Filthy Savage (Satan's Saints MC Book 3)

by Bella Love-Wins

  For a second, I’m sure these walking, talking poster boys for testosterone will start fighting any minute now.

  “Simmer down, boys. Dean, I have a message for you.” I inch off my bar chair and take a few steps away from the bar. “Unless the two of you want to trash this place, in which case, please wait until I’m safely in my car before you kick off the carousing.”

  Axe is the first to break from their death stares. “I was just leaving.” He eases out of his seat, straightening up. “See you around, Angel.”

  “I really don’t think you will,” I mutter. Most of that answer comes from that little voice in my head. It’s warning me not to give Axe an inch. And it knows best. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I let him, he’ll get under my skin until I’m dangerously addicted to him. And that’s a bad idea. We have nothing in common.

  Well, one thing.

  He wants to get in my pants, and I’d like someone to take them off every so often.

  Axe shrugs one shoulder and turns. I’m a little regretful to see him leave the saloon with that swagger in his step I still can’t ignore.

  “What did Sonya want?” Dean’s question brings me back to my senses.

  “The message. Right.” I put Axe out of my mind and turn to face Dean, giving him Sonya’s update.

  Dean nods. “And you’re sure she said up to two months?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “So that’s it?” I ask.

  “It is,” Dean reassures me. “Sonya was just checking in. She just doesn’t want anyone here to worry. Trust me, she knows we’d be on a flight to search all of Europe if we don’t hear from her. Are you ready to leave?”

  “Pretty much, yes.”

  He unfolds his arms, runs a hand through his thick, chestnut brown hair, and glances at me again. “Okay, I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How do you know Axe Voltaire?” he asks as we head for the front entrance.

  “I don’t, really. I just met him this morning.”

  “Be careful with that guy,” he warns me. I’m sure it’s more than the typical brotherly advice Dean used to give Sonya and me during our teens. “Are you okay to drive?”

  “Sure. I’m fine.”

  We walk to my car under the dim night sky, and Dean waits for me to get inside.

  “Thanks again for Sonya’s update,” he says. “Keep me posted if she reaches out again. She knows how much I avoid using the phone.”

  I nod. “Will do. See you around.”

  Putting my key in the ignition, I start my car and let my eyes follow Dean as he returns inside. Something was so off about him today. It probably had everything to do with Mr. Irresistible Biker.

  With a quick glance in my rearview mirror, I put the vehicle in reverse and start to roll out of the parking spot, then my breath catches.

  I see him.

  Axe.

  He’s still here, and he’s headed right for my driver side door.

  4

  Axe

  It took all of my willpower not to beat the living shit out of Dean fucking Roman. I probably would have, were it not for the fact that the man is used to being the alpha male in any room. Plus, touching a hair on his pretty little head will inevitably lead to more retribution between the Satan’s Saints and Mongols MC. I just wish I didn’t promise Silas that I’d stay out of trouble. The man got in my personal space, thinking he could threaten or scare me. And he stood too damn close to Angel. It took a lot of effort to walk away from her.

  Fuck, how did two short conversations with this girl lead to such an insane level of possessiveness?

  Which is why I stuck around outside the saloon like a lurker, waiting to make sure she left that bar in one piece.

  “You again? Didn’t we do this all ready?” Angel asks, lowering her car window when I make it across the parking lot to her side.

  “Nice to see you too,” I answer, smiling.

  She turns off the engine and steps out of the car. She just stands there, her arms folded and her neck craned up, staring into my face. “Give me a good reason why I should entertain spending any more time with you. None of them can have anything to do with grinding on you, like you said in there, or my hands on your body, or my mouth, and vice versa. Go.”

  Fuck.

  She has a mouth on her.

  I can’t believe how much I love it.

  Arching my brows, I meet her gaze and absently lick my lips. The threat of backtalk in her eyes makes my skin hot all over. I lean forward an inch, and Angel’s breath hitches in her chest. She nervously lifts a hand into her gorgeous blonde tresses, trying to hide her reaction. Too late. I’ve already seen it. A split second of vulnerability.

