Carbon
Blackwings MC Book IV
by
Teagan Brooks
Copyright Ⓒ 2018 Teagan Brooks
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Adult Content Warning: This book contains explicit scenes, sexual content, and violence. Intended for audiences 18 years and older.
Cover Art by Dar Albert at Wicked Smart Designs
Dedication
To my big sister and little brother.
Author’s Note
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
Author’s Note
Chapter One begins four months before Ember showed up at the clubhouse in Book I.
PROLOGUE
Harper
Victim.
I hated that word. I always felt like it carried a connotation of defeat. I wasn’t defeated. I fought like hell, and for the most part, I won. No, I was not a victim. I was a survivor.
I fought hard to overcome the demons of my past. I was lucky to have a supportive family, even though it wasn’t a traditional family. My mother passed away from cancer a few months before I was kidnapped. During the few weeks before my older brother rescued me, my father passed away.
When Duke found me and took me out of that horrible house, he went straight to our Aunt Leigh for help, and she welcomed us with open arms. Her husband was my father’s brother and died the year before Duke and I showed up in Devil Springs.
Duke only lived with us for a few months, just long enough for him to save enough money to get his own apartment. When he moved out, it was just me, Aunt Leigh, and her son, Judge, who was 15 at the time. He instantly became another brother for me, and Aunt Leigh took on the role of pseudo-mom. They did everything they could to help me deal with the loss of my parents and the kidnapping.
The first year was rough. When I wasn’t crying, I was too scared of my own shadow to leave the house. After two disastrous attempts at trying to drop me off at school, Aunt Leigh and my therapist decided home-schooling would be a better option for me.
For the next few years, Aunt Leigh homeschooled me, and I continued to see a therapist twice a month. By the time I reached high school, I was on my fourth therapist and had learned how to manipulate them by saying the right things. After six months of listening to my carefully chosen words, my therapist told Aunt Leigh I was ready to attend public school. Honestly, I was ready, even though I had to trick the therapist into agreeing with me. I loved my family and was greatly appreciative of everything they did to help me through my ordeal, but I was a teenager and needed teenage friends.
I also needed to be around people who didn’t know about my past and didn’t treat me like I would shatter into a million pieces if they said or did the wrong thing. Yes, I was fragile to some extent, but I wasn’t that fragile. I had no desire to do anything to intentionally frighten myself, like watching horror movies or going to a haunted house, but I was perfectly fine going to school and hanging out with kids my own age.
I made it through all four years of high school with no traumatic events. Well, none that weren’t part of the typical high school experience. Despite Duke’s and Judge’s best efforts, I even managed to go on a few dates.
After graduating from high school, I planned to attend college in Sugar Falls. Aunt Leigh was very supportive, Judge was skeptical, and Duke was totally against it, which didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things because I was legally an adult and could do whatever I wanted.
During my first year of college, I lived in the dorms on campus and became friends with several of the girls that lived on my floor. I did my best to fit in with them and have a normal college experience. And, for the most part, I did. I didn’t care for the outrageous drunken frat parties, but I did join them when they went to clubs and other bars.
One particular night, my roommate, Courtney, was convinced her boyfriend was cheating on her and wanted to catch him in the act. Our suitemates joined us as we piled into Courtney’s car and followed her boyfriend to a strip club. Instead of confronting him face-to-face, she wanted to do it by entering the wet t-shirt contest, but she didn’t want to go up on stage alone. We all agreed to enter with her and the next thing I know I’m named the winner and handed five hundred dollars in cash.
As it turned out, Courtney’s boyfriend, Brad, wasn’t cheating on her. He worked at the club as a bouncer and didn’t tell her because he didn’t know how she would feel about it. She didn’t care one bit, but he forbade her from entering any more strip club sponsored contests.
I, on the other hand, found the experience exhilarating. I continued to enter the contests and won first place every time. After my fifth win, Courtney’s boyfriend told me the manager of the club would like to speak with me in his office. I was hesitant to go, but Brad assured me he was a nice man and promised to wait right outside the office door for me.
Reluctantly, I followed Brad to an office in the back where he introduced me to the manager, Scott, and promptly offered a job. After giving it some thought, I accepted the offer on a trial basis. The contests had done a lot to boost my confidence, and I thought performing on stage would, too. And that’s how I came to be the headlining performer at The Booby Trap during my college years.
While it wasn’t conventional by any means, working as an exotic dancer seemed to be just what I needed to bring me out of my shell. I fought hard over the years and managed to overcome most of my childhood traumas. I only had one major issue that I hadn’t been able to completely overcome. Whenever men started yelling or fighting, I would curl into a ball or cower into myself and completely shut down as a flashback or panic attack consumed me. Thankfully, it never happened while I was performing. As the years passed, the time between flashbacks grew longer and longer, but they never completely went away, and I wasn’t sure they ever would.
