that gets a man hauled out to the middle of nowhere and a bullet put in his brain.”

  I’m stunned speechless. The silence drags out between us, and Gypsy watches my every blink.

  “Now you know what kind of a man I am.”

  “I always knew what kind of a man you were.”

  “Not the kind who would stab my own president in the back, though.”

  “Just the kind who would sleep with his daughter.”

  His jaw tightens. “You don’t want to be here, there’s the door.”

  He jerks the sheet aside and moves to sit on the side of the bed. In a second, I think he’s going to reach for his jeans, head out the door, and leave me here.

  I scoot across the sheets, press my chest to his back, and loop my arms around him. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight. A minute ago I was so happy and content.”

  He reaches up and cuffs my forearm gently, his thumb brushing softly over my skin. “I was, too.”

  “I’m scared,” I whisper in his ear.

  “Of me?”

  “No. Of us.”

  He turns his head, and I press my forehead to his cheek.

  “Why?”

  “All my life I’ve sworn I wanted nothing to do with my father’s MC. And then you come along.”

  He squeezes my arm. “I know the feeling.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Tess—

  It’s late Sunday afternoon when Gypsy pulls up a long gravel driveway. But it isn’t the place I remember. This is a ranch style house out in the country.

  “You moved.”

  “Yup. About a year ago.”

  “You have a lot more land around you. It’s pretty out here.”

  He stops the truck and jams the gearshift in park, then looks over at me. “I like it. Neighbors aren’t right on top of me, but it isn’t as convenient as the other place.”

  “Still. It’s got to be worth the drive.”

  He pulls on his door handle. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of it.”

  I climb out and follow him toward the door.

  There’s a pond behind the house and a split rail fence to the right with some horses grazing in a pasture. I point. “Are those yours?”

  “No. That’s the neighbor’s property. I just have this small tract of land. Those woods on the other side are state land.”

  “Means you won’t have to worry about it being developed.”

  “Exactly.”

  I follow him up onto a porch and then inside. There’s a living room to the left with a fireplace, a kitchen on the right and a dining table in between.

  “Wow.” He’s decorated in a masculine style with some nice motorcycle art and leather furniture. I don’t know what I was expecting, but not this. “Someone help you do all this?”

  “What do you mean? Like move my shit in?”

  “No, silly. The decorating.”

  “Oh, yeah. My sister did most of that.”

  “I like it.”

  “Thanks, I’ll tell her.”

  “So, you have a sister.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  He nods but doesn’t say anything. And suddenly I’m pretty sure we’re both thinking the same thing. World doesn’t need anymore of Growler’s spawn.

  “Were you close?”

  “What, me and Jenna? Yeah, I guess. She’s younger by two years, so it wasn’t like she was a pain in the ass or anything, us being so close in age.”

  I nod.

  “How come Belle never had more kids?”

  I roll my eyes. “She could barely take care of me. I think I was only conceived because she thought it would get Growler to marry her.”

  He stares at me a moment, and I can tell he doesn’t want to continue this conversation. He jerks his head toward a backdoor. “Want to see the back?”

  “Sure.”

  I follow him out onto a porch that runs the length of the house. There are odds and ends and mismatched furniture out here, but it’s the view that grabs my attention. The pond is idyllic. “It’s lovely.”

  “I like the quiet. Sometimes I just come out here to s
it and get my head together, ya know?”

  I instantly picture him out on the deck, kicked back in a chair with his feet up and a beer in his hand, just gazing at the view. “Yes, it’s a perfect place for that.”

  “You want a beer?”

  “Sure,” I reply and follow him inside. He grabs two longnecks out of the fridge, twists the cap on one, and hands it to me. “Thanks.”

  I glance at the fireplace. “Is that wood burning?”

  “Is there any other kind?” he teases with a grin.

  “Build me a fire,” I plead. “I love the sound of the crackling wood and the smell of it.”

  “Now? It’s not even cold outside.”

  “Please? Just a small one.”

  He rolls his eyes but sets his beer down and pushes his sleeves up as he squats down by the hearth. He opens the screen, and I see there are already a few split logs stacked. He grabs a piece of old newspaper he has in a pile and wads it up and stuffs it in between them, then pulls his lighter out and lights the paper. He tosses some small kindling on top, and soon there’s a nice fire.