  “You know why,” I whisper.

  Angel runs her tongue across her full bottom lip, and her eyes narrow. “We can keep playing this little game of yours, Axe,” she rasps out in a voice that’s fucking seductive. “But I’m going to tell you now, if you win, it’ll be on my terms. And that’s a big if, my friend. I’m not a woman to be pushed around. You need to be prepared for a fight.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. First of all, this is not a game. And second, the only fighting you’ll see is when I fight for you, not with you.”

  Angel doesn’t have a fiery comeback to that. Her jaw relaxes and her lips part. I ease my fingertip down the line of her cheek as I wait for an answer.

  She answers me, all right.

  Loud and fucking clear.

  “Fine,” she says, and I feel her tiny hands fly up to my chest. They skim down my abs, and lower, then she palms my groin through my jeans. Without breaking from my gaze, Angel bats her eyelids, giving me an innocent stare while her hand strokes my growing bulge. Damn, I underestimated this firecracker. As quickly as she starts, she removes her hand, turns, and ducks her head into the driver side window for a moment.

  I enjoy the view of her thick, sweet ass while she gets whatever she’s looking for. When she straightens up, she throws the keys over to me.

  “I hope you know I don’t do this often,” she says, walking around to the passenger side.

  “Don’t do what exactly?”

  “Take home strays,” she grins. “Try to keep up, will you? And by the way, I really love my car. Try not to drive it like a Harley.”

  “I know exactly when to be gentle and when to be rough, sweet thing,” I tease. My cock throbs in my pants when her eyes flash with recognition of what I mean.

  “Let me be the judge of that,” she murmurs. I’m about to walk around the front of the car to open her door, but she raises her hand to stop me. “I can manage opening my own door. You drive.”

  I jump in and start the car, slowly easing it out of the parking spot in reverse. The second she clicks the seatbelt around her, I rev the engine and speed out from the gravel parking lot in her sedan.

  “It’s not the Indy 500, buddy.”

  “I’m starting to see that. Where are we off to?”

  “My apartment is about eight blocks from where we met. Head to Desert Java and I’ll give you directions when we’re closer.”

  “Sure.” I turn out to the main street and drive toward the highway. “So, you know Dean Roman pretty well, I see.”

  “I do. His cousin is my best friend. We’ve known each other for years. How about you?”

  I hesitate. Angel may think she knows Dean and his cousin, but I have no way to tell whether she knows how deep they are in the biker life. Or organized crime, for that matter. “Let’s just say we run in some of the same business circles.”

  “Really? For a second back there, I thought you’d need a referee. No sane person would believe the two of you work together.”

  “We don’t. We’re more like competitors in a boxing ring, except right now, we’re both in our respective corners, waiting for the referee to either call the win, or throw us back in for another round.”

  “Interesti
ng.”

  I sense her breathing changing slightly. She’s more relaxed now, sinking back into the car’s leather bucket seats, her eyes closed, drifting off.

  “Angel?” I call to her.

  “Hmmm?” she hums.

  “I’ll need your address pretty soon.”

  “Oh, right.” She opens her eyes and straightens up, seeming more alert. “Take a right at the second side street up ahead. You can park on the street. You know, I never asked how you plan to get back on your bike tonight.”

  “I figured you’d give me a ride back later on.”

  “What if I can’t wake up until morning?”

  “Waking up won’t be the problem, honey,” I answer, and she glances over at me with the cutest little grin on her face. “Walking may be, but not waking up. In fact, I may have to keep you up all night long, after what you just started back there.”

  Angel lets out a moan on her exhale. “You’re really going all out with this.”

  “You’re the one that started the hand job in the middle of that parking lot.”

  “Park the car at the end of this street. All the way to the edge.”

  “Is this where you live? Near a deserted corner?” I ask, coming to a stop. I let the engine run while waiting for her answer.

