Original Sin (Dark Saints Motorcycle Club Book 1)

by Love, Amy

  “So, you have no intentions of taking me home tonight?”

  Her lips curved in triumph. “Not really. I was hoping it could be more the other way around.” Liam's knuckles whitened as he gripped the table, staring at her intensely. If he had attempted to prove he was only mildly interested in her before, his plethora of alcoholic drinks had quickly done away with that façade. The desire she now registered in his eyes was enough to heat her own blood.

  Taking the last few sips of her drink, Vicky gestured to the waitress, who was currently attempting to stop a man from wearing a beer mug as a hat. When she raised a hand for the check, the girl nodded, snatching the cup from the patron to disappear behind the bar. Turning back to face Liam, she cast him an innocent smile. “Are we going Dutch?”

  He rolled his eyes, withdrawing a thick sheaf of bills from his jacket pocket and depositing six twenties on the table—more than enough for their drinks and a generous tip.

  Even though her inebriated haze, Vicky realized that the man was either extremely moneyed or had done a few extremely illegal things.

  It was LA; so, quite honestly, either option was equally likely.

  CHAPTER SIX

  She didn't dwell on the matter for too long, however. Tottering out of the booth on her heels, her arm was suddenly caught in a strong grip—just in time to keep her from toppling over. “Hey…” The low baritone growl in her ear made her shudder. “You're not going to wake up in the morning completely at a loss for where you are, are you? If you're that hammered, maybe we just need to get you a cab home—”

  “Oh, bite me, pretty boy.” Since she usually went out alone, Vicky didn't make a habit of getting black-out drunk when she met men. Certainly, she was more than a little bit drunk, but she had no problem walking, and she would have no problem blowing this arrogant, gorgeous man's mind. “I'm completely fine.”

  “I'll take your word for it.” With a warm, large hand on the small of her back, he steered her from the club and into the cool evening air. Thankfully, there were a number of taxis waiting at the curb, and they slipped inside quickly—one after the other.

  The interior of the taxi seemed strangely intimate after the large booth of the club, and for a moment, both of them grasped for words. Eventually, Vicky alleviated the somewhat uneasy silence by turning to Liam and pressing her mouth unexpectedly to his.

  He was shocked for perhaps two seconds before his lips parted beneath hers, causing Vicky to moan lowly at the pliant softness of his mouth. While she might have initiated the kiss, he quickly took control, pulling her into his lap to plunder her mouth ruthlessly. His tongue probed, teased, and played, making her entire body hum with arousal as she clung to him. Both of them were oblivious to the taxi driver's exasperated expression as they devoured one another.

  Liam tasted like cigarettes, whiskey, and pure, dark masculinity. It was like some kind of sweet, spicy, intoxicating liquor that she couldn't get enough of. As he sipped from her mouth again and again, she found herself quickly drugged. Groaning his name lowly, she ran her hands through his dark waves, her mouth leaving his to trail heated kisses over his neck and throat.

  At some point during her little feast, the taxi stopped. Liam had to physical remove her from his lap to get her to notice. “Christ, woman.” His face was flushed, his breath rapid, and the massive bulge she felt at the crux of her thighs told her that he had no problem with her eagerness. He practically flung a handful of bills at the taxi driver before yanking her from the vehicle.

  Vicky didn't recognize on sight what neighborhood they were in, but Liam's building loomed large before them. She barely got the slightest glimpse of it before she was pulled into his embrace once more, his mouth returning to hers.

  Shamelessly, Vicky ground herself against his arousal, gasping as her thighs tensed at the ensuing sensation. Already, she could feel her own desire slicken the lining of her expensive silk panties, and she wanted nothing more than for Liam to peel them down her legs with his teeth.

  And so, she told him so.

  At her huskily whispered statement, he groaned lowly and lifted her over his shoulder to smack her ass. She shrieked at the indignity; but, lucky for her, there was no one else present on the block to witness her humiliation.

  Alright…so it was more than a little arousing that he could just toss her over his arm like that, but she'd admit it when hell froze over. It was all she could do to repress her giggles as he carried her across the threshold of the building, careful to dip slightly so she didn't hit her head. Beneath her stomach, the muscles of his shoulders were like steel. All the way up to the fifteenth floor, she imagined what it would be like to curl her fingers into them as he fucked her until she was absolutely breathless.

  She didn't have long to wait.

  Within seconds of leaving the elevator, Liam was fumbling with his keys. It took less than a minute to open his front door, and the moment he did, they were inside.

  Sliding down his front, Vicky made a low sound of arousal as she felt sleek, hard muscles from his chest to his hips. He barely took a moment to drop his keys and shed his jacket. Dropping the hulking leather garment to the carpet, he plunged his tongue between her lips again. His fingers tunneled through her hair, finally deconstructing her carefully pinned up-do, causing bobby pins to scatter.

  “I thought that jacket was your one and only,” said Vicky, toying with him between kisses, the combination of alcohol and his nearness making her slightly dizzy. “Fuck the jacket,” she gasped as he lifted her by her hips, guiding her legs about his waist as he backed her against a nearby wall.