  He stands and leans a hand on the mantle, his eyes on the fire. They gleam with the light, and my gaze sweeps over his muscular body with his broad shoulders and lean hips. He looks so masculine standing there, and the sight of him mesmerizes me.

  The sound of motorcycles carries to us, and he straightens, dropping his arm and turning. Both of us freeze for a second. I’m not sure he’s told anyone in his club about what he’s been doing with me. I doubt they’d be thrilled he’s driving me down to visit their old president. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  “Nope.” He moves to a window and dips his head, parting the blinds with two fingers. “Fuck.”

  “What’s wrong? Who is it?”

  “My brothers. Looks like Reno, Jammer, and Bandit.” He drops his hand and the blinds snap back into position. His eyes pierce mine. “Haven’t told ‘em about you. Rather they don’t know about this deal we got goin’.”

  “Is it a problem?”

  “Could be. I’d just rather avoid explaining it all.”

  My eyes dart to the window as the bikes roll up to the house and park. “So… what do we do?”

  He jerks his head toward a door down the hall. “Mind waiting in the bedroom while I get rid of ‘em? Though, not sure how long it will take. I don’t want them to get suspicious.”

  “Okay.” I look around for a place to set my beer, then think better of it and take it with me. I hurry down the hall and slip through the door as I hear booted feet on the porch.

  “Hey, Gypsy!” one of them calls out.

  I shut the door and turn. There’s still enough dusky light to see. There’s a bed with two nightstands and a high dresser. The bed’s unmade as if he just crawled out of it. The room isn’t messy, but there are a few shirts tossed over a chair. I think about turning a lamp on but decide against it. I don’t want to draw any attention to this room. I turn and press my head to the door and listen. I can hear voices but can’t make out what they’re saying. I know I shouldn’t, but curiosity gets the best of me and I open the door a fraction of an inch, just enough to hear.

  “You got any beer?” someone asks.

  “He better, I’m thirsty as hell,” another replies. I can hear someone walk across the floor and the refrigerator door open. “Craft beer? What the fuck is this shit. Where’s the Budweiser?”

  “Got something against broadening your horizons? You don’t like it, then don’t fucking have one,” Gypsy responds, and I can’t stop my grin.

  You tell ‘em, babe.

  “What’d you guys want, anyway?” Gypsy snaps.

  “What, we can’t stop by to see a brother?”

  “You usually let me know you’re coming.”

  “What’s with the fire? Wait a minute… You got a bitch in here?”

  “Can’t a man light his own damn fireplace?”

  “Just seems weird is all.”

  “What’s weird about it?”

  “Leave the man alone, Bandit. We all know Gypsy likes to play with matches.”

  They chuckle.

  “Fuck off, Jammer,” Gypsy growls.

  I hear what sounds like someone twisting the top of a beer and tossing the cap in the trash can.

  “We finalized the plans for Sturgis. You weren’t around today, so you missed it. Thought we’d ride out and tell you.”

  I hold my breath as the sound of chairs scraping across the floor carries to me. There’s creaking leather and deep exhales as they all sit at the dining table.

  This is it. They’re going to discuss the Sturgis trip. I strain to hear every word.

  “Leaving out on the Tuesday before. Stopping over in Paducah with the Kentucky chapter the first night, and then the Omaha chapter the second night. That puts us in Sturgis on Thursday.”

  “Okay, sounds good,” Gypsy replies. “We stopping in St. Louis to see Ol’ Jack on the way?”

  “Probably.”

  “Who’s staying behind? Anybody?”

  “Prospects. And maybe Tin Man. He’s not as young as he used to be, and his hip’s been bothering him.”

  “After that last wreck he had, I thought he’d never walk again.”

  “Yeah, he got lucky.”

  The rest of what they’re saying blurs in my mind as I try to remember the important details. I pull my phone from my back pocket and tap the information into my notes app, not trusting my memory.

  Then I stare at the window as the men chit chat about nonsense.

