This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Filthy Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Iron Bones MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 3) copyright @ 2017 by Kathryn Thomas and E-Book Publishing World Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
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Contents
Filthy Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Iron Bones MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 3)
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
Books by Kathryn Thomas
Hard Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fallen Thorns MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 2)
Long Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Black Sparks MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 1)
Raw Speed: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Tidal Knights MC) (Mean Machine Collection Book 3)
Raw Torque: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Gravediggers MC) (Mean Machine Collection Book 2)
Raw Need: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Padre Knights MC) (Mean Machine Collection Book 1)
Rebel’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Satan’s Martyrs MC) (Claimed by Him Book 5)
Reaper’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Valley Reapers MC) (Claimed by Him Book 4)
Brute’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Blazers MC) (Claimed By Him Book 3)
Bad Boy’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Lost Disciples MC)
Biker’s Property: A Bad Boy Biker Baby Romance (Chrome Horsemen MC)
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Filthy Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Iron Bones MC) (Whiskey Bad Boys Book 3)
By Kathryn Thomas
I knew from the start he was going to hurt me.
He’s too dangerous for me.
But he won’t take no for an answer.
The bad boy’s filthy ride is a one-way ticket.
So once I submit, there’s no coming back.
TANYA
He thinks he owns me.
I see it in the smirk on his lips that reeks of danger.
I see it in his steely eyes undressing me with every stare.
I see it in the way he moves, hard tattoo-covered muscles rippling with every motion.
Too bad for him, I don’t do bad boys.
SAXON
Here’s the thing you need to know about me.
If I want something…
I take it.
Tanya was no exception.
From the second I laid eyes on her, I let the whole godd*mn world know:
I’m staking my claim.
This one’s mine.
She was the only one who didn’t get the memo.
She thought she could keep her distance.
She thought I’d let her walk away.
Well, I hate to break it to you, sweetheart…
But you thought wrong.
I won’t stop until you’re MINE.
CHAPTER 1
He had me up against my boss’s desk, the wood biting into my ass where the dress had ridden up. He held my one leg up with his hand under my thigh and pumped into me.
He had his leather pants around his hips, just enough to have his cock out and available, but I felt every inch of his body as he handled me. He was hard and angular, muscles everywhere, and most of them covered in tattoos.
His other hand was on my hip, my uniform bunched in his fist, and he groaned in my ear as he thrust into me. I moaned in time with his fucking and felt the heat between my legs spread through my body. It filled me up like a cup being filled with hot water and then finally spilling over.
“Come for me, baby,” he said in a rough voice in my ear, and for some reason, my body listened to him and responded, and I tumbled over the edge. The orgasm rocked through me. My body shuddered, every muscle contracted, and I curled around him as I came for him, just as he asked. When it finally let go of me, I realized I’d grabbed onto the front of his leather jacket. There was an imprint of the zipper on my cheek, as I’d mashed my face into him.
My breathing was shallow and erratic.
When I glanced up at him, he smiled, one corner of his mouth pulling higher up than the other so that the smirk was just enhanced, not replaced.
“That’s my girl,” he said. Part of me wanted to tell him that I wasn’t his girl. I wasn’t anything of his. But then he starting moving inside me again, pushing and pulling out. He thrust harder and harder, his body picking up a new pace. He pounded into me like a jackhammer, and the table scraped on the floor, as it moved inch by inch, as he literally fucked me across the office. The sensation was intense now that I’d orgasmed. I’d clamped down around him while he was inside of me, and I felt every inch of him as he picked up his pace. The lengths of his thrusts shortened, and I knew he was close to coming.
He swelled inside of me, and then jerked, pumping hot liquid deep into me, claiming me as his as much as his words had.
When he pulled out, he hadn’t gone soft yet, and I wasn’t ready for the gaping hole he left behind, but he let me go, so I had to find my own balance. He fixed his pants, zipping them up. I was breathing hard, but I slid off the desk and worked my dress back down to where it belonged. My panties were on the floor, and I picked them up and stuffed them into my pocket to deal with later.
I felt flush and out of breath. I patted my hand over my hair, and I was sure it was everywhere.
And he looked calm and collected, like he hadn’t just had raw sex in the back office of a diner.
