by Alexx Andria
USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR ALEXX ANDRIA DELIVERS A MC
ROMANCE WITH UNFORGETTABLE CHARACTERS AND A DESPERATELY DANGEROUS
LOVE AFFAIR LIKE ONLY ALEXX CAN WRITE
My name is Zoe Delacourte. I thought I was going to build my future on the backs of Jax Traeger and Hunter Ericksen — bad boys from the wrong side of the tracks, running the notorious motorcycle club, the Kings of Asphalt — in my mind, the story had practically written itself. I was so naïve. Little did I know they were going to change everything I ever knew about myself.
Jax and Hunter. I can’t even say their names without trembling. They don’t see a fat girl or a girl who might be pretty if only she’d lose some weight. No, from the moment I walked into their club, they saw a hot, sexy woman with curves for days — and they couldn’t wait to get their hands on me.
Some people call them bad men. They see the rides and the rap sheets and they slap a label on them. I don’t care what they’ve done — all I care about is what they’re going to do to me next.
But loving them is dangerous. In fact, loving them might just get me killed.
The roadside bar reeked of cheap whiskey, spilled beer and bad judgment but Zoe Delacourte wasn’t about to turn tail and run even though her knees were practically knocking together like two castanets in the hands of a Spanish dancer. This was her chance, her big break, her opportunity to show her editor that she could deliver the real deal, a solid story the readers wanted to read about. Maybe even a Pulitzer. Okay, maybe not a Pulitzer but this was some serious journalism and she had chops to prove.
Okay, so technically, no one knew she was doing this but all the more reason to make it count. Fortune favored the bold, or so they say. Time to put that saying to the test.
She’d been blessed — or cursed, depending on how you look at it — with a nose twitchy for information. Her mom called it downright nosiness but whatever, that quality was exactly what was required in the newsroom and when she happened to run across a small blurb about an execution style murder on the west end of the city that sent her nose to tingling, she couldn’t ignore the urge to scratch further. A little inquiry here, a little digging there, and she’d found quite a few tantalizing leads that she couldn’t help but try and chase down for the bigger story. The problem? No one wanted to touch it. Not that she blamed them. Not even the cop reporter wanted to dig into a possible retaliation hit between the two most notorious motorcycle clubs, The Kings and the Road Dogs, for fear of ending up on the wrong end of a bullet but where others saw a one-way ticket to the morgue, she saw a golden opportunity to finally make her mark.
From her furtive digging she managed to dig up two names: Jax Traeger and Hunter Ericksen. Bad boys to the core, Jax and Hunter seemed to be running The Kings, while she wasn’t sure who was calling the shots for the Road Dogs, possibly a guy named Bronx, no last name that she could find. The guy who ended up dead was a member of the The Kings, which meant she wanted to get to Jax and Hunter and see what she could get out of them by way of intel. But it wasn’t as if they were just going to spill their guts. She had to be crafty, real sly-like to get the goods, which brought her to the current reason why she was wobbling on too-high heels into The King’s known clubhouse, Bad Whiskey, squeezed into a skirt too tight with her breasts pushed nearly to her chin, and risking everything by going deep under cover for the story. That’s what real journalists did — not like the paper-pushing wimps currently occupying space in the newsroom. What happened to the golden age of investigative journalism? What happened to digging down to the bone of a story to suck out the marrow? What happened—
“You lost?” A thick, gravelly voice interrupted her internal dialogue and she stopped short, nearly bumping into a mammoth of a man with a beer belly big enough to double as a trampoline. He jabbed a stubbed finger past her, pointing at a grimy sign hanging off-kilter on the wood-paneled wall to grunt, “Members only.”
“I-I was invited,” she stammered on the lie, her gaze darting as people within the rough crowd began to stare. “By J-Jax.”
“Dimas sent you?”
Dimas? “Um, yes.” She bobbed a nod and then yelped as the man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her toward a back room to thrust her inside. She realized too late that her lie might’ve just landed her in really hot water but before she could try to back out the man had already left her behind, slamming the door behind him. Oh heavens to mergatroid, what had she just gotten herself into? “Wait…I think—“
“A brunette with curves…I like. It’s as if Dimas read my mind.”
