Storm MC Collection Books 1 - 4 (Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Nina Levine

  “I’ve said my piece and I’m out of it. Got better things to do with my time anyway,” he said with that Nash grin that meant only one thing; sex.

  I chuckled; the mood now lighter. “I’m sure you fucking have, brother.”

  “We need to hook you up, VP. You’re more moody than normal and some pussy will help that.”

  He was right. “Yeah, but let me do my own hooking up. I don’t want the kind of bitches you’d find me.”

  “Pussy’s pussy, brother.”

  “No it fucking isn’t.”

  “When did you get so picky? I remember a time when you’d take anything and everything on offer. Wasn’t so long ago.”

  “Christ, what the fuck is this, Nash? Quilting fucking circle? I don’t want to sit around and dissect my sex life.” I started walking out of the storeroom, towards the office.

  Nash followed me and along the way we ran into Velvet. A scowl crossed her face when she saw Nash but she quickly hid it and turned her attention to me. “The place is hopping tonight and there’s a shitload of dickheads in attendance. You might want to call in some more of your guys.”

  Just what we needed. “Will do. You up soon?” Being the star of our club, there was often some problems with drunk patrons when she performed. We were down some security tonight so I wanted to be out there ready for any issues when she was on.

  “In about fifteen minutes,” she answered me.

  “How many boys you want me to call in?” Nash asked, his phone ready to go. Velvet was back to scowling at him which was strange. I thought these two were good friends.

  “Get four of them in and tell them to hurry the fuck up,” I said to Nash, my interest in what was happening between Nash and Velvet gone. So long as it didn’t interfere with Storm or Indigo, I could care less about their issues with each other. “I’ll be out there soon. I want to keep an eye on you tonight, just because we’re down some men,” I said to Velvet.

  She looked happy with this news. “Thanks, boss,” she said and then left Nash and I alone.

  He finished up his call. “I’ll go out and check what’s happening.”

  “Sure. Be out soon.”

  He nodded and then left. I sat down at the desk in the office and spent a couple of minutes looking through invoices that needed payment or some kind of follow up. This part of the job was the shit part. We’d better have a new manager soon because it was headache material.

  An hour later, I was kicking back with a beer. Velvet’s performance had gone off without a hitch, our extra security had turned up and the place seemed to be under control. Nash was sitting across from me at the table; once again, enjoying the show. From where I was sitting, I could see the front door and I was surprised to see Harlow stumble through it. The friend she was with was also stumbling; they’d obviously been out drinking for the night. How the fuck they ended up in a strip club was anyone’s guess. Harlow didn’t strike me as your standard strip club patron. I stood up, watching her intently. She was making a beeline to the bar even though any fool could tell she had enough alcohol in her system to last her for a long time. Suddenly, our eyes met and a shitty look crossed her face. She changed her direction and started towards me.

  She kept coming until she was almost in my face, and shoved a finger at my chest. “Scott freaking Cole!” she slurred, “You owe me big time. I lost my job because of you.”

  “What the fuck? Why?” I took a step back, to move away from her, but she stepped forward and maintained our closeness.

  “You pissed that customer off and he put a complaint in about me. He’s one of our best customers so the vet chose him over me. Thank you very freaking much!”

  “He deserved everything I said to him,” I defended myself although I wasn’t sure why; it wasn’t something I was ever compelled to do.

  “Yeah, he’s an asshole for sure, but you didn’t have to get your dick out and wave it around like freaking King Shit, threatening him and all. I could have handled him by myself.”

  She jabbed her finger at my chest again and this time I stopped her and grabbed her hand. We were already close, but I tilted my head so our foreheads almost touched; our breath mingling. She smelt of bourbon mixed with some other smell that hit me right in the dick. Christ. “Babe, I’ll get my dick out and wave it around like fucking King Shit anytime I fucking want. And I’ll especially get it out whenever someone treats people the way that dickhead treated you. You didn’t deserve that shit. So, don’t come in here poking your finger at me and yelling at me for something that needed to be done.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and she sucked in a breath. Her lips parted and I could hear her short, choppy breaths as they quickened. I kept my eyes focused on hers, and we stayed locked like that for a moment, just watching each other, taking everything in. My senses were assaulted by her; all I could see, smell and hear was her. And fuck if I didn’t want a taste as well.

