Protected by the Biker (Grim Reaper MC)

by Savannah Rylan

  Jace taught me how to not be scared of what I wanted, and he made sure to always give me what I asked for.

  I spotted an empty seat in the middle of the bar. That chair looked like the only sturdy one at the bar, so I sat down and signaled for the bartender. I wanted a bourbon on the rocks. I wanted to feel the burn as it slid down my throat. I wanted to drink away the files I’d seen and remembered a time when my hometown wasn’t riddled with drugs, outlaws, and gangs.

  I still wasn’t sure if I wanted to take someone home with me. That was the thing with me lately. I just wasn’t sure what I wanted, which wasn’t like me at all. After I had started to pull away from my mother, I became very open about what I wanted. However, ever since I was back home, it was like my wants and needs have lost their way. As much as I tried to fight it, my mind was pulling me back into the past.

  Back into a world where Jace and I still existed.

  Staring into my glass, I was reminded of a memory. The first time I ever drank more than he did. I couldn’t even remember how the argument started, but soon the two of us were chasing shots of whiskey with our beers. We were seeing who could hold their liquor the best, and the loser had to do whatever the winner wanted them to for twenty solid minutes. I could remember the burn of every single shot. I could remember the way Jace’s eyes narrowed at me as I kept up with him. I could remember the shocked look on his face when the room started swirling for him, and I could remember my triumphant victory before I dragged him back to my place at school.

  I sat on his face in my backyard and rode his lips underneath the pale moonlight, a toast to my victory as I shook against his tongue.

  I hadn’t been able to drink whiskey since we broke up. It was all bourbon on the rocks for me. My go-to drink when I needed to think. Think and forget and somehow try to process.

  I looked around the bar at all the men who were there. Some of them were decent looking enough. The kinds of men I would pity fuck just because I needed to get me some. Some of them were innocent college guys out here looking for a fun time on whatever break they were on now. But some of them reminded me of him.

  And it suddenly hurt too much to continue looking.

  It was the little things sometimes. Like a man looking around at me with dark brown eyes. Or a man who had a pair of strong arms. Sometimes it was his height that triggered a memory. Jace had always been so tall. I closed my eyes and remembered the last time he pulled me into him. The last time my lips were able to feel the swell of his rippling chest. My skin puckered at the remembrance of his arms wrapped around me.

  It still shocked me to this day how he could pick me up and fuck me against a wall.

  My mind began to race, but a tap on my shoulder pulled me from my memories, and I looked up to see who it was.

  “Hello,” the man said. “I’m Devon.”

  I nodded up at him and threw him a kind smile.

  “Laiken,” I said.

  “That’s a beautiful name,” he said. “Do you like this song?”

  “Honestly? I’m not sure what’s playing,” I said.

  “Ah. I just saw you bobbing your head to it, so I thought I would ask.”

  “Ask what?”

  “If you wanted to dance,” he said, grinning.

  He was a good looking guy for his type. A baby face with soft features and a lanky build. His hair wasn’t as dark as Jace’s and his eyes were blue instead of brown. Jace’s eyes had been this strong, stern brown. With green around his irises to remind me of the hunter he truly was. His eyes had reminded me of a forest. Such a foreign concept out here in the red clay of the desert. But every time I gazed up into his eyes I found myself getting lost in his woods. Marching to the tune of my own drum as I weaved around within his soul.

  “You have beautiful eyes,” Devon said.

  His voice ripped me from my thoughts as I shook my head.

  “Oh, thank you,” I said. “That’s very kind of you. Yours are… nice as well.”

  “Nice?” he asked, grinning.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just a bit distracted tonight.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  The man sat down next to me and held his hand up to the bartender. I wasn’t sure if I wanted the company, but the distraction was nice. I hated the fact that every man in here reminded me somehow of Jace. I hated that my mind compared their attributes to his. It had been years since I’d seen him, and it was time I washed him from my mind.

