Biker Daddy (A Rogue Tide Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Nikki Wild

  Liam’s comfort on stage was obvious. He became one with the guitar, stalking the microphone like a determined lover, the lyrics pouring out of him like a waterfall. His voice was strong, solid, and so fucking sexy that I felt my nipples harden like pebbles and stay that way throughout the entire show. It was impossible to look away from him. His presence was commanding, sultry, and his body moved with such unbridled sexuality, he almost looked as if he were making love to the audience. His eyes closed, his hips undulating, his mouth open, his hair flying, his always unbuttoned shirt billowing behind him and exposing that muscular tattooed chest, all at the same time. It was breathtaking.

  My eyes raked over the adoring crowd, and I saw hundreds of women who surely had the same expression splashed across their faces as I did - pure, unadulterated desire.

  Song after song, Liam poured his heart out. That kind of passion could never be faked. He was indeed a man in his element. I couldn’t help but smile. No wonder everyone was able to look past his asshole demeanor. No wonder the record label executives were going to such lengths to try to improve his image. Nobody in their right mind would want this train to stop.

  By the time the show was halfway over, Liam had the crowd eating out of his hand. He and Ian pretty much ignored each other, though, and while I sensed the tension between them, they played off of each other effortlessly. The band was tight, skilled, and perfectly adapted to every nuance of Liam’s singing. If he got softer, they got softer. If he played harder, they played louder.

  I couldn’t help but lose myself in the magic.

  Rhone stood beside me, and I glanced over at her. Her eyes were filled with love, her gaze glued on Ian the whole time. You could almost feel the happiness oozing off of her, and it made me smile. It also made me wonder why Ian could find love and stability and Liam couldn’t. Perhaps after a little more time with him, I could get a better handle on that.

  As for now, I was just going to allow myself to drink in the undeniable sex machine that was Liam. I felt a familiar stirring between my legs, my nipples hardened even more beneath my blouse, and my stomach flipped.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I wasn’t immune to Liam’s charms. As much as I wanted to remain professional, another part of me wanted to give in to his devilish temptation. And at this point, watching him, that part was winning out. Big time.

  My thoughts had drifted so far away from my reason for being there, that by the time the show was over, I was in a hypnotic haze. By the looks of the throngs of fans that were cheering, stomping and clapping, chanting ‘more, more, more!’, they were under the same spell.

  The boys came backstage, talked to each other for a moment, wiping sweat from their faces, pouring water in their mouths, their energy electric. Within moments, they walked back out and the crowd collectively went crazy.

  I was in awe.

  This wasn’t my first rodeo. I’d been to countless concerts myself, but being backstage was a whole different trip. Watching the effect the band had on the crowd from this side was intense. The ecstatic faces, the synchronized lips singing along to every song they’d memorized, the devotion for the band filling their eyes as they swayed together.

  It made me high just watching it - I could only imagine how it must feel to be the object of their adoration. But Liam and the boys seemed to take it in stride, as if it was second nature to be in front of all of these people night after night.

  The spotlight was not for me, I’d figured that out long ago. That’s why I was a writer now. I much preferred working behind the scenes, just me and my laptop and not a million pairs of eyes watching my every move.

  My father had been a famous newscaster. I’d grown up watching him on television, interviewing presidents and breaking important stories. He was intense, driven and laser-focused on delivering the most in-depth stories he could. My mother and I adored him. Until I was ten, the three of us had the perfect life, even if he wasn’t home as much as we’d like him to be. When I expressed an interest in writing, he pushed me to follow in his footsteps. The stage was set for our lives to play out perfectly, but it didn’t work out that way.

  Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was ten, and everything fell apart. She tried to fight it, but in the end, the cancer won. After she died, Dad fell apart. He began drinking heavily and his life and career died with the woman he couldn’t live without. It was devastating to watch. I basically raised myself, and in the end, by the time I was in my early twenties, he was a shell of the man he once was. I spent a year taking care of him before his body let go, freeing him from his own private hell.

  I threw myself into my writing after he was gone. I began with poems and short stories but my heart was in songwriting. Because of my father’s career, I was recruited to be a journalist, and since it paid the bills, I kept doing it. But songwriting was always my secret passion, and outside of a few trusted friends and colleagues, I kept that to myself. I’d sold a few songs along the way that became big hits, and I was immensely proud of them, and even if those royalty checks became smaller as time sped by, it was always a private little pleasure when they arrived… I liked keeping it to myself, though. Sometimes a girl has to have her own secrets.

  Watching Liam leave every part of himself on that stage, I wondered what secrets he was keeping. If I could uncover a few of them, I might just have myself a story.

  Eight

  LIAM

  The roar of the crowd always gets me hard, and the guitar slung low over my hips does a shit job of hiding it. Performing is better than shaggin’. In fact, it’s just like shaggin’ thousands of people all at the same time. The build up, the anticipation, the waiting, and then the act itself, like you’re riding the waves of pleasure with all of them at once - the highs, the lows, the cock-out rocking, fist-pumping finale. The sweaty aftermath, the electric, lingering high that I can only achieve after being in front of thousands of screaming fans.

