by Chiah Wilder
“You’re such a luscious angel.” A thread of danger wove through his thick voice.
“I no understand what you say to me.”
“It doesn’t matter. Hell, I’m nice-looking and I’ve got straight white teeth. This is your lucky night.”
“You make me do dirty things I no want to?” Her voice shook.
“Come over here, little one.”
Avoiding eye contact, Nadyia moved toward him. He grabbed her arms and slammed her into his tall, slender frame. Moving his hands down her face, to her neck and shoulders, he cupped her breasts, squeezing them hard. Nadyia winced. He squeezed them harder until she cried out. He panted heavily as he tore off her top, exposing her chest. Licking his lips, he continued squeezing and hitting her breasts. He twisted her nipples and she stifled a cry. Putting his mouth on her nipple, he bit down. Hard. Very hard. Nadyia screamed. He kept biting. Her screams pierced the stillness of the night.
* * *
A few hours later, in the darkness of the early hours, the man threw Nadyia’s battered, lifeless body into the newly dug grave behind the warehouse. She was nude except for the too-high heels on her small feet. He planned to keep her top and skirt so he could relive the excitement, the rush, this pretty angel gave him. This was one of the better fucks he had experienced in a while. Those asshole bikers outdid themselves on this one. They gave him a bonus—a virgin. He hadn’t had a virgin in a long time. He was so damned excited he fucked her in every hole, and the more she screamed, the harder he fucked and punished her. Just thinking about it and seeing her darling body in front of him gave him a hard-on. Shit, he needed her again, but he liked fucking them alive, not dead. After all, he wasn’t a sick bastard.
He laughed aloud as he covered her body with dirt. He’d have to get another luscious angel soon.
Chapter One
“Why are we here again?” Cara looked around the dark, smoky bar. Leather-clad men gawked at her.
“I have a crush on the bartender,” Sherrie said, jerking her head in the direction of a muscular, thirty-something guy behind the bar.
“But a biker bar… really? How did you even find out about this place?”
“Friend of mine who likes it wild parties with different bikers. She said this place was fun. I’ve been here a few times, and I’ve totally fallen for the bartender. His name is Patsy. Don’t you think he’s hot?” Sherrie threw back her shot of scotch and motioned the bartender for another one.
“Not my type. Has he fallen for you?”
“He flirts with me, but he does that with all the girls. I figure if I keep coming, he’s bound to want to know me better. We’re kinda at the ‘checking out my ass and boobs’ stage.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t think you should put your love life on hold for too much longer.”
Shrugging, Sherrie threw back her newly delivered shot. “You still sipping your first drink? Damn, girl, you’re taking it slow.”
“Yeah, I guess I am, but this vodka tonic is so damn strong. I’m feeling a little lightheaded already. I guess I should’ve eaten before we went out. Speaking of, you better slow down with those shots. You’re on your fourth, and there’s no way I want to be the only sober one tonight, especially in this place.”
Looking at Cara with slightly unfocused eyes, Sherrie turned around on her bar stool, trying to get the bartender’s attention. Cara watched the various patrons as they came up to order their drinks. The majority of them were men, and the few women in the bar were dressed in provocative clothing: short skirts, barely-there tops, skin-tight jeans, and spandex dresses. Her blue jeans and sleeveless, knit black top made her look like the poster woman for prim and proper. Sherrie, dressed in a tight black dress with silver studs and buckles, had told her to “slut it up a bit,” but Cara didn’t feel comfortable wearing anything too revealing in a biker bar. Seeing all the women strutting their stuff, she realized she stuck out like a sore thumb. She jumped when the entrance door slammed, making Sherrie laugh.
“God, you’re nervous.”
“These aren’t the type of people I usually hang with.” Cara looked toward the door and watched a tall guy heading toward the bar. She gasped when he came into full view.
Her first impression was of raw power and sex. He was gorgeous, with shoulder-length black hair tied back in a ponytail. Sporting a nice build—muscular, but not bodybuilder-like—he wore two earrings in his right ear, jeans which fit him snugly around his legs and crotch, and a t-shirt that molded over his sculpted abs. A black leather jacket hung over his broad shoulders and gleaming silver chains hung down from his jeans’ pocket. He was definitely all male.