  I let her go but neither of us moved. Her eyes softened; the hard glare she’d been looking at me with a second ago, gone. A flush came over her cheeks and a hint of a smile touched her lips. When her tongue darted out and licked her lips, a sensation shot right through me and wrapped itself around my cock. It settled in the pit of my stomach a second later. Fuck, what was that scent she was wearing? It was screwing with my mind and my body. I resisted the urge to lean right into her and inhale it.

  Harlow made the first move; she stepped back, right into Nash who was now standing behind her. He reached out to steady her, his hands gripping her hips. “Watch out, sweet thing, or you’ll excite my ankle spanker even more than you already have.”

  Confusion flit across her face. “Your what?” she asked before turning around to look at him.

  Nash’s hands curved around Harlow’s ass as she turned. I zeroed in on this, as well as her failure to remove them. I clenched my jaw and fists; ready to strike but not even sure why. Trying to fight the urge but not succeeding, I reached out and yanked Nash’s hands off her ass. I then hooked my hand around her waist and pulled her back towards me, away from Nash. She gasped as she lost her balance but I held on tight to prevent her fall, and she ended up backed right against me. Nash just looked amused; probably wondering what the fuck I was doing. I knew I sure as hell was. Seeing Nash’s hands on a woman was a normal occurrence for me so why was it any different when it was his hands on Harlow?

  “Nash has a filthy mouth. You don’t want to know half the shit he talks about,” I murmured near her ear, her hair brushing across my face.

  She made a noise that sounded like a moan before mumbling, “Well, I’d like to know what an ankle spanker is.”

  I’d met a lot of women in my life. Hell, I’d fucked a lot of women in my life. They came and they went; I hardly remembered faces, never remembered names, and had no desire to know any of those women beyond the feel of their pussy wrapped around my dick. They would have all known what an ankle spanker was. Harlow stood there, blazing with naivety and I was damn sure her name and face were burned into my brain.

  Letting her go, I waited until she turned slightly so she could see both Nash and I before telling her, “It’s a huge cock, sweetheart. Nash here likes to consider himself well hung.”

  Her face flamed with redness. “Oh.”

  Nash grinned, and I scowled at him. He wasn’t easily put off though, and indicated for Harlow and her friend to sit with us. “I’ll get you some water, ladies,” he said as he guided them into their seats.

  Harlow’s friend’s eyes trailed up and down my body before she fixed a filthy stare on me. “This is the guy who lost you your job?”

  Before Harlow could answer, Velvet appeared at the table. “Boss, we’ve got a slight issue at the front door. Might need your help.”

  Reluctantly diverting my attention from Harlow, I nodded at Velvet. “Be right back,” I said to Harlow before heading to the front of the club.

  My blood boiled the instant I hit the footpath outside. A couple of people were milling around
a chick who was sitting on the ground crying. Her cheek was swollen and painted with blood. I flicked my glare to our bouncer who had a guy up against the wall. I stormed over to them and pulled the guy around so he was facing me.

  I jerked my chin towards the chick on the ground. “You do that, asshole?”

  His cold eyes challenged me, giving me all the information I needed. I pulled my arm back and landed a punch on his cheek. His face swung to the side from the impact and his body slightly crumpled. I took the opportunity to get another couple of punches in; on his face and then his ribs. I fed off the grunts of pain he emitted and the cracking sounds my fists caused when they connected with his body. If it wasn’t for Nash pulling me off him, I would have kept going.

  “Easy, brother,” Nash muttered as he shoved me backwards.

