Love, Loyalty & Mayhem: A Motorcycle Club Romance Anthology

by Ryan Michele

  Presley bends over, and the pencil skirt, she wore to meet with one of her clients, stretches tight over her ass, and I let out a groan, as I bite my knuckle. Kim Kardashian has absolutely nothing on my girl because she has perfect curves in all the right places. I’m pretty positive Meghan Trainor’s hit song “All About That Bass” was written with my girl’s ass in mind. She’s so out of my league that it’s not even funny. I’m dating up, that’s for damn sure.

  With the start of her new practice and an onslaught of legitimate work coming in at a steady pace for the club’s security business, our time together has been scarce, unless you count her coming into my office and falling asleep on the couch, while I work. It’s not exactly my idea of spending quality time together. That terminology is reserved for more sexy things, like fucking Presley's sweet pussy, until I can't think straight, followed by a homemade meal, and then some video games. Now, that’s what I call quality time. My girl, good sex, good food, and then decimating some thirteen-year-old boy, who fancies himself a big-time gamer. Best. Day. Ever.

  “You going to take the kitchen sink, too?” I tease, as she flips me the bird.

  The padawan is becoming a master Jedi. Don’t get me wrong, Presley is definitely a Sanders through and through. She’s judgmental, quick to temper, and most of all demanding. All those endearing qualities of her older brother and my club president are wrapped up inside her sexy as fuck package, but the smartass peeking out? Yeah, that’s all my doing. A development that I take great pride in.

  Raze, her brother, is often at the ass end of her snarky sarcasm, and he isn’t so impressed. Now, if I can only get her to agree to binge watch all the Marvel movies in order in one sitting. She keeps saying no, but she’ll cave soon. That or I’ll lull her into submission with some killer sex and a belly full of her favorite restaurant food. Southern charm and the gift of sexual persuasion are definitely on my side to get me the win. Even if I have to get all the Infinity Stones and snap her reluctance away. And maybe snap her brother too, sparing me from those glares of his, but I’d bring him back. Maybe.

  Presley tosses another article of clothing on top of the mountain on our bed, smothering her suitcase even more. I can almost hear the imaginary cries of her bag, begging to be freed under the weight of it all.

  With her back turned to me, I quietly sneak up behind her.

  “Babe, I get that your nervous,” I say, sliding my arm around her waist. “But, this?” I motion to her bag. “You don’t need all of this or any clothes at all for that matter. At least, not in my opinion.”

  “Right. Like you would even let me parade around New Orleans in the nude.”

  “Touché,” I agree. The thought of any man seeing her the way I do makes me Hulk level angry. I’d only scratch the surface of how far I would go for her, when she was kidnapped. If I had to lay down my life for her, I would. No questions asked. Her life is way more valuable than mine. End of story.

  Her head leans over onto my shoulder, as she lets out a sigh. “I know, but this is your family, Beau. I want to make a good impression.”

  I’m not like most of my other brothers, who keep their real names out of the public eye in our clubhouse. Maybe it’s a status thing, but to me, my nickname isn’t anything more than a fitting moniker. If Presley wants to shout it off the rooftops, and then announce my real name to the world, so be it. I owe that much to her, since our relationship didn’t exactly start off on the best of terms. I mean, I did catfish her, but it was for the good of my club brother, and I did come clean. It was just before she got kidnapped by a mob boss, but that’s neither here nor there. All that matters is that she’s here with me, reconciled with our rocky past, and ready to take on the future by my side, as the Hermione to my Ron. She is the brains, and I’m the charm with a particular Liam Neeson set of skills.

  “It’ll be fine,” I reassure her, as her body slacks against mine, leaning harder into me. “We’ll get there. I’ll give you New Orleans grand tour. Beignets at Café Du Monde, plantation tour, all the seafood you can eat, and meeting my sister.”

  “See!” She exclaims. “All of that sounds good, except the last part.”

  “I’ve met your family, and your brother broke my nose. I think you kind of owe me this one, babe.”