  God...had it ever been this hot this fast?

  She couldn't remember. Currently, it was hard to think of anything other than the feel of Liam's mouth dominating hers and the bulge of his erection wreaking havoc with her nether parts. Within moments, she was uncomfortably soaked. The rocking motion of his hips against hers was driving her slowly insane—despite the fact that they were both still clothed.

  Blindly, she reached for the hem of his T-shirt. Moaning in satisfaction, she slid it up and over his taut back before removing it completely and flinging it off. Shifting her weight, Liam moved away from the wall to carry her down a hall and into a bedroom. She only registered that it was somewhat messy and carried the same spicy, clean scent as its owner before she was tossed onto the bed.

  Liam muffled her laughter with a brief kiss before dragging his mouth down the line of her throat to trace the indent at its base briefly before dipping inside. Arching against him, Vicky gasped as he worked the tight material of her dress up over her hips, beyond her waist, past the barrier of her bosom, and finally up over her head.

  Away it went, into the darkness. Liam stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, his well-sculpted chest heaving with want. “I knew you were dangerous.” His eyes shone as they traveled over the length of here nearly nude form—and Vicky knew she had chosen her barely-there lace underwear well. “I just didn't know how dangerous.”

  With a sultry smile, she beckoned him. “Let me show you.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  In milliseconds, Liam was upon her—his mouth everywhere. It moved over the hills and valleys of her breasts with agonizing slowness before he peeled the straps of her bra down over her shoulders. When he took one taut nipple into his mouth, a low whine of pleasure escaped her as sensation streaked to the core of her. Liam ran his tongue over the sensitive flesh until she could only gasp for more, arching against the heated pull of his mouth.

  And more he gave.

  He plied his mouth against each of her breasts in turn—back and forth—until she was begging him for mercy. Only then did he reluctantly release the nipple before lowering his mouth to the expanse of her trim stomach. Leisurely, he traced every rib with his lips, moving further and further southward until his tongue dipped briefly into her belly button, making her squirm.

  Then, one of his hands found the heat of her, cupping it through the drenched materia
l of her underwear. “This...” he growled, nipping at her thigh, “this is mine.”

  “Then, take it,” she said, challenging him and bucking her hips slightly against his fingers. In response, he grinned salaciously.

  Liam kissed up the line of her inner thigh, his tongue flicking at the juncture of her hip a moment before he took the edge of her panties between his teeth—just as she'd wanted. His eyes on hers, he dragged the moist material down inch-by-inch until it reached her knees. Then, he lost patience, whipping the scrap of lace from her body and tossing it onto the floor beside the bed.

  Once she was gloriously nude, he ran his hands up the length of her long, tan legs before pinning her hips to the bed. Then, his mouth was on her. “Christ.” A hushed epithet escaped Vicky’s mouth as her head fell back against the pillow in delectation. Every stroke of Liam's tongue against her center was like a flame further igniting the intense heat in her womb. She grabbed at his hair, tugging at it and silently begging for mercy. As her fingers tangled in it, she held his mouth against her, selfishly wanting more.

  However, he took all she had to give, eating at her until she cried out, her entire body shuddering as her climax washed powerfully over her.

  Taking a deep breath, Vicky stared at the ceiling as her breathing gradually slowed, and her muscles unclenched. After a moment, a pair of bright, satisfied green eyes came into her line of sight. She watched as the fire between her legs caused her to slicken anew, and Liam licked his lips with relish. When his hands moved to the button of his jeans, she stopped him and batted them away.

  Slowly, teasingly, she undid his button then his zipper before drawing it down over the rise of his erection. She worked the pants down over his hips and thighs until they dropped to the floor. He stepped out of them, clad only in a pair of boxer briefs.

  The straining bulge of his arousal was too much for her to resist any longer. Eagerly, she extracted him through the front seam of his underwear, taking only a moment to admire the pulsing, engorged length of him.

  Then, he was down her throat.

  A choked curse flew from his lips the moment her mouth enveloped him. Then, his fingers were in her hair, guiding her up and down his cock as she reveled in every throbbing, musky inch of him. She could feel his heart pulsing in her mouth, and the sensation only made her slicker.

  After only a few glorious moments of his erection between her lips, he yanked her upwards to fuse his mouth to hers one more. Then, he yanked her hips to the edge of the bed and impaled her in a smooth thrust, making her scream his name.

  His smirk was more than a little arrogant, as he drew one of her calves to his shoulder, turning to kiss her ankle before he began a mind-blowing rhythm within her. When she arched just so, every motion caused him to hit a place inside her that made her see stars. Soon, his name was falling in a mindless litany from her lips, and she was heading toward her second orgasm of the night.

  Liam reached down between them, groaning as he changed the angle from which he thrust against her. The moment his thumb began to circle the engorged bud of pleasure just above where they were joined, Vicky was lost.

  Crying out, she climaxed almost violently, her entire body going as taut as a bowstring. Then, with an intense trembling, she collapsed to the coverlet beneath her, soaked with sweat.