  Maybe I just needed to get underneath someone in order to get over him.

  “Just a long day at work,” I said as the bartender slipped him a beer.

  “Would you like another one?” he asked.

  “No, thanks. I’m driving,” I said.

  “I could sit here and talk with you until you’re sober,” he said.

  He was sweet, which was something Jace had never been. Jace was rough around the edges and never sugar-coated anything. Romance was not his thing, gentleness was not his thing, and kindness was not something he made a habit of.

  But holy hell, was he loyal. Domineering? Yes. An asshole at times? Oh, yeah. But when he loved you, he loved you. When he was dedicated to you, he was dedicated. When he set his mind to something, he didn’t stop until it was fulfilled.

  And sometimes, that went a much longer way than just kindness.

  “We’ll see how I feel after this one,” I said.

  “So, what happened with your day?” Devon asked.

  He tipped his beer back, and I noticed he did it crookedly. Jace never did that. His was always straight up. Head back, neck exposed, vulnerable just for a second. I lost count of how many times I’d kissed that neck while he was mid-chug. How many times I’d raked my teeth across his pulse point and rose his cock to perfection.

  I hated myself for this. Here was this kind man who was easy on the eyes trying to do his best to make me feel comfortable, and I was comparing him to an ex. An ex I hadn’t seen in years. An ex that, for all I knew, didn’t give a shit about me. Didn’t spare a thought for me at all. Hell, Jace probably didn’t even remember me.

  I thought I was stronger than this. I thought I was over it. I thought I could come back into this town and resume life as normal. But I couldn’t. Apparently, I wasn’t as strong as I thought. All of the memories that were triggered just in this random bar were about to drown me. And I was in a place I’d never been before! I couldn’t imagine the memories that would flood my system if I ever walked back into a place Jace and I had frequented.

  It would choke the very life from my throat.

  “I just work a high-stress job,” I said. “That’s all.”

  “What do you do for work?” Devon asked.

  “Classified,” I said, winking.

  “Well,” he said, chuckling, “I work in engineering.”

  “Oh, really? What kind?”

  “Mechanical,” he said. “I work on the air force base.”

  “Nellis?” I asked. “Are you in the military? Or a contract worker?”

  “Contract,” he said. “And before you ask, yes. I enjoy it greatly.”

  “Well, if you won’t tell anyone in this bar-- because there are about seven things illegal in this scenario alone-- I’m a cop,” I said.

  “In Vegas?” he asked.

  “Henderson. About sixteen miles outside the city,” I said. “And yes, I enjoy what I do.”

  He chuckled and tipped up his beer, and still, I was focused on how it was crooked instead of straight up. How the hell could I stop this? How the fuck was Jace still affecting me? I had to try and stop thinking about him. I had to find something to do that wouldn’t remind me of Jace.

  And then, a song came on.

  “Do you dance?” I asked.

  “I do,” Devon said. “Do you?”

  “I try when I can. Would you like to dance?” I asked.

  Jace never fucking danced. Not in a million years. There was no possible way I could think about Jace while dancing in th
e arms of this man. It was the perfect plan. And the smile on Devon’s face as he set down his beer told me he was in for the ride. He put his beer bottle down on the bar, took my drink from my hand, then threaded his fingers with mine.

  Phase one of ‘Forget Jace’ had officially commenced.

  Chapter 7

  Snake

  My blood boiled as I watched her with another man. What the fuck was she doing? He wasn’t even her type! She came in here with her head held high and her gaze stuck in a glass. I knew that look. I knew those clothes. She’d had a hard day, and she wasn’t looking to talk about it. She picked the chair that probably looked the sturdiest to her and sat in it. She was always insecure about her weight, which I never understood. She was beautiful, with jiggling curves in all the right fucking places. Got my cock all mixed up in that body for months. But in the back of her mind, she was heavy. She thought she was hot shit, but she always looked out for things that would embarrass her about her weight.

