Dirty Salvation (Renegade Souls MC Romance Saga Book 1)

by V. Theia

  “You gotta know, Icy. I like takin’ care of you. Like that you take care of my shit over at the office, Texas told me he watched you sweet talk big Brian over at the haulage yard into paying his bill early, never saw Tex gush before, I think you got a fan, baby, he wants me to double your pay just to keep you. He doesn’t know I’m already keepin’ you.” she sucked in her breath.

  Rider liked that as well, her feelings were right on the surface for him to see making her eyes sparkle. “Having said all that shit, you’re gonna be busy today, ‘cause even though I had you just this morning, all honey and soft wakin’ for me, my cock wants those sweet lips right now. Come with me, Icy.” Latching onto her hand he set off walking, taking her with him. His room felt like it was ten miles away, and if he knew he wouldn’t get interrupted by one or more of his knucklehead boys he’d push her into the nearest room with a door.

  “Yo, Prez!”

  Jesus fucking Christ above.

  Rider came to a stop; his ass hadn't even left the common room yet and the toddlers were screeching for him. He turned his snarl on Preacher.

  Thin fucking ice, brother.

  “What?” His growl was hateful. Cockblocked at every goddamn turn by these shitheads. At his side, Zara was giggling curled around his hand, her body leaning into his side, he liked her there.

  Preacher grinned and jutted his head out of the window. “We got some company of the kin kind. You might wanna put down your girl for a second.”

  Again, Rider cursed. Were his family here? The fuck. He spoke to his mother just yesterday and he wasn’t due to see them until the thanksgiving weekend.

  “Who is it?” Asked Zara.

  Dropping an idle kiss to her forehead, Rider’s brow bunched.

  “About to find out. Wait here, baby.” If it was his father Rider would lose his fucking shit, he had no time for him today, or ever. He saw who it was a minute later when he’d strode over to the main entrance, a half-pint size lump in a white fur lined Parka coat, the hood obscuring her face poured herself through the door, dumping her bag at her feet before launching into Rider’s opened arms, he pulled his baby sister into a tight hug.

  ******

  When Rider lifted the woman off her feet hugging her with a giant grin on his gorgeous face, Zara stood back and observed. Only a tiny little bit jealous poking at her belly. The pair had a closeness, that much she could tell, but it didn’t feel sexual. Like the kiss he’d just pressed to Zara’s forehead, he did the same to the woman as she pushed the hood of her coat back to let a long mass of black hair fall free.

  He cared for the woman, she noted.

  Zara used these minutes to get her heart back under control, sex was out of the question now, though her body hadn’t got the memo yet and was still in full throttle mode.

  The sight of him, in his tight fitted too worn denim and his leather cut over his navy Henley shirt, his hair swept up in a messy bun, and his eyes so intense, turned the blood in her veins to boiled syrup.

  Zara visibly sucked in a breath. He made her legs feel like soft noodles.

  Especially when he whispered dirty things like he had.

  Rider had no filter whatsoever and she loved it.

  The attraction was real. It wasn’t a passing fancy, a passion for burning itself out. It was real and growing out of control. She was sore between her legs, a memory of the ungodly stretching he’d made her do at two am this morning when he’d arrived back at the compound and woke her with his skilled mouth and wicked fingers showing her just how real their passion was with no end in sight.

  There’d been no grace in just how she’d came awake.

  The sob had stuck in her throat, more than ready for him so when he slammed inside she’d cried out as a plea for more even as her body twinged a little not entirely used to the size of him.

  It was true Rider had filled out more in the last three years, his shoulders were broader, his sharp rippled belly tapered down to lean hips she loved looking at, his long strides eating up the floor wherever he walked to. Gorgeous biker man, for sure.

  The woman laughed, throwing her head back, she was truly beautiful, slim beneath her coat, jeans encased her legs and she wore gorgeous winter boots, curiosity eating at Zara, who was she?