Cara raised her eyes from his body to his face, and a strange shiver slid up her spine, making her scalp tighten and her hands tingle. His ocean blue eyes stared at her from below perfectly shaped dark brows and above a slightly Roman nose. Full lips twitched in a half-smile, making her lick her own while widening her eyes. Hard, angular planes, a strong jaw, and a five o’clock shadow lent to his blatant sexiness. Swallowing hard, Cara glanced down again at his crotch, transfixed by the big mound against his zipper.
Looking up once again, she met his blue eyes, smoldering with intensity. Her cheeks turned crimson and she glanced away. In the mirror behind the bar, she saw him smirking at her as he leaned against the end of the counter.
“Hey, Hawk, what’s your vice?” the bartender asked him.
“A bottle of Coors.” His deep, smooth voice stroked Cara’s senses like silk. He jerked his head toward her. “Do you know her?”
“She’s a friend of the blonde who’s been coming here for two weeks chasing me. Damn, her friend’s so nervous and outta place. It looks like she’s never been to a biker bar.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t exactly fit in. Fuck, she’s hot, though.”
Cara’s whole body tensed as her face heated, and she crossed her hands on the bar while he flagrantly assessed her. She averted her eyes and stared at the scratched markings on the wooden bar, running her fingers over the grooves, while she wondered if she should be livid at his vulgarity or flattered that he thought she was hot.
Patsy, the bartender, laughed. “I know you’re checking out her big rack.”
“You know me, man. A stacked bitch does it for me every time. I’d love to have my mouth around those soft tits. Her curves aren’t too shabby, either.”
Cara pretended to be engrossed in conversation with an inebriated Sherrie. Her face was turned toward her friend, but her ears were glued to the biker’s conversation. She couldn’t help herself; she was repulsed, yet titillated by his crudeness.
“You horny bastard.” Patsy chuckled.
“No argument there. She’s one sexy woman.”
Her cheeks flushed as the men continued to talk about her. She was tempted to grab her friend’s arm and yank her out of the dive at any second.
“Damn, girl, that guy is really checking you out. He’s totally hot.” Sherrie nudged her, tilting her head in Hawk’s direction.
“He’s being rude, and I’m not flattered.” Unable to resist, Cara glanced at Hawk sideways. Every time she looked at him, he was staring back at her, his gaze lingering on her mouth. His piercing stare made her stomach flutter. These drinks must really be strong. She was ogling a complete stranger decked out in leather and chains, picturing his lips on hers, his tongue probing her mouth. Fanning herself with her hand, she swore not to have another drink.
“I’d do anything to have Patsy look at me the way that badass is looking at you. Maybe if my boobs were bigger? What do you think, Car?”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
“You do? You mean my boobs aren’t big enough for Patsy?”
“What? Oh, yeah, I mean no. Sorry, Sherrie, I didn’t really hear you,” Cara admitted.
Sherrie, beyond tipsy, swayed on her bar stool. “Men always like the big boobs. Hey, Patsy man, give me another.”
Patsy came over and put two drinks in front of
them. “Excuse me, but I didn’t order another one. Only my friend did,” Cara said.
“Drinks are compliments from the two guys coming your way, ladies.” He smiled wide.
“Isn’t he cute, Car? Shit, Patsy’s hot.” Sherrie stared at Patsy’s ass as he bent over the ice machine.
Cara looked around to see who’d ordered the drinks. Two bearded men with slight potbellies were coming their way. She turned away. “Don’t look now, but we have some not-so-hot admirers coming our way. Ugh! Why did I let you talk me into coming here?”
“Admirers? Where? I’ll show Patsy man that I don’t need his hard ass,” Sherrie slurred, turning around.
Wishing she could slip away unnoticed, Cara kept her head down, hoping it would make her somehow invisible. No chance. “Hi, pretty lady,” a whiskey breath said in her ear.
Crap. Cara turned toward the voice. A man who looked like a grizzly bear was smiling at her while he stared at her breasts. Just great.
“What’s a classy lady like you doing in a joint like this?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking myself.” She smiled back.
