Puck's Property: A Bad Boy Biker Romance (The Demon Squad MC Book 5)

by Monique Moreau

  Dragging her feet, she inched up and crawled over his thighs. He placed a hand on her spine and applied pressure until she hung over his lap. She heard the rustle of her robe as it was rucked up, and with a final huff, she laid her cheek on the couch. Goose bumps pricked her skin as the cold air hit her exposed skin. She had a view of the bookshelf and the window, with the shades still up. Silently, she prayed that her house was situated far enough back from the sidewalk that no one walking by would see her.

  “Now for the spanking.”

  “Puck!” she lamented. He was enjoying this far too much.

  A chuckle gusted over her bare flesh, causing her to jerk her hips nervously. The anticipation, along with the smooth glide of his hand over her buttocks and his hard quad muscles flexing beneath her, fueled a heat in her core that she really wished would disappear. If the slickness at the juncture of her thighs was glaringly obvious to her, it was only a matter of time before he noticed. She gave an inward groan. What was it about Puck and his dominance that made her clit ring like a little bell when he took full control? She was like a cat in heat, wanting to rub her wet pussy all over his thighs. If she had her way, she’d pull off his briefs and ride him bare. Just his hot flesh parting hers as she bore down on his cock.

  Her reverie was cut bluntly short the instant his hand came down, catching the outer flank of her thigh.

  “Ow!”

  “Better hold those in ’cause there’s a lot more where they came from. That was one. Count them off, Ava,” he commanded as a hard swat landed on her buttock.

  “Mmffm,” she said between sealed lips, as she fought to stifle her cry.

  “Two. That’s the last one, Ava. They’ll only count toward the total if you count off,” he warned before another landed on her ass.

  “Three!” she screeched.

  “Good girl,” he replied. He may have called her a good girl, but he wasn’t treating her like one by giving her a break. At first, she writhed over his lap until he sharply told her to settle down. Instead of taking it easy, he pursued a punishing pace. She was forced to call out every time the flat of his hand connected with a section of her body. He didn’t restrict himself to her butt, either, but swatted her thighs and on the sides of her bottom. His smacks built on top of one another. The blistering fire of his paddling shot electricity right between her legs. Pleasure and pain danced a tango in her body. Head hanging down in delirium, she let out a low, carnal moan.

  “Christ, the noises you make could bring a weaker man to his knees.” He bent forward and took his teeth to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Only, after sucking long enough to guarantee a bruise—on purpose?—he lapped it better. By now, her nerve endings were whirring.

  He spread his thighs, widening a gap between her own legs. They were only halfway through her punishment, but he was definitely intent on torturing her, because while rubbing her abused flesh, his fingers dipped between her thighs. Her secret was out. He could feel how saturated she was. One finger circled her swollen little clit.

  “Dirty little angel, not only can I feel it but I can smell how much you need to get fucked. How bad do you need it, girlie?” He added another finger to her core.

  She pressed her lips firmly closed but circled her hips, clenching her inner walls to suck in his fingers. He pulled away, purposely keeping his touch light. Sadistic bastard.

  “Don’t wanna talk? Alright, that must mean you want me to return to the task at hand.” With that, he withdrew his touch completely. She almost whimpered, but bit down at the last moment. She’d prove to him she could take anything he threw her way.

  They returned to the spanking, blood rushing back to the places where his hand fell. By the time Ava counted out a final thirty-five, her thighs quivered and both her buttocks were on fire, but she was also wetter than ever. He’d found just the right pressure and rhythm to morph that pain into searing pleasure.

  Puck eased her up to her hands and knees and then sat her down on his lap. Ava was in hell. Her pussy was throbbing for release while her stinging bottom was pulsating with pain.

  With a well-placed kiss on her cheek, he suggested, “Let’s eat that pizza. Then you can earn your way back into my good graces and get the fuck you need.”

  Her jaw clenched. How was she going to eat when she wanted to kill him?

  ※※※

  “Die, motherfucker, die!”