  I pointed at the asshole. “If I ever fucking see you here again, your legs won’t get you home. Women aren’t put on this earth to be your punching bag. Now, get the fuck out of my sight,” I thundered.

  Turning my attention to the chick on the ground, I said, “You want me to organise someone to take you to the hospital?”

  She shook her head, and her friend declined my offer, “Thanks, but we’ve got it under control. A friend’s just gone to get his car.”

  “Good,” I said, and then asked, “He your boyfriend?”

  She nodded but didn’t say a word. Her eyes fell to the ground and she looked ashamed.

  I knelt down next to her. “This wasn’t your fault. I have no idea what’s gone on between you two but nothing you’ve said or done gives that asshole the right to take to you with his fists. You got that?”

  She nodded again but her eyes betrayed her; she didn’t believe what I’d said for one second.

  “Let me guess, this shit goes on often and you keep going back for more. You’re worth more than that scumbag piece of shit. If you start believing that one day and need help to get back on your feet, you come see me. Until then, I fucking hope you survive the next round because, let me tell you, it’s just gonna keep coming till you decide to put a stop to it.”

  I stood back up and left her there. There was nothing else to say; no-one could do for this chick what she needed to do for herself. My breath would be wasted if I kept talking; kinda like with my mother.

  “All sorted,” I said to Velvet as I walked past her on my way back to Harlow.

  Harlow and her friend were at the bar chatting with Amy. I let my gaze drop to Harlow’s ass as she leant over the counter to tell Amy something. Tonight she was wearing a black dress that barely covered anything and clung to her curves in all the right fucking places. And fuck, she had some serious curves going on. I didn’t do really skinny chicks; I didn’t see the point if they’ve got nothing to grip on to. My eyes trailed down her legs; long legs that would feel good around me. And those heels she was wearing? Fuck, I’d like to take everything else off and just leave those in place; my back would love them digging into it while I pumped into her.

  She looked up at me as I approached. “So, you’re the boss here? I think you should give me a job. Amy tells me you need staff and I’m unemployed. As you know.”

  I didn’t miss the emphasis on that last sentence, and was sure to throw Amy a dirty look. Harlow would be as suited to this job as a nun would be to a prostitute.

  “You’ve had one too many drinks, sweetheart, and have no clue what you’re saying at the moment. You don’t want to work here.”

  She planted her hands on her hip, and gave me what I imagined was her best ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ look. “You don’t know anything about me. How do you know where I want to work?”

  “I know enough to know that you wouldn’t cope with men leering at you and pawing you while you served them drinks.”

  “You might be surprised. I’ve met some assholes in my time and I’ve put them in their place.”

  “I’m sure you have, but the answer’s still no. I don’t need to be worrying about you all the time.”

  “No-one asked you to worry about me.”

  “Christ, do you ever take no for an answer?” I asked; irritation battling with a slight sense of respect.

  “No. So give me the damn job already.”

  Amy drew her breath in and Nash stepped forward and touched Harlow on the arm. “Sweet thing, I think he’s made himself clear.”

  “Yeah, I’ve made myself really fucking clear,” I growled.

  Harlow shook him off, and stepped closer to me, her green eyes hard. “I don’t get you. I need a job, you need staff, it’s a no brainer. All I’m asking for is an interview...”

  “Are you fucking finished?” I roared, fury dripping from my words.

  She stiffened, and moved her hand to her throat. Those greens of hers widened for a second before she narrowed them and replied, “Yes.”

  She made a move to step away from me but I reached out and grabbed her hard by the wrist to stop her. “I don’t owe you a fucking explanation but you’re going to get one anyway. I do need staff but I would prefer experienced staff. And staff who are suited to working in a strip club. When I say I don’t have a job for you, it’s because I don’t believe you’d enjoy it and I don’t think it would be a good fit for you.” I let her go, and said to Amy, “Can you make sure these two get in a cab?”

  Amy nodded. “Sure.”

  Giving Harlow one last look, I said, “You don’t belong in a place like this. Go home, sleep those drinks off and find a nice job, far away from here.”