  When Rider's back was to her, she inhaled an obvious second breath, this one much longer, it held there in her lungs…oh man, his back was wider, too. The cut was stretched, formed completely to his body as if born there as part of his skin.

  Seriously. He was far too handsome. And built like a skyscraper. And she was sleeping with him as often as she could.

  He'd been big before. Engrained in her brain. Now he was just … there. Before she was caught ogling like he was a side of chocolate dipped in chocolate served on a bed of chocolate, Zara cleared her throat and wrenched her gaze away before the jealous monster growing in her belly got out of control, if Rider wanted her to know who the woman was he’d introduce her, standing here marking him as hers with eyes all over his eyes was a little bit ridiculous.

  Her body swerved to the right out of sight of the animated conversation taking place across the common room, only to be hit with a pair of pale, almost crystal, blue eyes and a dark sinister smirk

  Her entire body recoiled from Hawk’s look of contempt. She took a step back, feeling her Vans slide on the rug.

  The Vice President was equally imposing in stature and just as wide, but where Rider was undeniably handsome, she had no idea and truly didn’t want to know what Hawk had going on under all his facial hair. The man had invented scary, he was CEO of terrifying and held a lifetime’s membership to ‘don’t get in my face and I won’t kill you’ club. She wouldn’t be applying to that anytime soon.

  Something slithered coldly under her skin as she met his eyes, her head back, chin up defiantly though her fight or flee instincts were screaming at her to head in the opposite direction.

  All the elements around her became starkly heightened under his watchful stare. She guessed already he didn't like her, she didn't need a long raving conversation to tell her that. Some things you picked up quick on someone else’s body language.

  A dark glare, a sneer, avoidance, ignoring. All glaring road signs.

  Whatever was Hawk's issue, not her problem, she had enough on her mind, without borrowing worry she had no control over.

  Hawk avoided being in her company any time she ventured into the main living area, said as few words as possible, and she was good with that, frankly, he made her teeth on edge, not a hard effort, she was jumpy, to begin with, but Hawk was different.

  Though Zara had stayed on the periphery within the club most of the time, she'd always felt those astute eyes on her, assessing with silent scorn as though he'd been judge jury and executioner and deemed Zara his club’s enemy.

  Well, whoop-dee-do for him. Hawk and his Jesus' hair were so wrong. If she'd read anything with her time at the Rebels, it was when to recognize want in a man's gaze. Thank god, she didn't see it from Hawk. That would be plain weird and creepy.

  She was not desirable to the scary man. Thank god.

  "Something you want?" She asked tersely looking for an exit, the way he was glaring who could blame her tone.

  Zara couldn't recall seeing the VP crack a smile let alone laugh.

  But as fast as he stared at her, his gaze slid slickly across the room, she watched him stiffen from head to toe, all his attention was on Rider and the woman.

  Scratch that, Hawk wasn’t looking at Rider at all, he was all about the woman laughing at whatever Rider had said to her.

  Curiously, Zara’s brow rounded up.

  Did Hawk know the woman as well?

  She observed his chest inflate hard under his cut stretching the material right as the woman looked over at Hawk, smiled at him with a short wave and said “Hey, Hawk.”

  Hawk’s face went from dark to...darker.

  He ignored Zara’s question altogether, turned on his boots and stalked away.

/>   Weird, she mused.

  But he was a weird man. Scary and fucking weird.

  “Icy.” Rider called out, doing that finger motion thing to her again, did he think she was a dog? Good thing she liked him.

  He was smiling so she smiled back shyly noticing the woman’s curious eyes on her now.

  “Get over here and meet my pain in the ass sister who didn’t tell me she was coming into town.”

  His sister. Ah. Her jealous beast retreated, no cat fights today for her man.

  Her man? God, Calm down, possessive much.

  “If you won’t tell me you have a girlfriend you’ve been hiding, Ambrosio! Then I guess I have to come and see for myself don’t I, big brother?“ His sister declared with a swat to Rider's arm though she sent a friendly smile Zara's way. “Hi. I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Gia. If Ambrosio is the black sheep of the family, then I'm the-----“

  "Princess in waitin' Yeah, we know, squirt, you just need a crown." interrupted the black sheep in question.

