Original Cin: A Raptors MC Novel

by Elle Rease

  She loved being in a motorcycle club. Life was so much smoother as a result, despite the occasional fights and run-ins with the law.

  “What do you feel like?” Brennan asked her.

  “I was going to say ‘your cock’, but that’s probably not what you meant.”

  The prospect assisting Ryan at the stand coughed to hide his startled laugh. Ryan, on the other hand, raised his eyebrows and waited for Brennan’s reply.

  “I don’t think they sell that here.”

  She rolled her eyes at her fiancé. “You can do better than that.”

  “I will.” His gaze was intense. “Tonight.”

  Struggling to swallow, she cleared her throat. “Uhm, can I get a hotdog?”

  “The next best thing?” Brennan asked naughtily.

  “There he is,” she muttered, blushing while the guys laughed.

  “Let’s see the ink, Cin,” Ryan chuckled.

  She turned her back to him. He was one of the wealthier Raptors, owning a restaurant franchise that dotted the highways in the country. In fact, when Brennan had brought her home, they’d had lunch at one of Ryan’s places. She had only found this out recently, though.

  “That’s sick, Brennan. Good job,” he praised. With his salt-and-pepper hair, square jaw and blue eyes, Cinnia had no idea why his wife had left him for someone else. He was so calm and gentle. “Can’t wait to see it when it’s done.”

  “Thanks, bro. Cin will be showing off her Raptors ink at Nixon’s homecoming, don’t worry.”

  Giving him a dry look, she asked: “Oh, I will?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’ll be good for the club,” Ryan reminded her. “You know, for those who’re still undecided about you.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. The prospect handed her hotdog over and she thanked him. “Bren, help me with sauce?” The men packed up laughing all over again and she sent her gaze to the ceiling. “Come on, get your mind out the gutter!”

  “Whose fault is it that they were in the gutter to begin with?” Ryan reminded her.

  Shoulders still shaking with silent chuckles, Brennan grabbed ketchup and squeezed a big helping on her hotdog. “So healthy.”

  “I don’t think Ryan serves salads, so you’re going to struggle finding something for your sophisticated appetite,” she said.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I think Ryan will make an exception for his VP.”

  “Already prepared it,” Ryan nodded, going over to the fridge. He returned with a huge bowl. “I call it the ‘Brennan’.”

  Cinnia smirked. “Original.”

  “This looks phenomenal, Ryan. Thanks.”

  Brennan bumped his fist to the owner’s, grabbed a fork and led the way to the only vacant table in the overcrowded food court. She had a suspicion that another biker had ensured that other people wouldn’t occupy this one.

  Right now, she just wanted to quench her hunger. She took a huge bite of the hotdog and moaned, shutting her eyes in bliss. This was exactly what her low blood sugar levels needed.

  “That’s it, lass, take it all.”

  She glared at him, mostly because she had a few seconds of chewing to do before she could swallow, so she couldn’t give him a cheeky retort.

  “It really does something for me, seeing phallic objects going in and out of your mouth,” he remarked. “You give head like no one else.”

  She paused between bites, curious. “And how many different women have given you head? I just want to know whether I’m a dime dozen, or a dime hundred.”

  “You really want to do this?”

  “Bren, you know all about my sexual history. Who was your first?”

  He speared a piece of chicken with his fork and ate silently, eyeing her as if to determine if she’d honestly be okay with finding out his sex secrets. “Farrah.”

  She blinked. “Farrah, who works for your mom? That Farrah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Huh.” She wrapped her head around that one. “How old were you?”

  “Fourteen,” he replied. “Two weeks before I first saw you.”

  “Tell me something… How are you able to stay friends with women you’ve fucked?”

  He shrugged. “They knew from the get-go that I wasn’t promising forever so, if they became clingy, I ignored them. And if they were petty, I called them out on their shit.”

  Cinnia shook her head, amazed. “Okay, so Farrah was your first. How many have you had since then?”

  “I haven’t really been counting.”

