by Evelyn Glass
“Why do you want to do this?”
“Several reasons. First, we need a test. The last test footage was destroyed along with everything else. Second, I want to see myself making love to the most beautiful, sexiest woman in the world. And third, I think if you’re going to run the place, you should know how it all works, in front of and behind the camera.”
“I guess, but…wait, what did you say?” she asked.
“I said we needed to shoot some test—”
“No. After that,” she interrupted.
“That I wanted to see myself—”
“No, damnit! The last part.”
His grinned widened and he chuckled. “That if you’re going to run the place, you need to see how it works in front of as well as behind the camera.”
She stared at him a moment. “What are you saying? You want me to run BKS? Why?”
“For a while. Whiteshirt, Hammer and I have talked about this. We have our hands full at the moment. There’s a power vacuum with the Saracens gone and we’re trying to keep a lid on the coke and gun trade in their territory while we get control of it. The underground knows we’re weakened and they’re trying to take advantage. We don’t have the time to devote to getting the BKS off the ground right now, but that’s our ticket for the future and I don’t want to delay the startup any longer than we have to. If you can just manage it through the startup headaches. After that, if you want to quit, we can probably take it over.”
“Why me?”
“Because I know from experience you know what’s sexy and you have a good imagination. I want to see if that translates to the screen. If you don’t want to manage BKS after the baby arrives, but want to keep your hand in, maybe you could be our production designer or something. If you don’t want to do it, that’s okay, we can find someone else, but I wanted to give you first crack at it.”
She thought about it a moment then smiled. She’d always survived by working odd jobs and hooking up with somebody, more or less trading her body for a place to sleep. It had started out that way even with Ironside, but he was offering her much more than a place in his bed; he was offering her a chance to actually make something of herself.
“Yeah, I think I’d like to give it a try. Do I get a free hand to make the videos I want?”
“So long as they make us money, why would we care? Why? Do you have something in mind already?”
“Yeah, I do. I’ve watched porn, but it’s hard to find something that isn’t all cocks in pussies or asses and fucking and screaming and bad acting. I want to see two people actually making love, start to finish. No cuts, no close ups of his cock in her pussy. None of that typical stuff. Realistic. Get a couple of people who actually want to fuck each other, set the scene, then let them do what comes naturally, with real orgasms, and he doesn’t come on her face unless she actually is into that shit. Female friendly, you know?”
“What about the sets?”
“What about them?” she asked. “Women would like to fuck on the beach or in a jungle. I’ll have to think about the dungeon one. Maybe we’ll convert that to a castle or something.”
He waved his hand, more convinced than ever BKS was in good hands. “Do what you have to, just don’t break us. So are we going over there for the test or not?”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
She smiled as she warmed to the idea. “I’ve never even seen the ocean…and we could do what I wanted to do on the sandbar. Can we shoot it in the style I want to use?”
“I think that would be wise, don’t you?”
She grinned then leaned in close, pulling his lips to hers. “I’m going to wear your ass out,” she murmured as their lips parted. If they were going to do this, she wanted to do it before she began to show.
“You can try,” he whispered in reply, pulling her lips to his again.
She slowly sat up from the kiss, already feeling itchy for his touch, and it was only three in the afternoon.
“Since you’re the new creative director for BKS, I have something else to show you,” he said as he pushed his chair back. She would have gotten her surprise anyway, but this way it was more dramatic.
“What?”
“You’ll see.” He stepped out of his office. “Hammer, can you go get the surprise, please?”
The Teutonic Knights Sergeant at Arm nodded. Ironside had told him to expect this when Peyton returned from the doctor. “Sure. Be back in a moment.”
“What are you up to?”
“You’ll see. Have a seat.”
“Bjorn…” she said slowly.
“Jesus! You’re so suspicious,” he teased. “Just sit down.”
She sat. In the five weeks since the motel, the women and members who had been unsure of her had welcomed her into the club with open arms. They enjoyed her fiery attitude, quick wit and sharp tongue. Most members had heard the rumor that she was a mole for the Knights, but it wasn’t until after the showdown in the motel it had been confirmed, and their opinion of her had gone up another notch.
With their shared experience in the motel, working for their rescue, Peyton and Sloane had bonded tight, and Sloane was helping her overcome her sense of loss over Melissa. For the first time in her life, she felt at peace and at home, like this was where she belonged.
When Hammer stuck his head into the clubhouse, Ironside rose. “Ready for your surprise?”
“I guess. Is it going to make me cry?”
He chuckled. This one might not, but he suspected the next one would. “I don’t know. We’ll see.” He led her out into the parking lot where a gleaming new Taurus SHO sat. “I can’t have you arriving to work in a cab every day,” he said.
“That’s mine?”