  She scrunches up her face at the mention of how her brother reacted, when he found out about the relationship I had built with his sister, under his roof and nose. We are solid now, but my Prez took his dear sweet fucking time getting used to it. You save the club from going down for past discretions and from the mob, and the guy still doesn’t give you a free pass for dating his sister. Bastard. He should have given me a medal. Even Han Solo got one for saving the galaxy in A New Hope. Presley would have been my own personal Princess Leia. I could have had my medal, and then celebratory zero gravity space sex. Hell yeah! Now, that’s my kind of party.

  “What if she doesn’t like me?” She asks nervously. “She’s your only family.”

  “That’s not true. I have you and the club.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “She’ll like you. Trust me.”

  With Presley being a therapist, sometimes it makes it a bit harder to reason with her. She never takes anything at face value, and she’s always looking for the internal driver for any rashly made decision. When a problem arises, she sits and stews, as I do over computer code, to find the root cause. No matter how long it takes. She’s good with human brains, and I’m good with computers. It’s both a blessing and a curse. It’s also a pain in the ass, if you ask me, but it’s how our brains are hardwired, and we are perfect for each other.

  “Why don’t I take your mind off of it?”

  She pivots sharply on her heels, pulling away and waggling a finger at me. “Don’t even try to distract me with some new video game. I’m all gamed out, after the sixty-hour marathon of Red Dead Redemption Two.”

  “Hey! Don’t knock Red Dead. You loved it.”

  “Loved it like a hole in the head.”

  Presley pushes off on her heels, heading back towards the bed and her unpacked suitcase. She sighs, as she stares down at it again. I’m sure she’s probably wishing it would pack itself. I creep up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder.

  "Stop worrying," I say, as I plant a kiss against her neck, and she shivers under the touch of my lips. “Stop thinking so hard about an easy solution. Don’t pack anything.”

  “What are you doing?” She quietly questions.

  “Distracting you.” My right hand slides from her waist up her flat stomach, cupping one of her breasts. My thumb brushes over the thin t-shirt, covering her nipple, while I kiss a trail down her neck. “Is it working?” I murmur against her flesh. Presley spins in my arms, her body pressed flush against me, as her hands pull my lips against hers in a greedy kiss. My hardening cock presses tightly against my fly in response to her approval of my proposal.

  Operation Distraction is a go.

  “The plane leaves in a couple of hours. You aren’t packed either.”

  “And?” I say between kisses. “We can take a later flight. That’s the beauty of air travel. There’s more than one plane going to a destination.”

  I back us up to the bed, pushing her ass against the bed frame, and her suitcase goes sliding to the floor. She breaks away from me to peer down at it. “Want me to get that for you?” She takes a few glances between me and her toppled suitcase and shrugs, before going straight for my belt buckle, pulling it free and tossing it on the bed behind her. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  "You wanted me distracted. You got it. Now, get your pants off and fuck me, before I remember that I have zero time to finish packing.”

  "Yes, ma'am." I grin, unzipping my fly, and then shoving my jeans off my hips and to the floor, kicking them off. Presley slides her fingers under her skirt, while my hand strokes my hardening cock, giving him a few good luck pumps. All systems primed and ready for a pre-flight fuck. This isn’t ab
out romance. It’s about blowing off some pre-flight steam and making her relax.

  We have a solo vacation awaiting us. No jobs to worry about. No meddling club president slash brother trying to kill me regularly. We have absolutely no cares in the world, and we both need this. More so with Hero being in and out the last few months with Dani's third pregnancy. My club brother has a severe problem on his hands with three girls at home and a fourth on the way. My suggestion that maybe they should start trying some butt stuff, or even him getting snipped lead to a one-way ticket to a cold cock in the face. He acts like he hates me, but he really does love me. I think.

  I watch intently, as she drags her black panties down her ample thighs. If there is a man upstairs, then he made this woman just to tempt me into signing away my soul to the devil. Bring it on. I’ll give the devil a run for his money. Presley could ask me to hack the biggest bank in the world, and I’d do it for her. She is my kryptonite and the air in my lungs. Without her, I don't make sense.