Carbon
I was getting angrier and angrier by the day. Fucking, fighting, and riding were no longer keeping the red haze just below the surface. After my family’s unavenged murder, my only surviving sibling moved in with our grandmother, and I joined the Blackwings MC. My dad was a patched member, and I’d always planned to follow in his footsteps, but I never thought I would be doing it without him.
On the one-year anniver
sary of my family’s murder, I lost my shit and nearly beat a man to death in a matter of seconds. Granted, he deserved a few hits, but nothing like the ass-whooping he received from me. If Phoenix and Badger hadn’t been there, I would likely be spending my foreseeable future behind bars.
The next morning, Phoenix called me into his office and told me, in no uncertain terms, I needed to get myself under control, or I would lose my patch. Then, he said the words that ultimately saved me. “I think you should consider joining the military. Your patch will be here when you get back, and we’ll look after your grandmother and sister.”
I knew I needed help, so I took his advice and joined the Marines. He was right. The structure and discipline did help me learn some self-control. I also learned new skills, honed old ones, and found ways to channel my anger when I couldn’t suppress it. Or so I thought.
As it turned out, I hadn’t dealt with anything. I pushed it all to the back of my mind and managed to keep my anger locked down, only losing control a handful of times. Thankfully, my club was there to rein me in each time. Then, I lost another member of my family. Grandma’s unexpected death was the catalyst that sent my bottled-up emotions into dangerous territory. I was drowning, but there was no lifeline in sight.
CHAPTER ONE
Carbon
I pushed the door open and let myself in, surprised by how quiet it was inside. “Mom? Dad?” I called out. Where was everyone? They knew I was coming over. Dad and I were going to look at a bike I was thinking about buying and Mom asked me to come over early to have breakfast with them. “Mason? Sage? Reese?” I yelled as I made my way upstairs. At the top of the stairs, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the blood…everywhere.
I shot up in bed, gasping for breath and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Even though I was expecting the memory to appear in my dreams, it still felt just as real as it did when it actually happened.
The memory of finding my family murdered in their home often haunted my sleep. At first, the hellacious scene played behind my closed lids every night. As time passed, the dreams didn’t occur as often and finally dwindled down to only special dates like birthdays and anniversaries.
This particular one was the anniversary of my family’s death, and I wanted to be alone. I just needed to get away from everything, and there wasn’t any pressing club business to prevent me from riding out to clear my head. I usually spent the day with Reese and Grandma, but this was the first one since Grandma died and Reese said she wanted to spend it alone. I was hesitant to leave her, but she said she was probably going to stay in bed all day. So, when she was still in bed at lunchtime, I made sure she was okay; then, I got on my bike and rode.
I don’t know how I ended up there. I was on my way back to Croftridge when the flashing sign on the side of the highway caught my eye, The Booby Trap. I chuckled to myself and decided to pull in for a drink. I’d been to my fair share of strip clubs over the years, and I suspected this one was no different than the others. I was wrong. Very, very wrong. This one was different, because it had her.
I had been sitting at a table for a half an hour or so, trying to decide if I was going to leave or order another beer when the next song that played made the decision for me. It was possibly the ultimate strip club cliché. I finished my beer and moved to stand as Get Low reverberated through the room. And there she was, center-stage, looking directly at me.
Immediately, I dropped my ass back into the chair and took in the magnificent creature dancing before me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was breathtakingly beautiful, and she had an air of innocence about her. I wouldn’t have thought that possible for a stripper, but there she was proving me wrong.
Her long auburn hair nearly touched the floor when she hung upside down from the pole. Her lightly tanned skin appeared to be flawless from what I could see, and I could see most of it. To my utter delight, her delectable tits seemed to be real. They bounced and jiggled while she danced, damn near lulling me into a trance better than any qualified hypnotist ever could.
I snapped out of my stupor when she finished her performance and quickly made a beeline for the stage to tip her—something I never did. I felt like a jackass. My hands were a little sweaty, and they most definitely were not shaking. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I had never reacted this way to a female before.
When she stopped in front of me, I reached out and placed my hand on her waist. Her skin was soft and silky. I had to fight the urge to run my palm over her curves. With my other hand, I slowly slipped the bill in the very front of her G-string, dipping my fingers a tad lower than necessary. My fingertips met more smooth, silky skin and my cock twitched when I heard her soft gasp. I looked up as I pulled my hand back to see her plump lips forming a perfect ‘O’ and her dark blue, lust filled eyes staring down at me. I winked before turning and walking back to my table.
