Trouble: Hell's Heathens MC (Book One) (Older Man, Younger Woman MC Romance)

by Raven Dark

  Oh, heaven help me. Maybe I should be as scared of him as I am of his bike, but I’m not. The warmth and protectiveness in his voice fills me up, and it’s somehow easy to trust him. Then it hits me what he just said.

  “Wait… what’s yours?”

  His eyes sparkle. He pushes my curls behind my shoulder and shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you, girl? From the minute I walked into that grease pit and saw you standing there with your crazy little ponytail and your arms full of dishes, you were doomed, Anne. You were already mine before you even said a word to me.”

  My pulse hammers. His. Oh, God, yes. So much yes.

  “And then I almost didn’t serve you.” I grinned at him. “I wanted to throw you out.”

  He pinches my chin. “If I thought I’d picked the wrong girl when I saw you, as soon as you started mouthing off to me, I knew.”

  “That you’d made the biggest mistake of your life?” I joke.

  “No. That you were perfect for me.”

  “How does that work?” How did he want a girl that was going to challenge him every step of the way, who would bristle every time he turned into an ass? Knowing him, that was likely to be all the damn time.

  “You’ll see.” He kisses me lightly on the mouth, and I can feel him holding back. Still trying to be…nice. Then he picks up the helmet sitting on the back of his bike and slips it onto my head.

  I adjust the helmet awkwardly. It feels strange, snug and warm, but not confining. It makes me feel safe, like a security blanket. Like he does.

  “Wait, Vicious, there’s only one. What about you?” I start to take the helmet off, meaning to give it to him, but he does up the chinstrap and pulls it tight before I can remove it.

  “I don’t need it. I’m not letting you on this thing without protection, though.”

  Typical male. He thinks he’s too macho to bother with safety. I open my mouth, then close it. If he’s been riding since he was a kid, then he knows all about bike safety, and besides, a rule-breaker like him wouldn’t care.

  “Now let’s get the fuck out of here, before I throw you over my shoulder and take you back into that bathroom after all.”

  He helps me onto the bike and then swings on in front of me.

  “My mother would kill me if she saw me now.” As soon as the words are out, my face heats up again.

  Vicious roars with laughter.

  “What? God, did I sound like I was five just now?”

  “Nah. These things are a mother’s worst nightmare no matter how old you get. My mother hates them too.”

  His sharing that little piece of information makes me feel closer to him. It makes me wonder what it would be like to meet the woman who raised a man like Vicious. She must be one tough woman, and yet she hates motorcycles. There’s a story there, and I’ll get him to tell me somehow.

  “Now what do I do?” I say to his back. I feel incredibly vulnerable and out of place. And excited as hell.

  Vicious looks over his shoulder. He pulls my arms around his waist, resting my palms on his rippling abs. “Nothing. I’ll do all the work, beautiful. You just hold on tight.” He squeezes my hand. “Get ready, Anne. I’m going to give you a ride you’ll never forget.”

  Oh, I just bet he will.

  3

  In the Arms of Danger

  The ride is nothing like I expected.

  It’s also everything I never thought I wanted.

  We ride through the streets of Whiskey, and at first, I’m clinging onto Vicious for dear life. Riding a bike is nothing like riding a car. It’s open and free and wild. The breeze was low and warm when we left the restaurant, but now the wind whips at me, cool and refreshing on my skin, and utterly exhilarating. The engine purrs under me, vibrating between my legs, heavy and big and strong, and making me think what it would be like to feel Vicious there. The bike is loud, filling my ears, and I love it.

  I press my cheek to his back. The smell of leather envelopes me, masculine and mixed with the smell of exhaust and the spicy smell of him. It’s heaven on wheels.

  Yesterday, I never would have imagined myself getting near one of these, anymore than I would have dreamed I’d end up with my arms around this leather-clad god. My mother raised me to be the good girl, never breaking rules, never drawing attention. In a single night, all her well-maintained rules have gone out the window, but right now, riding the wind with Vicious, I don’t care.

