Tame Me (Book #1 in the Blood Brothers MC Series)

by J. A. Collard

  I glance up at that moment and see an overly bulky-muscled biker with shoulder-length blond hair watching me. The biker’s muscles were bulging out of his T-shirt. It looks as if he’s just come back from the beach. He has that sandy look about him with a tanned face that you can almost describe as beautiful. He’s quite attractive, but still intimidating. His leather vest reads “VP, Blood Brothers MC” with a picture of a reaper and blood dripping down onto two-fisted palms. Sweat trickles at the back of my neck.

  “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

  I snap out of my dreamlike state at his words. “Sorry, did you ask me a question?”

  His overly loud laughter annoys me. He looks at the guy beside him and says, “Hey, Prez, this one’s stupid. Sexy as fuck, but think she’s missing a few screws.”

  My anger explodes. “What did you call me? How dare you talk to me like that. You don’t know me.”

  “Whoa, sweetheart, keep your claws sheathed. I thought you were dumb or something when you didn’t answer me.”

  That’s when I hear it. That voice... it’s so deep and powerful. It has a sense of authority about it. “That’s enough, Hawke. We don’t have time for this. Get your shit together so we can get this over with and see what the hell my old man wants.”

  My head shoots in his direction to see who the voice belongs to. I’m faced with the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. He takes off his helmet and rises from his motorcycle before giving me a wink.

  He has the most captivating blue eyes, a chiseled jaw, and short, dark, messy hair. His lips are luscious and full and give the impression they can please a woman for hours, not to mention what he’s hiding under his skin-hugging, black T-shirt. From here, I can see the outline of his abs between the openings of his black leather vest that reads “President.”

  He appears to be in his early thirties, but my God, he is all man. The way he’s staring at me, hunger is evident in his eyes. After checking out his body, my attention falls on his mouth. As if he can read my thoughts, he gives me a panty-dropping smile.

  I realize I’ve been staring when he said, “Like what you see, babe?” His words bring me back to reality.

  “Um… sorry, I was just going to put my things away.”

  “Don’t apologize, babe. I’m used to ladies staring at me.”

  Sure enough, I can believe that. What woman could look at him without wondering what it’s like to have him on top of her? I’ve never felt this pull, this attraction, to any male, especially one who I’ve only just met. An unfamiliar sensation tingles inside me all the way to my core. In my head, I think, Jasmine, this boy is trouble. Stay away from him. But my body responds to his in the most delicious way.

  At that precise moment, Bill saves the day by coming over to ask if I’m okay. My cheeks are on fire at being caught staring at this gorgeous man, and he’s smirking at me.

  “Oh, Bill! Yes, everything’s fine, thanks. I’ll be back shortly. I’ll just put my stuff away,” I said, turning around to head to my van, but the biker stops me in my tracks.

  “Jasmine, is that your name?”

  I nearly drop my things when I hear him behind me. He’s so close that when I face him, he’s a mere inches away. The hint of cologne, grease, and leather teases my senses; it’s an aphrodisiac that leaves me wanting more.

  “Um… yes, that’s my name.”

  Grabbing my chin with his thumb and forefinger, he takes control of our eye contact and whispers, “See you around, babe.” Then he turns his back and saunters toward the hotel, yelling something to his men.

  My skin burns from his fingers on my chin. I inhale a deep breath, trying to control my racing pulse. As I watch his back disappear into the hotel, I catch myself daydreaming again. Oh boy, this man is going to be trouble.

  Chapter Three

  Quill

  She’s gorgeous with her long, wavy, brown hair tied up with loose tendrils falling around her face. My fingers itch to touch her. She has the sexiest green eyes and a body meant to pleasure. She caught my eye as she came out of the hotel. She’s breathtaking.

  That smile she gives the doorman has me wanting to send my fist through his face. Sure, he’s old, but I don’t want any man on the receiving end of that smile but me. As she glances quickly in our direction, I notice she immediately puts her head down. I know what people think in this posh town of Manhattan, looking at us as if we’re trouble. Maybe we were, but we’re damn good now. At least trying to be, with the changes I’ve made to my MC to make us better.