Zoe whirled at the sound of the sultry voice at her back and she found herself staring at the most sinfully handsome man she’d ever seen. Lounging like a giant jungle cat on the worn black leather sofa, Jax Traeger’s stare burned two holes into her soul as he regarded her with open interest. Goodness, he was handsome…in a dirty, I-will-likelybreak-your-heart-and-ruin-your-credit sort of way. She hadn’t expected that. Talk about being blindsided. There’d been precious few pictures of Jax on the Internet. It seemed the bad boy was camera shy, go figure. “I-I’m sorry…I think your guy got the wrong idea…”
One black slash of a brow went up in question and he leaned forward, saying, “And what idea would that be?”
“The idea that I’m…oh, I don’t know…um, available for…” Shut up, you idiot! This was what deep cover was all about! Riding the knife’s edge to the ultimate story, finding your discomfort level and pushing past it to get to the good stuff that everyone else was too chicken to look for. Right. Inhaling a discreet, stabilizing breath, she straightened and braved a smile as she sauntered over to Jax, ignoring the flutters in her belly as his gaze darkened with interest. “Available for just anyone.”
“Oh? Isn’t that the whole idea behind being a whore?”
“A ww-hore? Excuse me? I’m not—“
“You’re not what? Not a whore?” His smile slowly faded. “Then you’re not from Dimas and if that’s the case…just who are you?”
Oh crap. Her damn mouth. “I-I just mean…well, of course, I’m from Dimas. I was just taken aback for a minute. I mean, well, I wasn’t sure I was in the right place.”
Faster than she could react, he had her pressed up against the wood paneling, crowding her personal space and sending her heartrate through the roof. He smelled of leathers, a cool midnight ride, and the faint wisp of alcohol clinging to the edge as if as a reminder that his angelic face and body was simply a ruse to lure unsuspecting women to their doom. It should’ve repulsed her — truly, bad boys weren’t to her tastes — but she was oddly, and dangerously thrilled by the threat of caged violence she saw in his eyes and could see rippling through his biceps as he pressed forward. Was he going to ravage her right there like a modern day pirate or simply punt her outside the doors with a growled warning? Was she crazy for hoping — for a wild, irresponsible moment — that he would choose to grind those sensual lips across hers as punishment for daring to breach their inner sanctum? Yeah, don’t answer that. She already knew — it was fucking lunancy.
“I…I am totally from D-dimas. I mean…well, of course I am. Who else would I be?”
“You’re telling me you’re a prostitute?” he said, mocking her brave attempt at subterfuge. Deep cover was a lot harder than she imagined but she wasn’t a quitter. She lifted her chin and swallowed as she jerked a nod. She could handle this. It wasn’t as if she were a virgin, although technically, her one experience had been pretty lukewarm in the sizzle department. It’d been a plain miracle that Teddy had been able to find the right place to put his…well, his thing and the whole shebang had been over in less than two minutes. But she’d definitely handed in her V-card thanks to that two-minute gropefest so yeah, she could handle whate
ver Jax Traeger was thinking of handing out. Besides, weren’t all men relatively the same? The parts were the same anyway. Tab A went into Slot B. Simple biology, right? Jax chuckled as if he’d somehow heard her internal dialog and said, “then you won’t mind if I do this?” right before he bent down to nuzzle her neck, scraping tender flesh with the rough growth of his beard, sending delicious waves of wonderful cascading down her spine and pooling in places she hadn’t given much thought until this very moment.
“Nope,” she said breathlessly. Teddy had never done that. Ohhh, that felt nice. Focus. Focus Zoe! “This is old hat to me. In fact, you’re the tenth guy that’s done that to me today.”
“Tenth?” he repeated with dark amusement as he lifted his head, his gaze narrowing. “Good. Then you won’t mind if we up the ante.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hunter…what shall we do with our willing little harlot?” he asked, seemingly to thin air until Zoe realized with a start someone else was in the room with them. Hunter Ericksen, a man with just as wicked of a reputation, eased from the shadows, a hungry grin on his supple lips.