  “No.” Angel hops out of the passenger side and walks around to my side, gesturing for me to lower the window. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to invite you into my home yet,” she admits.

  “Honesty is good, but you’re no safer out here.”

  Angel leans down to me, smiling as she rests an arm on the window. “I think you should leave it running.”

  “I see.”

  “Get out here.”

  I step into the cooler night air, leaving the door open. Angel takes my hand, making slow steps backward until she’s leaning against the trunk of the car. She places my arms on either side of her, and runs her hands up my chest, locking them behind my neck.

  “What is it about touching you that makes my fingertips so hot?” she asks, her light blue eyes staring up at me.

  I shrug my shoulders, but am a lot less interested in talking at a time like this. I groan as Angel walks her fingers back down my chest, all the way to my belt buckle. She loosens it a bit and slides her hand down my jeans.

  “Mmmm,” she moans, stroking my cock. “I should’ve guessed that you can back up all that arrogance with something…real.”

  Groaning from her confident touch, my eyes fall closed and my hips rock into her hand job. Whatever she’s been thinking of doing out here, I can’t wait much longer to start. Gripping her waist, I lift her up to sit on the trunk lid, and part her legs. Dragging the hem of her skirt up to her hips, I nestle in between her thighs. Angel kicks off her pumps and wraps her legs around my hips. Her hands roam up to my neck again, fingers lacing up into my hair, lips only inches away from my chin. I can’t wait a second longer to taste that full, pouty mouth.

  I tilt her chin up, slide my fingers to the back of her head, gripping a handful of hair. Angel’s breathing becomes ragged, and her eyes close as my lips cover her mouth for a hungry kiss. She tastes fucking delicious. Like honey on tap. I explore her mouth with my tongue, parting her legs wider. Running my other hand up her leg, I grip a handful of her ass. Fuck, I could explore every inch of her curves if we weren’t out in the open right now. My fingers trail up her inner thighs, not stopping at her lacy panties. She’s warm and wet, already pushing against my fingers to invite them inside of her.

  As I slip past her panties and breach her folds with two fingers, she lets out a moan against my mouth. Fuck. She’s so fucking tight. I feel her fingernails dig into my back, and her breasts press against my chest, craving more contact. Sliding my fingers deeper only makes me want her more. And not out here. The further I go, the more she rocks her hips, her tight inner walls clenching my digits. All I can think of is burying my cock deep in her. I want to feel that hot, snug fit of her pussy all around my shaft. Putting my thumb to work, I flick her sensitive bud through the smooth fabric each time her hips roll. I can’t help but smile when Angel pulls from my kiss and presses her palms against the trunk of the car, gripping the seam of the opening as she rides my fingers and draws closer to her climax.

  She’s grinding her hips, and I pump my fingers in and out of her, harder and deeper each time, spreading her and curving the tips of my fingers to reach her sweet spot. And when I do, her body goes wild. Her inner walls tighten, her body trembles, and a few seconds later, she grasps on to my biceps and whimpers through a powerful orgasm. After her movements settle down, I pull my fingers from her. Her eyes are on me when I reach my hand up to my mouth and suck both fingers clean. Tasting her sweet nectar threatens to strip away all my control, but I hold it together. I help her off the trunk, holding her body tight against mine until she can stand.

  This is the longest Angel has gone without saying a word.

  After a few minutes, she holds herself up and heads to the driver side.

  “That was… you’ve got some skills. Real potential,” she mutters as I open her door.

  “Thanks, I think.” I close the door once she’s inside. “Can you make it home on your own?” I ask. “I’d prefer to walk you to your front door.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine,” she tells me, sounding winded and still wrapped up in all that pleasure I gave her. “How are you going to get back to your bike?”

  “I’ll make it just fine.”

  Her brows furrow with worry. “I don’t feel right leaving you like this. It’s at least a few miles to the saloon.”

  “Don’t you worry about me. Have a good night, Angel,” I say to her and turning to leave on foot.

