Brage & Dinah

by Debra Kayn

  Brage & Dinah

  A Perfectly Captive Love

  Book 2

  Slag Motorcycle Club series

  By

  Debra Kayn

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Brage & Dinah (Slag Motorcycle Club, #2)

  Brage & Dinah

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Epilogue

  Author Bio

  Debra Kayn's Backlist

  Available Now | Book 1 of the Escape to the Bitterroot Mountains series | Every Little Piece of Him | Prologue

  Chapter 1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Brage & Dinah

  A Perfectly Captive Love

  Slag Motorcycle Club series, Book 2

  1st Digital release: Copyright© 2019 Debra Kayn

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Debra Kayn. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  www.debrakayn.com

  Dedication

  MLJJ – Open your eyes. Cover your eyes. And, you won't get that little line from squinting.

  Chapter 1

  The breeze blew the woman's ink black hair against her bare shoulders. Brage Olden tipped back the plastic cup half full of rum and coke. He'd been watching the woman all night.

  She came as a guest of Monica and Joel, a member of Slag Motorcycle Club. Finishing the drink, he tossed the empty cup in the direction of the garbage can outside the clubhouse. Not often would they open the gates and let non-members inside to party.

  He lit a cigarette, enjoying the way she seemed content amongst strangers. She gazed around while the others talked, not a self-conscious bone in her sweet body.

  Unable to hear what the conversation was about, he stayed next to the wall.

  The Slag men deserved the extra entertainment tonight after securing the extortion money they stole from Moroad MC.

  The monetary gain gave them an excuse to celebrate and have fun.

  Soon enough, Slag would tighten security once again, and prepare for payback. As vice president, he needed to make sure the members kept their heads. Blowing off a little steam would help them stay focused later on.

  The woman turned and gazed down the alley. Her halter top tied around her neck was the sexiest damn thing he'd seen in a long time. The damn knot enticed him every time her hair blew away from her back. He wanted to undo the only thing holding the material over her breasts. Breasts that were free and available underneath the covering.

  She crossed her arms, completely disconnected from the conversation going on between Monica, Joel, Heather, Aron, and Rune. He stayed next to the building, his back pressed against the wall. She'd made eye contact with him several times inside when they'd first arrived, but she continued to snub him, and everyone else.

  Her gaze swung around, sliding past him, and she stopped chewing the gum in her mouth. She'd caught him watching her.

  She looked straight at him and started chewing again. His gut tightened. He loved nothing more than a challenging woman.

  To bend her. To soften her. To have all that energy directed at him.

  Aware of her curiosity, he kept his distance. He enjoyed the game. The looks, the awkwardness, the tension, it was all fucking foreplay for him.

  There were at least three hundred people in the clubhouse and spilling out to the alley. She had many people around her to sufficiently entertain her, but he recognized interest when he spotted it.

  The more her mouth worked the gum, the more excited she became. He wanted her smacking her lips, worked up, and ready.

  The reason behind her coming with Monica to the party was unimportant. He knew how her night would end.

  Aron and Rune slowly eased their way to the line of motorcycles and Heather walked to the clubhouse. Monica and Joel finally brought the woman into the conversation. Not going to miss his opportunity, he strolled toward them and stepped between his MC family and their guest.

  "Did Monica bring you here or did you drive?" he asked.

  There was no need to dance around his question. She understood what he wanted from her.

  She glanced over at her friend and then back at him. "I drove."

  That explained why she only carried a drink around with her earlier and never drank from the cup.

  He gazed into her deep, brown eyes. She never moved or looked away from him.

  Hooking her chin with his finger, he ran his thumb across her lower lip. She stayed lax and interested. He hadn't read the situation wrong.

  She was willing, and he was interested.

  He turned and met Joel's gaze. Lifting his chin, he let his MC brother know that he would see the woman to her car.

  Giving her his attention again, he said, "How far away are you parked?"

  "A couple blocks." Her mouth continued to move.

  Unable to hear her over the music and voices outside, he leaned closer.

  Her lips brushed his ear. "Across from Taco Bell. There's a parking lot."

  "Tell Monica goodbye, and I'll take you." He stood back while she spoke with her friend.

  Less than a minute later, she glanced at him, then backed away from Monica to come to his side. "I'm ready."

  He looped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her close. "We'll ride."

  She put her arm around his back. He gave her a squeeze.

  At his bike, he reached over and borrowed the helmet off Peer's Harley parked next in line and slid it onto the woman's head. Latching the strap under her chin, the heat of her gaze got his pulse thumping.