“My name’s Rot, and this here is Beaver.” He pointed to his friend, who was talking with Sherrie.
Sherrie was laughing her ass off about something, and Beaver took every sway as an excuse to put his thick arm around her waist and cop a feel. Sherrie was too wasted to notice, completely useless to help herself if things took a turn for the worse. I can’t let this guy grope her. Again, Cara wondered why in the hell she didn’t stay home. Sherrie was always talking her into doing something crazy. Ever since junior high, they’d shared some crazy adventures. Cara decided this night would be added to their list.
Rot kept leaning into Cara. He put his arm around her shoulder and yanked her toward him, crushing her breasts against his chest. She tried pulling away, but he held her tightly.
“Why don’t you drink your drink? I ordered it for you.”
“Thanks, but I’ve had enough. We’ve got to get going.”
“Beaver and I will take you wherever you wanna go. We know a good place near here where we can have a fuckin’ good time.” He leaned his face into hers, trying to kiss her. She turned her head, a wet kiss catching her on the cheek.
“Not tonight, thanks,” she said.
“Why the fuck not? I bet you have some real good pussy.” He leaned in again. Cara tried pushing away, but his damn arm was like a rope around her. He leaned in closer as his hand moved down.
“I can fuck you good.” Rot nibbled her ear.
“Back off. Now!” Cara yelled.
Taken aback for a moment, Rot stared at her. Leaning close to her face, he snarled, “Listen, bitch. You don’t tell me shit. You’re not being too nice, considering I bought you a drink.”
“I didn’t tell you to buy me anything. I told you to back off, and I meant it.” She tried pushing him away.
“You heard the lady. Back the fuck off,” Hawk growled.
Rot turned around. “Butt out. You may be VP of the Insurgents, but to me, you’re nothing.”
The tension in the bar was suffocating. Several people moved to the back of the room as the anger between Rot and Hawk escalated.
“I’m not asking you again. Leave the lady alone and get the fuck outta here.” Hawk’s eyes darkened dangerously.
Rot, sizing up Hawk’s six-foot-three stature, sneered, “This bitch ain’t worth shit. Fuck you, Hawk.” Rot placed his hand on Cara’s thigh and squeezed it. Outraged, Cara shoved it away.
“You fuckin’ slut!” he yelled as he grabbed her arm.
The moment his hand reached her, Hawk jerked Rot away from Cara in a single movement.
“I said to fuckin’ leave her alone.”
“You sonofabitch!” Rot threw a punch. With an ease which caught Cara’s breath, Hawk grabbed the biker’s fist and bent Rot’s wrist back until he yelled out in pain.
“Back off, asshole, or I’ll break it.”
Rot threw a vicious look at Hawk, but retreated. “You better watch your motherfuckin’ ass, ’cause I’m not forgetting this shit.”
Hawk sneered. “That better be a promise. Now, get the fuck outta here if you wanna keep breathing.”
Rot yanked a befuddled Beaver off his bar stool and stormed out. Cara noticed the back of their leather jackets read Deadly Demons on the top and Nomads on the bottom. She shuddered. I never want to bump into them again.
“You okay?” a low, smooth voice asked.
She turned and looked into the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen. It took her breath away for a moment. “Yeah, thanks. Those guys were creeps.”
He smiled and took a deep drink from his beer bottle. “Most of the guys in here are creeps.”
“Are you?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Known to speak her mind, she chided herself for her lack of sense. Even though this biker was damn handsome, he dripped badass, and Cara didn’t know him, or how he would react to her sharp tongue. She held her breath, her muscles tightening, but her facial expression remained defiant.
Hawk’s eyes caught and held hers. “That’s something you’re gonna have to find out, babe.”
His voice was like dark, melted chocolate, and the scent of beer, leather, and cloves emanated from him. The buttery softness of his black leather jacket rubbed against Cara’s arms, and an uneasy desire to snuggle against it coursed through her, making her stomach somersault. Grabbing a cocktail napkin on the bar, she tore at it, willing herself to stop acting as if she were in junior high and meeting a boy for the first time. What the hell is the matter with me?
“What’s your name?”