  Like breaking a damn chair if she sat in it.

  He sat down beside her, and they started talking. Like he gave a shit about her. Like they were old pals. And she was falling for his shtick. Had she retained nothing since she’d been with me? Nothing that I’d taught her? Opened her eyes up to? Every part of me wanted to go over there and bust up their moment. I wanted to stick myself in between him and her and tell that blue-eyed dandy to fuck off.

  Then, I wanted to sit down with her myself. I had so many things I wanted to know about her. How had she been? What had she been up to all these years? Had her mother finally kicked the can? Because that bitch needed to.

  She was a fucking piece of work.

  I wanted to know where her life had taken her and what brought her back. Or what kept her here and why she was now in some seedy bar on the outskirts of Vegas. I wanted to know why the hell she was entertaining this little fuck’s attention and why she hadn’t already given him her telltale stare before she rejected his soppy little dick.

  A thick woman like her needed a cock, not a twig. Her thighs could gobble up some four-inch pathetic little dick in a heartbeat. She needed a thick piece of girth that could penetrate her walls. Touch her in places and make her feel things she couldn’t reach herself. I bet his fucking cock wasn’t enough to tease her clit.

  Holy hell, how I missed sucking on her clit.

  The way she moved and gyrated against me. The way her tits bounced when she rode my cock. The way her thighs squeezed my cheeks and coated half of my face in her arousal. She was the only woman I’d never cleaned myself up from. I’d lay there with half my body covered in her and the other half covered in sweat. I’d wake up smelling like come and sex, and the only thing I would do is roll over, slide my dick into her warmth, and wake her up with a mind-blowing orgasm.

  No woman said my name in bed like she did.

  No woman held my attention like she could.

  But the fight we had that ended things got out of hand. Accusations were made, and names were thrown. She called me a bastard, and I called her a bitch. She accused me of being a liar and being manipulative, and I fucking told her she was turning into her mother. I was out for blood with that fight, and I knicked her jugular.

  I could still remember the pain and shock in her eyes just before her hand cracked my cheek.

  In a rush of fury, I’d grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from my face. I walked her out onto my porch, tossed her onto her feet, and slammed the door behind her. That was the thing about Laiken and I. We could have some intense conversations, make some intense love, and then have some intense fighting sessions. Voices would raise, and fingers would get pointed. Accusations would get thrown until we finally got to the bottom of the issue. Then we would sit down with a few beers, get a little tipsy, and really talk shit out.

  Then I’d fuck her on every surface her pussy could take until she ran dry and her eyes glazed over.

  As much as an ass I felt after our fight, part of me knew I needed to push her away. My life was fucked up right now. Shit with the DEA and The Devil Saints was getting heated. War was on the horizon, and the government was lurking in the shadows. Things were about to blow sky high, and I didn’t want her near any of it.

  Just like I didn’t want her near it when we were dating.

  She was right. At least partially. When she was graduating college, I was just solidifying myself in The Road Rebels. I had just been accepted into the club before I’d met her, and things started hot and heavy between us. There was no dating or lead up. No pointless flirting or her twirling her finger in her hair. We met at a bar that openly served to the under aged, I took her home, and then she just... kept coming over. When she wanted my cock when she wanted her pussy licked. When she needed a breather from her mother or when she wanted a warm body to lie next to.

  Eventually, I was seeking her out just as much as she was me. That was when things got real between us. That was when I realized she had sunk me.

  It only made sense I would see her in a bar now. After six or seven years of dreaming about her luscious tits and her pillowy frame, it would only make sense that we’d find each other here.

  In a bar.

  The type of place where we first met.

  I couldn’t get her wrapped up in my shit. No matter how much I wanted to beat the hell out of Mr. Baby Face, I had to stay put. This shit with the Saints was getting serious. So serious that the DEA had become the least of our worries.

  At this point, most of us would elect to go to prison if it meant keeping our lives out of Beast’s hands.

