Savage Ride_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Chained Angels MC

by Lena Pierce

  I should be careful with her. She’s bruised and broken and scarred. But I suddenly want her so badly that I can hardly control myself. I want to claim her again and again. I’m suddenly feral.

  I pick her up and take her back to the bed, divesting her of the T-shirt she wears, worshipping those lovely breasts with my hands, my mouth. I slip my pants off and push those tits together, slipping between them before bringing the tip to her lips. She parts, gladly taking me in, her moans so sexy as she opens her throat, letting me thrust, her tongue working magic and her hands caressing my balls.

  I swear I’ll explode. I want to. I want to see my cum on her tits and face. That’s what a claiming is, my mark all over her. But I also want more of her. I want my face as far up her sweet pussy as I can get it. I want her wet and wild and undulating through a chorus of orgasms that make her forget her own name. I want to be balls deep inside of her, sweaty and angry and pushing so hard she might crack in half.

  As I go to pull out, she grabs my ass, forcing me to stay, She wants to give this gift, and it only takes a glance at her gorgeous mouth around my hard rod to get me closer. She takes it, so gorgeous, her grunts and moans surrounding me in a symphony of pleasure. I pull out only as I burst, spraying my pleasure all over her neck and breasts and belly.

  “You’re mine,” I growl. “You hear me?”

  She whimpers pleasurably, wiping my cum all over her body, lifting her fingers to her lips to experience my taste.

  I move down her body, kissing her, tasting myself on her skin. She wraps her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. We kiss for so long as I recover and when we can’t stand it anymore, she unwraps and puts her hands above her head, inviting me to worship at her altar.

  Because I love the way her nipples pucker, I start there, but my hands soon find her wet, soft lips beneath her tiny, silk panties and I stroke, finding her clit, then her sweet hole, where I insert two fingers. She arches to meet me, a moan escaping those perfect lips. As the pace increases, she pushes right back against me, so slick and wet and wanting. She lifts her legs so that her ass is in the air, my fingers getting deeper entry as I punish her with the speed of my thrusts.

  Her orgasm rips through her and she stops breathing as her pussy tightens around my fingers so intensely that it feels I might not be able to retrieve them.

  “Fuck, baby,” I breathe. “Your pussy feels so good. You feel so good. So wet. Come again for me.”

  She cries out and her head thrashes back and forth as her pleasure goes on and on, the longest orgasm I’ve ever seen a woman experience. I just keep thrusting in and out, finally desperate for her, dropping further down, ripping her panties from her body, causing her to cry out in shock. I dive in, my tongue joining my fingers, working her clit as it pulsates, enlarged, a second wave of release taking control of her.

  Her eyes roll back in her head and her mouth opens, her tongue darting out to wet her gorgeous lips. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life as this woman coming. I could watch it all day. I feel kind of awestruck, frankly, ready to come again just from watching it.

  When she finally calms, her eyes focus on my face and a wide, natural smile brightens her face.

  “Good?” I ask.

  “You’re smiling,” she says. “Oh, my god. I’ve literally never seen you smile.”

  “You’re gorgeous,” I say, moving up, my ready cock finding its place at her entrance.

  “I’m going to hate myself for saying this later, but I think I love you,” she says.

  I feel my face splitting into what’s probably a teenage-looking, shit-eating grin. It’s a stupid feeling, so I bury my face in her neck and my cock in her pussy. She cries out, scratching her nails along my back in a way that makes me forget everything else in my life at that moment.

  I can’t say it back. Not just yet. But damn, it makes me feel good to hear it.

  # # #

  Tanner

  Chef has outdone herself with this crazy breakfast. I’m alone in the dining room as Griz meets with his members to tell them about my father’s offer. I’m here with pecan-chocolate waffles, fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and a cappuccino that literally makes me want to create a shrine to cappuccinos.

  Sex makes me hungry, apparently, and Griz and I have had a lot of it. He told me to spend some time thinking about redecorating the bedroom, though I can’t figure out why, because it seems like if we merge clubs, we might have to live in the Grave Robbers’ house.

  Or better yet, maybe we’d find our own place and just have an occasional night in the Grave Robbers’ headquarters. That would be much better, since I’d rather not get fucked six ways to Sunday with my dad under the same roof. Thank you very much.

  After I finish my breakfast, I practically have to roll myself down the hallway to the gym. I do a workout that almost makes me feel less guilty about all the calories I’ve just ingested, and then head for the shower. There’s a palpable energy change in the house. For me, it’s better without worrying that Spike will pop out from behind a corner to threaten or intimidate me. But I know other are worried about what comes next, what Griz will choose to do, if they made the right choice in retaining their allegiance to him.

