Jax: Black Angels MC, #3

by Fisher, A. E.

  Jax

  Black Angels MC, #3

  A. E. Fisher

  Young Ink Press Publication

  YoungInkPress.com

  Copyright © 2019 by A.E. Fisher

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Art by Cover Couture

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this ebook are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence, and explicit language offends you.

  Connect with A.E. Fisher,

  twitter.com/AEFisher_Books

  facebook.com/AEFisherBooks

  a.e.fisher@outlook.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Jax

  2. Ronnie

  3. Jax

  4. Ronnie

  5. Jax

  6. Ronnie

  7. Jax

  8. Ronnie

  9. Jax

  10. Ronnie

  11. Jax

  12. Ronnie

  13. Jax

  14. Ronnie

  15. Jax

  16. Ronnie

  17. Jax

  18. Ronnie

  19. Jax

  20. Ronnie

  21. Jax

  22. Ronnie

  23. Jax

  24. Ronnie

  25. Jax

  26. Ronnie

  27. Jax

  28. Ronnie

  29. Ronnie

  30. Jax

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Jax

  This was peace.

  I was sitting on the fence surrounding the field, warm western winds rustling through my hair, beads of sweat leaving cool trails down the curves of my skin. Purple, blue, and orange water-washed the evening sky as the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Grass whispered between the gentle thudding beats of a gallop hitting the ground.

  “JACKSON!” The bellowing screech blew out my ear drums as the fourteen-year-old girl came flying off her mare and into my view.

  “Shit!” I hissed, having no time to dodge as the youth came slamming into my chest. My breath lurched from my lungs as I cascaded down from the top of the fence, the faint scratch of my boots scrapping the piece of wood before my body met the ground.

  Pain burst up my back, dirt and stones digging into my skin as I toppled down to the earth, dust and dirt flicking into my eyes. It was blinding for a second, then she crashed down like a gavel onto my ribs. Darkness danced across my vision, my body enveloped by so much pain it felt detached and distant from me. Like it wasn’t my own.

  The creaking of my spine and the burning across my chest told me nothing good had happened. I dared to open my eyes to the wild mess of brown hair tossed all over my face, in my mouth, and poking me in the eyes. Hair I was far too familiar with.

  My voice was guttural as the all too familiar name escaped between my teeth. “Ronnie…”

  Ronnie’s body tightened.

  “Um… Howdy?” Her meek voice traveled up to me, as the rat’s nest began to move. Her small round face, full of teenage plump, and big, circular eyes faced me with a tight, weak smile.

  Guilty as charged.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I shoved her aside, her body falling with a thump into the dirt, spraying a cloud straight into my mouth.

  “My Momma always said you shouldn’t curse, Jackson,” Ronnie snipped, shaking her head and spitting out the dirt she’d managed to inhale. “And this ain’t any way to treat a lady.”

  “You ain’t no lady, Ronnie. You’re as close to a wild monkey as a girl can get. Heck, I’m not even sure if I can call you a girl,” I retorted, watching the familiar pout and cross-eyes sharpen. She threw herself up from the ground, tossing dirt in my face with a vigor I was sure just got knocked out of me.

  “I’m a girl!” Ronnie yelled, way louder than she needed to. Her boot stomped on the ground and she propped her hands up on those insignificant hips of hers. “I’m as much a girl as all those other girlies you’ve been dating!”

  “It ain’t dating as much as it’s been fucking, Ronnie, and you’re too young to understand such things,” I grunted as I used the fence post as a lever to pull myself up. My trip was short, however, as a sharp nip on my fingers had my hand snapping from the wood, and my pained ass collapsed back on the dirt. “Damn horse,” I hissed, shaking my hand, now covered in splinters, as I glared up at the brown mare huffing hot, moist air in my face with a slight bit too much satisfaction. “See, ya can’t even train a horse properly, never mind catch yourself a man.”

  “I—I know what… fuckin’ is!” Ronnie exclaimed with such a bright blush on her face, I was wondering if she’d outshine the sunset.

  Pulling myself up from the ground without the help of the fence, I cast a glare to the tall mare who had all but thrown her rider at me and then to the young girl standing at my shoulder. I reached up toward her lit face, the deepening sun having caught her cheeks and making that blush just that little bit redder. My hand cupped her skin, and I saw her breath pause, her little eyes looking up to me with so much hope and….

  I pinched.

  She jerked back with a hard squeal, snapping her body away from me, and leaving me with vengeful hysterics. I couldn’t help but find hilarity in the shock on her face. Damn this girl, as annoying as she was—and fuck, she was hella annoying—she was also my prime plaything. She had become the little sister I never wanted, nor was related to. She was the horse trainer’s daughter, and I was the owner’s son. I was stuck with her. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t have a little fun.

  “Damn you, Jackson!” she cried, holding her cheek with her palm as if I’d slapped her.

