Road Warriors (Motorcycle Club Romance Collection) (Bad Boy Collections Book 4)

by Faye, Amy

  The second fight was between bigger guys, and they managed to land some solid hits. Putting together a series of consecutive blows, though, was not the order of the day. In the end, that fight went three rounds, and they announced one of the fighters had won. It was an unremarkable experience from beginning to end, and so far, there was nothing to recommend the sport.

  Still, there was more to come. A lot more, she knew, before they were going to be able to walk out of this with their lives still relatively intact. Another pair of fighters came out, small and wiry. They looked almost the same as the first two, except that both had hair cut so short that she guessed they'd both been to the barber within the past three days. Further, they both looked considerably sharper than either of the first two fighters.

  The one in blue had a Russian-sounding name, Nabokov or something. He took the fight in the second round, twisting the other guy's arm until Caroline couldn't watch any more, and apparently continuing to bend it until the bell rang and the ref ended the fight. Caroline had to assume that the other man had submitted, but she wasn't going to watch it happen, and she didn't know to a certainty outside of that.

  The nurse rubbed at her face and asked to use the bathroom. Coogan nodded and she was followed by one of his bruisers up the stairs and away. Jimmy, she thought, the one who did the cooking. He gave her exactly enough space that she didn't feel like he was stuck up her ass, and it was enough because she wasn't exactly in a position to make a run for it in the first place.

  When she came back they were starting up the music to announce another pair of fighters coming into the ring. She watched the fight because there was nothing else to be done to pass the time. It wasn't her thing, she thought sourly, but at least she could watch it without throwing up. A gout of blood started to pour from one guy's nose after it connected with his opponent's knee, supposedly accidental. Caroline wondered exactly how accidental it had been.

  A minute later, the fight was over, the guy's bloody nose continuing to seep into the canvas mat as he flopped around like a fish trying to get up. The other guy stood and waved to the crowd, making a ham of himself.

  The fights continued like that, one after the other. Eventually they started to blur into one massive thing that Caroline didn't particularly care to watch, until finally the name she was waiting for came out.

  Shannen came into the ring slowly, his shoulders tight and pulled back. He almost managed to look impressive, even after she'd known him for months. Even after she'd seen him in much more impressive situations, up much closer. Even though he was barely a shadow of his former self.

  "Go on, boy," called the old man beside her. His face looked flat as he settled back into his seat, the same expression he always wore, but there was something else there as well, and that surprised her. He almost sounded excited from his tone, even if his face didn't show it.

  There might have been an interesting fight to be seen here as well, Caroline thought glumly. The other guy who came out had a mean-looking expression and hair cropped close with a pattern that had been cut into it with a razor, to make it look like lightning shot up the sides of his head.

  Caroline watched as they spoke momentarily with the referee, then moved back to their respective corners, and the whole rigmarole began. They were announced properly, then the rules were announced as if they might have changed from the last fight, and then they were entreated to touch gloves.

  They did it all with practiced ease, stepped back a bit and came out, as they said, fighting.

  If Shannen intended to screw the old man beside her over, he wouldn't have done anything differently than how he did it. He came out like a wolverine, all swinging and rough attacks. Most of the blows sailed wide or high, or the other guy slipped them.

  Not all of them, though. One particularly solid blow caught lightning's head at the right angle and sent him rocking back onto his heels. Caroline watched him take the fight to the mat, and then things were twisting up, and neither could quite gain an advantage as they turned.

  The bell rang after what felt like an eternity of Shannen being much, much too close to making this a real fight. When the second round began it started much the same, until a kick came out of nowhere and caught Shannen on his chin. He dropped down, though he tried to stay up. The other guy followed him down and grabbed an arm, twisted it up around behind Shannen's head and pulled hard.

  It would have been a good time to submit, Caroline thought. It looked like the other guy was ready to tear his arm solid out of the socket. But Shannen continued fighting, continued pulling. The other guy slowly tightened more and more, the obvious pain on Shannen's face showing clearer and clearer, until...