  "Am I doing this solo, Beau, or are you going to participate? Either way, the clock's ticking." She points to an imaginary watch on her wrist, as she taps it. My smartass girl entirely on display. She hikes her skirt farther up her hips, giving me a damn good show, as she leans back on her elbows with a come and get me smile.

  “Wasn’t this my idea?” I remind her with a cocked eyebrow, but I don't budge an inch towards her, despite my cock protesting. You just have to say no sometimes, when the brain below the belt wants to supersede the one up top. She wants to play, and I'll give her that. “Stop stealing my thunder.”

  “Stop arguing with me, and just give me what I want,” she commands with a roll of her eyes. “Only you would argue over ownership of the initiation of getting laid.”

  “Meh, it’s who I am. Frustrating and yours. Gotta love me.” I shrug with indifference, and she rewards me with a growl of audible frustration.

  “I do, but I question my sanity sometimes.” And then she smiles that sexy smile of hers, that never fails to set my world on fire.

  “I do too, babe.” I look myself up and down, motioning with my hands. “You said yes to this.”

  Presley smiles up at me, shaking her head with a laugh. “Don’t remind me. Now, can we get back to the task at hand?”

  “You mean your packing?” I tease, knowing damn well that the second the chastise left my mouth, she’s probably going to slug me. Thankfully, her brother skipped her self-defense lesson this week. She glares up at me in a way that wipes the smile right off my face. “Asshole.”

  “That’s my name. Don’t wear it out, babe. Now, where were we?”

  Presley reaches out with a foot, locking it behind one of my thighs, pulling me closer to her. “I think you were about to fuck me, but at this point, I’m not really sure. Wild tangent and all.”

  “I’ll show you the wildest of tangents, babe.”

  Shoving myself forward against the bed, I lean over her beautiful body, while my hand slips between her legs. Her slick pussy slides under my touch, when I find her sweetness.

  “Been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

  "Yes," she sighs, and her breathy voice is thick with arousal. Two of my fingers slip easily inside of her, as her body clenches around me. So responsive already. It really has been too long. Positioning my thumb on her clit, I continue plunging my fingers deep inside of her, crooking on as I pull, and her hips buck upwards, as I do. Most men don't take enough time to learn their partner's bodies, but I did. My brain is like a Rolodex on just the ways she likes to be touched, kissed, and fucked. A lack of passion in the bedroom has never been a problem for our relationship. Finding time on the other hand is.

  My free hand cradles her neck, when my mouth connects again with hers. Kissing Presley is something that even the best mommy porn writer couldn’t describe. Her full lips dancing upon mine weave a story of passion, need, and intensity, and it would take an entire dictionary of words to express this feeling. I’m far from a sappy romantic, but for her, I'd be anything she asked just to be able to kiss her like this again.

  I adjust, as I feel one of her hands sliding between us, grasping my cock. The feeling of her smooth skin sends a hiss spiraling out of me, as she blindly positions me at her apex, begging me to shove inside of her tight fucking pussy and claim her again. I push my way inside and still, taking in the feeling of her sheathed around me for the first time in a few weeks. I missed this more than I can put into words. Well, coherent words anyway. I move slightly, and she moans. Her reaction gives me all the cues I need to realize that moments like this have been too far apart and in between with us lately.

  “It’s going to be fast and quick, babe,” I warn her. “Been craving you like an In N’ Out double-double animal style at three o’clock in the morning. Not sure I can hold back.”

  “I’m going to ignore the fact that you just compared our sex life with a burger. We’ll discuss that later,” she declares with a fake scowl plastered on her face.

  “As long as that discussion involves you naked, doing your therapist thing, on the tiny little couch, then maybe, I’ll let you really poke around in my head and rattle the cobwebs a bit.”

  “God, you’re weird.”

  “God has nothing to do with my weird, babe.”

  Maybe she's right, and I am fucking weird. What else is new? I'm funny, and she's hot. Really, the only thing that I care about is how long I can hold onto her without weirding her away.

  “Shall we?” I ask, directing her back to the fact that my cock has been throbbing inside of her for the better part of two minutes without a single thrust to shut him the fuck up. And shall we, we did with enough time to spare to shower, pack, and hit the road. It may not have been my best performance, but the encore I have planned for later on the plane, will more than make up for it. Wild tangents and all.