  I’m beyond addicted to all of that shit.

  It’s the only thing that keeps me going.

  It’s the easiest, greatest escape from all the bullshit that makes up the rest of my life. Escaping from it is what I live for. Escaping from it is essential.

  The encores are my favorite part of the show, not just because I could play all fuckin’ night and never tire, but because I know Ian thinks our shows should be short.

  “Leave the crowd wanting more,” he always says. But fuck that. I say give the crowd what they paid their hard-earned money for. I say give the crowd the same escape that they give us. So, when I go back for an encore, and then do it again, it pleases me because it pisses Ian off. Pissing Ian off is one of my greatest skills and my favorite past times. Seeing his face turn red with frustration is my reward.

  Sure, I love my brother. But for fuck’s sake, he is the most uptight motherfucker I know. I figure if I push his buttons enough times, he’ll mellow out a little.

  Of course, I’ve been pushing his buttons for thirty years now and he’s still the same uptight asshole as he’s always been, but I’ve got hope.

  Sometimes, though, I bend a little. Like now. I know he wants to end the show, I can feel his glare even though I’m not looking at him. I look down at the fans lining the edge of the stage and a pretty little blonde beauty is beaming up at me. I wink at her before launching into the last song. In the middle of it, I glance over at the side of the stage and see Catherine standing next to Rhone, her gorgeous green eyes glued to me. I give her a little nod and feel my cock swell in my pants.

  If I don’t get some relief soon, that fucking monster is going to explode. And I feel sorry for anyone around me when that happens.

  Another glance at Catherine, and I’m hoping like hell it’s her. She’s been oh-so-professional and all I want to do is rip off her clothes and shag her until she’s begging for more. I bet she has the sweetest little pussy this side of the pond.

  Perhaps if I play along just right, I’ll find out for myself…

  The so
ng’s over and the boys and I bow as the crowd goes nuts, demanding more and more and more.

  They’re my kind of crowd. Insatiable. Passionate. Hungry.

  I nod to Ian and to his relief, I leave the stage.

  As always, Big D walks up to me as soon as I’m away from the mic.

  “Want me to bring any girls back for the afterparty, Liam?” I look over his shoulder. Catherine is standing quiet among a group of screaming fans. On any other night, I might point to three or four of them to play with…

  But where was the fun in that?

  No… I knew what I wanted. My cock threatened to rip right out of my pants as I drink in the sight of her.

  “Nobody tonight, Big D. Gonna take a little break.”

  His shocked face makes me laugh, but I turn and walk away, leaving him confused and bewildered as he follows behind.

  Nine

  CATHERINE

  When I heard we weren’t sleeping in the bust tonight, that was fine by me… Unfortunately, it looked like sleeping might not exactly be happening anywhere…

  By the time we made it to the hotel, the party was in full swing. I couldn’t help but think how exhausting this must be night after night. Wake up, drive hundred of miles to the venue, wait around for hours, play the show, back on the bus, ride off to a hotel to party all night, and then get up in the morning and do it all over again. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was a fucking blast…

  Once…

  Maybe twice…

  But every night?

  Screw that.

  A girl needed her beauty rest, you know? Apparently, that wasn’t going to happen here. By the time I checked in and took my bags to my room, the sounds of the party streaming down the hallway were irresistible. So was the thought of spending a few minutes with Liam, but I was pretending that wasn’t why I was going.

  I changed clothes, putting on a pair of jeans and a low cut red velvet blouse. I’d had a thought earlier that if I opened up to Liam a little, maybe played his game just a bit, then maybe I could get him to open up to me. I wanted to do a good job with this article, and I wasn’t opposed to going to such lengths to make that happen.

  The first thing I thought when I walked into the band’s party suite, was ‘where did all these people come from?’ A least a hundred people were crammed in there, all of them drinking and partying.

  I spotted Ian and Rhone in the corner and decided to join them after helping myself to a glass of wine from the bar.

  “Hello, Catherine, did you enjoy the show?” Ian asked.

  “I did, it was amazing,” I replied.

  “It always is,” Rhone said. Ian shook his head in disagreement.

  “It was shit, Liam went on for way too long,” he said.

  “Did he?” I asked. “Does he do that often?”

  “All the bloody time! I’m convinced he only does it to piss me off.”

  “He seems to piss you off a lot,” I replied.

  “Fuckin’ twat. He does it all on purpose. He loves gettin’ under my skin,” Ian said, as he took a swig off the tequila bottle he was holding. “Always has, since we were lil’ tots.”

  “You shouldn’t let him upset you so much, sweetheart,” Rhone said, lying a comforting hand on his arm.

  “Listen if I could fuckin’ bloody help it, I would. He’s the only chap in the world that can piss me off so much.”

  “Are we talking about me?” Liam walked up with a jovial smile and a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

  Ian rolled his eyes and grabbed Rhone’s hand and pulled her away without a word. Liam turned to me with his hands raised in mock confusion.

  “What did I do?”

  I laughed and shook my head.

  “I have a feeling you know exactly what you’ve done,” I replied.

  “Piss Ian off? Excellent, it’s good for him,” he replied. “But who wants to talk about him? How are you doing?”