  Ava struggled out of sleep. A rough, animalistic sound coming from beside her shattered the stillness of her bedroom. She bolted up, shaking the cotton out of her head until she got her bearings. The hairs on the back of her neck went stiff. Blinking her eyes, she adjusted to the darkness and turned to find Puck twisted into contortions, his face scowling and grunting. A few more curses flew out of him.

  He jackknifed up and bellowed out, “I’m gonna kill you!” and then fell back down on his back.

  She jerked at his outburst, her hand clutching her racing heart. Night terrors. Leaning over, she checked the digital clock on her nightstand. It was 2:47 a.m. He was in his REM sleep cycle, for sure. While she yearned to give him relief, there was only one option.

  Wait it out.

  Hands clenched around the edge of the bedsheet and blanket; his head swiveled from side to side on the pillow. Moonlight streamed through the windows, falling on the sweat dotting his forehead and the strands of soaked hair along his hairline. He must have been suffering for a while.

  Fearing to touch him in his agitated state, Ave laid on her side, facing him, and sang the first thing that came to mind. “Rock-a-bye baby on the treetop, when the wind blows the cradle will rock.” Her voice was soft and raspy, but she sang until her voice was too hoarse to go on. She continued humming the silly nursery rhyme until, finally, he settled into quiet sleep.

  Ever so slowly, she crept off the bed, rushed to the bathroom for a washcloth and returned to gently pat him dry. Flinging the cloth on the floor, she returned to bed and cuddled against his side. As if sensing that she’d left and returned, he rolled over and gathered her close into his arms. Using his bicep as a pillow for her head, Ava inhaled the woodsy scent of him. His large chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

  He’d been fast asleep through the entire episode. She’d seen it often enough to recognize that he suffered from Post-Incarceration Syndrome, a common problem, especially for those who’d been recently released. Perhaps he was reliving a fight he’d been in, but the very fact of being imprisoned could trigger PIS. Tomorrow, he’d wake up without a clue of what had transpired in the middle of the night. It was his mind’s way of coping with whatever trauma he’d experienced. Uncomfortable conversations were a part of her work, but she wasn’t looking forward to this one.

  She gently brushed the sweat-laden hair off his forehead, traced the bold line of his nose, and outlined the top of his lips. Something had shifted in her after their disciplinary session. Although he’d left her unsatisfied, it had blasted through the final walls she’d unwittingly retained between them. Despite his release, she’d kept a part of herself in reserve. When he’d made her his old lady and said they’d get married, she hadn’t verbally agreed. Puck didn’t comment on her lack of reciprocity, but the fact remained that his declaration had been one-sided.

  Tonight he’d blown through her remaining reservations. Perhaps her brain was scrambled, because after he was done with his punitive session, her spirit felt lighter. Freer. The doors to her heart had swung wide open for him to saunter in and stake his claim. They might both be a little twisted, but that didn’t take away from the reality that their twistedness fit together in perfect harmony. These night terrors proved that he needed her as well because this was her specialty, and she intended to help him any way she could.

  Ava lifted herself a bit and pressed a kiss against his lips. Yup, it was official. Broken or not, she’d fallen for him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Since moving in with Ava, it’d been four blissful and fuck-filled days for Puck. The da
y after his release, he went to the Squad Bar to check things out, confer with Whistle, and get the place into shape. The bar was most definitely a long-term project. First off, most of the waitresses were shit. Several of the Squad’s biker bitches helped out as a favor, but they had to be replaced with a professional waitstaff, pronto. After the shit show he’d witnessed his first day back, he was ready to fire the lot of them. Whistle had convinced him to keep one waitress, the one he was obviously fucking. Puck promised to keep her as long as she wasn’t the thief giving away or selling off their inventory behind their back.

  Accompanied by Sage, he’d personally met with the investigator from the Office of Special Investigations. He broke everything down in detail, like the places where they stashed the drugs Kingpin got through the mail. Even the contraband cell phone that was concealed in an electric typewriter Puck had happened to see when he walked into Kingpin’s cell once. They seemed particularly excited by the cell phone.