  So, I stayed put. I watched that random asshole pull smiles from Laiken I hadn’t seen in years. I watched him move closer to her, his hand trying to cop a feel on her thigh. I squeezed my hand around my beer bottle, watching the entire scene unfold. I watched him try to convince her to order another drink. I watched them flirt for a little while. I watched her eyes sparkle as they talked about whatever mindless piece of bullshit Mr. Small Dick had picked to talk about.

  I couldn’t believe Laiken was falling for this guy’s trick.

  It pissed me off even more that she was reciprocating his happiness. How they talked like old friends or some type of bullshit. I downed my beer and signaled to the bartender for another one, then went back to watching the show unfold in front of me.

  A show I should be a part of instead of on the sidelines for.

  Then, I saw the guy grab Laiken’s hand. My beer stopped halfway to my lips as I watched her curl her hand around his. My vision melted with red as I chugged my beer. Who the hell did that boy think he was touching? What the fuck gave him the right to touch her? Did he seriously know what the hell he was getting into? The type of things she enjoyed? Was he really going to know how to lick that clit like I could? Pound that pussy like I could? Would he be able to make her scream like I could?

  I had to put an end to this bullshit, and I had to do it now.

  Slamming my empty beer bottle onto the bar counter, it shattered. Everyone looked over at me, Mr. Asshole included. Laiken slowly turned her head as I slid from the shadows, her body poised to attack whoever was about to emerge.

  I caught her stare as I emerged from the darkness, and I watched the shock roll over her face. I watched her blink rapidly, like she was trying to convince herself I was real. She swiveled around in her chair as the guy behind her locked his eyes on me, but my gaze was elsewhere. My gaze was locked on the beautiful hazel eyes that had haunted my dreams for years. My gaze was lingering on the body of a woman I’d tried to forget and relive time and time again.

  My gaze was on the lips of the only woman I’d found who could swallow my dick whole.

  There was no going back now. She knew I was here and she knew I had seen her. I watched her breathing pick up, her chest moving slightly faster than what it had been before. Her cheeks flushed red, and her eyes scanned my body, lingering along my arms as my veins bulged from my muscles.

  She always did have a thing for my arms. />
  Then, my eyes hooked onto Laiken’s hand. I waited for that asshole to drop his grip. To let go of her and know that she was already taken. Already guarded. Already protected. I waited for him to put his hands up and back off like the smart guy he looked to be.

  But instead, I watched that man grip her hand tighter.

  This was not going to happen tonight. Not if I had anything to do about it. Laiken might be pissed at me, and she might slap me across the face again, but she would thank me later. Thank me for not allowing her standards to slip just because she’d had a hard day.

  And that’s all I wanted, in the end. For her to always have the best.

  Even if that meant passing me by.

  Chapter 8

  Laiken

  Even though I was still comparing this man to Jace, it felt nice to have his fingers threaded with mine. It had been hard to be with other men since losing him, and for a while there I wasn’t sure I could stomach it. When I left for Los Angeles, I compared everyone to Jace. Their body types. The color of their hair. The shape of their eyes. Everything from their height to their arm muscles was under my scrutiny, and I always found a way to say ‘no.’ I always found a reason to turn a man down who was hitting on me or wanting to pick me up.

  And it was all because they weren’t like Jace.

  I was enjoying talking to Devon. I was enjoying how his hand felt encased in mine. It had been so long since I’d felt the body of a man up against my chest, and the more he smiled at me, the more I was ready for it. I was ready for Devon to take me in his arms, sway with me on the dance floor, and whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

  That was another thing Jace never did. He never whispered how beautiful I was in my ear.

  He said it between my legs or growled it at me when he was fucking me, but that was it. Jace was primal to his core, but sometimes a woman enjoyed romance. Not over the top bullshit, like flowers every week or jewelry I would never wear. But sometimes, just being told I was beautiful out of nowhere sent shivers up my spine.