by Jenika Snow
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Jenika Snow
ISBN: 978-1-77130-761-1
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Karyn White
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. 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.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
To you. I know you're still with me.
Thank you to the readers that have shown their support continuously. You guys rock! And to Evernight for being an incredible publisher to work with!
THE OUTLAW’S OBSESSION
The Grizzly MC, 1
Jenika Snow
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
Jagger stared at the ass that was currently bouncing up and down on his cock. DeDe rode his dick like she was in the rodeo and trying to go the full eight seconds. She was a club whore, one of the willing human females that gave up her pussy for the Grizzly motorcycle club.
“God, you bears can sure stretch a pussy.”
Jagger didn’t respond, just looked down at where her cunt sucked at his dick. Being the president of the Grizzly MC in Colorado, he had pussy lined up like it was going out of style. But all of the Grizzly members got more snatch than they could handle, and it was those few hours where a member could fuck the shit out of a female and ease their animal energy. Jagger flipped her over so she was on her belly and her ass was in the air. He gripped the root of his dick, held the Magnum firmly in place, and lined his cockhead at the opening of her sloppy pussy. He plunged inside of her, over and over again, until his balls drew up and he came hard. He didn’t know if DeDe got off, but it didn’t much matter since he had heard her screaming while Diesel, his Vice President, had fucked her just a few hours back. Yeah, he didn’t say they weren’t bastards, but no one was about to pass up free, willing pussy, that was for damn sure.
When he was finished he pulled out of her, fell onto his back, and let his heart calm before moving. His grizzly hadn’t even twitched, but then again it never did when he fucked these random chicks, club whores or not. He had heard stories of members’ animals rising up, threatening to shift while they were balls deep in a female, but Jagger had never experienced it, and was thankful for small favors. He didn’t need any more complications. These get-togethers were strictly about getting off.
The room he stayed in when not crashing at his place was at the clubhouse. All of the members had their own rooms, but they were mainly used for when shit was going on with Old Ladies, they were drunk and needed a place to pass out, or they needed a good hard fuck. DeDe’s breath came out in even intervals, and Jagger knew she had passed out. He sat up on the edge of the bed and ran a hand over his short hair. Not bothering to get dressed, he headed into the bathroom connected to the room. Once the harsh as fuck light was on Jagger braced his hands on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. He was drunk, and looked pretty fucked up in the mirror. His dark hair was a mess atop his head, and he had a five o’clock shadow lining his cheeks and jaw. The cut above his right eye and the bruise he had gotten while fighting with a human male during a bar brawl were already healing. Contrary to popular belief shifters couldn’t magically heal themselves, and even when they shifted, they still had the wounds. It was a fucked up trade-off, but Jagger would much rather have his strength and power than some pussy-ass ability to heal wounds. Besides, these were his war badges, and let any motherfucker walking by know that he held his own.
What he needed was a shower to wash the pussy stink and booze off of his skin. He rolled the used condom off and chucked it in the trashcan. After he turned the shower on he leaned a hand against the wall, lowered his head, and closed his eyes. Damn, he was drunk as hell, even felt a bit nauseous, but then again they had just patched in Dallas, a Nomad looking to set roots. The celebration had been pretty wild, but Jagger could still hear the pounding bass of the party going strong. When steam billowed out around him he stepped into the shower and scrubbed the sweat, smell of gash, and the day’s grime from his body. When he was as clean as he was going to get, he stepped out, grabbed a towel, and dried himself off. He wasn’t about to go lie down with DeDe, no matter how exhausted he was. She may be a club whore, but she was also getting a little too attached to him, thinking she was going to be his old lady or some shit. He wasn’t all about getting down with that. Not now, and not fucking ever. Jagger should have cut that shit off, pulled ties with her and passed her off to the other boys permanently. At least that would have been the smart thing to do, but what could Jagger say? He was a horny bastard, liked to get his dick wet, and DeDe had been around, in more ways than one, to know exactly how he liked his shit worked.
After he was dried off he stepped back in the room and stared at her. Her tits were thrust out and her legs spread wide. Grabbing a clean pair of jeans, he put them on without bothering with underwear. He snatched up a dark tee-shirt and his cut and put them both on. And then he left his room and headed—leaving DeDe to claim his bed for the night while he went back to the party. The cigarette and cigar smoke wafted from the archway that led into the main club room where all of the Grizzly MC members, prospects, and club pussy hung out. The long wooden bar that the prospects had just refinished looked pretty damn good. Two young Grizzlies stood behind the counter pouring shots and handing out beers to the members. The club whores were either perched atop a Grizzly member, dancing naked to the music in the center of the floor, or working the shit out of the stripper pole that Stinger had insisted on putting up. He had to admit that pole had been a good idea. Jagger moved over to the bar, and although he was still drunk and didn’t need anything else to help with that, he took the beer the prospect handed to him. Taking a long swig of it, he watched as Tina, an eighteen-year-old with big ass tits and a cinched in waist ground herself all over that gleaming metal. Although she was way too young for his tastes, she had a rockin’ body and knew how to put on a show. Diesel and Jagger’s Sergeant at Arms, Brick, were seated on the leather couch, beers in their hands and a girl on the other side of them. The females and the boys watched Tina shake her ass until the flesh jiggled like a bowl of warmed Jell-O. He moved over to them and propped himself on the edge of the couch. For several minutes no one said anything, but the breasts and ass being shaken right in front of them didn’t need any commentary. The song changed to something with more bass, and Tina kept right on moving with it.