  He gazed down her body. Her short skirt wouldn't hide much once she straddled the seat. The flip flops wouldn't protect her feet. The night air could get chilly, but he wasn't going far.

  "What's your name, babe?" He put on his helmet.

  "Dinah."

  He stepped in front of her, liking how she was tall enough that when she lifted her chin to look into his eyes, she was at the perfect height to kiss her if he lowered his head. "That's a pretty name."

  Her tongue came out and moistened her plump bottom lip. "And, yours?"

  "Brage," he said, before h
e captured her mouth, taking the kiss deeply from the start.

  She held the top of her helmet and sucked on his tongue, taking a submissive position, and letting him lead. His balls tightened. She was all up for sex.

  Pulling back, he pinned her with his gaze and rolled the small ball of gum he'd stolen from her with his tongue.

  Cinnamon.

  She tasted like God damn cinnamon.

  He turned his head, spit the gum on the ground, wanting nothing getting in his way to her, and sat his motorcycle, starting the engine. Cinnamon was like a drug to him.

  He added the spice to his coffee, his pancakes, his toast. Having her taste like something that brought him pleasure only made him want her more.

  Dinah toed the back peg into the down position and climbed on behind him. For a fleeting second, he wondered how many motorcycles she'd ridden on before, but the answer wasn't any of his business.

  He rode down the alley and slowed as the prospect opened the gate, then accelerated getting out onto the road. In a matter of minutes, he arrived at the intersection with Taco Bell in front of him on the left side of the street.

  Dinah patted his stomach, pointed with her left hand, and loud enough for him to hear, said, "Black Jeep."

  He took in the vehicle with the lift and aftermarket tires and whistled under his breath. It was the opposite of what he'd expect a woman to drive and in the same breath, impressed him.

  Turning into the lot, there were only three cars parked nearby. The offices lining the small plaza were closed for the night, and he suspected the owners of the vehicles were at the Slag party and had decided to walk there, like Dinah, because of the limited parking in the alley.

  He looped around and backed his Harley into the parking spot next to the Jeep. Shutting off the engine, he felt movement behind him as Dinah slid off the motorcycle. He followed her off and took the helmet from her as she shook out her hair. Before she could move, he cupped her hip with his hand.

  She moved toward him, questioning him with her gaze. Hotter than hell, it was clear she came to the clubhouse for some personal attention. Attention, he could give her.

  "Tell me no if you've changed your mind," he said.

  She looked him in the eyes. "Yes."

  He hooked her neck and brought her closer, swooping down and kissing her. His dick pulsed and he swung her around and backed her against her Jeep, pressing the lower half of his body against her.

  Her body softened and formed to him. She had long legs, putting her at the perfect height for him.

  Reaching down with his free hand, he cupped her hip and caressed down her thigh, picking up her leg and opening her up. The warmth of her body heated the front of his jeans.

  His cock hardened. He squeezed her leg, holding her tight against him.

  Dinah pulled at his beard, trying to get closer. He growled, dipping his knees and stroked her pussy with the front of his jeans. The added torment only had him wanting to undo his belt and allow himself room to show her his full size.

  He worked his fingers in her hair, fisted the strands, and pulled her mouth off him. "I want to fuck."

  She glanced out at the street, then toward the building. He took the decision out of her hands and moved her to the front of the vehicle. If she needed privacy, he could make it impossible for her to see if anyone was looking.

  It wouldn't take long. He was good to go.

  Slipping his hands up inside the short skirt she wore, he searched for the strip of material covering her pussy and came up empty. He looked into her eyes as dawning came through his fogged arousal.

  She wasn't wearing any panties.

  He removed his hand from her body and undid his belt. She slid her hands up and held his face, taking advantage of his distraction trying to get his cock out of his jeans, and kissing him deeper.

  Caught up in what she could do with her tongue in his mouth, he hooked her around the waist and tugged her against him, grinding his hardness between them.

  She jerked her head back. "Condom?"

  "Pocket." He caught her mouth again, needing more.

  Nothing stopped her—not his mouth, not his cock bared against her stomach, not his size, or pressing her against the Jeep as traffic flowed on the street behind her. She dove her hand into the front pocket of his jeans and searched for protection. He groaned as her fingers skimmed his enlarged dick.

  "I got it," she mumbled against his lips.

  He blindly reached for her hand, found the condom, and pulled away from her, hurrying to coat himself.

  Dinah's heavy breathing as she remained leaning against the vehicle left his cock pulsating under his fingers. He looked up. Her arousal stared at him underneath heavily lidded eyes.