“Well, Dimas did promise a good time,” he reminded Jax as he joined him, both men regarding her with something akin to hunger in their eyes. “And you know my weakness for soft, curvy girls.”
“Oh…” Zoe melted a little even as her traitorous heart tap-danced in fear. She was playing a dangerous game with two of the most ruthless men in Southern California, men who have carved reputations for themselves within the cutthroat circles of motorcycle gangs. What the hell had she been thinking? But what could she do but ride it out and hope for the best? They wouldn’t actually hurt her, would they? As far as she knew they weren’t cold-blooded killers but then, dead men told no tales, right? What if her thirst for legitimacy landed her in an unmarked grave out in the desert somewhere? Holy crap! What if she turned out to be fodder for a crime television drama in one of those Ripped From The Headlines! movie-of-the-week? “Gentlemen, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” she said, trying to edge her way out alive. “Sure, Dimas sent me because who else would I be, right? I mean who would be so stupid as to come in here and pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Sounds like a suicide trip to me.”
“It would be,” Jax agreed but he didn’t seem ready to let her go. In fact, he seemed more interested in discovering her secrets than divulging any of his own. “Let me float a theory by you,” he said as he and Hunter began to circle her. “Here’s what I think…I think you’re a Road Dog girl and you’re hoping to get some intel on that shipment slated for next week. But here’s the thing, Bronx is an idiot if he thinks that a pretty face and a nice, plump ass are going to get him anything from me or Hunter on that score but seeing as you’re here, we might as well take the edge off. I’ve had a shit day and you walking through that door is the first thing that’s made it better. Take off your clothes and let’s see what we’re really working with.”
#
Jax knew the minute the curvy brunette walked in she wasn’t no club whore. She had a look about her that was sweet and innocent even though those pretty doe-brown eyes snapped with open curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. Most club girls were hard and their hearts were as jaded as the guys they fucked. There was nothing hard about this little chicklet. Everything about her was soft and squeezable. Her tits, bobbing right beneath his nose, were made for a man’s mouth. Hell, a man could lose himself for days in that succulent body and never complain about the lost time. And damn, she was pretty cute, too. His sharp gaze took in every detail, committing it to memory. Young, maybe about twenty-five if he were to guess, with soft-as-a-baby’s-ass skin — she was a dangerous one to keep around. She was the kind of girl that made a guy wonder what the other side looked like — and that was a luxury he and Hunter couldn’t afford.
The best thing he could do for this little imposter was to scare the life out of her so that she never tried something so stupid again. However, he wasn’t above enjoying the lesson.
“Take off my clothes?” she squeaked in open distress. “I can’t. I mean, I can but I hardly know you. I mean, shouldn’t we have a beer or something first?”
“Fine. Tell us your name. I think you already know who we are.” Hunter poured her a whiskey shot and handed it to her. “Bottom’s up, sweetheart.”
“Oh, um. Okay.” She took the whiskey and stared at it in dismay. Guess she wasn’t a whiskey drinker. Not that he or Hunter were surprised. She probably liked wine spritzers or some shit like that. Suddenly, she suggested in desperation. “How about this…Scrabble? I have to warn you, I rule at word games. I have quite the talent for using the Q and Z on double word tiles.”
“Not one for games,” Hunter grunted, downing a shot and refilling Jax’s. “Unless it’s strip poker. I wouldn’t mind seeing what’s hiding beneath that leather skirt. How about you, Jax?”
“Wouldn’t mind at all,” Jax agreed, watching her closely as he pointed at her drink. “Come on now, don’t hurt our feelings. Drink up.”
She shuddered and gulped the whiskey, coughing as it no doubt burned her throat and hit her stomach like an iron fist. “That’s good stuff,” she gasped. “Real good. Dang…that’s some…wow.” Her eyes swam as she sucked in a wild breath. “Well, you know, I think I should probably go. Thanks for everything…but…um, yeah, this just isn’t my scene.”
“No one leaves until we say they leave,” Jax said quietly, looking to Hunter. She stared, unsure of how to extricate herself. He pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it to the old sofa, plucking at his shirt buttons. “Here’s how I see this…I don’t think you’re from Bronx or from Dimas…so that leaves me to wonder…just who the hell are you?”
