Love, Loyalty & Mayhem: A Motorcycle Club Romance Anthology

by Ryan Michele

  “No problem,” he rushes over to take my spot. I know part of that has to do with the fact he’s in love with my little sister, Tatum, and he wants to make a good impression. The other part though? He’s just a good kid, he’s going to grow up to be an asset, not only to the club, but to our community.

  D: Yeah, she had shit to do in Bardstown for some case she was working on. She stayed at a hotel and should be back today.

  M: Wrong.

  Immediately I’m seeing red. Did Charity do something I never imagined in a million years she would do? I thought our marriage was strong, I love this woman with every breath I take.

  D: You better explain right fucking now.

  This time my phone rings. Seeing it’s Mandy, I answer before it rings again. “Speak.”

  “I understand you’ve got shit going on. Totally get it that you’ve got a lot of pressure on you thanks to Dad handing over the title of president to you,” she rushes out in one full breath. “But did you ever stop to think maybe Charity’s got a ton of shit going on too? She didn’t go to Bardstown last night. She lied to you so you wouldn’t worry, she slept in the office to get some paperwork done for a brief that had to be delivered to the court today.”

  “Shit,” I feel like my formally bright world is now dark and gray.

  “Yeah, while you’ve been trying to get things going with the club, I think you forgot that the mother of your children is doing all she can to keep her own business running smoothly. She’s been doing double-duty, and she’s tired, Drew,” Mandy is just getting started, I know this from experience. If I let her keep on, I’ll be listening to her until the sun sets.

  “So what do you propose I do?” I cut her off. “Is she still at the office.”

  “No, she went home.”

  Silence. Complete silence. I’m waiting, trying to patiently let her make her point. When she doesn’t and I get sick of waiting, I growl instead of form my next words as a question. “What am I supposed to do.”

  I can almost hear her smile through the phone. She knows she’s got me, and she’s going to embrace it, bring it up for years to come, and hold it over my head like a goddamn rain cloud whenever she can.

  “I’m gonna pick up the girls and they’ll be staying with me and Dalton tonight. She headed home about an hour ago, so she should be done with what absolutely had to be taken care of. Now it’s your job to go home and pamper her. Take her mind off all this shit, and show her what an amazing husband you are.”

  There are times when I loathe my sister, many other times I love her. “I suppose you want a thank you.”

  “I mean it wouldn’t kill you to give me a little credit for keeping your marriage on track.”

  I laugh loudly. “Thank you. Thank you for pulling my head out of my ass, thank you for taking care of Harley and Justice, and I appreciate you always being the person who isn’t scared to get in my shit when it’s needed.”

  “Love you, bro. Have a good night!”

  “I plan on it.”

  Disconnecting the call, I shove my phone back into the pocket of my worn jeans, directing my guys to what I want them to do for the rest of the day. Dalton catches my eye as I’m barking out orders.

  “Got a text from Mandy, see you tomorrow,” he hitches his chin up with a grin.

  The wave I give him is hopefully nonchalant, but the truth is I can’t wait to be alone with my wife. It’s been too long, and fuck if I’m not excited.

  4

  Charity

  My eyes open before I see him. The two of us, we’ve loved each other so long, I can feel him. He’s a part of my DNA. Since I came back into town and the two of us got married, we’ve rarely spent any time apart from one another, and staying away from him last night was harder than I care to admit.

  I can hear him now, on the last step of our stairs. This is the one that squeaks since the house settled. Leather creaks as he moves, his boots make no sound, but his scent wafts ahead of him. Leather, motor oil, the sunshine of outside, along with the shampoo he uses. Musky, masculine, and everything that I like to curl up with at night in bed. My husband comes through the doorway of our bathroom, filling up the space with his tall frame and big shoulders.

  “Babe, why’d you lie to me?” The whiskers on his face move along with the bottom lip he pulls between his teeth.

  Sitting up in the tub, I let the bubbles fall away, there’s no modesty between the two of us. “I didn’t mean to lie to you,” I argue.

  “Pretty sure ya did,” his hands had been bracing against the doorframe, but now he folds his arms over his chest. His wedding ring glints in the light coming through the window across from us.

  Sighing, I put my hands up before bringing them back down. “I just don’t want to be another problem you have to fix.”

  To my embarrassment, tears come to my eyes and my chin wobbles with restrained tension and sadness. I’ve been keeping all this pressure in, and now it’s hit it’s breaking point. The bottle is about to be uncorked.

  He walks over to the tub, kneeling before reaching in and steadying my chin. “If you think you’re a problem, then we have more going on here than I thought. Fuck Charity, you’re the reason I get up every morning, what’s going on in that head of yours,” he runs his other hand through my hair, cupping the back of my skull.

  “I don’t want you to get hurt,” I rub my finger under my nose. “Now that you have that patch,” I point to the new one on his cut. “You’re the one people will come after now.”

  “So you want to make sure I don’t worry about anything, right?”

  I nod, hearing how stupid it sounds as he says it. His grip on my hair tightens, forcing my chin to lift, my eyes to meet his.