  Drama queen.

  “Don’t curse, Ronnie, or ya momma will be smiting me from heaven.”

  “Only angels can smite, stupid Jackson!” Ronnie hissed, stomping her feet the two steps to the edge of the fence.

  “Now where’re ya going?” I huffed, watching her pout her way all the way, and then in her lanky tomboy jeans, covered in dirt and hay and torn to shreds, she struggled her way up the wide bars until she was high enough to reach her horse’s saddle. Max, the huge mare she rode, moved further down the fence, just to piss off Ronnie and force her to shuffle down the fence before she could mount her.

  “You’ll see, Jackson,” Ronnie huffed, situating herself in her saddle, tossing her own matted mane over her shoulder and grabbing a handful of reins. “I’ll turn into a fine lady one day soon.” She pointed her finger out at me. “And when that day comes, I’ll be coming to get you. And I’ll make you mine!”

  I chuckled at her little promise. “Sure, I’ll be waiting,” I said without a thought, knowing such a day would never come as I watched the little girl I’d practically hand-reared since a babe canter off into the field, her little body struggling to keep time with Max’s huge strides.

  Little did I know, a day like that would come. And it’d become a day I never wished arrived.

  Chapter One

  Jax

  Twelve years later…

  The flushing red glow of sunlight bleeding through my eyelids burned my vision. My slumber’s grip began to loosen, and I floated t
oward wakefulness. A slim crack in the curtains allowed the perpetrator to cut its light through the darkness. It was lined with accuracy into my sight and as my eyes crept open, I glared at the dust dancing in the morning’s light.

  But that wasn’t the only reason I woke.

  It probably had something more to do with the girl sucking on my dick like her favorite lollipop.

  The soft, firm grip of her lips around my veined, pulsing shaft had a groan of approval squeezing out through my teeth. I wondered why hell had let this hot devil escape as she continued suckling hard, the soft, slurping noises filling the room. It wasn’t the most attractive thing, but I also couldn’t give a shit as she held firm to the base of me, her nails running through the rough, dark hair nestling between my thighs.

  “Fuck,” I hissed, turning my head down to see the long, pale blonde hair in a ruffled mess around her neck, makeup smudged under her eyes as they gazed up with a husky darkness into mine. Her eyes dared me with rebellion, and I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

  “What are you girls doing?” I hummed, casting my eyes over to the smaller brunette’s hand as it reached down underneath the blonde and skimmed the softened skin beneath my sack. The tips of her nails brushed the surface and the scratch caused my dick to jump in the blonde’s mouth.

  Her pupils widened.

  “Nothing,” the brunette whispered, leaning down toward the dark trail of hair on my stomach and lathing her tongue against my ridged abs, tasting the sweat already beading over my skin. Her tongue traced the dark, thick lines of the bird tattoo I had done over a year ago, lips sucking its cracked, chipped beak.

  “Nothing, huh?”

  With a pop, the blonde took me from her lips, the cool air leaving a chill over my wet skin. “Just thought we’d give you a present,” she amended, moving to run the tip of her tongue on the underside. I moaned.

  “Did I give you permission to touch me?” I growled.

  Their eyes widened, not with shock at my attitude but with excitement. I could almost smell the wetness coming from them as they shifted their hips against the silk bedding.

  “No,” the brunette whispered with a cracked purr, her body hesitant as it poised over my stomach, erect nipples grazing my skin as she saddled up next to the blonde.

  “Then it’s time for punishment.” I sighed, as if it pained me to bring it up. It was the opposite.

  Both girls’ chests began to rise and fall with quicker, jittering breaths. They moved without command, sitting back so their perky asses rested on their heels. Their soft thighs were pushed as tight together as those curves would allow, their nestled mounds cushioned snug between. They held both of their wrists up to me, pressed together, hands relaxed, unable to hide that slight tremor, not of fear but of excitement.

  “Eyes closed,” I snapped, my hands clapping on the command.

  They jolted. Even if I didn’t look, I knew they obeyed. Their eyes would be closed.

  I turned to my wardrobe and allowed the doors to make an audible, slow creak as the old hinges swung the wooden panel open. The slow moment was like a drawn-out breath on skin, so intense it was almost a physical touch.

  My eyes wandered over the many taut ropes held on their respective hooks. I yearned to use them, but…this was not the time. Not yet. These girls weren’t disobedient enough. There were very few that were.

  Instead, my fingers reached without hesitation to the very tool I needed. My fingers stroked the hard shaft before grasping it tightly in my palm. I suppose I could have chosen one of a multitude of tools, but when retraining was needed, it was only natural that I would gravitate to this.

  The black riding crop had my own breath hitching as the Italian leather sat as light as a feather in my palms. I almost didn’t want to use it; just looking at it was enough to satisfy me.

  But a tool had a purpose, and without a purpose it would only be half of what it was created for.