“Technically, it belongs to the club as a business expense, but yes, it’s yours.”
She threw herself into his arms. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do that. I could keep driving your car.”
“No, I couldn’t have you doing that either,” he said as the rest of the club laughed. They knew how much he babied his Chevelle. “This one is much safer.”
Whiteshirt nodded sagely. “I’m sure he was only thinking of your safety. Yours and the baby’s.”
She giggled as she kissed Ironside. “I’m sure. That, spilled milk, dirty feet, and soggy Cheerios. Show me,” she said pulling out of his arms and walking to the car. It was a large sedan, but it was dressed out nicely with fancy wheels and a deep red paint that made it more than a typical mom-mobile.
She spent a half hour sitting in her car, already claiming it, pushing buttons and playing with the controls, cranking the stereo and grooving out in the driver’s seat as she smiled.
He watched her poke and prod at the car. His life was about to change in a big way, but he was looking forward to it. He hadn’t known it until she had walked into the bar, but he’d been looking for something, for someone, and she was sitting in the driver’s seat of the car, making duck faces as she boogied to Welcome to the Jungle by Guns ‘n Roses.
He smiled, caught Whiteshirt’s eye, and gave a small nod. He gave him a small nod in return and quietly began to usher everyone back into the clubhouse. The only person who didn’t know what was coming next was Peyton.
“You like it?”
“It’s beautiful!” she gushed. “I’m going to have to treat you extra special tonight.”
He chuckled. When she was in the mood for something extra or special, it usually involved a lot of sweat, moans and orgasms. She stepped out of the car and locked it, giggling in delight. He chuckled again then escorted her back into the clubhouse.
As they stepped in, she coasted to a stop. The entire club was gathered, watching them, some of the women looking like they were struggling to not cry. “What’s going on?” she asked as he gave her a gentle push in the back to start her walking again. She dragged her feet a bit, unsure of what was going on, but his hand firmly in her back kept her moving.
They stopped, and he turned her
toward him, pulling his Teutonic Knights ring off. He lifted her hand and slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. The ring swallowed her finger, but that was okay. Once she knew, he could get her a proper ring.
Her heart nearly stopped as the giant ring slid onto her finger as he held her hand. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. He looked into her eyes as hers filled with tears.
“Peyton Haase…” he said quietly. “Will you marry me?”
He held her hand, watching her eyes as they overflowed and tears began to crawl down her cheeks. She wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t speak, so she nodded then threw herself into his arms as the Knights began to clap and cheer.
THE END
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Off Limits: Grim Angels MC
By Evelyn Glass
IT ONLY TOOK ONE RIDE ON THE BIKER TO GET ME PREGNANT.
I’d made a promise to myself after my last ex:
NO. MORE. BAD. BOYS.
But deep down, I knew I couldn’t stay away.
Scott is the kind of man who breaks what he loves.
And that’s exactly what I want.
The promises he whispers in my ear make me shiver.
This won’t be over, he says,
Until he’s put his ring on my finger…
And his baby in my belly.
Chapter One
The smell, it was the first thing she noticed when she opened the door. When she remembered it, it always seemed to take on a human form, as if its fingers were reaching for her from the dark behind the half-opened front door. Coppery and thick, it ignited every animalistic instinct she had, wiping away her anger and making her want to cower or run. There are few things that actually smell the way they taste and, for Jessica, blood was at the top of the list. It probably would be for the rest of her life. Especially after that night.
After the smell came the fear. Unlike anything she’d ever experienced, it pushed rational thought completely out of her mind. As she pushed the door open with her numb hand and stepped into the house, her heart was beating so hard it hurt. The television was on but muted, and empty beer cars and bongs formed a filthy landscape on the coffee table. She had been in this house hundreds of times before and it looked no different than usual. Except for the smell, the smell was so strong it almost seemed to pour from the yawning bedroom door.
Silent, eyes wide, legs stiff with adrenaline, Jessica made her way to the bedroom. When she dreamed about this moment later, she willed herself awake with all her power. Her body paralyzed in sleep, she did everything she could to pull her soul out so she didn’t have to live the moment again. Desperately, she pinched herself and pounded her clenched her fist hard against her leg; she tried biting her own hand or forcing her feet to turn in the other direction. It never worked. Every single time, she only woke once she’d had the chance to see what was waiting for her on the mattress, only after she stepped into the sticky pool on the floor, still widening from the drips falling from the girl’s fingers and toes as they hung off the mattress. Dripping like a broken faucet, the blood threatened to make its viscous lava-like way out of the room, destroying everything it touched. As it had destroyed her life.