  I left them all standing there and stalked to the office. My mind was overwhelmed. Between my father, Indigo, Blade, Black Deeds and other Storm business, I was buckling under the pressure. Harlow prancing in here with her fucking curves, attitude and inclination to challenge me at all stops was something I was unable to deal with tonight.

  And fuck it, I still wanted a taste of her.

  8

  Harlow

  Was that a jackhammer? The noise coming from outside my house was so freaking loud that I thought my skull might explode. I slowly opened my eyes and pain tore through my head as the light was allowed in. Scrunching them shut again, I prayed for the pain to end. It didn’t; it only intensified.

  Bloody hell, I was never, ever drinking again.

  The noise from outside sounded again, along with a, “Harlow!”

  I sat up in bed, the pain ricocheting from side to side at my sudden movement. That sounded like Scott. I threw the sheet off me and slowly got out of bed. My hand flew to my head to try and hold it; if I could keep it still it wouldn’t hurt as much. That was my theory anyway. Hangovers weren’t something I often dealt with; I’m sure that made it feel worse.

  On second thoughts, maybe I should drink more often.

  “Harlow! You in there?” Yep, definitely Scott.

  I made my way to the front door because I was sure he would keep banging and yelling until I did. When I finally opened the door, the sun smacked me in the face and I winced as I tried to cover my eyes with my hand.

  “Fuck,” Scott muttered, and I parted two fingers so I could peer at him through the slit. His eyes were focused on my legs and then they lazily moved up to my face, lingering on my breasts as they went. A jolt of electricity shot through me. Scott Cole’s eyes undressing me made me wet. His hands ripping my clothes off would surely make me scream.

  “Do you always answer your door wearing nothing?” he demanded roughly, stepping into my house and moving me out of the way so that he could shut the door behind us.

  I looked down at what I was wearing. Bloody hell, he was right. I was only wearing my thong and a tiny tank. Swallowing my mortification, I carried on as if this was a normal occurrence even though it was as far from my usual behavior as you could get.

  “Do you always wake people up by banging on their door and yelling at them? Especially when you know that they would have a hangover and need complete silence to get through the day?”

  He smirked, so I smacked him in the arm, and the
n sashayed my way down the hall; making sure to give him an eyeful of my bare ass. I figured I may as well work with the situation at hand even if it wasn’t what I would have chosen. The noise he made as he sucked in a breath was almost enough to make up for my embarrassment.

  When I reached the end of the hall, I pointed left towards the kitchen. “You go in there and I’ll be with you in a minute.” Turning right, I hurried to my bedroom so I could put some clothes on. My head was hammering, I felt queasy, and I was still annoyed at the way he spoke to me last night, but I couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling through me that Scott was in my house.

  A couple of minutes later, dressed more appropriately in shorts, a t-shirt and a bra, I found him with his head in the fridge. He heard me and stuck his head out, looking at me, body still bent over. “You got any cold water in here?”

  I shook my head. “No, I don’t drink cold water.”

  “Juice?”

  “No.”

  He shut the fridge, grabbed a glass out of the dish rack, filled it with water from the tap and brought it to me. Then he walked back to the kitchen bench where he’d put his keys. I sat at the table, wondering what he was doing, but as my brain was very slow this morning, the answer wasn’t coming to me fast. Picking up his keys, he said, “I’ll be back with juice.”

  I guzzled some water; the coolness of it against my dry throat felt so good. Without really raising my lips from the glass, I nodded and said, “Thanks, that’d be good.” I was struggling, and forming words into sentences was too freaking hard; our conversation was going to be limited today but so far he didn’t seem to care.

  While he was gone, I contemplated trying to make myself look better. I even went so far as to drag myself into the bathroom and brush my hair and teeth. However, that was the extent of my effort. I had no doubt I’d regret this when I was feeling better.

  Twenty minutes later he strode through my front door with bags of groceries and a determined look on his face.