Loved by the MC

by Devyn Douglas

  Loved by the MC

  Penetrators MC, part three

  Devyn Douglas

  After Glows Publishing

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  Note from the Publisher

  Taken by the MC

  Penetrators MC, part one

  © Copyright 2017 Devyn Douglas

  Published by After Glows Publishing

  PO Box 224

  Middleburg, FL 32050

  AfterGlowsPublishing.com

  * * *

  Cover by Scott Carpenter

  Formatting by AG Formatting

  * * *

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-944060-63-3

  Chapter One

  The entire Grove came for Mom's funeral. I opted for cremation because she wouldn't want to be on display, then turned into worm food.

  The Reverend offered to say a few words, but really, what words made this okay? The Grove gossip mill took over, organizing a big shindig for after. It was more to feed their guilt than for Mom. They hadn't accepted her and now they felt bad, what with her being dead and all. Jolie hovered the first day, then finally crawled back under whatever rock BFFs frequent when they decide they're too good for you.

  The memorial ended two hours ago. The Grove piled into cars and headed toward the community center, where they'd spread out enough food to go comatose and forget the wrongs they'd committed against Mom, and everyone else not quite good enough for them. Like the Penetrators.

  My belly burned. They'd been there, standing in the back. I wanted them beside me, in the front, but I knew better than ask. Too many people watched for exactly that. The service wasn't a memorial, not to the Grove. It was the closing scene on the spectacle they'd been watching like a movie. I'm surprised they didn't bring popcorn. Oh, right. It was probably over in the community center.

  No one noticed I didn't get into a car. I doubt they missed me at the community center. That show wasn't for me. I'd been wandering around the empty streets of the Grove since the reverend dismissed us. With Mom tucked under my left arm, I walked.

  Numb.

  So fucking numb I didn't feel my sandals strike pavement, or the wind blowing my hair. It was like I'd been stuck in a freezer that night, the one where she died and my life had finally stopped circling the drain.

  I was in a cesspool now, drowning in numbness. At least the emptiness helped me deal with the fallout of that night. Chief was suspended, pending an investigation by the Texas Rangers. Someone phoned in a tip and they'd rolled into town the afternoon after Mom died.

  They were buzzing all around the Grove, stirring up shit and kicking over trouble best ignored. Ray, Max and the rest of the Penetrators went to ground. Chief said so right before he did, too.

  For the first time in forever, I was utterly alone. Except for the roses. Four days since that night and four dozen roses so beautiful they stole my breath and chipped a sliver of ice from around me. Someone watched.

  Cared.

  I walked past Naomi Merriweather's and paused beside the new bathtub where she'd transplanted her prized begonias after the last one got all shot up. She'd chosen a claw one this time. I sat behind the tub, ass on the cracked sidewalk. I set Mom beside me and leaned my head against the heated brick wall. Sun battered down, but I stared up into the cloudless sky and floated in the numb.

  A shadow appeared over me. I squinted and offered a lame, “Hey,” to whoever it was. They'd move on and leave me and Mom be. The shadow squatted. My heart thudded in my chest as I blinked.

  Ray.

  “Grub’s at the community center,” I commented.

  “Not worried about the grub, Harm.” He motioned to the right. The entire MC was there, bikes and all. How the hell had they rolled up on me? Huh. “Been there, sitting and watching you for five minutes, babe.”

  “That's a whole lot of creepy.” I looked over at Mom. “Speaking of creepy, people have been talking to her urn all morning. That's not why you're here, is it? 'Cause I gotta say, I don't think she can hear anyone.”

  “We're taking you both for a ride, something we do for club when they pass.”

  “We aren't club.”

  A dark glower settled on his face. His sexy lips thinned. Whoops. Someone wasn't happy. Something in me sparked, a matchstick in a blizzard.

  We rode. I clung to Max and sighed into the wind as I inhaled leather and man. The motorcycle growled beneath me as the Penetrators MC moved out in formation and gave my mom what she never got in life—a ride with the full club while on the back of Ray's bike.

  Pecan Grove and all its bullshit behind us, we rode south with only buzzards, wild boars and miles of sunny, desolate highway as company. Mile after mile of spanning roadway chewed away at the ice, no doubt knocked loose by the rumbling machine between my legs and the fiery warmth of the man I clung to.

  We turned west a couple miles from the Mexican border and continued the slow meander to nowhere in particular. I breathed easier, smelled the clean air and felt the sun battering my exposed skin. By the time we growled into Las Palmas, I was alert, but still numb inside. I doubted the heart-stilling nothingness would ever leave me. It was what was left of me after Mom died, her legacy.

  We pulled into a Dairy Queen, the only constant in small town Texas. Max cornered me in a booth while Fist and Ray accompanied Squirrel and Tag to order. Most of the crew stayed outside with the bikes, as if knowing the small fast food place wasn't ready for something as large and overwhelming as the Penetrators MC.

  I stared at the napkin dispenser and the salt shaker for no reason other than I wasn't quite ready for conversation. Ray and Fist plopped into the other side of the tiny booth. The three of them were a lot of man to handle on a good day, and I hadn't had one of those for a while.