  The bell rang again. It hadn't been five minutes; it hadn't been two. And then she saw it. Shannen's hand slapped again on his own shoulder, which must have hurt. Still, she couldn't see any other place for him to have reached.

  The referee stood them both up and started announcing. Coogan let out a breath that Caroline hadn't noticed him holding. She let out a breath of her own. Her mind went blank as the adrenaline started wearing off, and five minutes later, two more fighters were being walked into the ring.

  The old man didn't wait to watch the fight. He grabbed her by the arm and started them both walking back. He walked around the back parts of the venue like he knew it well, and in all likelihood he probably did. The found a dressing room marked 'O'Brien' and the old man went inside without knocking.

  "Hey, no press," started one guy as soon as the door cracked. Seeing who he was talking to seemed to change his tune. "Oh, it's you."

  "Good fight, boy-o." His hand released Caroline's arm, and she rubbed at the place where he'd been holding her, his fingers digging in too much for comfort. "Go on. You're free."

  Shannen looked over at him sourly. "We're square, then?"

  "Square as can be. Good luck." He started to head out before turning around. "One more thing, kid. Your ground game sucks."

  Shannen smiled. "You caught me."

  Caroline watched the old man go, which was why she didn't notice Shannen coming up behind her. She didn't notice anything at all, until suddenly she was wrapped up in strong arms and couldn't move if she wanted to. He slacked the grip and Caroline turned, pressed a kiss against her lover's lips.

  "We're out," he told her.

  "We're out," she agreed. And then she pressed another kiss. They were out, and there was nothing more to worry about.

  Epilogue

  Caroline settled into the bench that surrounded the hexagonal cage, and watched Shannen wrestling around with Jeremy. The boy was small, still; it still gave Caroline the heebie-jeebies to see Shannen seriously fight, even in training, but it would be years before the little boy was able to challenge his father, and by then Shannen would be on the wrong side of his life for fist fights anyways.

  The gym was clean, which was a first; she wondered how long Shannen had spent cleaning up before she got there, because its usual state was to have sweat stains all over everything, discarded energy drink bottles wherever people had thought to hide them.

  Not today, though.

  "Come on, you two," she called in. "We're going to be late."

  Jeremy squirmed easily out of Shannen's hold, showing exactly how seriously Shannen had taken the hold, crap ground game or not. "Come on, mom," he whined. Just a few more minutes?"

  "You said that ten minutes ago," Caroline reminded him. But she could already feel herself caving in. It wasn't like she was looking forward to the dinner any more than either of them were. But there were responsibilities to keep in mind, right?

  It wasn't until Shannen started in with the puppy-eyed expression that she finally surrendered. "Fine," she sighed. "Ten more minutes. And not a minute more!"

  They started rolling around again on the mat. Shannen let Jeremy slip his grip and made pained noises as the boy twisted his arm in what might have been an effective lock if it weren't for the hundred pound size discrepancy between them. Car
oline hated this sport, but she smiled, leaned forward on the bench, and something made her shout out:

  "Kick his ass for me, Jeremy! You got him!"

  The boy grinned at her and tried to yank. The yelp of pain that Shannen let out wasn't totally fake this time; he pulled his arm loose and turned under the boy, pinning him to the mat, his fingers darting in and poking and tickling until Jeremy was a mess of laughter. Caroline stepped into the cage and knelt down beside them.

  "Okay, big guy, I think you got him. Come on, let's get going."

  Jeremy wriggled free and started moving, and Shannen looked up at her, a faint smile on his face.

  "You too, mister."

  "Are you gonna make me?"

  She got down and straddled his waist. "You bet I am,"

  "You're going to have to hurry, then, if you want to get it done before Jer gets back."

  "I can tap you out in a second," she boasted. "You just don't know it yet."