  “Ballpark.”

  He tilted his head to the side, the fork moving in his hand as if he was directing an orchestra. This gave her the opportunity to commit his features to memory, all over again. Jeez, it had to be illegal for anyone to be this attractive: he’d cut his auburn hair, so it was shoulder-length now. He wasn’t wearing a shirt today, mostly to display the work Jonah’s done on him, and his body has never looked better.

  Except naked. In their bed.

  The piercings in the corners of his mouth peeked at her from behind three days’ worth of stubble, drawing attention to his plump lips. Hmm, those lips, she thought, her eyelids going half-mast. She loved what he could do with that part of his face. There wasn’t an inch of her body that hasn’t been explored by his mouth.

  “I’d say around four hundred.”

  She choked on her food. “Four hundred?” she gasped.

  “Or more,” he confirmed.

  “Jesus Christ, and you were worried about Harold, the only other guy I’ve ever slept with?”

  “You’re not seeing this in perspective. Four hundred or so women over the course of sixteen years, until you came back home. I actually think that’s formidable.”

  “Not better,” she said, flabbergasted. “Okay, so here’s another question: apart from Dawn, did you sleep with anyone while we were together?”

  Brennan seemed uncomfortable. “Do you really want the answer to that?”

  “Oh my God.” She stared at him, wide-eyed. “How many?”

  He sighed and rubbed his temples. “It really depended on how horny you’d make me, but on average… Probably about two a month.”

  “So, during our three-year relationship, you had…” She trailed off, mentally doing the math. “About seventy-two different girls?”

  “Cin—”

  “Jesus, Brennan. You effectively cheated on me on seventy-two separate occasions! Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “No.”

  She processed this. The Dawn-situation had been laid to rest, but this… She knew for a fact that he would never cheat on her now that they were together in every sense of the word, but the betrayal still stung, especially considering his “depended on how horny you’d make me” comment. Had she driven him into so many women’s arms, or had he simply been acting on his so-called “rights”?

  “Do you need something to throw at me?” he asked blandly, though she could sense the underlying tension in his posture.

  “I only have one thing to say.” She pinned her gaze on his, making sure he knew that she was serious. “If I ever find out that you so much as flirted with another woman—from the second you got me back until the day you die—I will cut your cock and balls off and serve them to you for breakfast. You’ll eat it all. And then I’ll leave.”

  “Agreed.” He finished his salad and leaned on the table with his tattooed forearms, watching her. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I wasted a lot of time with women who meant nothing to me, when I could’ve been spending that time with you.”

  “I’m glad you’re man enough to admit your faults.” She took a deep breath. “I feel like I’ve missed out on a lot of sex.”

  His eyes darkened. “I can give you whatever sex you need to make up for it, lass.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “Hey guys!”

  Cinnia jumped in her seat and glanced up. Teagan and Piper were rushing over to the table, the latter wearing a huge smile. Cinnia was
happy that they hadn’t wasted any time getting together. That situation could’ve been dragged out for longer, but she suspected there was much more to Piper than met the eye.

  “Hi,” Brennan greeted them, shaking hands with Teagan and kissing Piper’s cheek. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I wanted to see how Cin’s tattoo is doing,” Piper gushed.

  Teagan smiled boyishly. “And I’m just along for the ride, playing bodyguard.”

  “Oh wow, Cin!” Piper said from behind Cinnia. “This is going to look amazing!”

  “Don’t give credit to the model,” Cinnia joked.

  “I’m definitely coming to Brennan when I get my Raptors ink.”

  Brennan raised his eyebrows. “Is that happening soon?”

  “Within the next year, if all goes according to plan,” Teagan responded. “I’m looking for a place to live first.”

  “Our neighbors are selling.”

  Cinnia’s eyes stretched. “Brennan, no—”

  “Oh my word, that would be so awesome!” Piper clapped her hands with a big smile. “We’d be living right next door!”