  2

  Presley

  “Would you stop it,” I grumble a warning to Beau, and his humming of that stupid “Just Had Sex” song by The Lonely Island. It’s bad enough that he joyfully mentioned our pre-flight activities to the TSA agent, checking our IDs at the security checkpoint, but this? Absolutely ridiculous, but my warning only makes him hum louder. "You do realize that it's my client who has the all-access passes to Comic-Con, right? No lines, and front row reserved seating to every panel. So, keep it up, and I'll sell those passes to the highest bidder."

  “You wouldn’t,” he fake gasps with his hand clamped over his heart. If there's one thing he cherishes more than me, it’s Comic-Con weekend. Most people consider Christmas or Easter their biggest religious holidays of the year, but for Beau, it’s definitely Comic-Con. The second that last year's convention was over, he was already planning for the next one. I just had the unfortunate opportunity to be his plus one this year. It's not that I don’t like some of the more recent movies like Marvel or Star Wars. I just don't obsess over them like he does. I sure as hell don’t plan on dressing up as a character. He on the other hand already custom ordered a Deadpool costume from a well-known cosplayer costumer. How much that cost is one thing I really don’t think I’d like to know.

  "Keep testing me, and you’ll find out, Beau." And, I mean it. His unhealthy obsession with all things that are for teenage boys I can live with. It's who he is, but underneath all that, he is nothing like any other man in my life. He’s strong, self-sacrificing, and most importantly, loyal to anyone he loves. After he nearly gave up everything to protect my brother’s club and myself, I knew that everything that had happened between us in the past meant absolutely nothing. Beauregard Martin is a good man. Just a weird one, but he’s my weird.

  “The Sanders’ in you is showing. Your brother would be so proud.”

  “You know, your obsession with my brother is really starting to worry me. Maybe you should talk to someone about it,” I snark back.

  “Good thing my super-hot girlfriend happens to run her own practice.” He says, leaning over the arm of our seat on the plane, planting
a kiss on my cheek. “Just don’t tell her about us. She might get jealous.”

  For the millionth time today, I roll my eyes. I'm very confident that I could be the world record holder for most eye rolls, since meeting Beau. He has that effect on people. Me, my brother, and every single member of the Heaven's Rejects MC. Just another one of his unique gifts.

  The flight attendant comes through, offering each of us a beverage menu. I snatch it quickly, and Beau shoots me a slight look of confusion. Meeting his sister and her family unnerves me. I’ve faced a mob family, kidnapping, being on the run, and so much more in the last year, but meeting his sister terrifies me. I’ve racked my brain so many times between patients. My emotional connection to taking the next step in our relationship isn’t a surprise. We practically live with my brother and his family, so it’s only natural for him to want me to meet his. So, why do I find his sister so intimidating? Outside of his weekly Facetime call with his nephew, I really only know what he’s told me. Bits and pieces of a patchwork past, and one not unlike my own.

  “Take it easy on the booze,” he half chuckles. “You will feel it way more up here than you would on the ground.”

  The flight attendant returns, and I order two glasses of Merlot, while Beau opts for a beer. The second they hit my hands, I down them quickly, and Beau stops mid chug, eyeing me carefully. "I'm fine," I reassure him. “I know my limits.”

  “Your lying needs work, babe. You might convince that screaming kid back in coach, but not me." He jerks his head back to the cries of the tiny baby that had passed us earlier. “We have an hour, before we land, so you talk, and I’ll listen. What else do we have to do to kill the time?”

  “I really don’t want to talk, Beau.” My deflection fails. After nearly a year together, he has finally learned just about every trick I have in my playbook save one, but tagging in my brother is and always will be the last resort. It’s hard enough watching Mikey and Beau go toe to toe about our relationship, especially living under the same roof. I didn’t get to experience the protective big brother stick back in high school because dating was the last thing on my mind at the time. Unfortunately, that teenage milestone in my life is coming back to bite me in the ass now.