by Ryder Dane
Sanctuary Within the Breed
Number I of Lucifer's Breed MC
Ryder Dane
* * *
Warning: For Mature Adult Audiences. Contains language and actions some may deem offensive. Contains extreme violence. Sexually explicit content. Ménage – MFM.
In book one of the Lucifer’s Breed MC: Amanda Selters works for everything she has in her life and soon finds herself in danger of losing it all when her brother shows up. She blames her misfortune on the president of the local chapter of the MC club, Lucifer's Breed. Holding them responsible for her brother's behavior, and ordering them to fix it.
Baron and Gunner find it hilarious when the little snotty blonde shows up and demands for them to babysit her coffin bait brother. However, the laughter stops when the circumstances for Amy turn dangerous, leaving them no other choice but to help.
Can the MC group keep her safe? Or is Amy just a stepping stone for others to take the stronghold away from the Breed?
Join in as men who skirt the lines of the law daily, show with the right incentive, the good in them can surface.
Sanctuary Within the Breed
Lucifer’s Breed MC
Book One
by Ryder Dane
© Copyright September 2014 JK Publishing, Inc.
ISBN #
All cover art and logo © Copyright September 2014 by JK Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Edited by Caroline Kirby
Artwork by Jess Buffett
Published by JK Publishing, Inc.
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to all of the Melvins out there.
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Books by Ryder Dane
Excerpt from Big Dog
Excerpt from Taming Chaos
Excerpt from Beat to Their Heart
Excerpt from Bringing Harmony
JK Publishing, Inc. Author List
kkdpg
Chapter One
Baron watched as the boys blew off some steam in the isolated diner. The women were fair game and had stopped pretending to be outraged an hour ago. Homer, Barney, and Zippy were working their skinny asses off trying to out fuck each other while they shared the chunky waitress named Fran. She was an older woman with pretty, dark, curly hair that was being pulled backwards as Homer pulled her ass back over his prick. Zippy was lying on the padded bench they’d pulled out of the booth, and Fran’s snatch had him buried inside her puffy lips. Barney was having a few desperate last strokes through her wide lipstick smeared lips, and one by one the guys yelled out their orgasms. The boys lost points on that fuck. Fran didn’t come.
He watched as Fran sat up and wiped the come from her chin. Homer let go of her hair and sat back on his naked ass on the linoleum, catching his breath. Zippy tried to push her off his hips and she slugged him on the jaw. “You broke dick motherfuckers can take your limp dicks out of here.” She balanced her weight on her toes and pulled one thigh over Zippy to stand next to the bench. “Big Bad fucking bikers, get your asses gone before I call a cop. I should have known what you slick dicked bastards were when I let you talk me into this.” She pulled her dress together and began buttoning it up as her mouth kept running, berating the men who gave their best, and it wasn’t enough to make her happy.
Roley came up behind Fran and smacked her on the ass hard, and told her to “Bend over the table, bitch, you’re gonna get what you want.” He wasted no time slamming his dick into her cunt. He didn’t spare the smacks on her ass and thighs while he swiveled his hips, reaming her sopping wet hole. “Grab them titties and squeeze the nipples, pull them out to the side so I can see that you’re pinching them hard enough, hurry up, I ain’t got all fuckin’ day to play with you.”
She looked back at him ready to tell him off, but the increased power behind his slaps on her ass seemed to do the trick and cause her to rethink because she let go of the table edge and crossed her arms to pinch her nips. He leaned over her and talked close to her ear, “Back that ass up on my dick, you dirty whore. You need fucked hard 'til you scream, dontcha, and I’m just the fucker to give you what you want. That’s right, shove your big ass up, try to buck me off.” He kept smacking her already red ass cheeks as she was screaming at him to fuck her.
“Fuck you, you’re all a bunch of pussy boys with little dicks,” had Roley laughing, his prick was a respectable eight inches, and he decided to give the horny waitress something to scream about. He pulled his prick from her cunt and lined it up at her asshole. “Yeah, since my cock isn’t big enough for yo
ur sloppy cunt, you won’t mind if I ream your asshole now, will you, bitch?” He didn’t give her any other notice than that before he speared her hole and kept sliding inside while she screamed at him to take it out. Her words may have been believable if she hadn’t begun humping her hips out for deeper penetration. “Reach down there and play with that clit of yours now, I’m getting ready to come and I want to feel your tight ass clamp down on my prick. Come on now, Yeah, that’s better.” Her fingers must have done the trick, because she shoved her ass up to meet his prick and screamed her pleasure out loud, just before he shouted and jerked his hips as he pumped his jizz in her back hole.