  Just for this one night, I won’t let myself care.

  We ride out of Whiskey, quickly leaving the town behind. We take back roads, passing the forest and riding the dirt roads that lead out of town, into the hills. Vicious wasn’t kidding; he knows what he’s doing. He navigates the curves and glides around corners, speeding into the slow-coming night as if we have all the time in the world. Here and now, it feels like we do.

  He dominates the roads as if he owns them. I’ve never felt so free, so alive in my life. I am no longer in control, he is, and I thrill in it. Right now, nothing else exists. My mother’s over-protectiveness, the restaurant’s slowly fading clientele, the robbery, school, the town and the way it would sneer at us if they knew—none of that matters now.

  “You okay back there, Anne?” he calls.

  I nod against his back. “Where are you taking us?” I yell back.

  “You’ll see.”

  “Tell me!” Maybe I should worry, but I don’t.

  “No.”

  “That’s not fair, Vicious.”

  “Live with it.” He rubs my hand, chasing away cool of the wind and taking the bite out of his words.

  I make a frustrated sound, but I know deep down I love that he wants me to let go and just be with him. Let him take control.

  We’ve ridden into a thick forest twenty minutes or so out of Whiskey, a secluded place where the teenagers in town sometimes come to make out. There are often bush parties held out here, but there’s only us here now.

  Vicious stops the bike on the top of a ridge that offers a perfect view of Whiskey, a blanket of lights twinkling like fireflies in the distance. He kicks down the stand.

  “Wait.” I sit up slowly as it sinks in, really sinks in, where he’s taken me. “This is Lover’s Ridge.” I smile up at him. “Are you planning on seducing me, Vicious?”

  He picks me up off the bike and lets my body slide down his, setting me on my feet. He’s all soft leather and heat. He takes off my helmet and cups my nape.

  “I don’t have to seduce you. I told you, you’re already mine. Your fate was sealed the moment I saw you. The rest is just formality.”

  The implications sink in and my eyes widen on his, my pulse fluttering. Vicious traces the line of my bangs with his fingers, his eyes hungry and filled with lust that makes my sex clench.

  “I’m going to fuck you tonight, Anne,” he says softly, as if he’s easing me into this. As if it’s a foregone conclusion. “There is no escaping that now, not that there ever was. I am not a gentle man, but I will try to be. For you.”

  Oh, boy. What have I gotten myself into?

  I bite my lip. This is it. This is the moment right here when I could stop everything. When I could halt the train before it goes down a track from which there is no going back. The one Vicious is taking us both down at a breakneck speed. This can only end in heartbreak for so many reasons, but I don’t care.

  This is our night, and it’s probably the only night I’ll have with him. I’ve spent my life being the good girl, being what this town, what my mother wants me to be. Tonight, just this one, I’m his. I’m the bad girl, the riff-raff, the rebel.

  When he walks out of my life, I’ll cry and fall apart, I know I will. I should run, but the idea makes me almost tearful, and I know there is only one choice.

  I lay my trembling hand on his chest. “Well, I appreciate the warning sir.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but it’s all my brain is capable of.

  His eyes dance at my humor, but he also gets what I’m telling him.

  Vi
cious cradles my hand in his and leads us a few feet from his bike. He sits on a patch of thick grass near the edge of the ridge and pulls me immediately down with him. We tumble, and I end up crushed against him, chest to chest, our legs tangling.

  “Sorry,” I mumble and start to roll off him.

  Vicious traps my legs with his, and his arms lock around my waist. “You’re not going anywhere now.”

  Oh, help me. His eyes are playful, but he means what he’s saying.

  A million questions race through my head, and I look away, painfully aware of my own inexperience.

  “Stop thinking so much, Anne.” His fingers turn my face to his. “There are two things I do really well. Riding a motorcycle is the other one.”

  I giggle.

  “I’ll take care of you, beautiful. Tonight, and every night.”

  My head drops to his chest with the weight of his words, and I nod silently. He can’t mean that part about what comes after, but I force myself not to think about it. Tonight is a fantasy, and I will let myself have it.