  “Never mind him. Whatever he's told you about me is complete lies. And let me tell you all the crap I have on him, some of it is a doozy! you’re going to love it, great for blackmailing him" Zara laughed as Rider shook his head.

  She liked Gia instantly.

  She barely heard Rider grumble about "Gossipin' fuckin' outlaw’s"

  No big deal or anything. Just Zara was being introduced to his family as his girlfriend.

  So much for being just friends.

  Who sleep in the same bed with their intimate parts locked together. No big deal or anything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "Why can't I get the fucking taste of you off my tongue?" – Hawk

  Sensing the second she was inside the clubhouse; Hawk's body went off like a tuning fork humming every fiber of his skin until he was pure gooseflesh beneath his cut. The hair on the back of his neck became static electricity and every-fucking-thump of his heart wanted to bang clean out of his chest.

  It happened every time, the way his cock began to ache making Hawk damn jittery even Snake had asked what-the-hell he’d taken. Fuck off. He’d growled. Everyone knew he didn’t touch the hard stuff.

  Instead, he'd glared at Rider's woman to try and distract himself from what he really wanted to do and that was look at … her.

  Shit. It was ten months since he’d last clapped eyes on her, having timed it right to be elsewhere on her biannual visits. Ten months eight days, if he were counting.

  She’d sprung this visit on everyone.

  If Rider was surprised. Hawk was fucking devastated.

  He wasn’t prepared, had no willpower, no coping mechanism, in place.

  His only option was to get out of there. Fast.

  Now. Do it now. His eyes trying to betray his will.

  Three minutes later, ignoring Zara, he’d stormed off like a vengeance tornado into his room down the hall, into the bathroom, grunts falling like acid rain, slamming the door almost off its hinges, he’d bodily climbed into the frigid cold shower, unable to wait for the water to run hot.

  Only one thing he could do.

  He ripped open his jeans, sending a button flying.

  Reaching inside he groaned a pained sound.

  His arousal was half crawled up his ribbed belly.

  Hungry.

  Starved

  Needing.

  Hawk yanked down his zipper until he could better wrap his full angry fist around his cock, he stroked the massive erection he'd been sporting since the second he got eyes on her waltzing her ass through the door all smiles for everyone waving like a royal fucking princess.

  Pumping it harder than it had ever felt before, the grip death tight, the power in the up and down motion strong enough to make his sensitive skin sore if he kept it up for any period of time, lucky for Hawk this wouldn't take long at all, as it was, he could feel the climax begin to boil inside him, it ranged from a simmer right into volcano strong, his balls tightened, they didn't even need any play to get him there, he was already there in the twister of his climax.

  It was so completely sick that it was her who did this to him. Only her.

  Why her?

  He slapped a hand to the wall to steady his body, he rode his palm the full length dragging his cock half way up his abs, pumping down faster, it was either come or … fuck.

  He couldn't think of the or.

  Or he'd goddamn do it.

  He'd do her so phenomenally hard, just split her thighs and screw them both into her, and damn the consequences that would inevitably arrive afterward.

  It would be worth it. A dark voice whispered and Hawk shut down his thoughts from going any further.

  Not ever gonna happen.

  Hawk wasn't a normal man, nor a man with a virtuous compass, he felt nothing most of the time, no guilt, regret, he flicked people off like gnats neither bothered nor caring about them.

  Which was why it always came as a surprise he sprung a hard-on when she was near.

  The hell.

  He was a sicko. Degenerate.

  No pain needed. No sadomasochism. Straight up fucking erection with no prompting. Goddamn her.

  He was less than the dirt beneath those princess shoes. He'd always known it and still ... his cock turned to steel thinking of the smile she sent him. She was a torturer in a tiara.