Baron wanted to laugh when Fran finally stood upright and turned into Roley’s arms for a deep kiss.
Burger was sitting on one of the thick wooden chairs eating a hamburger while the waitress was eating him. The guy had the manners of a goat, proved by the way he kept telling her how he liked what she was doing, and the food was falling from his mouth while he talked. Skids hoisted her ass up so she stood on her feet still bent over Burger. He kicked her legs apart and pulled her little striped skirt up around her waist. The woman wasn’t wearing panties, and Skids slapped that ass a few times as he dabbed his dick in the wet pool of juice slathered at her cunt. “Here you go, baby, you just keep sucking that fat sausage, and I’ll fill this end.” He slid his prick in, and immediately began to pump his hips to pave his way for deeper thrusts. The smacks on her ass seemed to inspire her to join in by moving her hips in time with his thrusts. She must be happier than Fran, because her hip action started to become erratic until Skids slapped her ass hard enough to gain her attention. “Slow the fuck down, wait ‘til I tell you to come, bitch.
Burger enjoyed the sight of her red ass so much he shot his load in her mouth and patted her on the head. The man wasn’t much on conversation, but he put himself away and left her a three dollar tip on the table. Skids did his trademark side to side move in her cunt and growled at her to “come if you plan to come at all.” He let her ride her climax out on his softening cock. When he finally pulled away, he leaned over and kissed her red cheek. “Don’t ever say I didn’t kiss your ass.”
Baron had seen the scene played out in many, many bars, diners, and small towns. If he hadn’t gotten a blowjob from the twins this morning, he might be riding shotgun with one of the groups that were fucking the four women.
They had escorted Wolfman home after the meeting with the Burning Bastards MC. After the evidence and the drama that went with executing two of their own, and exiling another man, he was glad to be heading back to the crib. This diner was known to be “user friendly” and he was glad they’d stopped to grab some eats. It was a damn shame they didn’t sell beer here, but there would be plenty for them at home.
He headed for the door, someone had to get these boys on the road, so it might as well be him. He left enough money on the register to pay for the gas and food, even though many groups would consider that stupid. He was too close to home to want to hurt the small businesses that tolerated the Breed. The boys couldn’t have unwound like this in a chain restaurant, the heat would have been all over them within minutes.
Other than seeing vehicles pull over to allow the small horde of bikes to pass, the rest of the ride was uneventful. They’d been gone for less than four days, but Wolfman and his entourage had been guests of the chapter for a week before and during the talks. Wolfman was the National President of Lucifer’s Breed MC. They had ten chapters and were a presence in the southwestern states. Some called them one percenters, but they were more civilized than that. At least on the surface. They still raised a little hell, and not all of their activities to raise funds were straight up, but they didn’t chase old ladies down on their bikes to steal their purses either.
Gunner, Preacher, and Leech, were at the club when they pulled in. Some of the group had peeled away to go to their homes in the area, on the last leg of their trip. Some headed directly for the bunkhouses and the rest found the bar for an icy one to wet their dry throats.
Baron yanked a chair from under the table and turned it around to use the back as an armrest. “So according to Wolfman, Reeker has been recruiting the Prospects from the Bastards and we have no doubt he has been grooming a few of ours too. We need to know which ones are drifting into the no return, and any other information about them. They stole a few rat bikes from the Bastards and from what their Prez says, they will live long enough to regret it, if riding bikes with no brakes and fucked up bald assed tires are any measure. He told Wolf that two of their Prospects have gone to the new group, not sure what they are calling themselves, but from the description of the patch, they are head cases to begin with. White background, magic marker drawing of a carbine crossed with a sword, and medieval weapons in the rim of the circle.” He drank half of his beer, before continuing his update to keep the men informed.
Leech nodded his head, “From what I heard of the conversation, Wolf said to deal with it if it comes our way. Any action will be sanctioned.”