I cleared my throat and walked to the window. I still felt him inside of me, in the movement of my hips, and I concentrated on my balance. At the window, I split the blinds and peeked through. I didn’t hear sirens anymore, and the neighborhood was quiet.
“I think it’s safe now,” I said, turning to the guy. God, I don’t even know his name. He was leaning against the wall with one shoulder, both hands jammed into the pockets of his pants, looking at me through heavy-lidded eyes.
“I should be on my way, then,” he said. I nodded. I had to get going, too. It was already past my locking-up time. I’d been busy closing up when the roar of a motorcycle had cut around the back of the diner, and a moment later, this leather clad menace
had walked through the door.
“We’re closed,” I’d said.
“Good, then they won’t think to look here.”
As he said it, the wail of police sirens had picked up. He’d glanced through the blinds of the window I’d just closed up. I’d planted my hands firmly on my hips, ready to chase him out, when he’d turned to me.
He’d looked me up and down with a lazy eye, as if he was touching everywhere he looked. I’d felt shy, exposed all of a sudden, as if I wasn’t wearing anything. When his eyes had finally found mine again, he’d smiled in the same lazy way.
“I hope you don’t mind me hiding out here just a minute while the cops chase on by.”
I’d shaken my head—even though I minded very much. The diner was my workplace. I couldn’t be hiding any kind of fugitive inside Kenneth’s walls. He would fire my ass right there, and if they caught this guy, I could even go to jail for abetting a crime or something.
I didn’t know.
But he’d looked at me with those eyes, the color of a storm. I’d noticed his arms, the leather of his biker jacket stretching across them like he was packing underneath, and the way he carried himself like his body in itself was a lethal weapon.
And it was hot as hell. My body had responded almost immediately, and it hadn’t helped to tell myself that I was being irresponsible. This man, this criminal, was the epitome of a bad boy, and no matter how much I tended to stay away from the troublesome types, they just always made me look twice.
But I wasn’t going to get involved. My life was hard enough as it was, with studying, working on the side, and trying to get enough money to pay my way through college and survive. I didn’t need the likes of him around.
The sirens had grown louder again, as if the cops had known he’d given them the slip and came back.
“There isn’t somewhere you can hide me?” he’d asked. His voice had been rough around the edges, a little husky. His eyes had bored into mine, and I’d felt as if he was looking right into me. I’d looked over my shoulder. Most lights were off already, but Kenneth’s office still had the desk lamp on where I’d put the file with the slips just a moment before.
“Suppose I could take you to the back,” I’d said and gestured with my head. I’d turned and walked to the back without telling him to follow, but I’d felt him right behind me, and my skin was burning as if he was staring hard at me.
I’d turned inside the office, but he’d already closed the door behind him. I’d been inside the little office with a block of a man, and his eyes had promised more than I could handle. He’d had a lot more on his mind than just escaping from the police, and when he stepped closer to me, I’d known it wasn’t just to shake my hand.
“You work late,” he said. A statement, not a question.
“I was locking up,” I’d said, and my voice had been breathy. He’d come closer, so close that I’d felt the heat of his body and his face had been hovering above mine. I’d expected him to dip his head and kiss me with the way he was looking at me, but it had turned out that Mr. Leather—with all the menace oozing out of him—wasn’t the kissing type.
He’d leaned into me until his legs had been between mine, and I’d had to spread them to be able to keep my balance. He’d brushed my arm with the tips of his fingers.
“You’re looking for trouble being out here all by yourself.”
I’d wondered if by “trouble” he’d meant himself. I hadn’t been able to answer before he’d put his hand on my breast. I’d swatted it away and wanted to tell him to back up. But then his other hand had pushed between my legs and cupped my core without ceremony. And as shocked as I’d been, my body had answered. Heat had pooled between my legs, and I’d felt my nipples harden against the material of my bra.
“I have some time to kill,” he’d said, as if he’d just been hanging around. He’d leaned against me, pushing his rock hard erection against my stomach. I’d backed up, and Kenneth’s desk had been behind me. I’d put my palms on the edges, fingers curling around the wood, and Mr. Leather had gotten hold of the edge of my dress. He’d pulled it up and his fingers had found the elastic of my panties.