  He leaned up and pressed a kiss on her lips and pulled her back down with him. "Sure you can."

  Fixer

  Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance

  Amy Faye

  Published by Heartthrob Publishing

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  Here’s a preview of the sexy love story you’re about to read…

  “Come with me,” he said, pulling on my hand and leading me to his bedroom. I playfully pulled away from him, but his grip on my hand was firm.

  A quick flick of his arms had me held above the floor. “Hey!” I yelled, laughing. He chuckled as he laid me down on the bed, his mouth still hot on mine. Using his hand, he stroked up and down my thigh, moving slightly more inwards each time. He was so close to my cunt, then, and I was ready. I knew that I was soaking wet.

  His hands reached up under my dress and pulled down on my stockings. They slid over my pale legs, down my calves and then off at my feet. Fingers played along the lining of my panties. I whimpered as he slowly lifted them, sliding his hand beneath them so that he could feel my skin.

  “You're so wet,” he said, and I nodded emphatically. His voice was filled with lust and power. I was more turned on then than I had ever been before, my whole body hot and almost buzzing with an intense desire. A desire for that man, Scott, the human who stole my heart.

  When he finally touched my sensitive nub, I shot up and cried out in joy. My legs opened wider, quaking with pleasure. He slid my panties down next, so that he could have a clear view of my slit, easy access to my hole.

  His fingers were slick with my juices. Slipping one of them into my sopping hole, he used his thumb to make circles around the sensitive spot at the top. I shook and let my body collapse back onto the bed while he fingered me slowly, exploring my insides with gentle prods and strokes.

  Glancing down, I found Scott admiring my body. His other hand was on his cock, rubbing it through his pants. My mouth began to salivate.

  Scott began to deliberately stretch my hole with another finger. He was pushing me closer and closer to a loud orgasm, and when it finally hit, it was even harder than expected. Drugging waves of pleasure wiped me out, leaving me a panting mess on the bed. Still, he did not stop moving his fingers inside of me, pummeling my hole harder and faster than before. I came again, and again, and yet again on those fingers.

  When he finally stopped, I realized I had been screaming out with each orgasm. The sudden silence rang in my ears as I smiled down at him. But instead of being finished, he slipped yet another finger inside, and then dipped his head under my dress. My hands gripped at the bed sheets, my toes curled as I felt his tongue touch my clit.

  Lapping up my juices, his slurping noises made me feel both dirty and sexy all at once. As his tongue lashed at my clit, his fingers pumped in and out of me. He fucked me hard like that, forcing me to orgasm more.

  He pulled his head back out from under my skirt once I was truly spent. “I'm not sure I can do much more,” I said, panting.

  Shaking his head, he grinned. “Oh, no. We're gonna fuck. Take your dress off while I undress.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I was so wiped out, but at the same time so ready for the fucking I was about to receive. Pulling my dress over my head, I waited, watching as his pants and shirt came off.

  He was so hot, it was a sin. That body was so perfect, and for that moment, it was all mine. I spread my legs and touched myself while I watched him, pleasuring myself to the sight of his tight muscles and that shapely ass.

  When he turned and saw me with my hand on my cunt, he gave me a cocky grin. “Take your hand off my prize. I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before.” Grabbing my legs, he pulled me down to the edge of the bed and threw them over his shoulders.

  He entered me quickly, somehow still stretching me even after I had been fingered. That big cock of his slid right up to my cervix, lightly brushing it. He stood in that position for a while, his hands on my hips holding me still. I felt so deliciously full.

  I looked up at Scott with adoring eyes, my fingers running up and down his arms as I waited for him to fuck me.

  His movements were slow at first, but then he started moving at a faster pace. I fought the urge to squirm and wiggle beneath him, letting him just take me as hard as he wanted to.

  I got the fucking of a lifetime. It was fast, and hard. He slapped my tits, which feels better than one would expect. His fingers scratched down my body. But he fucked me for a long time, his huge cock stretching me out.