  Then before I can form another thought, he lifts my head and his lips claim mine. Every possible worry or fear is gone. The kiss is long and wild and hot. Vicious kisses me like he owns every inch of me, his tongue darting and rolling over mine until my sex aches to the point of pain.

  I whimper, and he captures my hair in his fist, tugging just hard enough to make me moan. By the time he lets me lift my head, I’m panting and clutching onto him for dear life.

  His cock is jabbing into my stomach, a rod of steel. Excitement rushes through me at the notion that I have such an effect on him. Without words, he kisses his way along my neck to my throat, his lips leaving a trail of fire on the skin and making me dizzy with need.

  “You make me crazy, Anne.”

  “Oh, God…”

  He hums and savors the hollow of my throat while his hands push my shirt up and unclip my bra. His palms cup my breasts, massaging them just right. My nipples peak, and he moves down, sucking one, then the other.

  His teeth nip one hardened bud, and I cry out in half pleasure, half pain. He lets out the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, a cross between a groan and a growl. Next instant, he’s pushed me so that I’m sitting up and my legs are straddling his hips. His huge cock presses right between my legs. I rub myself against him before I consider what I’d done.

  “Fuck.” He stills my hips. “If you want me to be nice, you have to slow down, Anne.”

  “I don’t.” The words slip out of their own free will.

  His jaw muscles flex as if it’s taking everything in him not to rip all my clothes off. “You shouldn’t have said that.”

  His fingers tug at the front of my jeans, and he jerks them open, pushing them and my panties as far down my hips as they’ll go with my straddling him. I close my eyes and let go.

  Vicious slips his hand between my legs, his fingers cupping my sex. The heat is intense, and I’m already soaked. He strokes my clit a few times, and I ride his touch, begging for more.

  He growls and slips two fingers deftly inside me. His hand stills, and he seizes my jaw with the other hand, making me look at him.

  “What’s wrong?” I pant, suddenly terrified I’ve somehow turned him off.

  “You’ve done this before.” His voice is rough and his eyes blaze.

  “Is that bad?” Humiliation rolls through me. I wished I’d saved myself for him.

  But he shakes his head. “No. Never. It’ll make it easier for me to take you. But I hate the thought of you being with another man.”

  The possession in his voice makes me wet.

  He slips his fingers slowly in and out of me. Every stroke is like heaven, sending me higher. My single experience with sex pales in comparison to this. I’m so wet it’s obscene. He’s perfect, and he knows exactly how to touch me, alternating between stroking my eager clit and fucking me with his fingers.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God…”

  “Good girl,” he rumbles. “Come for me.”

  Suddenly the sensations are too much. I’m tossing my head and riding his fingers wildly. His palm strokes my clit with each thrust. I go over the edge, crying out and thrashing.

  Vicious sits up and wraps his arm around me, kissing me long and hard on the mouth, his fingers drawing out the last tremors of my orgasm.

  He rolls me smoothly onto my back and lifts my hips, tearing my jeans down to my ankles. I should be scared, but all I see is heaven looming over me, badass and hungry. He’s unstoppable and I want him.

  I reach for his pants, and he swats my hand away with a smirk, undoing them himself.

  “Bossy,” I tease.

  Then I see him in all his glory. It’s still light enough that every inch of his long, hard cock is visible. He’s as thick as my wrist. “Oh, wow. That’s not going to fit.”

  He chuckles. “Trust me. You women have babies through there. You’ll be fine, just let me do the work.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His lips twitch with approval. He lifts my hips and jerks me against him, teases my clit, and then…

  Vicious thrusts inside me, almost crushing me under him. I cry out at the sting and bite his shoulder. He stops until he feels me clawing at him.

  “Don’t stop. Never stop.”

  One of those sexy as hell growls rumbles out of him. Vicious thrusts in and out, his muscles cording with restraint. I know he’s on a knife’s edge. I bite his shoulder to keep from screaming as the pain gives way to pleasure so intense it’s beyond words.