He’d known what he was looking for. He’d pushed into my slit and then dipped into me before I’d had something to say about it.
“You’re wet,” he’d said, and I’d been unable to fight the facts. I’d been dripping, and I had no reason why. He’d made a rolling sound in the back of his throat, primitive, and then with one hand, he’d unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free. It had been as smooth and without announcement as that.
He’d pulled my panties down, and I’d moved my knees, bucked them in, so that they fell to my ankles. He’d grabbed my thigh and hiked it up so that my legs were open, and with his other hand, he’d guided himself to me.
The pressure against my entrance had been enough to make me get onto the edge of the table, and then he’d thrust into me all the way. I’d cried out. He’d waited a moment, ran his hand over my breast, and then he’d held onto me and fucked me.
I turned to him, trying to figure out how all of this had happened in such a short time. I tried to figure out how someone like me had let something like this happen at all. But he was already back in the seating area of the diner. I followed him through the door. He leaned on one of the tables with an arm, and I was aware of his straining muscles again. He looked through a crack in the blinds one more time.
“Coast is clear,” he said and straightened up. He moved to the door and opened it. Just before he left, he nodded at me.
“Good of you,” he said and left, disappearing into the night.
I listened and heard the roar of his bike starting up, and then he drove off. The sound faded slowly until it was just the darkness, the diner, and me. I put my hands between my own legs and felt the sex he’d left behind.
“Shit, Tanya,” I said to myself. “What did you do?”
CHAPTER 2
I walked into the bar. The half-doors swung back and forth, annoying as fuck. Someone had to replace the damn things to something normal. Butch stood at the door, larger than life, but everyone knew it was just an act. Toke could take him down, and he was the smallest S.O.B. out of all of us.
Most of the members of Iron Bones Motorcycle Club were present. They leaned against the bar drinking beer, sat around the scratched little tables, or leaned against the back wall. The Inn was a shithole of a pub to begin with—before Skinner bought it over—and having a bunch of criminal bikers around hadn’t picked up the land value on the place.
“What took you so long to get here, Saxon?” Skinner asked me. He had long, gray hair, tied in a ponytail at his neck, a handlebar mustache, and a bandana tied around his head. He wore his shades—even though we were inside the smoky pub.
“I had to make sure I wasn’t trailed while I was coming here,” I said. “I nearly got into trouble last night. Had a run-in with the popo.”
“How did you get out?” Toke asked. The little man was as wide as he was tall, lifting weights so that his muscle size would make up for his lack in height. He had a bald head and black, shifty eyes that missed nothing. He had a teardrop tattoo just below his eye, but we all knew he hadn’t killed that bastard himself.
“I had to hide in a diner downtown. I ditched the bike in an alley and scared some waitress shitless.”
There was a collective exclamation from the crowd of bikers. I looked at the group of bikers hanging on the furniture. They were an ugly-looking group, with tattoos and leather and scars. They all wore their Iron Bone kuttes—black leather jackets with our club logo on it. A skull-and-crossbones with a chain wrapped around it.
“You know that’s going to be a problem,” Skinny said.
“I took care of it,” I answered. I thought back to that waitress with her brown curls that bounced when I had her up on that table, fucking her until she’d cried out something that I could imagine being my name. She been so damn tight it had nearly pushed me over the ed
ge twice. But I’d held on good and tight and rode her hard until I was ready to finish off.
I was getting hard just thinking about it. She’d been so small, with the perfect breasts and curves that would make any man look twice. Hot damn, but I wanted that. I wanted it bad. Another round would be just what the doctor ordered.
“You kill her?” someone asked from behind me.
“Sax doesn’t silence women by killing them. He puts other things in their mouths,” Toke said, and the men laughed. And it was true, I had a reputation for doing women instead of killing them. A satisfied woman kept my secrets just as well as a dead one did.
“The real problem is our sloppy intel,” I said, drawing the topic away from me and back to work. “If whoever was in charge of the load last night knew what the hell was going on, I wouldn’t have had that whole debacle to begin with.”
“This isn’t the first time it’s happened,” Skinner said. He had his arms crossed over his chest, fingers playing with the mustache. “We’re getting lax. We need to rotate the boys, so we can tighten it up. I don’t want word of this out where it shouldn’t be.”
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