Baron continued saying his piece, “He’s dealing with some problems up north. I wish he hadn’t allowed a club up there, that place has some crazy motherfuckers with doomsday theories and livin’ the lifestyle of separation. They’d give those good old boy Swamp Rats clubs a go for the money, and I’m no pussy when it comes to weapons, but I’ve seen arsenals in desert bunkers that were not as full of explosives as these guys keep around.”
Mortimer Leech, aka The Leech, was the kind of man that never met a stranger, and could ferret out information in the blink of an eye. He was looking all smug and shit when Baron looked his way. Gunner spoke up and grinned to his companions, “Guess who finally got Ms. Hightits to break down and give him a blowjob? He had to give her a good tongue lashing first, but I have to tell you, I am jealous. The bitch has skills. She kept asking when you would be back, and I kept telling her what you said about visiting one of your fuck me girls in Kansas. Pissed her off, and Leech here caught her in a moment of weakness.”
“Son-of-a-bitch. You did it?” At Leech’s grin and nod, Baron reached into his front pocket and pulled out a roll of cash. He flipped a hundred to Leech and added another fifty. “Thanks, I couldn’t get her to let my dick go long enough to take a piss. Now that she’s fucked with another guy, I can get away from her. I still think she wanted to lock my ass down into an eighteen-year sentence. She has that predatory look about her. You know the look they give you when females are picking out a new old man and he isn’t biting the hook.”
Preacher was nursing his beer, he was a brooding fucker, but a good man to have around, and on the occasional need for a burial, he could out preach any Southern Baptist preacher. He was well built, at least the ladies thought so, and his motto was “an eye for an eye”. No slight was allowed to go by when it came to the invisible lines he drew and others occasionally crossed. Unlike his religious peers, he was a firm believer in birth control, divorce, and encouraging people to get by as best they could. He smoked a bit of weed, and could curse with the best of them, yet hearing the word Goddamn, would put him in a killing mood. “Perhaps I should give another sermon at Church tonight? I believe the last one wasn’t taken seriously.”
His last sermon resulted in baskets filled with condoms set out on the bar. There were a few men who refused to use them, and if a woman didn’t have her birth control on board, they were playing with pregnancy. Preacher was an odd duck, but he was a good man to have at your back, and afterwards, he would pray your sins away for you.
Baron needed to go home to his own place. Melvin was being taken care of by Gunner, but the little shit ass tended to go off his feed when Baron wasn’t there for more than a day. Melvin was a short-legged black and brown, shaggy little dog that showed up at his house one day and never left. That was three years ago. The little fucker had an interspecies thing going on with one of the barn cats, and until he saw it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed a mangy yellow tomcat would allow a short
shaggy Melvin to pin him down and hump him, but he did.
He hated to sit his ass back in the saddle after so many hours riding today, but it was his transportation home and it was only a twenty-minute ride to his place, so he sucked up the stiffness and drove the distance. He was proud of his home, it wasn’t fancy, but it worked for him. His home was a large, four bedroom log cabin situated in the center of twenty-two acres of hardwoods. His pole barn had more than enough projects to keep him busy for the rest of his life, if he planned it out right. Melvin greeted him a hundred feet from the door.
Baron had to stop the bike and hoist the short critter up in front of him to ride the rest of the way home. Melvin loved to sit his ass back on Baron’s seat between his thighs, and prop his front paws on the gas tank for his victory ride into the lean-to, next to the house where the bike was parked when he was at home.
He pulled his saddlebags off the rear fender, and Melvin trotted into the house through his dog door, while he had to use the key. “There’s something not right about this,” he told the brown-eyed pooch. “You come and go at will and I own the place but need to use a damn key.” Melvin wasn’t impressed.
He popped a cardboard frozen pizza in the toaster oven and set the dial while he stripped off his clothes in the mudroom. The extra change of jeans and four t-shirts joined the clothes in the washer, and he made a mental note to turn it on when he got out of the shower. He walked into the bathroom and looked at the scruffy looking bum in the mirror. He needed a haircut and a shave too. And since he was the kind of man that would bathe in a cold ass river rather than go feeling filthy, he took the time to shave once the shower had rinsed four hundred miles of road dirt from his body. He left the moustache, dark goatee, and the thin line of dark whiskers along his jawline, because he liked it.