  We stopped dealing with drugs, ammo, and prostitution. We have a few bars and investments in other businesses, but nothing illegal. My men are great; most are ex-Marines who missed the Brotherhood when they were discharged.

  When I was in the military, I was court marshaled for not following through on a direct order. The plan was to go into Afghanistan and rescue one of our troops. But it all went wrong; our enemies were one step ahead of us. They knew we were coming and had a trap in place. My squad followed me to the end. I was asked to stand down and return to base, but I couldn’t let my teammate down. So I went against my commander’s orders and went in for the kill. My troops and I were able to get our man out but had to suffer the consequences on our return. Being the leader of the squad, I had been sentenced to three years in prison for not following a direct order.

  I was twenty-five when I got out, and I realized there was something missing. I’ve always loved riding motorcycles, and together with Hawke, my VP, and Blaze, my sergeant at arms, we became prospects in the Blood Brothers MC. Razor, our president at the time, took us in and treated us like his sons, before dying in a motorbike accident. It wasn’t long before I became the president of the Blood Brothers. I was voted in for my leadership and determination to make this MC better. Well, that’s if my old man stays out of my business.

  I’m brought back to the present when I hear Hawke messing around with the gorgeous girl. There’s just something about her that captures my complete attention. I still have my helmet on when I read the business name that’s written on her van. It says Je t’aime Florist. She must deliver flowers to my father’s hotel.

  “What did you say to me?” she demands, clearly not happy with Hawke’s sarcasm. This woman has personality; I like that. I like a woman who stands up for herself, and the way her green eyes squint when she’s angry turns me the fuck on.

  Hawke is obviously having fun with her, but I don’t have time for this shit, and he knows it. I take off my helmet, and my gaze falls on hers. Her eyes bore into mine with an expression of pure desire. I recognize the look with no trouble. She wants me; I’m sure of it, as sure as the hard-on I’m sporting just from looking at her toned legs in those shorts.

  I’m used to seeing desire in women’s eyes. Women tend to throw themselves at me frequently. I’m not complaining; at least I get laid whenever I want, but this woman, something about her makes me want to seep into her soul. She makes me want to taste every part of her body, and by the looks of it, she wants the same from me.

  “Like what you see, babe?” I ask the girl.

  Her cheeks are flushed when she replies, “Um… sorry, I was just putting my things away.”

  “That’s okay, babe. I’m used to ladies looking at me.”

  She turns even redder, poor girl. I’m having fun with this one. Her innocence blows me away, and I find myself rubbing my chest, trying to understand what this feeling is. That’s until Bill comes over to check up on her, calling her by the name Jasmine. I can’t ignore the strong pull toward her. I have to get close and touch her, so I stride to her and grab her face to focus her attention on me. I want to look into those gorgeous green eyes. Shit, what am I thinking touching her? I’m going to shoot my load just from seeing her body’s reaction to my touch.

  “See you around, babe,” I whisper before releasing her. If I don’t watch myself, I’m going to take her here and now on the floor, not caring about who’s around to watch. Turning, I head back to
ward Hawke and Blaze, yelling at them to follow me and telling the others to wait here.

  Cringing, I step into my father’s hotel lobby. I hate my dad; actually worse than that, I despise him. He’s a rich, powerful man, who has important people in his back pocket. This is why I’m at his hotel in the first place. You see this hotel, well, this is all a smoke screen to cover up what he truthfully does for a living—drug smuggling. And those significant people who he knows are the reason why I only had to serve two years in prison rather than three. If I knew what I know now, I would have preferred to serve the extra time than be indebted to my father until he says he’s done with me. Which is the reason for my visit. He has another job for my club which involves drugs. He knows my club has gotten out of the drug business, but he still continues to use my club to help smuggle the drugs in for him. Last month, he’d assured me was the last time, but last night, his right-hand man, Sven, contacted me to give me the details of the next job. My father didn’t even have the balls to contact me himself. Well, I was not going to be played. I am done and it’s time I told him even if he does have me thrown back in jail.