  Teagan was just a horrified as his sister. “Angel, I don’t think—”

  “It’s a good neighborhood,” Brennan interjected, a smile tugging at his mouth. He was enjoying the Sloane siblings’ discomfort. “And if something had to happen, we’ll be close-by.”

  “Yes, ‘cause that’s why Dawn and Haye live across the street,” Cinnia said sarcastically.

  “In fact, once the baby’s born, Haye’s looking to move into a house about a block away from ours,” Brennan let her know.

  “Nope, no, I can’t deal with this.” Cinnia rose to her feet. “Let’s get back to you mutilating my skin.”

  Piper’s brown eyes conveyed hurt. “Don’t you want us so close, Cin? I thought we’re friends.”

  “Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. We are friends. It’s just, it’ll be weird to hear you guys having sex, that’s all. He’s my brother.”

  Teagan visibly shuddered. “And you’re my sister.”

  “Okay, so maybe not right next door, but in the same street, maybe?”

  Cinnia huffed out a breath and smiled. “That sounds better.”

  “I would hug you, but your back’s probably sore,” Piper said excitedly.

  Brennan rose and smiled at the two lovebirds. “Speaking of, I have to start shading. Thanks for stopping by.”

  “We’re going to take a look at some furniture,” Teagan mumbled unenthusiastically. “We’ll see you guys later this week, at Nixon’s party?”

  “Definitely.” Cinnia kissed her brother and his lover, respectively. “Be safe!” She watched them scurry off and laughed to herself. “God, have you ever seen two people more in love?”

  “Sure, when we make love in front of a mirror.”

  She rolled her eyes, though her heartbeat accelerated at the mere mention of their bedroom antics. “Smooth, Bren.”

  “Like your bikini line?”

  She punched his shoulder and giggled. “Stop!”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said unconvincingly. “If you need the bathroom, now’s the time.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet you at the stand.”

  “And I’ll send the prospect over.”

  “Jeez, can’t even take a piss without eyes on me,” she muttered.

  “We’re on the border of Jackals territory, remember? I can never be too careful with my old lady.”

  If she had to be honest, she was touched by his concern. “Fine, send him.” She tilted her head back to accept his kiss. “See you soon, babe.”

  Cinnia walked over to the public toilets, aware that a lot of people were staring at her, since she only had a sheet to cover her breasts. The queue wasn’t long, thank God, so she did her business, splashed her face and exited the bathroom, finding the prospect outside. He couldn’t be older than seventeen and, unlike most guys who joined the Raptors, he didn’t have family in the club. He was her length and skinny, with brown hair and equally dark eyes.

  Something about him gave her the sense that they were going to walk a long road together.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Byron,” he answered.

  “Can you ride?”

  “A bit. Ryan’s taking me under his wing.”

  She was impressed. “You must be important, then.”

  “I don’t know about that,” the kid said, ruffling his hair. “I’m a friend of his son’s.”

  “How long until you get a cut?”

  “Five more months, ma’am.”

  She winced. “Please, I’m not a ma’am yet.” She looked at the masses around them. “And even if I am, I don’t think I can stand ‘ma’am’.”

  “Club rules,” was his simple response.

  “Dammit, you’re right.”

  Cinnia noticed a man in the crowd who was blatantly eyeballing her, and her eyebrows came together. Something seemed very off about him but, at the same time, she felt like she knew him. He was gaunt and not much taller than her, though his posture suggested that he used to have much bigger muscles. An element of danger clung to his aura. Where it was absolutely desirable on Brennan, it made her skin crawl, coming from this guy.

  She wouldn’t be surprised if he killed babies in his spare time. That’s how much his mere presence was repulsing her.

  “Everything okay, ma’am?” Byron asked her.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered softly, breaking eye-contact with the creep and focusing on Brennan’s tattoo stand, up ahead. “Thanks for walking me.”

  “No problem. See you later!”

  She waved at him and shuffled past Jonah. “It’s looking good, Jo,” she commented, staring at the watercolor-inspired mermaid ink he was adding to his wife’s body.