  It’s afternoon when Griz comes back in, grim-faced and looking every bit like a man who needs a good night of sleep.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  He flops onto the chaise lounge. “Well, about two-thirds of them totally get it. They feel like it’s the right move. They don’t want a bloodbath. They have families to protect and none of them want to see their children without fathers. Many of them feel like this will make us stronger as a club because they like what Draven has to offer. More opportunity, more in the brotherhood. So that’s all good. The other one-third want my head on a silver platter. They feel like I’m copping out, taking the easy way. They think we should go down in a blaze of glory.”

  “And what did you decide?” I ask, snuggling next to him.

  “Majority rules. We go,” he says simply. “It was loud but it was democratic.”

  We’re both quiet for a long minute. Then he says, “This is for the best. I think.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “What will happen here? To this house?”

  He takes a deep breath and strokes my arm, raising goosebumps. “I think he’ll let us stay, actually. Having this house really does expand his territory. What matters is working together, merging our businesses. I think if we all get with his program, he’ll be inclined to allow us a little bit of slack.”

  “What about Shannon?”

  “Well, I think it depends,” he says. “I own the house she lives in with Cary. We could live there most of the time, I think. Be more parental. Stay here a night or two.”

  The thought of living in a home with his daughter … I get a little panicky about it, actually. She’s never met me. What the heck is she going to think about some strange woman moving in, living in her home with her father, who’s hardly ever around? I can only imagine the battles for attention. And … I haven’t been around a ton of kids. I have no idea if I’m maternal or not.

  Griz must read it in my body language because he shushes me, tries to soothe me.

  “She’ll love you,” he says quietly. He takes a minute and then continues. “Like I do.”

  I swear to God my heart stops. Stops beating. I stop breathing. The world stops turning.

  “Stop being dramatic,” he says with a chuckle.

  The world resumes as I roll on top of him, ready to attack. He’s ready for me, his hands on my ribcage as his mouth meets mine.

  I can’t get enough. He loves me.

  # # #

  Griz

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I ask.

  Tanner giggles as she pulls her hair into some fancy braided style that my daughter will think makes her look like a princess. “Is that a real question?”

  “Sure,” I ask.

  “You first,” she non-answers
. “You didn’t grow up wanting to be a motorcycle club president, did you?”

  “Ha, no,” I say. “When I was little I wanted to be a firefighter. I think all little boys do. As I got older, I thought I might leave, go work on Wall Street. Make a million bucks.”

  “Well, you’ve definitely made a million bucks,” she says.

  “At a big cost,” I answer, my mood souring.

  “This is a dangerous business,” she agrees. “But you built something good here. And you’re doing the right thing. My dad is a good man. He won’t let you down.”

  I nod. “I think you’re right. I hope you’re right.”

  “I wanted to be a popstar,” she says, lightening the subject once more. “When I was little. Like one of those Disney people. Demi Lovato or Vanessa Hudgens or whatever.”

  “Can you sing?” I ask.

  “Not to save my life,” she laughs. “I actually went to college, did you know that? My degree is in communication, but it’s not that exciting.”

  “I did not know that,” I say, grinning. “A college girl. I think I’m in love. Although I do think you’re a good communicator. What would you rather do instead?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” she says. “I really like to work out, and I know lots of the guys at GR say their old ladies wish they were in shape like me. I was thinking I might like to be a personal trainer. Is that cheesy?”

  “Not at all,” I answer. “I think it’s a great goal. And maybe, with my head for business, we could even set you up a gym or something.”

  She looks giddy as we daydream. God, it’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself this luxury. I really can see setting up a gym in the territory. I can run the business side; she can be a personal trainer, maybe help with the marketing. I like it.

  Once she’s ready—looking delicious in a white sundress that makes her tan look dark and her legs look nine-miles long – we head out to meet her father for lunch at Grave Robbers’ headquarters. We’re having lunch. I wore a suit jacket instead of my colors and I feel like a tool.

  It’s so awkward at first. Her dad looks at her finger about a million times, a silent question as to why a baller like me hasn’t gotten his lady a ring since we’re supposedly married after knowing each other all of a week and a half. He’s no dummy, Draven. He knows she lied; I’m sure of it.

  He can’t do anything about it, of course. Kit is gone and from what Tanner has told me, he didn’t groom anyone to take his place. It makes me feel a little better, actually. I suffered the same issue with Spike, kept him around because there was no one to fill the void. I felt real stupid because of it, too, so to hear that Draven made the same mistake makes me feel a little less like an asshole. Bottom line is he needs me, as much as I need him.

  We make small talk before we finally get to the meat of the conversation. The negotiation. How will we merge these two clubs?

  I explain the reaction of my members. “Most of them get that this is the best for all of us,” I explain. “But they value their colors, their name. They value the work we’ve done, and they like the house. I like the house. I designed it.”