  The pelts of shower water soaked up the noise of his raw grunts, pleasure so acute it felt like pain racing down his spine, tightening his full balls.

  Who was he punishing? he wondered. Himself for desiring her, or her for making him want her.

  Either way, he got off now or...

  There was no or. He growled. Purging her from his system had become routine, something to ignore until it was so fierce within him he either fucked or he killed.

  But he was far too interested in her to the point it was gonna drive him crazy if he didn't get her out of his head for good. Curious was never a sound idea where he was concerned.

  Bad things occurred.

  Dangerous when he wanted to invade her personal space like he had the right to without regard for if she wanted him there.

  Hawk liked fear. He got off on it. Needed it. Craved the upper hand.

  He pictured her now while he stroked his cock, the look of disdain she'd surely give him if he got in her face, he was an animal, why wouldn't she, if he did what he wanted to do to see if she smelled as good as he knew she would, he'd scare her.

  All sweet baby innocence.

  Close. Close. Closer.

  His palm got rough, jerking his cock like he hated himself. He wasn't far wrong, but he needed there, he needed there so fucking bad.

  His groan echoed around the scanty bathroom, water so hot now it almost peeled the skin off his bones through clothes that clung uncomfortably tight, however, he wasn't dialling the temp down, he didn't stop the up-down motion, the hard twist to make it hurt as he fixed her image firmly in his mind, how innocent she smiled, so clean and fresh, like plucking a brand-new rose and ruining it in his fist.

  She was brand new and he was death.

  Hey, Hawk.

  Two words and his head had been about to explode.

  Did she sense the effect she had on him? Was the greeting she'd passed him so nonchalantly in ways to torture him? He didn’t understand body language, didn’t catch subtle nuances. In any case, he'd scowled jutting up his chin at her as way of a reply, even that killing him, and strode off in the opposite direction as far away from her as he could physically get without leaving the club. I should have left. His dick demanded he took care of the build-up of desire before that too exploded.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  He wanted to fuck her so vigorously, make her scream his name, plead for mercy, let everyone know she was letting an animal do her better than anyone else ever could.

  If he retained her image in his head, that slight smile from one corner of her mouth, the way she was forever brushing back her long black bangs, h
e'd be done for.

  This was where his depravity kicked in.

  Hawk was on the dark side, walking a fine line when his body responded to just how he wanted to ruin the girl.

  His groan reached down to his soul, pumping with more force, screwing his own hand, drawing out the flash of ecstasy as he smoothed the drop of pearled liquid over the head.

  Her smile was getting him there.

  The way she walked, rolling her hips, was forcing him to his climax in record time.

  He hated her.

  Wanted her.

  Fucking craved her like a drug.

  His veins twisted cruelly for a fix. Any fix.

  Slapping a hand to the wall for leverage, he pumped and moved his hips with the motion, close. close. Almost.

  Three little letters punctured the air, growled out of his chest, the noise torn and ragged and regretful, come spilling down over his hand as the pleasure went on and on and on, a river of filthy pleasure, her name on his lips. Spurts of pent-up need went on and on leaving his cock in what felt like endless rushes of a lewd wave.

  He thought he could hate her.

  That little bit of a thing had gotten under his asshole skin a long time ago when he hadn't been decent and wouldn't get the fuck out.

  He didn't want to feel.

  He didn't want to feel her.

  Only he did.

  In all the filthy ways he could think of to mess that little bit of a girl up.

  On legs that were less than steady, Hawk stepped out of the shower cubicle, remembering to reach back in and switch off the spray before he flooded the place, steam billowed as he pulled open the door, whooshing out ahead of him before he could move back into his bedroom.

  His jeans and shirt were soaked, clinging to his body, itchy, irritating material, he shucked them both leaving them in a sopping heap there on the floor to deal with later.

  Not bothering to dry himself he pulled on a pair of dark denim jeans from the floor, not caring how long they'd laid there for, there was no clean pile, dirty pile, all of Hawk's clothes were well used clothes.