“Cara.”
“I’m Hawk.”
“That’s unusual.”
“So I’ve been told. Damn, woman, you’re so outta place here. Did you stumble into this bar thinking it was a neighborhood pub?” He was talking in her ear, his warm breath tickling with each word. She almost felt his tongue on her earlobe.
“My friend likes the bartender. She talked me into coming with her.”
“Remind me to buy your friend a drink to thank her.” As he leaned into her, Hawk’s hard dick pressed against her thigh, causing her heart to beat erratically. He was so close to her ear that his skin grazed against her jaw.
“Is this a biker bar?” I can’t believe I just asked that stupid question. I mean, duh, that’s what it is. And I’m talking to a sexy biker. Cara shifted in her seat, realizing how turned on she was, but also how angry she was at her body for acting out.
“What gave it away—the leather, or the motorcycles parked out front?”
“I know that sounded stupid, but I meant do only bikers hang here?”
“You a biker?” He traced her jaw with his finger—so gently, so seductively.
“You know what I mean.”
“For the most part. The guys are bikers, and a lot of the women are here looking for guys to have a good time with. We’re known to be good at partying… and other things.”
Swallowing hard, Cara diverted her attention to her drink, moving the ice cubes around with her straw. Shivers pricked her skin as the softness of Hawk’s t-shirt rubbed against her bare arms. She tried to avoid Hawk’s closeness to her, his intense stare. This good-looking biker, who exuded danger and sex, unnerved her.
Someone had selected AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” on the jukebox. The hard rock beats filled the bar, and patrons began swaying and singing along to the song.
Hawk pulled Cara off the bar stool. “Let’s dance.”
He twirled her around and she broke free, a smile lighting up her face. Cara loved to dance. AC/DC was one of her favorite bands, and their hard-hitting rhythms made her sway and shake her hips and shoulders. Dancing released all the tension she had been feeling since she’d first entered the bar. Glancing at Hawk, his burning gaze made her move faster to the music; she wanted to avoid it and the pull he had on her. As she banged her head to each beat, her long hair flew around
her.
At the end of the song, sweat glistened upon Cara’s body and her black knit top clung to her large breasts. Gathering her hair on top of her head, she let the air cool her damp neck. After that dance, her body tingled with energy. It was what she needed to get rid of some of her pent-up tension. She was back in control. She liked being in control. She started to go back to her seat when Hawk grabbed her hand and pressed her into him. “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” was playing.
At the contact, Cara tensed all over again. Her mouth turned dry and a subtle shakiness invaded her limbs.
“I don’t bite. Well, I do, but I promise I won’t this time.” Hawk dropped her hand, put both of his arms around her waist, and pulled her tightly into him. She tentatively circled her arms around his neck. Hawk cupped the back of her head and laid her cheek against him. She wasn’t sure if she liked dancing so close to him, considering what she’d overheard him say to the bartender earlier. Deciding he was just engaging in “man talk,” she thought she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he did come to her rescue, and so far, he had been behaving himself. Maybe she’d misjudged him, and maybe he wasn’t such a jerk. Tentatively, she let herself breathe in his maleness.
Cara’s head rose and fell with Hawk’s breathing as he held her. Quivers ran up her spine as his hands moved up and down her back. It had been a long time since her body had reacted to a man’s touch. Since her ex-fiancé had betrayed her a few weeks before their wedding, Cara had built a stone wall around her emotions where men were concerned. It had been four years since she had felt anything toward a man. But in this biker’s arms, with her head against his beating heart, her body let her down. Her stomach was queasy, her nerves on edge, and a sweet sensation was forming between her legs. After all this time, why did her body choose this man and this place to try to break through the wall she’d erected?
Hawk was not the type of guy Cara was normally attracted to. She liked the preppy, debonair type, not tattooed, pierced men in leather. However, she was drawn to this biker. His incredible blue eyes and his rough edges pulled her in like a moth to a flame. His scent, cloves laced with motor oil, caressed her; warmness spread from her legs to her head. The earlier tension dissipated, and she found herself relaxing and losing herself in the music, in the moment. She looped her arms around his neck as she brought herself closer to his body.