  I’m about to step into the elevator when the woman who my father is having an affair with, Miss Santana, walks out. My dad introduced her to me the last time I was here when I stormed into his office unannounced. They were on his couch kissing. That’s when I lost all respect for him. While he’s here doing God knows what and sleeping with God knows who, my mother is at home waiting on him. Fuck that. I’m never getting married. Why get married when I can have my fill of women? And I never want to have a wife at home waiting on me and tying me down. No way. Experience has shown that life is too damn fine when you’re not chained down.

  “Quill,” she greets, smiling with her perfectly-applied red lipstick. She’s young and beautiful and probably twenty years younger than my old man. I ignore her greeting and step into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor, dismissing her.

  As I get out of the elevator, Chrissie immediately gives me a smile. My father’s personal assistant is always keen for these meetings. She’s an easy lay, and I’ve taken her in the staff’s break room a couple of times. She’s eager as fuck and gets off every single time. Sure, she quenches my needs, but I always walk out regretting that I fucked her. She’s made it clear she wants more, but that’s not what this quasi-relationship encompasses. It’s only fucking, and the sooner she realizes that, the better. I was an idiot to think I could casually take her when I wanted. She’s my old man’s PA, and having to see her every time I come to visit him is starting to piss me off. It’s my plan for this to be the last time I meet my father here; he just doesn’t know it yet.

  “Hi, Quill,” Chrissie chirps, leaning over her desk, giving me a good glimpse of her breasts. She’s petite with blonde hair, blue eyes, and small but perky tits.

  “Hi, darlin’. My father in?”

  Chrissie sits back in her chair and twirls her hair around her finger. “Yeah, he is, but he’s in a meeting. Can I maybe keep you busy until he’s free?”

  I can see Hawke and Blaze’s chests rising with laughter. Fuckers. They’re enjoying seeing me deal with Chrissie. “Not this time, darlin’. I’ve got an urgent matter I need to discuss with my father, maybe next time.”

  She pouts her bottom lip. “You sure I can’t persuade you?”

  For some reason, I’m not feeling the usual lust. It might have something to do with that little Latina I met out front just a minute ago. “Sorry, Chrissie, not today.” I storm over to my father’s office.

  As I open the door, I notice he’s indeed in a meeting. “Quill, what are you doing? Can’t you see I’m busy? Chrissie. Chrissie!”

  “Stop yelling, old man. We have a matter to discuss, and I don’t give a fuck who you’re meeting right now.”

  Rising from his desk, my father says, “Frank, can you please excuse us? It seems like my son has forgotten his manners.”

  My father carries himself with an air of authority. Although he’s in his late fifties and has a full head of gray hair, he’s still in shape and is a man you don’t want to cross.

  This man, Frank, immediately jumps out of his chair and says, “No problems, Mr. Owen. We can do this another time.” Frank is a fat, bald man, who is only too happy to leave once I made an appearance.

  Hawke shuts the door behind him and stands in front of it to ensure we aren’t disturbed while Blaze eats mints from some rich-ass vase. I sit on the leather couch, facing my father where he’s sitting behind his wooden desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Now, Quill, what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “You know exactly what this visit is about, old man.”

  “If it’s about the message I sent you, then I don’t see why you’re upset. You and your MC would gain a lot of money from this transfer.”

  “I told you last month that this was the last time you’d be using our services.”

  “Oh come on, Quill. You don’t really mean that. You know what the consequences of your actions can be.”

  “Oh yes, Dad, I know. I know what a cold-hearted bastard you can be to your only son to hold this against me. One day you won’t have that leverage anymore.”

  “Is that a threat, son?”

  “No, not a threat, just a warning, and this is the last time.”

  “Okay, okay the last time,” he agrees before changing the subject. Smart man. “Quill, did you get my message about the charity dinner I’m hosting this Friday night? I expect you to be there to make the arrangements with Sven.”