After finishing another beer, I made my way to the bar. I caught one of the girls working the floor and told her I wanted a private dance with the girl that was just on stage. She tried to get me to choose her for the dance instead, but I wasn’t having it. I wanted the beauty from the stage, and no one else would do. She finally got the point and told me to wait at the bar.
A man in a suit came through the door I assumed led to the back and approached me. He informed me that the girl went by the name of Pherra and she did not perform lap dances or private dances, she only danced on stage. That explained how she managed to be part sex goddess and part innocent angel. He offered me a discount on a private dance from one of the other girls. I didn’t want that. I wanted Pherra, and I was going to have her.
“One thousand dollars,” I offered.
His eyes widened. “For a private dance?”
“With Pherra. One thousand for a private dance with Pherra,” I stated.
He sucked in a sharp breath and looked extremely uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, sir. Pherra doesn’t do private dances. That was her choice, and I fully support it.”
That was good to know, but it didn’t help me out with my situation at all. “Two thousand. Go ask her,” I barked.
He reluctantly turned and disappeared through the door. What the hell was I doing? I was about to drop two thousand dollars to have some bitch grind all over me and maybe finish me off with a sloppy blow job if I was lucky.
It was the date. It had to be. It was fucking with my head and causing me to act irrationally. I was just about to turn and leave when the man returned.
“Follow me.”
“She agreed?” I asked, hating the disbelief in my voice.
“She did. I feel the need to reiterate that this is not the norm for her; therefore, I will cover the rules with you myself. There is to be no contact other than what is initiated by her. You keep your hands by your sides and enjoy the entertainment you paid for. There are no ‘carte blanche’ services offered. Our rooms are monitored with a live audio feed. All she has to do is say one word and the dance is over, regardless of how much time you may have left. If she utters her safe word, a bouncer will escort you from the premises, and you will be permanently banned from the club. Any questions?”
“Nope,” I said as he opened the door to a room in the back of the club. He closed the door, and I took a seat on the red leather sofa along the back wall. Thankfully, she didn’t make me wait long. She came into the room, and my jaw dropped.
She was wearing a black leather bikini top, covered by a black leather vest, similar to a cut. On her lower half, she had on a very short black leather skirt. My eyes continued their descent down her body to land on black spiked heels that were the very definition of fuck me heels. I wasn’t wearing my cut, so this had to be a damn lucky coincidence. Either way, she had my cock rock hard and ready to enjoy every second I had with her.
She reached out and pressed a button that turned on some music. Never saying a word, she stalked toward me and began to dance. She took her time and made it worth every penny. When she was down to jus
t her G-string and shoes, I told her to put the leather vest back on. She looked a little confused, but did as I asked before climbing in my lap.
Her bare tits peeking out from behind that leather vest while she ground her warm pussy over my straining cock was almost too much for me to tolerate. Forcing my hands to stay at my sides was taking too much of my attention away from her. Man, she was gorgeous. Her hair, her eyes, her body, her scent, just everything about her was mesmerizing to me. I still hadn’t heard her speak and she had me completely captivated.
When the next song started, she reeled me in even more. One of her hands slid down my arm and grasped my wrist. She slowly lifted my hand to her cheek for a brief moment before she slid my palm down her neck, over her collarbone, beneath the leather vest, and stopped when it was cupping her perfect tit. She did the same with my other hand, a little faster that time. Then, she started grinding against me like she was on a mission.
I sat there like a complete wanker with my hands on her tits, not moving them in any way. I didn’t want to break any rules and risk not being able to see her again. She looked down at my hands, looked back at my face, and nodded. I tentatively squeezed one gently. Her lips parted slightly, and she nodded again. Assuming that was her permission, I started playing with her luscious offerings in earnest.
We weren’t even having sex and I was in Heaven. I wanted to put my mouth on her so badly, but she hadn’t indicated to me that I could. I hated not being in control. Hated. It. I was always in control, especially when I fucked bitches, but there I was, letting this girl call the shots.
A soft moan brought my attention back to the girl in my lap. She started moving a little faster, and a beautiful flush was making its way down her chest. Holy shit! She was about to come. I slid one hand to her hip and helped guide her movements. She moaned again, just barely a hint of sound leaving her lips. Then, she locked eyes with me, gasped, and started to come. It was as if lightning struck me, or maybe both of us. She kept her eyes locked on mine while she rode out her pleasure and simultaneously had me coming in my fucking pants like a pubescent boy.
Carbon (Blackwings MC Book 4) Page 1