  “Talk to us, Harm,” Ray ordered.

  Talk. Now they wanted to talk. I'd been alone with my thoughts for days, running from the demons of that night when I was stupid enough to close my eyes. Screaming into the inky blackness of my lonely bedroom wishing one of them was there to chase the fucking memories away. The numbing ice melted when I slept. I'd decided days ago rest wasn't worth the horrors waiting me there. But the fuckers found me, even in the daytime. Phantom visions of Mom with her wide-eyed death stare. Blood. Fuck, so much blood.

  “You don't get to order me around,” I spat. “You threw me away like trash.”

  “No, we didn't,” Max argued. “You've seen the Rangers crawling around town, looking for dirt to burn us with. Them seeing you with us puts a spotlight on you, one none of us were down for.”

  “What if I was?”

  “Christ, we thought you were on board with this, Harm. Chief said you and him talked.” Ray's gaze burned into me from across the narrow booth. “Then we rolled back into town and saw you checked out.”

  I remembered very little about the conversation I'd had with Chief after he got me out of hell. The whole past few days blurred in my brain. I took a ragged breath and willed the tears pooled in my gaze to dry the hell up.

  Squirrel and Tag dropped off drinks and steak finger baskets. Fist shoved a straw into a soda and passed it to me. I sipped, thankful for anything to do besides force out words beyond the snarled emotions in my throat. My thoughts were a knot
ted mess. I was a knotted mess.

  “Mom loved steak fingers. Dairy Queen was a favorite, something we didn't have up north.” I took a bite and opened the country gravy. The fries were hot, the toast warm. Grease coated my fingers as I ate. Ray yanked a few napkins from the dispenser with a smirk. “When we hit DQ country, she always hauled us in once a month, no matter how tight money was. We'd sit and eat a basket, then share a Blizzard.”

  “She had problems, but she loved you, Harmony. Fiercely.” Fist's words punched me in the gut.

  “I wasn't a good daughter, always knew better than her. Never saw everything she did, went through. I should've tried harder, gotten her clean.”

  “That's not yours to own,” Ray whispered in my ear. “People choose the shit they take from life, you can't force it on them, not in a way that it'll stick.”

  She was broken. Like me. She had drugs, wild living and a carefree attitude. I had dark needs, carnal desires. I should've tried harder, no matter what the guys said. Maybe one day I'd forgive myself for not doing enough. I'd always gotten her out of scrapes in the past. This last one, though, was too much.

  Or was I just tired? Had I not tried as much as the times before?

  The question plagued me the past few days. I wanted answers. How long had she been there? Hours? Days? Had Blade witnessed her death? Did the knife he held against my throat end her life?

  I'd likely never know, and that was a bitter pill to swallow when I already had a belly full of guilt and a mouth full of regrets. Yet a part of me was ready to scrape everything off and move on. Didn't that make me the worst daughter born? Mom was in an urn, strapped to a motorcycle and surrounded by an MC club, and I just wanted to forget it all.

  Live.

  “What happens now? After the Rangers leave?” I asked, too afraid to voice the real questions settled between the empty spaces of the two sentences. Would I still be part of their world, or were they done with me now that Mom was gone?

  “We've been handling you reckless and loose, like we all live our lives, but you should know the options, understand the lifestyles we've merged together and figure out whether it's something you want to continue,” Ray commented. “We're an MC, but we're in the BDSM lifestyle. We are in both in our own ways, one different from most people.”

  “Cause fuck what anyone else wants or thinks. We take what works for us and roll with it,” Fist added.

  “What we're trying to say is you're going to have lots of decisions to make, Harmony. We're not gonna crowd you, but we aren't going to leave you hanging like you've felt like we have the past few days.” Ray's words settled around me.

  I didn't think a Dairy Queen in Las Palmas was the best place to be discussing my options where BDSM and an MC club were concerned, but I got his point. They weren't going to make decisions for me, not until I understood what I was getting into.

  “I'm sure I understand. You've been pretty clear since this all started.”

  “Yeah, we have. But it's been dabbling more than a full-on experience, babe. You can either walk away or we can explore further. Then you'd have to decide if you want us dominating you in the bedroom and during scenes only, or if you want us taking full control. We've called you slave and treated you to a bit of what that means, but you haven't been a real slave, not like we'd make you if this was more permanent,” Ray explained.

  I shoved half a greasy steak finger into my mouth and chewed. The guys found this hysterical for some strange reason. I tossed a glare to all three and my belly fluttered. I had so many questions and no idea what I really wanted.

  “Would it be exclusive, like you wouldn't be with anyone else or...” Jesus, I sounded pathetic.

  “That's where we're different than a lot of the MCs people imagine. At least, the officers are. We've fucked enough pussy to fill an ocean, but club whores don't give us what we need, the BDSM element. We aren't ready to settle down with an old lady.” Ray leaned back. “We aren't gonna lie. There may be times when we want to bring someone into the mix, but we'll talk it out first. You'll know, but depending on how much control you've given us, it may not be your decision. You'd trust us to take care of you and make those decisions.”