  Sage explained that a phone gave them the opportunity to wiretap and listen in on conversations. Ava had testified against Kingpin at his recent parole hearing, which drove him fucking crazy because it was too dangerous. They’d fought about it. Puck had argued that with an investigation underway, Kingpin would be kept in jail long enough to bust him. It was totally unnecessary to expose herself to potential trouble, but she held strong, and ultimately he’d relented. Her guilt ran so deep that she couldn’t let go of an unnecessary risk. Whatever. They’d made up, and he got to paddle her ass for it. Christ, she was so eager he had to wonder if it remotely counted as a punishment.

  After a long day at the bar, Puck wanted to be lounging in bed with his woman, better yet, inside his woman. Instead, his ass was at a clubhouse party in honor of his release. He should be grateful—seeing as brothers from neighboring cities had come in to celebrate his return—but the loud music was grating on his nerves, and he was getting itchy.

  The brothers weren’t helping on that front, either. Christ, the bastards were like sharks at the first scent of blood. What had gotten them riled up? Seeing me come in through the clubhouse door with my arm around a woman. Payback was a bitch, and the brothers were making sure Puck felt what a bad bitch she was. All the times he’d mocked, pranked, or downright insulted them were coming back to him tenfold. Didn’t make it any easier to survive, though. Here he was, with one arm hooked around Ava’s waist, gritting his teeth as he sucked up a ton of bullshit thrown his way.

  Understandably, Cutter was taking the lead. Puck had been audaciously rude to him when he was trying to lasso in that wildcat, Greta, he now called his old lady.

  Pawing at Ava’s shoulder, Cutter said, “Who do we have here? Been a long time—oh, wait, that would be never—since I saw Puck hangin’ onto a woman. What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  “Av—” began Ava.

  Back teeth grinding, Puck cut her off, “None of your damn business, you fucker. And take your hand off my woman.”

  His eyes pinched together in pain. Fuck, had he just claimed her in a room full of assholes?

  Cutter’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Your wo—what? Did you call her your woman, brother?”

  A low whistle came from behind Cutter. “Hey, aren’t you the social worker back at Duchess jail?” piped up Whistle.

  Cutter’s head swerved to the side and then back to Puck. “You met up in jail? Damn, and I thought I was dirty. What’d guys do up in there? You’ve been a bad boy, Puck.”

  “Yeah, every inmate wished they had a drug problem so they could have appointments with Ms. Evans,” divulged Whistle. Ava’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink. “Even overheard the COs talking about her. Sayin’ how sexy she is.”

  That was a fucking given. Even Puck had heard them talk. Yet another reason he loathed Officer Dipshit. Bringing Ava tighter into his side, Puck growled, “It’s not like that. I’ve known Ava since we were kids. Happened to see each other again in there, is all. Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill.”

  “Had me checking up on her from jail, though, so it’s a big-ass molehill if you ask me,” interjected Loki, unprompted.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to say anything?” snipped Puck.

  “Oops,” replied Loki with a wide, mischievous grin. Smacking his lips, he made lewd kissing noises at Puck. “My bad.”

  “Gonna get you back for that one,” Puck warned. “And it’s gonna motherfucking hurt.”

  “Not scared of you, scrub,” Loki fired back. “It’s worth every damn moment to see you squirm like a little bitch.”

  “After the shit he talked when I hooked up with Greta, he finally bites the dust,” mused Cutter.

  Ava’s eyes were round as saucers, and her head was probably dizzy from snapping from man to man. His muscles tightened. It was all in good fun, or maybe dirty fun, but he didn’t want his woman thinking badly of him or his brothers. She’d been around the Renegades, but they were a bunch of rich old men who rode on the weekends. The Squad was an entirely different animal, and she was getting a crash course on what a real club was like. Of course, she was used to roughness, working among inmates, but he didn’t want her view of him to change somehow. Fact was, he was feeling edgy. The loud music, the hollering and shouting, the jostling of people. Add a crew of foulmouthed smart-asses, and his nerves were pulled taut.

  “Damn, had no idea you were gettin’ it on with Ms. Evans,” Whistle noted.