“We still on for tomorrow’s meeting?” Jagger asked but kept his gaze forward. Tina bent at the waist, and her pussy lips parted, showing him a prime shot of her hole.
“Yeah. Sticks wants us to check out his operation and see if we are interested in signing on as partners. Jace should be there, too.”
He looked over at his VP, and the other male nodded.
“It’s pretty lucrative. Of course not like hauling drugs, but I know the turnout can be pretty hardcore,” Diesel said and then brought the beer bottle to his mouth and took a long drink. The male was looking a little rough around the edges, but then again they had been drinking for twelve hours. The sweet smell of marijuana filled the clubhouse, and when one of the members handed a joint to Diesel his VP inhaled deeply from it. Diesel’s light blond hair was tied at the nape of his neck, and his day old stumble was a constant presence.
Jagger took the offered joint, and he brought it to his
lips. He took three puffs from it as he continued to watch their own personal stripper, and then handed it off to one of the other members. “Good. We all want to go down a different path concerning bringing in money. Mule-ing drugs is well and good and brings in some serious cash, but I think getting into business with the human and lion shifter is a step in the right direction. I think the club needs something that isn’t so high profile and something more off the grid. It’ll be a step we need to take for future ventures.”
Diesel nodded, but kept his gaze on the pussy shaking her shit in front of them. They’d need to vote on it after they saw the set-up, but the crew seemed juiced up about the prospect of getting out of drugs and into fighting. It was all illegal, but underground fighting was a hell of a lot less in the face of authorities.
Jagger looked over at Brick. He was currently pushing the female toward the ground and positioning her so she was between his thighs. His right hand at the club table was a dangerous bastard, which was saying a lot since every single one of the Grizzly members were bad motherfuckers. The scar that ran along Brick’s right cheek stood out under the dim light. It had been years since he had gotten that scar, but Jagger remembered the fight they’d had in a hole-in-the-wall bar when a Wolverine had started shit with a Grizzly over some bar pussy.
Tina moved over to him, swaying her ass and running her hands over her tits. She pinched her nipples between her fingers until they were erect and stood out like they were begging for his mouth. Someone passed him another joint, and he placed it between his lips. Tina opened her legs a little, started moving down, and then slowly coming up.
Diesel stood and gripped the hand of his club whore, and Jagger took his seat. Tina smiled seductively and turned around. She bent at the waist, grabbed her ankles, and started shaking her ass like it was going out of style. Jagger should have told her to move along, but he didn’t, and instead watched the show she put on for him. Her pussy lips spread open when she parted her legs even more. Jagger’s cock shot forward when she reached behind, spread the cheeks, and showed her tight little hole. Jagger loved all parts of a female, loved sticking his dick in a nice warm and wet cunt and sucking on a big ass pair of titties. Jagger was a curves kind of man, not like protruding bones on his females. Those types of women wanted to make him give them a hamburger. But his favorite part was a big juicy ass and the tight hole between the cheeks, and Tina was all about showing hers off. So, he should have told her to go away, but instead decided that a filthy lap dance was exactly what he needed.
****
Sonya grabbed several empty glasses, a few beer bottles turned on their side, and shoved them in the bucket she carried. There were times she thought being a club whore for the Wolverine MC would have been a lot easier than her position. Hell, at least the club pussy enjoyed themselves. She threw the empty bottles away and put the glasses in the sink. The Wolverines had partied hard last night, but then again when didn’t they? She loved Colorado, loved the wilderness and scenery, and the fresh mountain air. But that love had died a long time ago, seven years ago to be exact. Now at the age of twenty-two, she was all but the property of Dale “Trick” Maloney, the president of this particular piece-of-shit motorcycle club, and the male that made her a prisoner. She glanced up at the exit, saw two prospects bullshitting by it, and glanced at the other exit in the clubhouse. A third prospect leaned against the wall beside it, a cigarette hanging from his lips, and his eyes trained right on her.
This was her life, every day, all day, and she was used to it, for the most part. Why hadn’t she left? When she was first taken that was all she had thought about and tried. When Trick came after her parents for their property, it had all been about needing the land as headquarters for him to cook the toxic stuff on. But he hadn’t just wanted to use it for that, as if that wasn’t bad enough. He also planned for it to be his little distribution station. But Tanner White wasn’t about to give up his land that had been in his family for three generations, no matter the amount being offered, or the threats when that offer was denied. What her father hadn’t anticipated was a psychopath like Trick. It had only taken her father one denial of giving up his farm before Trick killed both of her parents. She would have joined them in death if it hadn’t been for Trick stopping one of his members from putting a bullet in her head.