  Once the condom was on, he moved back toward her and cupped her breast underneath her halter, setting it free. Even in the darkness, her nipple stood out for attention. Taking her breast in his mouth, he tongued the hard bead, drawing it deeper into his mouth.

  She shuddered on a moan. That feminine sound excited him.

  He pulled his mouth off her and turned her around.

  "Hold on to the bumper." He held on to her hips as she leaned her upper body over and widened her stance.

  Dipping his finger between her legs, he spread her wetness. His balls tightening at the smooth silkiness. For a second, he regretted not taking her at the clubhouse. There would've been an empty bedroom upstairs. He could've taken his time, discovered exactly how she wanted to be touched, and taken his fill of her.

  He lined up his cock at her pussy. His toes curled in his boots. He wanted to nail her and take what he knew would be the most pleasure he'd had in days, but he slid into her slowly.

  Dinah's head came up, and a low mewl escaped her. "Hard. Faster."

  His chest expanded. He'd picked a winner. A woman after his own heart.

  He grabbed her hips and plunged into her. Getting a taste of her tight pussy grabbing his dick, he withdrew, keeping the head of his cock inside her, and slammed back in.

  Dinah came up on her toes. Her ass tightened.

  Urged on, he pounded inside of her as if he was on a personal mission to bring her to climax.

  Sweat dotted his forehead. His erratic movements fighting against his need to unload inside of her.

  He leaned over, grinding while inside of her, and reached around her and cupped her breast. "Sweet piece."

  She bucked underneath him. He held her in place, his strokes shorter, faster as her breast bobbed in the palm of his hand.

  Her knees weakened, and her body dipped. The muscles at the back of his legs constricted as he held her up.

  In her ear, he whispered, "I got you."

  "Yes." She flipped her hair.

  The long strands caressed his arm. He let go of her hip and used both hands on her breasts, straightening her body, balancing her in front of him. Taking her nipples between his thumbs and fingers, he tugged lightly and thrust his cock in her pussy from behind.

  Thankful for her long legs, he moved in and out, over and over.

  She raised her arms and reaching behind her, grabbed his hair with both hands. He rocked to his toes. Her pussy squeezed down on him, and her body stiffened.

  His balls lifted and all the blood in his body centered around his cock, pulsating fast.

  "God, yes." Dinah moaned out her release.

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her back to his chest while he grabbed on to the hood of the Jeep, keeping them both on their feet. And, came hard.

  Exhaling harshly, he closed his eyes, shaking the high off him. Dinah stepped forward, slipping from his cock, and tugged her skirt down. He pulled the condom off his dick. The night caught up with him.

  He pulled his jeans up and spotted a garbage can behind him next to the building. Throwing away the condom, he buckled his belt and turned around to see how Dinah was doing, and the door of the Jeep closed, headlights came on, and the engine revved to life.

  Standing in front of h
er vehicle, he could only watch her back out of the parking spot and squeal her tires in her hurry to leave.

  "Well, fuck," he muttered.

  She'd ditched him.

  Chapter 2

  The train whistled. Dinah Reed stood on the porch of the rental house at dusk watching the wheels turn on the steel rails. The sound deafening and yet made her feel alive.

  She had stayed outside most of the day, hoping Monica would notice her and come over for a visit, but despite her efforts, she hadn't seen anyone coming and going from Slag Motorcycle Club. The gate at the end of the alley in view of her house, across the tracks, remained closed.

  Her phone vibrated. She pulled out the cell and answered, knowing who it would be.

  "Hello?" She covered her other ear in case the train whistled again.

  "Where are you?"

  She rolled her eyes at her brother's tone. Tony should be here instead of passing the job on to her.

  His whole life, he'd neglected his responsibilities, forcing others to do his dirty work. Clear back to the time he and Brad, Dinah's oldest brother, took guardianship of her after their parents died, she'd been forced to save his ass because no one else would help him.

  "Where do you think I am?" She looked over her shoulder at the front of the house.

  Tony had rented the run-down single-story house next to the train tracks going through Portland for her use. Every night when the whistles went off and the trains went by, the house rumbled, and she damned him to hell. In the month she'd stayed here, she hadn't received a full night's sleep.

  It was ridiculous that at thirty-nine years old, her brother was still getting in trouble. Being thirteen years younger than Tony, he still had ways of manipulating her, which was how she ended up living here. And, the fact that she was jobless after being laid off at the car dealership back home gave her no excuse not to try and help her brother.

  She owed him and Brad—something he was always reminding her. They could've dumped her into state care when their parents died. Raising a young child when her brothers were barely adults ruined their lives and put more hardships on them than she could count.