  Puck cuffed him on his head. “Shut the fuck up, prospect.” Whistle hadn’t been a prospect in a while, but he’d been in the most recent batch of brothers to patch in. Hurt flashed briefly over his face. The brothers commonly insulted Whistle, but Puck protected him. Guilt settled uncomfortably in his chest, but he couldn’t apologize in front of fuckers like Cutter or Loki. Plus, the boy had to learn to shut his damn mouth.

  “AHHH!” came a scream so loud it almost popped Puck’s eardrums. He shut his eyes and took in a bracing breath of air. He knew that sound anywhere.

  Opening his eyes, he saw Sammi flying toward them and slam into Ava. Wrapping her arms around his woman, his little sister jumped up and down, chanting, “Omigod, omigod, omigoooood. It’s true!”

  “I told you it was true,” gloated Abby from behind them. Loki immediately hooked his arm around Abby’s neck and drew her in to him.

  Stanton stormed in right behind Sammi, looking harried. As he should. Fucker. Puck narrowed his eyes at the bastard who’d deflowered his baby sister. Not deflowered, in truth, but she was a baby. A fuckin’ baby, and the man had somehow weaseled his way into her heart. Granted, he’d ultimately gotten Puck released for Sammi’s sake. Goddamn, his head was splitting from veering from hatred to gratitude and back to hatred again. He was a simple man, who wanted a simple life, where things were black and fuckin’ white. None of this gray shit.

  “Ava, look at you. You’re even more gorgeous than I remember!” his sister screeched as she held Ava at arm’s length to take a good look at her. “Puck! I can’t believe you guys are back together. You didn’t mention any of this when I saw you last.” That’s because he was moments away from decimating her fiancé, that’s why. Stanton stepped in closer to Sammi, causing Puck to growl under his breath.

  “I had other things on my mind,” he grumbled, giving Stanton the stink eye again. Pondering on how to sabotage his relationship, he watched carefully as Stanton unhooked Sammi from Ava and dragged her into his arms. Hmm, not possible. Sammi tilted her head and beamed up at Stanton. Aww, fuck. Despite his bouts of denial, she was in love with the guy, and one thing he’d never do is mess with his sister’s happiness. His gaze dropped to Stanton’s hand smoothing over Sammi’s flat belly. Not that he’d ever get used to the rich prick mauling his sister in public.

  “Can we cool it with the PDA, maybe,” he snapped. Sammi turned stricken eyes at him. Even Ava sucked in a breath and smacked him in the arm. Cutter barked out a laugh.

  “Or not,” he backpedaled. PDA was a given in biker culture. Pulling Ava into his
embrace, he buried his face in her hair and inhaled her comforting scent.

  “Ignore him,” Ava huffed out, although she didn’t fight him when he tightened his arms around her. The number of people surrounding him, the music, the noise was bringing on a migraine, and, like in jail, he returned to his lodestone. Ava.

  “How are you, Sammi? It’s so good to see you,” Ava began. “Is this Stanton?”

  Puck let out a low sound of disapproval for her ears only. She responded by pressing back into him and rubbing her fine ass against his groin in a way that distracted him from his anger. Fine, he’d back down and let her handle this for him. And so she did. She got caught up with Sammi’s life, teasing her lightly about Stanton in a way that made Sammi blush. Fuckin’ blush. But it was with pleasure, so he couldn’t be anything but pleased that his woman was getting along with his sister and soothing the rough waters.

  Noticing her bottle of beer was empty, Puck murmured that he’d get another from the bar. Casting a dubious eye at the crowd, he dropped a kiss on her head before diving into the crush of people to get to the bar. When he returned, he found that Skull, a wiseass from the Albany chapter, had sidled up to Ava and inserted himself in their conversation. Audacious bastard.

  Ava was his goddamn prize, and he didn’t appreciate a brother gettin’ up in her space. She wasn’t wearing his jacket, so…brother or no, she wasn’t advertised as his. The God’s honest truth was that he was getting mighty pissed as he listened to Skull asking her questions like whether she’d been around bikers before. Dark energy filled him, like thunderclouds rolling in on clear skies, turning everything an ugly shade of gray.