She still remembered that night when the Wolverine MC had invaded their house, and could still see the darkness that had surrounded Trick. It hadn’t been because of the night, but because the male was evil in every sense of the word. But death would have been far more welcome, compared to the deep possessiveness that the wolverine had over her. To him she was his, body and soul. Her body was to be given without thought, and whenever he deemed it so, and it was when he drank heavily that the real monster came out. That was when the claws tore her flesh, his canines put holes in her body, and his hands left bruises on. And it was the times he lost himself in the club sluts that she relished, because that was the only moment of peace she got from his deviant behavior. But even when he wasn’t around he always had eyes on her, males that were just as vile and disgusting as he was. They were prospects that would have no problem in bringing her to Trick if she tried anything in hopes of getting in good with the club so they could get patched in. But not all MCs were like this, right? That was a question she asked herself frequently, but could never answer.
She finished washing the glasses and started wiping down the bar. Some classic rock song was playing overhead. It was too early in the morning for it, especially when she hadn’t been able to go to sleep with all the noise from the party last night. But she would much prefer the sleepless nights to the ones where she was being tossed about almost violently by Trick.
Sonya tossed the rag in the sink, washed her hands, and took a seat on the barstool. She rubbed her eyes and sighed heavily. Although she hadn’t physically tried to leave after the last time, Sonya never stopped thinking of ways to escape the hell she was in. She let her hand fall to her thigh, the one that had been broken a couple of years ago when Trick had been really drunk and found her trying to leave.
“Hey, get me a beer.”
She lifted her head and looked at the prospect that had the cigarette hanging from his too thin lips. She thought his real name was Mickey, or Ricky, but everyone just called him Bubba.
He pushed off the wall and came toward her. He was a slimy bastard, had been with the club for the last eleven months, and she knew next month his year would be up and the club would decide whether he would be patched in or not. But this wolverine had long black hair hanging past his shoulders in greasy strands, and the smile he gave her was yellow and crooked, and made her picture all sorts of nasty things. She had seen Bubba with the club whores, and although those females willingly degraded themselves, the way Bubba handled them, as if he had a right to mark their bodies, reminded her of Trick. Yes, this male was a bastard in the worst kind of way, but she already knew they would patch him in. Trick stared at him like he was some kind trophy, what with his sadistic ways.
Chills raced along her arms and legs, but she didn’t say anything, just got off the stool, went over to the fridge, and grabbed a beer. After popping the cap and walking back over to Bubba, she held her hand out for him to take the beer. He reached out, wrapped his hand around the neck of the bottle—right over hers—and held her stare. It felt like bugs crawling along her flesh, but then he snatched the beer out of her hand and tipped it back to his mouth.
“Yo, Bubba, crew’s back,” another prospect yelled out.
The sound of motorcycles coming closer had Sonya’s heart racing. Bubba stared at her for another second before chugging the rest of the beer and slamming the bottle on the counter. He made his way over to the other two prospects, but they didn’t leave her alone. Instead they opened the door, and the MC crew piled in. They were laughing as they made their way inside. She moved away from the bar and was going to head to her room when a thick arm wrapped itself around her middle and pulle
d her back. The chest she slammed up against was all too familiar, and everything inside of her tensed.
Trick buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. He reeked of sweat and stale liquor. But he didn’t molest her in front of everyone like he had more times than she could count. He pulled away from her. “Meeting, boys. Time to bring a little justice to this fucking club.” There was a round of hollers, and then the members were piling into the back room where they held their club business. She didn’t know what they were doing and didn’t want to know. But even if she was privy to what went on behind those meeting room doors, Sonya assumed it was some kind of retaliation against another shifter cub, or illegal shit.
Once the doors were shut she made her way to her room, but she was very aware of the prospects following her. Once in her room, the one that was more like a cell than anything else, she leaned against the closed door. The prospects didn’t come pass the threshold, wouldn’t dare to without meeting the wrath of Trick, but they stayed right outside. Her room was barren of anything aside from the necessities, but she liked it that way. She didn’t even have a window, and the small bathroom looked like it had been resurrected from the seventies. No, this wasn’t her home, even if she had been here for years.
It was bad enough being a female amongst these monsters, but being a human on top of that, so much weaker than their kind, had her powerless. But what she didn’t have in physical strength she made up for in the mental kind. One day she would escape, and when she did she would never look back.
Chapter Two
Jagger made his way through the abandoned warehouse. The further they descended the more strongly the scent of decay and age permeated the air. Diesel, Brick, Stinger, Court, and Dallas all followed behind him. They were meeting with Sticks, an underground human fighter that they had made connections with years ago. They had never done business with Sticks, but he had inside details when it came to bare knuckle fighting, and now ran his own circle. Jagger knew that today was a meeting with the Lions President, Jace, and Sticks. They were going to hear Sticks out on the benefits of getting in with him on the underground fighting circuit. Although this wasn’t legal in any sense, it was less high profile than running drugs for a third party. The money might be steady, but it wouldn’t be the heavy cash flow that dealing with drugs brought in. The club would see a hit at first, but getting out of the spotlight of local authorities, and beef with rival clubs would be better for the Grizzly MC in the long run.