  “Thanks, Cin. So is yours. Good luck with the rest.”

  She quirked a smile and sat down in front of Brennan. “Where do you want to start?”

  “With the most important part,” he chuckled. “The Raptors.”

  “So, do I need to lie down?”

  “Nah, you can stay like that, if you prefer.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s get going.”

  Brennan cleaned her back with a few wipes again before sitting close behind her. The familiar buzzing sound of the tattoo gun made her skin tingle with excitement. She closed her eyes as he began filling the blank spaces with his art, trying her best to keep still.

  Her mind went on a walkabout, to the day of her graduation.

  “Cin, show more skin already!” her best friend—at the time—had urged her. “Your body’s to die for!”

  Cinnia had chewed on her bottom lip, uncertain. “Yeah, but there are going to be so many guys there.” And these parties aren’t like the ones at the clubhouse, she had thought. At least I don’t have to worry about people spiking my drinks there. “I don’t want to send the wrong message.”

  “It’s about time we sort your virgin-problem out,” Gillian had insisted. “Come on, I promise you’ll look good!”

  And, just like that, Cinnia had given in, dressing in a ripped crop-top and a short, tight high-waisted skirt. She’d worn her favorite platform heels, aware that it would make her taller than most men, and had added a ton of makeup, following Gillian’s lead. Her hair had fallen past her shoulders in loose curls.

  They’d gone to a frat house a few properties down the street. It was already in full swing by the time they had arrived, so they were urged to down a couple of shots to make up for being late. Guys had swarmed around Gillian and Cinnia, their agendas written on their inebriated faces.

  Within half an hour, Cinnia had already been making out with someone she vaguely recalled having a class with. Her head had been spinning and, truthfully, she probably shouldn’t have dressed so provocatively.

  Her body had recoiled from his touch but, due to her alcohol intake, she hadn’t done anything to stop his hands from roaming. You have to forget ab
out Brennan, she had urged herself. He can’t be the only one capable of making you horny!

  When her tonsil-hockey partner had been ripped away from her, she’d blinked in confusion. Her vision had been hazy, yet she’d been convinced that Brennan was pummeling the poor guy. Lifting a hand to her pounding head, she had stared at the scene, attempting to come to grips with her ex being here.

  It had taken six men—six!—to drag Brennan off his victim and, by then, the Scottish biker had lost interest, settling his icy gaze on Cinnia instead.

  “Wharr… What’re you doing here?” she’d slurred, swaying.

  In one fluid movement, he had scooped her up and was carrying her away from the party. “Jesus Christ, Cin,” he’d growled, his usually suppressed accent breaking free. “Wha’ were ye thinkin’, lass? Are ye outta yer damn mind?”

  She had been mesmerized by the latest addition to his piercings, this one in the corner of his mouth. “So hot.”

  “Fuck, Ah’ve no’ got time for this. Ye’re drunk off yer ass.”

  “Why’d you pinch… punch my buddy?”

  “Ah’ll not allow another man’s paws on what’s mine.”

  “Bren, I broke up with you!” Cinnia had been furious at his assumption. “You cheated on me with Dawn and I broke up with you!”

  “Ah could give less of a fuck.”

  “Where are you taking me?” she’d questioned, looking around. This had only made her nauseous and she’d held a hand in front of her mouth. “Think I’ma be sick.”

  Brennan had let her down on her feet, shifted to her back and held her hair away from her face. “Then be sick, lass.”

  “Don’t tell me what to—” Bile had interrupted her, forcing its way out of her mouth. She had fallen to her knees, sputtering after every heave. How much had she had to drink, anyway? She couldn’t recall. What was the number that followed seven?

  Brennan had stroked her back in a comforting manner. “You’ve got to be more careful, Cinnia. What would’ve happened to you if I didn’t show up?”

  She’d been too busy spewing her guts out to reply immediately. Then, shakily, she’d wiped her mouth clean and straightened. “Why are you here?” she had asked weakly.