  “Or you don't and we play on occasion, do scenes and negotiate how far it goes with the sex. We glove up if someone else comes into the mix. We've gone without with you because it's something you wanted. You enjoy it, but if we ever did bring someone else into it, we'd use protection, make sure she's clean before we play.” Ray looked at me over the table. “I can't imagine putting my dick in anyone but you, Harm. I'm past the age where I want to bang anything with tits. We all are.”

  “And sharing with our brothers is something we enjoy. We like working together to make a girl squirm, cry and beg.” Fist's voice was a husky boom. “Again, that's one of those things that makes us different than most clubs, MC or BDSM.”

  She was more than okay with different.

  “Something you should know,” Ray added. “You can belong to just one person and scene with the rest of us at that person's discretion.”

  Her thoughts flitted to Chief, like they had many times the past several days. Riding with Ray, Fist, Max and the club woke her up, but until she knew Chief and all of them were in the clear with the Rangers, a part of her would remain locked away.

  “Let's talk about your girl,” Max said.

  “Let's not,” I replied.

  Jolie was a part of my brain, heart and soul still bleeding out. I wouldn't let anyone near that wound, not until I'd had a bit more time to poke and prod its bloody carnage and figure out when I had failed and turned not good enough to be her friend.

  “She showed up at the compound a couple days ago,” Fist commented. “Marched right up to the front door and charged in like nobody's business.”

  “What?” I froze, hands on the table.

  “She may have ripped a hole in you, gutted what trust you had in her, but that girl loves you like blood. Stared us down and demanded to know why the hell we hadn't been around your place. She's been sitting out in her car, across the way. Watching. Making sure you were okay.” Ray's voice fell. “She didn't like not seeing our bikes out front.”

  “She cut you deep, but she's bleeding out right alongside you.” Max pulled her body against his, squeezed his arm tight around her waist. “You two went through a lot of shit for one blow to end what you had. She may have said she didn't accept what you wanted, but I have no doubt she'll come around if you give her time.”

  “She was scared, Harm. Said shit I don't think she thought through. Hell, she even apologized for what she'd said about us, whatever the hell that was.” Ray smirked. “I'm thinking we didn't hear everything about the conversation.”

  “I'll never trust her enough to share the dark side, not again.”

  “You don't need to. You'll have us, or one of us. Whatever you decide. You're more than the decision you make about us and your submissive status, babe. She's a deeper, quieter part of you, one hemorrhaging. You said so yourself,” Max whispered. “Think on it. Today all you've gotta do is hang on and enjoy the clean air and my bike between your legs.”

  “Then if you're ready, you'll feel something else between your legs tonight,” Ray promised.

  My body ignited, as if it'd been set to a slow simmer. Yes, I'd be ready. They sparked me back to living when I straddled the bike earlier today.

  “You do have one real big decision to make right now, Harm. The wrong call might get you in a heap of trouble.” Fist's eyes twinkled with amusement even though his mouth remained in a grim line.

  “What?” I asked nervously.

  “What flavor Blizzard are we splitting?”

  Chapter Two

  We headed back to the Grove after we—well, mostly me—devoured a Butterfinger Blizzard. There were more than a few odd looks when I started spoon feeding ice cream yumminess to big ass dudes with tattoos and leather vests. By the time we hit the bottom of the dessert, I managed to crack a smile.<
br />
  Now we were a couple miles outside where it all started. Max and I went one way. Ray, Mom and the MC went the other. My heart thundered wild in my chest as I realized where he was taking me. Why? I wanted to pound on his back, make him stop. Or go faster. Fuck if I knew what I wanted.

  We rolled up a few hundred yards from the sprawling driveway. He idled the bike and motioned for me to get off. I wobbled for a bit, but he reached out and kept me upright.

  “Why are we here? Drop me off in town, I can walk home.”

  “You aren't staying alone, not tonight. Rangers have our compound and places covered. Chief's is clean, so far. You'll crash here tonight. If we can slide out unseen, Ray and I'll come for a visit later.”

  A visit.

  I tried imagining Chief rolling out the red carpet, serving tea and crumpets or whatever froo froo shit rich people ate when people visited. Yeah, I won't admit I knew Tony all that well, but I didn't think them stopping over in the middle of the night was going to be cool. Then again, what the hell did I know?

  “Does he know I'm here?”

  “He will when you knock.”

  Great. My luck he'd turn me away and I'd have to walk back to the Grove. Oh well, at least I'd work off the Blizzard. “Okay, see ya around.”

  Max grabbed my arm and hauled me to him faster than I could turn my sandaled self. A thunderstorm of unhappy rolled in his gaze, but his grip remained gentle. “There a reason you're throwing sass right now, babe?”

  “No reason at all. I'm sure everyone loves being dropped on someone's doorstep, unannounced. I'm sure Chief will love me showing up, interrupting his plans.”

  “Right,” Max commented. He tugged my hair, firm enough to make me gasp. “Now you wanna tell me the truth?”

  “What if he doesn't want me here?” I whispered.

  “Come again.” The grip loosened, turning into a warm press against my cheek.