  “I’m good. I’d love to ask you a few more questions, if you’re up for it.”

  “Sure, luv. Let’s find a quiet corner,” he replied, turning and searching the room. He grabbed my hand and I let him led me to an empty couch along the window. We’d just sat down when three women walked up, their faces awash with gushing adoration.

  “Liam Mercury!” one of them squealed, sitting on the other side of him. She ran her hand up his arm, and leaned into him, her very exposed cleavage squishing against him. “You’re my favorite! I’ve been wanting to meet you forever!”

  “Oh yeah?” he asked. “How’d you get in here, luv?”

  “Big D brought us up. He said you might have time to have a drink with us?”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m in the middle of some —,”

  “Mr. Mercury, I’ve had your poster on my wall since I was a little girl!” her blonde friend interrupted. “Honestly, I just love you!” she squealed. “You’re so amazing and so talented. I loved it when you sang ‘Somewhere Else’ tonight.”

  “Well, thanks, hon, but I’m —,”

  “My father turned me on to you,” the third girl gushed, “and I’ve been a fan ever since. Can I get you a drink or something?” She sat down on the other side of him, squeezing in between the two of us, completely ignoring me. The three of them began bombarding him with questions and eyelash fluttering adoration. He drank it up, occasionally looking over at me apologetically. I shrugged and stood up and walked away.

  This was obviously not the time nor place for an interview. A few quiet moments alone with this man was not that easy to achieve. If this kept up, I was going to need a lot more than a week to get my story.

  And for the first time, that didn’t really sound so terrible.

  Ten

  LIAM

  As the blubbering women surrounding me chattered on and on about how awesome I was, I made a mental note to kick Big D’s ass when I got him alone. I’d told him no women tonight, and here I was, once again cornered by them.

  I could hardly blame him, considering in the entire five years he’d been with me, I’d never once told him not to bring girls back after the show before. But for fuck’s sake, he’d do well to listen to me, no matter how out of character it was.

  I turned to my right, and was disappointed to see that Catherine had disappeared. I wouldn’t have stuck around either if I were here.

  In fact, what the fuck was I still doing here?

  “Excuse me, ladies, I’ve got to drain the lizard,” I said. They giggled and parted, letting me up for air from their constant barrage of compliments. It was bloody exhausting. How many times could a bloke say ‘thank you’?

  I know, I’m sounding ungrateful again. But for fuck’s sake, give a man a little breathing room, will you?

  After pissing and finding another drink, considering I’d downed the entire fifth of whiskey I’d been holding while I was sitting on the couch, I sauntered off to find Catherine. She was the only thing I was interested in right now.

  It would have been easy to take the three girls back to my room and spend the rest of the night rolling in the sheets with them, but for some reason, since Catherine had arrived, she was the only person I wanted to spend time with. Everything else bored me to tears.

  Maybe it was her steely resistance. I mean, fuck, I wasn’t used to that. Maybe it was her eyes, always watching me, observing me, like I was in a fuckin’ cage or something. I wanted to give her something to write about. I wanted to give her a lot more than that.

  I saw her sitting in the corner talking to Rocket and I cringed. Not that bloody bloke! He was regaling her with tales from the road, or some other bullshit, and she was laughing heartily. I hesitated, watching them from afar before approaching. She was so fuckin’ beautiful, it almost took my breath away. But more than that, she was whip smart, and apparently, not a fan of bullshit.

  I liked that. I always preferred the direct approach in life myself, and I appreciated a woman who didn’t beat around the bush. Life was way too fuckin’ short for playing
games. I’d figured that out a long time ago.

  Which is why I decided tonight was the night to make my move. All I had to do was get her to my room, and I’d have her writhing on my cock in no time. But first, I needed to get her out of Rocket’s slimy clutches.

  Eleven

  CATHERINE

  Liam approached like a predatory cat. He slithered up to Rocket and I with hunger in his eyes. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like being the one he was stalking. Not only did it help with my plan to get close to him, but it was flattering as hell to have one of the biggest rockstars on the planet have you in his sights.

  Which is why I knew the way to get close to him was to play hard to get just a little longer. If I gave in too early, he’d figure it out and get bored and leave. Just like he’d gotten bored with the girls on the couch. I needed to keep his attention a little longer than they had. I looked over his shoulder and saw the three of them sitting on the couch alone, their heads buried in their phones.

  Once he was within earshot, I made my move.

  Rocket was rattling on about their last tour or something, and luckily he said something funny at just the time Liam walked up. I laughed loudly, caressing his arm and leaning into him.

  “That’s hilarious, Rocket,” I gushed, turning away away from Liam.

  Rocket flashed a toothy grin at me and then looked up at Liam.

  “Hey, man,” Rocket nodded.

  “What’s up?” Liam said. I felt the heat of his gaze but willed myself not to look up at him.

  “Just chillin’ out, mate,” Rocket replied, followed by awkward silence. I looked up and saw Liam’s icy glare pointed in Rocket’s direction. To his credit, Rocket stuck out his chin and didn’t back down in their silent, manly, pissing contest.