“I’m…”
“Don’t lie.”
She visibly gulped and seemed to shake in her ridiculous heels and he had to wonder why she didn’t just cave and be done with the act. She had to know her tail was caught and it was all downhill from here but then she shocked him when she reached around to her back and slowly unzipped her tight skirt to let it fall to the floor. He stared as she approached him with an unsure expression. “You know, it’s really intimidating to be around the two guys running the notorious Kings club…cut a girl some slack,” she said, smiling coyly as she fumbled with her blouse before tugging it free from her body. Standing in nothing but her black undies and bra, it was Jax’s turn to swallow hard and start to tremble.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” he warned in a soft voice, his hands curling, itching to touch. “You’re messing with fire, girl.”
Hunter chuckled. “Don’t scare her away. Clearly, she’s come to the right place for a good time.”
“Do you think I’m sexy?” She bit down on her bottom lip in an adorably unsure gesture. Was she sexy? What the hell kind of question was that? Was she blind? Some men didn’t appreciate ample curves but that wasn’t Jax or Hunter.
“The best part about a woman with curves is you know where to put your hands,” he said in a husky growl right as he pulled her to him, popping a gasp from her lovely mouth as his hands found her plump ass. “See?” he said, grinning as he pressed his hard cock against her hot core. “I’d say you’re pretty damn sexy to me.”
Hunter observed with a small smile. “For a prostitute you’re pretty…jumpy. If I didn’t know better I’d say you were a virgin. But that can’t be right, right? You’ve had plenty of men between those thighs, haven’t you?” he asked, circling to sandwich her between them. “Mmm….you have just the right amount of cushion, sweetheart. Soft and sweet.” Hunter unhooked her bra and her breasts bounced free. “There, that’s better, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice husky with appreciation.
“Much better,” Jax agreed, feasting his gaze on the tits that would likely fuel his fantasies for weeks. Hunter relieved her of her panties and then she was stark naked, pressed against Jax and Hunter, a trapped little morsel just primed for the taking. “Look at these beautiful tits, Hunter,” he
said, taking both in his hands and squeezing. “Jesus, damn near perfect and natural to boot.”
“The view from the back is pretty nice,” Hunter returned, filling his palms with her ample ass cheeks. “Thick and round, my favorite kind of ass. You know what I like to do to a perfect ass?”
Jax whispered in her ear, “He likes to fuck them. Have you ever taken a cock in your ass, sweetness? Something tells me…no. What a special treat for us.”
“Ohhh, I…don’t think…”
“Shhh…no need to think. Just feel.”
“But...”
Suddenly Hunter’s arms went up beneath her armpits as he pulled her against him, pinning her to his front so that Jax could nudge her legs apart. “What are you doing?” she asked, almost pleading. “Please…”
“Oh yes, begging is a nice touch,” Hunter whispered in her ear. “You are the most convincingly virginal whore I’ve ever met. Tell me…do you put on this show for every man you fuck?”
She opened her mouth, perhaps to come clean because she realized she was in over her head about to get royally fucked — in the literal sense — and Jax suffered the very real sensation of sharp disappointment that she might and they might be compelled to let her go…but then she shocked them again when she said with a brave lifted chin, “I never beg unless it’s for chocolate. Bring it on. I can take whatever you can dish out.”
Oh, girl…you’ve done sealed your doom. We’re gonna ruin you. A slow, delighted smile curved his lips as he said, “Challenge accepted.”
delighted smile curved his lips as he said, “Challenge accepted.”
In hindsight, Zoe probably should’ve admitted that she was a terrible fraud and an overly ambitious journalist with bigger dreams than her editor appreciated but the shocking sensation of a warm, wet tongue pushing it’s way past her quivering folds stole her breath and her ability to speak. Oh God! Jax was…oh, my word! Never…never in a million years had she ever been kissed there, like that. She wasn’t stupid or naïve but no one in her dating pool had ever been that far and ohhhhhh, it was the most heavenly