  Liam wasn't far behind her.

  His thrusting dissolved into erratic, jerking motions a moment before he cursed loudly and the warmth of his orgasm coated her sensitive inner passage. The sensation made her moan softly before she lay her head back against the blanket, utterly spent.

  Incredible.

  Normally, she expected— at the very most—mild entertainment from the men she went home with; so, she was very rarely disappointed. But Liam…Liam was an unexpected diamond in the ruff. She was still reeling from the deft way he'd sent her over the edge when he practically bent her in half to kiss her leisurely in the aftermath of their loving.

  “You,” he murmured against her mouth lowly, “ruined my plans for a quiet, solitary evening.”

  Vicky smiled lazily.

  “What was the occasion?”

  He chuckled at the image she made before taking hold of her hips and sliding her upward until the entirety of her body lay on the bed. As his softening erection slid from her, she shivered slightly—but only until his body covered hers once more.

  “My last night as a free man.”

  Vicky was too tired to inquire after the ambiguous statement. Copious amounts of alcohol and amazing sex had caught up with her. Even as Liam's lips brushed over her forehead and down her neck, lingering on her jawline, she drifted off into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Christ. Women.

  For almost his entire life, Liam Beck had meant the words in exasperation, frustration, and, more than once, anger. However, now, for the first time, a girl actually had him slightly in awe.

  Vicky.

  He didn't know much about her—only that when he'd seen how her body had undulated to the beat of the music in the West Hollywood club where they'd met, he was certain that she was trouble. From her entrancing, almond-shaped gray eyes to her criminal curves and the profusion of raven waves that encased her while she slept, she was drop dead gorgeous.

  And sexy as hell.

  Last night, he hadn't been looking for a lay. Hell, he'd specifically bullied his way into the bourgeoisie club because he'd been fairly sure that no high class woman in a Gucci dress and Prada shoes would ever look twice at him. He'd hoped to fade into the background and maybe amuse himself watching a few women get drunk and a few guys get into pissing contests.

  And then she had come along and blown that entire plan out of the water.

  He'd never seen a woman so determined to prove herself—nor one so bold. From the moment she'd sauntered over to his booth, bolting down whiskey as her hips swayed to the music, his body had been acutely aware of her presence. It was a lucky caveat that she seemed intelligent as well, matching him drink for drink and wit for wit.

  Liam had only gotten halfway through community college; but, at the age of twenty-seven, he'd learned that women who couldn't stimulate him intellectually bored him quicker than those with good heads on their shoulders. To top off Miss Vicky's sensuous, vixen vibe, she hadn't attempted to ask him any personal questions about his job, his family, or his finances, leading him to believe that she was interested in none of those things.

  It was quite interesting to encounter a woman who wasn't on the hunt for a man she could tie down; yet, Vicky's personality was one he could see himself easily meshing with—if he dared look so far into the future.

  Quite honestly, the simple prospect of tomorrow had been in the flux for Liam for a number of years. After a bad stint with one of the nastier LA motorcycle crews in his last year of college, he'd had to go underground for a while, fearing for his life. The Black Eagles could be downright deadly when they thought you'd crossed them—apparently, accidentally having made friends with an undercover cop was screwing them to the nth degree.

  Despite the fact that Liam hadn't been the only guilty party when over ten of his former brothers were arrested, he'd been the one that they'd pinned the blame on. Thusly, they were out for his blood.

  Though Liam had hidden for a number of years, he'd grown tired of being a victim fairly quickly. In the past six months, he'd told himself that he was finally going to do something about the gang members hounding his ass.

  So, he'd gone and put his name in with the Saints.

  Fresh start, fresh brotherhood—and it didn't hurt that they were rivals to the Black Eagles with enough potential power to crush them under their boot heels if they saw fit. He could only hope that none of his former brothers had gotten mouthy with any of the Saints. It was a prospect he sincerely doubted since the leader of the Saints was trigger happy when it came to rival club members.

  Darren Platt.

  In bed next to Vicky, Liam shuddered.

  Now, that
man was a basket case.

  It was easy to see how he'd risen to power among the Dark Saints because they prized strength and ruthlessness above all else. He was half crazy. He'd been known to torture those who crossed him for days before they died. Afterwards, the cops usually only found them in itty bitty pieces. Darren loved power, he loved control, and, according to word on the street, he was obsessed with keeping men away from his younger sister.

  Liam couldn't even imagine what it must be like to have a brother who was ready to literally snuff out anyone you wanted to date. The girl must be a complete shut-in—cowed and utterly terrified by the mere sight of her powerful sibling. It didn't help that he'd also heard that she wasn't bad on the eyes.

  He was sure Darren made her life fucking miserable.

  He'd only met the man once—when he'd made the arrangements to prospect after proving his worth by stealing a twenty grand bike from a lot downtown. However, once had been enough. Darren's gleaming blue eyes spoke of a kind of instability that sent anyone with any sense of self-preservation running for the hills.