  “The house is nice, a good asset, I agree. And it belongs to you,” Draven concedes. And, as suspected, he says, “It’s valuable to have a second property for the clubs, on the opposite end of the territory we’ll share.”

  His choice of words is interesting. Share.

  “A third of my guys might defect,” I continue with a shrug. “They’re cowboys, ready to shoot it out. But the other two-thirds don’t have a death wish. We talked about it for a long time and I gave them a vote. The larger two-thirds want peace, so we’re coming.”

  Draven bangs his hand on the table, making the cutlery bang together loudly. “Smart move. And the dissenters will either get with the program or leave. It’s their prerogative. No penalty for defection.”

  We finish lunch with a plan that I feel good about. Draven claps me on the back as we leave, calling me “son” and telling me he’ll have paperwork sent over for review in the next few days. “We’ll have a party,” he announces. “A real blowout. Pop a bottle over your nuptials and our merger. It’s a fuckin’ celebration.”

  I take Tanner’s hand as we head out, thanking him. She squeezes, knowing just how much I hate this one remaining lie.

  We get on my bike and rumble over to the edge of the territory, where Cary waits for Shannon to get off the bus.

  Step one of this day is complete. Now comes the battle with my sister.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tanner

  Cary Grisham is more petite than I’d have expected, considering how big her brother is.

  She cuts an imposing figure, though, as we pull up on the bike. Arms crossed over her chest, she scowls as we roll up. She’s rather pixie-like, really, with a head of short dark hair that shines in the sunlight. Her sunglasses are dark and her skin is perfect and just slightly sun kissed.

  Griz takes my hand as we hop off the bike. I smooth my dress and hair, nervous.

  “That look is not about you,” he says quietly. “It’s for me. Out last conversation did not end well and she’s been giving me the silent treatment ever since.”

  We head up to the front porch of the house, a modest little place that does not scream of the wealth that Griz has amassed. Cary takes off her sunglasses to reveal blue eyes identical to her brother’s, eyes that are currently narrowed on where our hands meet and hold.

  “Cary, this is Tanner Williams,” Griz says.

  I give an awkward, little wave. “Nice to meet you, Cary.”

  Cary purses her lips and says, “David, can we have a talk inside for a minute? Alone?”

  Griz squeezes my hand. “No, I think we can all sit out here on this nice porch and have an adult conversation together. What time is Shannon’s bus?”

  Cary looks at her watch. Her whole body is tense, like she’s ready to spring off the desk to claw out Griz’s face.

  “It’s in fifteen minutes,” she says sharply. “Plenty of time for me to kick your ass to Mexico and back for whatever bullshit you’re pulling lately. Where the fuck have you been for the past week? Your daughter asks for you like seven times a day.”

  I feel my eyes go wide at the tirade, and my skin goes hot. I should not be witnessing this. She was right; they should’ve gone inside.

  “Cary, calm down,” Griz says in his boss voice. “You’re the one not answering my texts and calls. I’ve tried like twice a day, every day. Pick up the phone if you want to talk to me.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do, little brother,” she says. “You might be the boss of all those dudes, but you’re not the boss of me.”

  Griz’s jaw ticks. He looks off into the distance, takes a steadying breath. “Cary,” she says again. “I know you’re angry. You deserve to be angry. But the past week and a half has been … rough.”

  “Every day is rough for you lately. I told you to get the fuck out of that business,” she snaps.

  “Spike is dead,” Griz says flatly. “For one.”

  Cary’s sour expression turns softer. “Oh. How?”

  “Well, I should start at the beginning, I think,” Griz says, leading me to a porch swing.

  We sit, and he pulls me close. Cary takes a seat in a wicker chair, scooting it so she’s facing us. Griz starts telling the whole story—my kidnapping, Spike’s elevated drug use, his erratic behavior. He tells her about the defection of some of his guys, about trying to keep things together at the club, about Spike shooting a rival club member. He leaves out some of the worst parts—how Spike tried to rape me, for one—but gets to the final showdown and admits that he shot his vice president to keep him from hurting anyone else.

  “Tanner was hurt very badly by him, several times,” Griz says. “He shot two other people as well. He wasn’t the same man I knew when we started. I blame myself.”

  Cary rubs her face with her hands. She looks up and tears fall down her cheeks. “David
, when are you going to leave all this behind?” she asks, her voice full of emotion. “Fuck. I mean …”

  “I know,” he says. Then more forcefully, “I know. But there’s more. I love the club, the bikes, the guys. But you’re right; it’s gotten out of control. Draven Williams runs a good operation, usually pretty low drama. He’s offered to absorb my club. I’ll be his vice president. It’s like eating crow, kind of, because you know I’m an A-type motherfucker who doesn’t do the boot-licking thing. But it will save lives. It’s the right thing to do. And it’ll free up some time. He’s willing to give me more time with Shannon. More time to explore other interests.”