  “Don’t you know I worry about you every day?” I can see the storm of emotions sweep through his eyes, can feel the intensity of his gaze. “No matter what you’re doing, no matter who you’re with, if you’re not with me, I worry about you. You’re my heart, babe, and if something were to ever happen to you…” he lets his words drop off. “There wouldn’t be a me.”

  “I’ve just been so stressed,” I breathe deeply.

  “That’s my fault, and we’re about to correct it right now,” his voice is low, dangerous, and full of promise I haven’t heard in months.

  “What do you mean? Oh shit,” I moan as he bends halfway into the tub, capturing my wet nipple in between his lips. His tongue rubs against the puckered skin, his teeth nibble biting down with enough force to make me squirm. His cheeks hollow as he sucks on the abused flesh.

  Leaning my head back against the tub, I spread myself wide open for him, give him free reign over my entire body. His hand cups the underside of my tit, holding it up for his mouth to worship. His other hand cuts through the water, two fingers slide into me, causing me to moan and thrash. When his mouth lets go and his fingers withdraw, I’m dizzy, hazy about where I am, and drunk on the feeling of wanting his cock to cure the ache inside me.

  He’s taking his clothes off, throwing them on the vanity, cursing loudly as his jeans get caught on his boots. “Son of a fucking bitch,” I giggle as he takes his pocket knife, cutting the laces off, throwing the boots in the corner.

  When he comes back over to where I am, he reaches in, clasping his fingers around my wrists, pulling me up. I’m not sure what he’s going to do, but I’ve learned not to question him when he’s in this kind of mood. His cock bobs in front of him, and I want desperately to reach out and touch it, but with my wrists bound by his strength, that’s not possible.

  My question is answered as he has a seat in the tub, then pulls me into his lap, my back to his front. Immediately, his lips go to my neck and shoulder, kissing me, mouthing me, biting at my ear as his hand goes down the middle of my body. His palm cups my pussy as I rock against him, wanting nothing more than for him to slip his thick fingers inside.

  “Please,” I beg.

  “How bad do you want it?” His voice is dark, slurred, and just the way I like it
.

  “So bad, please either fuck me, or get me off.”

  He bites my earlobe. “You’re so dirty when you know the kids aren’t home.”

  I let out a slow breath, shifting my thighs apart further so he has more room to work, then I grab his free hand, pushing my fingers around his wrist, before bringing it up to my throat.

  “You want it a little rough today, baby? Do you need to let go, need to let me do all the work and you just let me play your body?”

  When his fingers – one by one – tighten slowly around my neck, I let out a slightly muffled, “mmm hmmm.”

  “Then that’s what you’ll get,” his words are a promise and I know I can only hang on for the ride.

  As his fingers move in and out of my core, his other fingers tighten and then loosen against my neck. When I’m able I take a breath. The feeling of not being in charge sends me in a whirlwind up as I begin rocking against his fingers, cupping my own breasts, twisting my own nipples. His mouth at my neck is sucking, biting, marking me for anyone who wants to see. He loves to do this right before I have court, and I can’t help but love it too.

  “You close?”

  I nod, not able to speak, I’m so overwhelmed with all of the feelings coursing through my body. I’m moving, rubbing my ass against his cock as he works me harder, faster, rougher, all the things I love about him.

  “Come for me,” he whispers in my ear as I fly high.

  When I start to come down, he separates my thighs, pushing his cock into me as I reach for the lip of the tub in front of me, still unsteady from my orgasm.

  “Won’t take long,” he grits out.

  I’m still spasming as he plunges into me. The strokes are fierce. One, two, three, and then a fourth when I feel him let go. Another smaller orgasm rolls through my body as he pulls me back against him.

  “So tired,” I whisper and that’s the last thing I remember.

  5

  Drew

  I’m breathing easier as I hold her in my arms. My nose is buried in her hair, loving the smell of her shampoo. This right here, is home to me. Wherever she is. Nothing is more important to me than the three females who live under my roof, but this one in my arms? I can’t live without her. She makes me better, makes me soft in ways others can’t even see, makes me hard too, and together, we’ve built a life.

  “What are you thinking about so hard?”

  She’s turned in my arms. Reaching up, she smooths the skin between my two eyebrows. As she does, the sheet moves, exposing her nakedness to my gaze. “Thinking about how much I love you,” I grin.

  “Promise me,” she whispers as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Promise me that the club isn’t going to come between us. We’ll make time for each other, and we won’t do this again.”

  “You’re my number one, babe, you always have been, always will be. Nothing will ever take your place in my life.”

  My wife, she looks at me, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s scared. This new position worries her, but more than that, I think it intimidates her. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her smaller body closer to me. “I will always do whatever I can to make sure you’re safe.”

  Her head moves up and down. “I know, but I feel it, Drew. There’s a storm coming in, and I have a feeling it’s going to stall out right over Bowling Green. We can’t be this happy and expect that it’ll always be like this.”

  “We can be as happy as we want to be,” I argue, reaching down to capture her lips with mine. But as I pin her to the bed, mouthing at her neck, I admit something to myself.

  I feel it too.

  Dark and angry. The fury of a gathering storm. One that feels like it’s about to unleash on every single one of us.