  The walk will do me good. Which is perfect because the way I see it, I have her exactly where I want her. She’s already craving more, and probably wondering what kind of iron will I have, leaving without the benefit of at least one good orgasm.

  For now, I’ll let her cool off and get her head back on straight.

  5

  Angel

  I sleep like a baby all night, and as it’s the weekend, I tear through my Saturday chores but return to bed, curling up and reliving last night every chance I get. By the early afternoon, I’m curious. A question pings at the edges of my mind, but I try to distract myself so I don’t have to face it. Not yet.

  “Okay, really?” I shout at the TV from my spot on the floral stuffed sofa in my living room. “This is all you have for me on a goddamned Saturday afternoon? A bunch of reality shows, a couple of movies made before nineteen eighty-four, and the public access channel? Serves me right for not getting the deluxe cable package.”

  I drop the remote on the seat beside me. The sudden move excites Spencer, my black and white speckled greyhound. He flops onto his back, wiggling around for belly rubs like a cat would do. What a confused canine. The situation becomes even weirder when my tan-colored dachshund, Marley, hops up on my lap and starts licking my face.

  “Don’t beg, Spence. And the same goes to you, Marley. I walked you for almost two hours this morning. At least you’re somewhat normal, Jet,” I say to my German Shepherd, who’s snuggled on the floor chewing on a bone contentedly. As if to contradict me, Jet promptly starts choking, and then he makes a horking sound and hurls half of his lunch all over the floor.

  “I take back my previous statement,” I deadpan, groaning as I contemplate the extra work. “Third time in a week, huh, buddy? Are you okay? Or are you just re-learning how to swallow?”

  Kicking off my blanket, I force myself out of the comfy sofa and go to the kitchen, followed by all three dogs.

  The top I wore last night is still hanging on the hook at my front door. Just seeing it sends another ripple of need through me. The image of Axe’s thick, expert fingers inside of me returns, causing me to swallow hard. God, what a tease he turned out to be. He surprised me, getting me off then walking away as if he didn’t need to get off too. I know he did. His cock w
as thick and swollen, hard as slate.

  And he said this wasn’t a game to him.

  Hearing my dogs bark in concert pulls me back to reality, and I grab a handful of paper towels to take care of the dog puke.

  “If it helps, just know that you’re not the worst mood killer I’ve had around me in the past twenty-four hours, Jet,” I whine.

  After cleaning up and depositing all the waste into a trash bag, I seal the trashcan lid and find Jet something a little easier to eat. He doesn’t eat much, but that’s normal. He’s always played with his food. As he sips from his water bowl, I turn off the TV and take a seat in front of my laptop. What I need is a more direct distraction. Which I find by logging on to an account that I shut down weeks ago.

  My online dating profile on Curvy Meets Cute.

  “Screw it,” I grumble. “Just because I said I would never meet anyone there again doesn’t mean I can’t break my own damn promise. It was only to myself.”

  Whoa. The main screen of the site is kind of promising this time. My inbox is in the double digits. I guess the app keeps track of messages even after an account is shut down. Hell if I know how it all works, but trolling a crappy dating site is more entertaining than TV right now. With a quick pit stop in the kitchen for a bottle of wine, a wine glass, and a bottle opener, I get down to it. Whatever it takes to keep my mind occupied. A while later, I’ve cleared all my emails and have a nice buzz going. I even answered three of them, but after laughing uncontrollably at the rest of the shit in my inbox, I log out again. I blame it on the bottle of wine that I inhaled all by myself. Or two. But whatever. That’s what Saturdays are about lately, with my best friend all the way in Eastern Europe and no solid dating prospects on the horizon.

  When my eyesight becomes blurry from all the drinking and no food in my stomach, I take a break, shutting off the laptop and sprawling out on the couch. My pack of furry friends jump up on the sofa and surround me like they usually do. They love snuggling, and enjoy licking every inch of my face they can get their tongues on, but eventually they’re bored and return to their beds to nap.