  Oh yes, Sven the overly massive, ugly-as-hell giant, who is my father’s right-hand man. He’s the one who handles all his drug smuggling and arranges the payment to be made to me, so my club can organize the transfer of drugs into America.

  Suddenly, Chrissie appears at the door. “Excuse me, Mr. Owen,” she interrupts but is stopped by Hawke.

  “Let her in, Hawke,” I order.

  “Thank you. Mr. Owen, I have Miss Marques here to see you.”

  “Miss Marques? Who is Miss Marques?” My old man looks confused as he stands and moves to the front of his desk, buttoning his jacket.

  “She’s the florist. You know, the one you wanted to see about the charity dinner you’re hosting this Friday.”

  “Oh, yes, send her in. Boys, this is over for now. Quill, I hope this will be the end of this discussion. I just need your club’s services one last time.”

  “Fine, that’s it, one last time, or I’m warning you, Father, I won’t be held responsible for what comes after that.”

  “Don’t threaten me, boy, or you’ll be the one who’s sorry.”

  I’m heading toward the door when I hear the soft voice of Miss Marques—Jasmine Marques. She hesitantly steps into the office, and her eyes widen when she notices I’m in the room.

  Her attention shifts to focus on my old man. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Owen, but you asked to see me?”

  “Yes I did, Miss Marques. Please take a seat.” He gestures with his hand toward the couch. “My son and his friends were just leaving.”

  She steals another glance at me as she passes me by, and her body trembles at the slight touch of our hands. That’s all I need to know. She wants me as much as I want her. No woman has ever affected me this way.

  “I’m out,” I announce to my dad. “Hawke, Blaze, let’s ride.” I get a glimpse of that rounded ass as she takes a seat on my father’s couch. I would like to know what that sweet ass of hers feels like while I was fucking her doggy style with my rough hands all over her silky skin. Fuck, this is not helping my hard-on.

  I’ll have her. One way or another, I’ll make her mine.

  Chapter Four

  Jasmine

  So Quill was Mr. Owen’s son, the troubled biker that Bill had mentioned earlier. My body trembles as his hand brushes mine on his way out of the office. His eyes focus on my lips as he passes me. The bulging vein appearing on his neck makes it evident that he
’s angry. The reason for his anger clearly has something to do with his conversation with his father. That vein is so goddamn tempting. I want to stick my tongue out and lick it all the way down from his jawbone to his shoulder. I can’t believe I ran into him again! Stop it, Jasmine! Concentrate.

  “Sorry, Mr. Owen, I was somewhere else. Can you please repeat the question?” I take a deep breath to steady my composure.

  “Miss Marques, I’m not in the habit of repeating myself, but if I must. I apologize for you having to witness my son’s hot temper.”

  “Please, call me Jasmine,” I say, glancing up into Mr. Owen’s piercing blue eyes. “And no need to apologize. I understand how families can be.”

  “Now where shall I start? The Royal Vista is holding a charity dinner this Friday night, and I would like for you to organize the floral arrangements. That is, of course, if you don’t have any prior commitments?”

  “Mr. Owen, that is fantastic news. I would love to organize the floral arrangements for your charity dinner.” I eagerly stand from the couch and extend my hand to his. He frowns at the gesture and hesitantly shakes my hand in return. As an uncomfortable feeling sinks into the pit of my stomach, I yank my sweaty hand away. Mr. Owen sits back in his chair, resting his hands on his desk. To say I’m intimidated by him is an understatement.

  “Miss Marques, this is a black tie event. So I’m sure with your expertise, you’ll know the finest floral arrangements suited for this occasion?”

  Why does he continue to acknowledge me as “Miss Marques”? “Of course, Mr. Owen, I’m sure I can come up with something. Do you have a preference in mind?”

  He rises from his desk and moves around it to face me and sighs. “I shall leave all the decisions in your capable hands. Please, see Chrissie on the way out, and she will discuss the details with you.” Mr. Owen places his hand on the small of my back and escorts me to his office door, observably an indication that he’s through with our meeting. “If you have any questions, please speak to her. I trust you to both fine-tune the minor details.”