***
Jessica Mitchell woke from her dream as if someone had flipped a switch. She sat up as soon as her eyes popped open, her back perfectly straight and her mouth a tight line. Staring straight ahead, the only indications of the fear she was experiencing were the wide eyes and the rapid rise and fall between her collarbones. She focused on nothing but felt everything, the light shining through the lace curtains onto her cheeks, the smell of stale cigarettes, the sweat that glued her tank top to her back—it was all so vivid. I’m back, Jessica told herself. I’m back and I’m alive.
She spoke aloud, her voice barely a whisper even though she was alone. “I’m back. I’m back. It’s over.” Speaking the words out loud broke her paralysis and her body collapsed into itself as she fell back into the tangled mass of damp sheets she called a bed. She covered her face with her hands and breathed deeply for a few seconds. The blood smell was gone, but it always seemed to follow her out of her dream, nagging at her for those few extra moments just to drive the point home. You did it, the smell told her. You’re to blame.
She breathed again, just to ensure it was gone. All she smelled now was her own sweat and whatever fruity soap nonsense her mother stocked the shower with. Lilac and black currant, apricot and almond… something like that. It was calming, no matter what it was. Her heart finally slowing, Jessica sat back up and got out of her bed. She looked frail. Always a small girl, she had waited, anxious to blossom into the tall, wide-hipped women all her friends magically transformed into, but it just didn’t happen. Instead, she got more willowy. Those low-rise jeans her friends wore that clung to their full thighs and curved, tattooed, lower backs looked ridiculous on her. Her body was more suited to a tutu and a pair of pointe shoes. However, Jessica had about as much interest in that nonsense as she did slaving away in a kitchen all day, which is precisely what she had to do now. Her bedside clock told her she was already a half an hour late opening up the café downstairs.
“Shit,” she hissed as grabbed her jeans from where they were slung across the baseboard of her bed. She didn’t know why she worried about it, but she hated being late. With balletic grace, she pulled her jeans up and, ignoring her still moist tank top, grabbed a black blouse from the floor and pulled it on. She was still piling her hair into a messy bun as she rushed into the living room. Predictably, her mom was sprawled out on the sofa like a drunk at a bus stop, an ashtray somehow still balanced on her large bust even though it rose up and down precariously with every trumpeting snore.
“Kat!” Jessica hollered. Nothing, her mother still snored peacefully, a strap of her brightly dyed red hair blocking out most of her face. There were two bottles of wine on the floor beside her, a bright stream of sunlight exposing the fact that they were both completely empty. Coming close to her, Jessica could see where the wine had stained the dry skin around the inside of her lips, making her look like a zombie. She took the ashtray off her mom’s chest and set it aside. “Mom!” She yelped again. “I’m late! Wake up!” She knew from experience, if she didn’t get her mom up now, she would sleep well into the afternoon.
The woman snorted once, then began to cough loudly, the tar from countless packs of cigarettes rattling around in her chest like a broken engine. She struggled upright, pushing her hair out of her face, her eyes still bleary as she tried to focus on her daughter. “What time is it? Jesus, my mouth tastes like shit.”
“You mean it tastes like a shit load of cheap wine.” Jessica picked up the bottles and put them on the coffee table among the empty chip bags and dirty plates. “If you’re going to drink that stuff, at least splurge for something decent.”
Kathryn Nebbles groaned and sat up. Her ever-present bracelet collection clinked loudly as she tried to steady herself by gripping the back of the couch. “Is there any left? I don’t think Tylenol is going to do me any justice this morning.”
“Nope,” Jessica responded without looking. She paused at the front door to check her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t look much better than her mom this morning. Dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips, tangled hair masquerading as a chic top knot, she might as well have downed two bottles herself last night.
As she studied her face, her mom groaned loudly from behind her, “You don’t mind opening up, do you, Jess? I gotta pull myself together a bit.”
Of course Jess didn’t mind. She had been opening up for the last couple of months without even being asked. Why would she need any formalities now? Kat was always a heavy drinker, a hold-over from the days when she ran with Jessica’s father and the club. In all other respects she was a lov
ely woman. Still gorgeous despite the extra sixty or so pounds on her Amazonian frame, she was loved ferociously by anyone she knew. Anyone except for Jess’s step-father, of course.
Kat stood up and adjusted her clothes, wrinkled and stale from last night’s binge. “I’ll be down as soon as I freshen up. Here… ” Kat fished the café keys out of the back of her jeans and tossed them to her daughter. “Check the oil before you fire up the fryers. I think they’re due for a change.”
“Got it.” Jess bent to pick up the keys where they had dropped and slid to a stop. “You need to work on your aim,” she said, a half smile on her face,
“You need to work on your mouth!” her mom sniped with a smile as she moved carefully toward the bathroom. Pausing at the door, she stopped and turned back. “Any dreams last night?” she asked quietly.