  “Fuck.” He shudders in pleasure. Whatever’s holding him back shatters. He pounds me like his namesake, filling me up and crushing my lips with his.

  This is unreal. We’re lying in the grass fucking like wild animals, and I don’t care. I devour his kiss and cry his name, spreading my legs and loving every thrust, every kiss, every sound he makes.

  I fly over the edge, bucking wildly and screaming. Vicious’ control breaks, and he bites my neck; the pain makes me come again. He roars and pounds into me a handful of times. Then he sits up and pulls out, jacking off until he comes, marking my pussy, my stomach. There’s a lot of it, white and thick and covering my skin.

  Maybe I should be grossed out, but I’m not. I like it; I feel like he’s branded me as his forever.

  Vicious pulls a cloth out of his pants pocket and cleans me off, and the look of triumph on his face makes my stomach flutter. He pockets the cloth, then rolls over and pulls me into his arms. I snuggle into him, laying my head on his chest, on the warm skin where his leather vest is open, leaving the skin bare.

  “You didn’t take off your vest,” I whisper into his neck.

  He snorts.

  “What?” I lift my head. “What’s so funny?”

  “Cut,” he murmurs, kissing my neck.

  “Huh?” I draw back.

  “This.” He touches the leather. “Bikers call them cuts.”

  “Oh.” I run my hand over the smooth black leather, loving the feel of it. There’s an interesting symbol on the left breast of the cut, a diamond with a one and a percentage sign in the center. I trace the line of the diamond with my fingers. “Why? Why cut?”

  He glances at the sky in thought and massages my still bare ass. “Ah. Notice the lack of sleeves? They’re ‘cut off.’ Rebelling against The Man, back in the day.”

  I giggle at the way he refers to society as “The Man,” then sigh in contentment and lay my head back down on his chest, my arms around him. I marvel at the raw power in him, the danger he exudes. “I could stay here forever with you, Vicious.”

  He hums and kisses the top of my head. “Me too, beautiful. Me too.”

  My thoughts go down an unwanted road and I push them down another path. “We should get back to town. My mother will be worried.”

  “Not yet. I want a little more time with you.”

  The words sound painfully final, as if he’s savoring something that won’t last. My eyes water, and I push the tears away,
refusing to come off as needy in front of him.

  Hours pass and we lay there in the coming darkness, enjoying the silence. It feels as if I’m lying in the arms of danger itself, and yet somehow, I’ve never felt safer. I wasn’t a virgin when he took me, but it feels as if this was my first time. As if this moment with him is all there is or ever was.

  Part of me wants to know everything about him, and yet part of me is too scared to ask. If what they say about his club is true, he’s as bad as bad can be, and I don’t want to hear that right now. I just want this fantasy, that he’s the perfect man and nothing can stop us.

  Vicious asks about my life. I keep things light, telling him about moving from a big city to Whiskey as a kid, about my mom losing her job and having to pack up and leave, about the restaurant. He asks about my dad, but I go silent. He kisses my forehead and holds me close as if to tell me it’s alright and doesn’t press.

  Thank god.

  When we finally dress and get ready to leave, Vicious sets me on his bike and takes my chin in his hand, kissing me on the mouth.

  “I’m going to dream about you all night, Anne.” He kisses me again.

  I force a smile that does nothing for the crushing in my heart at the thought that, in less than an hour, he’ll ride out of my life and I’ll never see him again. “Me too.”

  “My woman,” he murmurs, teasing my lips with his. “All mine.”

  Oh, how I wish that were true.

  4

  Liar

  I did a terrible thing.

  After Vicious drove back into town, something hit me that should have occurred to me before I went out with him.

  I live with my mother, who rarely goes out at night, who wakes up at the smallest sound, and who hates when I come home too late. Her overbearing tendencies had morphed into full blown obsessive mode since the first time the bank was robbed, and she’d never let up. She’s apt to be worse now, with the second robbery.

  I rarely came home super late and hardly went out, preferring to study or lose myself in a book. It was after midnight when we got back into Whiskey. She was probably pacing with worry by now.