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  Ride Deep by Laura Kaye

  A Raven Riders Novella

  1

  You’d think he’d feel better now that he was out of prison. But the ugly truth was, Jagger Locke really fucking didn’t.

  Seven months had passed since he’d been exonerated and released, and he’d only served four months. It should’ve been no big deal. But it fucking was. Because their enemies had set him up. Because even though those who’d wronged him had been taken care of, he hadn’t had a hand in getting that vengeance. Because while he’d been behind bars, he hadn’t been there to help protect the club when they’d needed him most.

  All of it had him coming apart at the seams with a rage like he’d never felt in his entire goddamn life.

  A rage he was trying to keep all to himself.

  Jagger pulled his truck into Frederick Auto Body which, as of a few months ago, now belonged to his Ravens brother Sam “Slider” Evans, one of the two lucky fuckers who’d found a woman to settle down with while Jag had been incarcerated. He parked right next to the truck of the other lucky fucker, Maverick Rylan, and killed the engine.

  Jagger blew out a breath like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  Because the worst part of all that rage? He couldn’t hear the music anymore.

  As far back as he could remember—all the way back to even before his father had walked out on him, his kid sister, and their mom—Jagger had heard music in his head. Sometimes when he met someone for the first time, or ran into an old friend who was going through a tough time, or he went someplace new, notes and riffs would take shape in his mind as if his brain translated what his eyes saw and his hands felt into song.

  At least, that was the only way he could describe it. It was fucking weird, he got that much. But it was why, if Jagger wasn’t playing one of his guitars, he was humming or singing to himself or, without realizing it, playing guitar chords with his fingers against this palm.

  But the rage had crowded it all the fuck out, leaving his head quiet when the last thing he wanted was to be alone with himself.

  Jagger heaved himself out of the truck, cast a glance at the dark clouds hanging in the late May sky, and went inside where he found Slider and Maverick studying a set of blueprints.

  “How go the plans for world domination?” Jagger asked, managing a smile.

  His brothers looked up at the same time. Slider and Maverick were opposites in so many ways. Slider had dark hair and odd pale green eyes and was more reserved by nature, whereas Maverick had sandy blond hair and the bluest eyes you ever saw and was absolutely fluent in sarcasm. Their smiles were genuine, and it made him feel like a morose motherfucker to be carrying this baggage around all the damn time. Of course, both men had plenty to be happy about—Maverick had gotten married in April and Slider was expecting a baby any day now.

  Slider braced his hands on the counter, then peered over at the still-empty space of the new two-bay addition to his shop. “Man, I’m itching for this to be done.”

  “It’s gonna be fucking sweet,” Maverick said. “And now it’s all about picking out which toys you want.”

  Slider chuffed out a laugh. “Sometimes I think you’re even more excited about this than I am.”

  “I think it’s called jealousy.” Jagger smirked and joined them at the counter.

  “Jealous as fuck,” Maverick said, quirking a grin and giving Slider a look. “Jealous enough that your damn reno is gonna cost me fucking money because it has me thinking about what I want to change at my shop.” Slider was adding customization services—painting, complete car builds, and classic car restorations—to his shop under the new name Frederick Auto Body & Customs. Tricking out Slider’s new business was why Maverick and Jagger were there. Mav, because he did similar work—he owned a custom bike-building business so highly regarded that people came from other states to hire him. And Jagger because he was the Ravens’ Race Captain, which meant he oversaw all operations related to Green Mountain Speedway, the club’s racetrack that generated the Raven Riders’
primary source of income.

  In other words, they were both fluent in all things fast.

  Slider chuckled, but before he could reply, the door to the second bay eased open, rolling upward until they could just see the rear end of a car one of Slider’s guys had towed in. “That’s Jake. Gimme a few.” He went to guide the car inside the bay, an older-model Camry with damage to the front bumper, the front passenger-side quarter panel, and the tire beneath, which was torqued in a way that suggested a broken axle. Damn, that bill wasn’t gonna be pretty on a car that old.

  Maverick spoke in a hushed tone. “Never thought I’d see Slider this happy again.”

  Jagger met his brother’s gaze and nodded. Several years ago, Slider’s wife had died of cancer and it’d been like the man had died along with her in every way except for one—taking care of their two young sons. But all that had changed last fall when Slider hired a nanny to take care of the kids. Now he and Cora were expecting a baby of their own and it was like Slider was a whole new man. “Me either. It’s damn good to see, though.”

  “It is. And how about you?”

  Mav’s words hung there while Jagger’s brain scrambled. He’d been home almost eight months and not a soul had called him out in all this time. So he went for the bluff. “What about me?”

  Bluff called, apparently, if he was reading Maverick’s don’t-bullshit-a-bullshitter expression right. “You’re probably the smartest motherfucker I know, Jagger. I don’t really think I need to explain what I mean.”

  Yeah. No. He wasn’t doing this. He gave a shrug. “I’m getting by.”

  Just then, Slider disconnected the wreck from the tow truck, which rumbled back outside again, leaving quiet to hang heavy in the air. Jagger turned towards the Camry, looking for absolutely anything to redirect the focus off him.