  I wonder if I can bring myself to actually give my father this information in exchange for the key. I frown. What could Growler need to know this for? Is it somehow going to help his case for release? It doesn’t make sense. And why all the sneakiness? This is his club. Can’t he just ask them?

  I’m so torn over what to do now.

  I almost wish I hadn’t heard. Damn my curiosity.

  I’m starting to have feelings for Gypsy, real feelings. Whether I try to deny it or not, whether I can see any future with the man, I still really have come to like him, and I don’t want to betray him in any way.

  I sit on the bed, my shoulders slumped. Things just keep going from bad to worse. If only my father hadn’t taken my mother off the damn visitors list, then I would never have had to get involved in all this.

  I stare down at the rumpled sheets and slide my palm over them. But then, I never would have met Gypsy again. I wouldn’t wish last night away for anything.

  My eyes glaze over with unshed tears. This all sucks so bad.

  The sound of the men’s laughter finally draws me out of my head. I hear chairs scraping across the floor and move to the door to listen.

  “Thanks for the crap beer. Next time you better have the good stuff,” one of them says.

  “You don’t like it, next time bring your own fucking beer,” Gypsy replies.

  Another man laughs. “That’s okay, he stole your bottle of Wild Turkey while you weren’t lookin’, Bro.”

  “You little fucker, get back here,” Gypsy growls.

  There’s more laughter and boots running before it gets quiet again. I can hear voices outside now.

  I ease the door a foot and poke my head out. The front door is standing wide open. I hear their bikes fire up and then boots on the front porch and the door close. I quickly return to stand by the bed.

  Gypsy comes in. “They’re gone.”

  Their engines roar down the road, fading away.

  “They didn’t stay long,” I say, feeling nervous.

  “Lack of beer will do that with my brothers.”

  “Good to know.”

  His eyes search mine. “You okay?”

  “Fine, why?” I answer almost too quickly. He’s going to see my nervousness, probably already has. “Um, so now what?”

  He hooks an arm around my waist and drags my body flush against his. “Now we get busy.”

  I smile, thinking I know an excellent way to distr
act him. I put a hand to his chest and walk him backward until he falls to sit on the bed. I drop to my knees, my hands going to his belt. He watches my every move, letting me take the lead this time, which is out of the ordinary, I’m sure. The man likes control, and I like that this once, I’m taking it from him, and he’s giving it over. It fills me with some type of power, and I can’t say I don’t like it.

  I get his pants undone and take his hard erection out, holding it in both hands and moving my thumb over the pre-cum at the tip.

  His fingers thread into my hair, but he doesn’t try to pull me down, instead he brushes his thumbs over my temples and lets me go at my own pace.

  I give a long lick from root to tip, then close over him and take him all the way down. His hand tightens in my hair, and he pulls in a shaky breath. His hips lift slightly, meeting my mouth, fucking it softly and allowing me to go slow.

  I know he wants more, and I want to give it to him. I want to please him the way he’s pleased me before. I want to drive him wild and send him over the edge into bliss.

  I quicken the pace until he can’t resist grasping my head in both hands and taking control, fucking me until he finally says between clenched teeth, “You want it?”

  I nod, and he explodes in my mouth, and I swallow it all, every last drop.

  His hands gentle in my hair until he’s petting the crown of my head, trying to recover his breathing.

  “Fuck, baby.”

  Then he falls to his back.

  I smile and crawl up next to him. When he recovers, we both strip and climb under the covers. His fingers slide inside me, and his thumb works my clit while he sucks my nipples, bringing me to orgasm within minutes.

  But Gypsy’s not one to let up, and he doesn’t stop until he’s given me another one. By the time I’m gasping and telling him I can’t go again, his dick is hard, and he moves over me, sliding into my wet pussy and undulating his hips, rocking against me in such a sensually erotic way, staring into my eyes, watching every nuance of arousal that crosses my face.

  “I’ve missed you,” he confesses quietly. “Missed you for three long years.”

  “Me too.”

  He pumps slowly in and out. “Got a lot of makin’ up to do.”

  I can only nod as I slip over the edge for a third time, like a white-water rafter plunging over the raging rapids to a calm pool of serenity.