  “Now,” I breathed, turning on my heels to the two awaiting girls. I bounced the shaft in my hand and the end of the crop made a soft, painless slap across my palm. “Who’s getting punished first?”

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I sighed just as the door swung open, interrupting my fun with an even less fun person filling its space.

  The huge beast I knew as my best friend was swallowing the tiny space of the large doorway, his tight black shirt brushing the edges of the wood as he searched for my face among the dimly lit space of my room. He didn’t bother to scan through my room, not at the myriad of clothes scattered across the stained wood, the leather collection within my wardrobe, nor the two girls waiting on the bed.

  He was such a bore nowadays. Still, I couldn’t resist.

  “Finally tempted to stray?” I smirked, letting the crop graze subtly across the brunette’s chest. Her breath quickened.

  Hunter’s expression didn’t change. “Downstairs. Now.”

  The slam of the door punctuated his disappearance and the girls jumped at the sound.

  A man of many words as always.

  The sigh that followed the sound of the door came out with a heavy breath as I looked down at my pitifully hard shaft.

  Guess it’ll have to wait.

  I stretched my arms above my head, hearing a creak in my bones, and I looked to the ground for the jeans I had been wearing last night. When spotted, I lifted the pair from the floor and to my face. My nose wrinkled at the smell. I shrugged.

  It’ll do.

  It was then that I heard the silk sheets rustle as the blonde reached up to brush a hand through her hair.

  Snap.

  Her hands retreated to her chest, eyes still closed, but her expression was a complete contrast. Her mouth watered at the sting on her hand as her other one cradled it against her breasts, but her lips were lined with confusion.

  “Don’t move,” I commanded, letting the crop slide underneath her chin. Her head tipped upward obediently, reluctant to let the feeling of the leather leave her skin. The crop paused just where her jaw bone ended. She gave the softest of nods.

  “Use your words.”

  Her tongue darted out to smooth the saliva beginning to drip from the side of her pink lips, and with a deep swallow, she breathed, “Yes, sir.”

  Much better.

  I let the crop slowly travel back down her jaw, allowed her to lower her head. But I didn’t stop there. One warning would not be enough for these girls. I let the crop roll down the valley between the blonde’s breasts, watching her nipples harden into sharp nubs through the thin silk material of her bra, and followed the ridge of her ribs, her stomach, and midriff before it came to the smooth skin leading into the gap between her thighs. She probably had a matching pair of panties last night, but I knew I had made quick work of them at the end of the party.

  “Not even a muscle.” I tapped the crop against the top of her mound and her stomach jerked. “Both of you.”

  “Yes, sir,” the girls said in simultaneous rhythm, and fuck, they needed to be rewarded for such good behavior… but not right now.

  I nodded but didn’t give them any affirmation as I tugged on my pair of jeans, not bothering to look for underwear since my aching dick would never be able to fit into them, then donned the last shirt on top of the cupboard from the diminishing clean pile. My cut was carefully hung up on the back of my door, and I took that too before putting my crop carefully on top of the wardrobe. Heading out the door, I left it ajar just in case another brother wanted a peek at my artwork.

  Time to find out what this shit was about.

  * * *

  Quiet steps marked my arrival into the club’s main room, my heavy boots making a softened thump as I finished the last step. The lack of an echo and a creak made me feel a little lonely as I set my eyes on the newly refurbished room, which had to be done after an enemy gang had gunned the shit out of it. But still….

  I had become so accustomed to the smell of whiskey, sex, and sweat embedded into every piece of furniture,
along with the knife marks and gun holes decorating the wall and the creak of a hardwood floor, that the new space made me feel strange. The smell of new was not on my list of favorite scents. I preferred something a little more aged… something with a little more character.

  It wasn’t as noticeable when my brothers filled the room, the character and age almost overwhelming by the dinosaurs themselves, but when there was only Hunter awaiting my arrival in the spacious hall, the effect was strong.

  I ran a hand through my hair, pushing the growing length out of my face as I approached my closest brother waiting by the bar. I had been meaning to have it cut for a while, having no plans to join Hunter and Wolf in the ponytail club. Wolf’s had become so biker cliché that it attracted the spectrum of looks from everyone no matter where he went. I couldn’t be bothered with that. “So where is everybody?” I grumbled.

  “Not here,” Hunter grunted.

  “Well, I could figure that out, you ass.” I rolled my eyes. “Sarcasm is only cute on pint-sized blondes and redheads, not on six-foot and above brunettes.”

  Hunter rolled his eyes.

  “They’re outside in the parking lot.” He extended a large hand, and in it was a shot of strong whiskey. One of my favorite kinds of flavored water we kept behind the bar. None of it influenced me like my moonshine did, though rumors were reaching ears we didn’t need listening, so illegal liquor was out of the question for now. Until then there was little I could do but drink what was offered.