  Leaning over, he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth. His wet tongue against my breasts felt heavenly. My pussy spasmed around his cock, and an orgasm that I thought would have been impossible after all the ones that came before it crashed through me. With one knee on the bed beneath my leg, the other leg on the floor giving his thrusts more power, he fucked me harder, grunting and cursing with each pleasurable stroke.

  His cock twitched within me, and I knew he was close to exploding within me. A drop of sweat slipped down his forehead and onto my stomach. Scott's thick, creamy ropes of cum spill into me, filling me up as he slid out.

  One sees more devils than vast hell can hold.

  William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  Chapter 1

  Imogael

  It had been a fairly typical day for me, up until that point. I spent the morning with a woman who spent her life seeking nothing but pleasure. I'm talking drugs, drinking, sex, then some more sex. Plenty of food, but she wasn't fat somehow. It was probably the drugs.

  Her name was Elise, and she died of AIDS.

  It wasn't the partying or the extramarital sex that got her sent down to me. No, it was selling drugs to a kid. 8 years old, no reason to be doing coke.

  That was why Elise had become my newest pet, and that was why I got all the nice toys to use on her. She was going to have an awful stay in Hell, for however long that was. Sometimes they 'repented' (ugh) and left early, but usually they never leave.

  “Imogael.” came a voice that I'm told was supposed to sound like baby giggles or something. To me, all it sounded like was arrogance and sex. My lips quirked up.

  “Hello, Seraniel. It's been a while.” He was magnificent. Fully black, with huge wings. He was like an onyx statue, all but his blue, jewel-like eyes. “Been busy?”

  Grabbing my hand, he threw me against the wall. Just his touch was enough to burn me, a punishment for who I was. A demon, touching an angel. Can it get much more forbidden than that? The burn had become my pleasure. I yearned for it.

  Though we could never become more, I loved it when Seraniel came down to visit us. He was the escort of the newly repentant from Hell to Heaven, the lowest job an angel could have since it slowly tainted them. If they didn't get promoted out, fast, there was no hope of them ever doing anything else.

  “Your boss was giving me lip. I'm going to punish you for it, since I cannot touch him.” I was already n
aked, of course, my hot red skin glowing in the eternal fires around me. His free hand gripped my breast hard, putting his anger into the squeeze.

  He spun me around and bent me over. Taking a fistful of my radiant hair, he pulled back and entered me suddenly. Everywhere there was contact, it burned. It burned so damn good. Every thrust was like the pain a slap leaves, but constant and delicious. Fingernails dug into my hips. My horns slapped against the wall that held chains for holding my human playthings.

  Anyone who told you that angels were sexless was lying. Their cocks are, in fact, glorious. As they should be. He filled me up completely, and he knew how to fuck better than any other demon.

  Then he was off of me, with no regard for whether or not I had my fill. No worries. I had, multiple times, and him not caring turned me on even more. I tugged on his hair to pull his face down for a wicked kiss, which he gave in return but with less passion than normal.

  Oh, hell, not this shit again.

  “You seem stressed,” I started, crossing my arms over my ample bosom. I knew exactly where this conversation was going, and I was not going to put up with it.

  “My deeds are coming under review. They're talking about promoting me.”

  “That sounds very exciting, indeed.” I raised my eyebrows. “What does that mean for us, then?”

  He gave a cruel, cold laugh. “Us? Imogael, there has never been an us, and there never will be. Now there just won't be sex, either. You're bad for my future, and my future is more important than some sex, as fun as it might be.”

  “You are absolutely not leaving me. Not again.” Stamping my left foot, I absentmindedly played with the tip of the horns on my head. There was always an inherent fear when ordering him around. I knew that, if he wanted to, he could end me. I was just a young demon, with no real power, and even if I were as ancient as Lucifer himself, he would have been able to overpower me. Easily. I wasn't much more than a pathetic ant to him, an insect to step on.