Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “You sent Megan away so y’all could fuck some bitches, huh?”

  Christopher shrugged and beckoned a Bob over. She was rather plain with non-descript brown hair and unremarkable eyes. “Bring me a bottle, babe.”

  She smiled at him, her wide mouth sending lewd signals to Christopher’s brain. Megan was so pure, so gorgeous. So fucking not for him.

  “We ain’t gonna tell Megan, so don’t worry ‘bout it, Prez,” Digger said. He must’ve noted something in Christopher’s expression. “You deserve to have a couple bitches. ‘Specially after what you did for her today. You let the fucker live.”

  Yeah, he’d let Thomas Nicholls live. After calling in a favor by providing the address where he lived with Meggie’s mother, Christopher had him pulled over on his way back to Seattle and escorted back. Just by involving law enforcement to get fuckhead in his hands, he couldn’t leave a fucking body. They might look the other way while Christopher beat a fucker to a pulp that they’d personally delivered to him. Murdering the same fuckhead? Not so much. Even officers on his payroll had their standards. Since they’d refused to leave once they delivered Nicholls, they’d also refused to allow a permanent end to the man.

  Christopher had explained the details, though. Nicholls had been so helpful, carrying a photo of Megan. Once Mutt and Jeff had seen her and heard what he’d done, Christopher was sure he was due an ass whipping from them, too. If there was any justice, the injuries Christopher had delivered was severe enough that only a few more punches would end him. He’d just have to let it go that he wasn’t the one who’d do it. Mutt was corrupt as a motherfucker and Jeff was meaner than a snake. Christopher didn’t bother with their real names. Didn’t give a fuck really. To him, they were Mutt and Jeff, doing favors for him when what needed doing couldn’t get done without involving them. Like bringing a motherfucker in who Christopher didn’t have time to find. He’d never tell Megan any of this. As far as she was concerned, he wouldn’t know the fucker if the man walked up and bitch slapped Christopher.

  Val walked up just then, his arm around a stacked, redheaded Bob. “Stretch just notified me Megan, Kiera and Ellen outside.”

  “Ellen?” Christopher snapped. “I thought I told that bitch–”

  “I guess Meggie wants her here, Prez,” he said. “Women are funny like that.”

  Digger tipped his beer back and took a long swallow. As he set the bottle down, his eyes widened and the alcohol exploded from his mouth.

  “What the fuck, asshole?” Christopher snarled, jumping to his feet, swiping at his wet cheek.

  “FUCK!” Val managed, staring toward the doorway.

  “What–” Christopher choked as Megan strutted into view. The blue metallic halter top and matching belted miniskirt drew the attention of every man there. Her golden hair, flowing down her back, had been curled and her exposed skin—too motherfucking much exposed skin—glittered.

  K-P and Stretch stopped her and she giggled at something they said.

  Before she got any further, Johnnie walked in behind her. Because this was such a big deal, he’d driven down to attend this party. Usually, Christopher was happy to see Johnnie. Not now, though, when his cousin wrapped an arm around Megan’s tiny waist and buried his nose in her hair, bending to whisper something in her ear. Even in her thigh-high, silver stiletto boots, she only reached Johnnie to his chin. He pressed against her and Christopher growled, balling his hands into fists.

  Some asshole he intended to mutilate worse than Johnnie strode to Megan, but she smiled that gorgeous smile—her red lipstick causing Christopher’s heart to stutter—and pointed at him.

  As she started in his direction, two of K-P’s girls attempted to block her way, but she gave them a look that could freeze Lucifer’s dick and sauntered past them. Johnnie followed behind, a smirk on his face, his eyes drifting down.

  She reached the table and the smell of her hair and a light floral perfume reached Christopher. He felt fucking lightheaded, broadsided with this new version of Megan.

  He roamed from around the table and stepped toward her, not speaking, just circling her, taking it all in. The halter top shelving her breasts. The tiny skirt with the silver belt stopping just below her ass cheeks. The blue of the material that matched her eyes and made them gleam like jewels.

  She tossed her hair over her shoulders. “May I have a drink or is this only for your Bobs?”

  Christopher’s gaze flew to hers. ”Where’s Kiera and Ellen?” It was their fault she was dressed like a slut.

  “They left,” she said coolly.

  “I’ll bet they fuckin’ did.” He glared over her head to Johnnie. “Gimme your fuckin’ jacket, asshole.”

  Johnnie lifted a brow.

  “Now!”

  She turned her head, offering a view of her perfect profile. “No. I’m fine just like this, Johnnie. Keep your jacket.” She returned her challenging blue regard to Christopher. “I would like a drink, though.”

  They stared at one another and he saw she wouldn’t back down. “I’m gonna spank your ass for this shit,” he blurted without thinking.

  She paled a little at his furious snarl, and stepped back. In his anger, he’d forgotten about her history. Fuck, in this hot-as-fuck outfit, he couldn’t even see the scars from the cuts she inflicted on herself. All he saw was her. On another chick, he would’ve appreciated the fuck out of the skimpy clothes. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. He appreciated it on Megan, too, but not when every other motherfucker ogled her.

  The bitch with the mousy brown hair sidled back with his bottle of tequila, rubbing her breasts against him. She could’ve rubbed her bare pussy on him and he wouldn’t have given a fuck. But Megan saw what the Bob did and stepped back, her shoulders rigid with anger, her eyes filling with misery.

  Grabbing the bottle, Christopher wrapped an arm around Megan’s waist and lifted her off her feet, not thinking, only acting.

  When he reached his bedroom, which he noted was clean, he slammed the door shut, then set her on her feet.

  He unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out, forcing her to her knees. “You wanna look like a whore, then I’m gonna treat you like one.” He gripped her hair and twisted, thrusting his cock against her lips until she opened her mouth and allowed him to shove his dick in.

  He should’ve expected the little bitch to bite him, but stupid fucker he was, he didn’t. No bitch in their right mind had ever practiced violence on his person.

  He yelped in pain and jerked away. Megan scrambled back and stumbled to her feet.

  “Go back out there then,” she yelled. “I don’t care. I talked to them while we were shopping. They told me you’re nice to the Bobs and they turn you on and they’re dressed in less than I am.”

  “I ain’t treatin’ you no different than I treat those sluts.”

  “Liar. They told me how you buy your Club Ass drinks. How K-P interviews those girls and then sends the Bobs to you for a final consultation. They’re handpicked based on how well they suck you off! I had a long conversation with them about all of it.”

  Fuming, Christopher grabbed her arm and yanked her to the bed, throwing her on it, then climbing over her. He was so fucking frustrated with them, knowing who them was.

  “You fuckin’ better than them. Ellen, Kiera, and the Bobs. Better than all us put together. You fuckin’ better than this. Lettin’ motherfuckers look at you almost naked. Eye fuck you. Imagine their dicks in you seven ways to fuckin’ Sunday.”

  Only he was supposed to do that. Not his brothers. Not his cousin. Not the members of the support club. No one else but him.

  “I didn’t dress for them,” she admitted, looking up at him. “I dressed for you.”

  He was about to have a fucking heart attack. That’s the only reason it was beating like a jackhammer in his chest at her words and her earnest look. A weak fucking heart was the only reason her sweet response went straight through him and pierced all his defenses.

  She pulled hi
s head down and planted her mouth on his, opening for him, letting him take over once she touched her tongue to his. His hand slid under her skirt because he was dying to know what she wore underneath.

  Thank fuck, she had a thong on. Her ass was bare but her pussy was covered. Her kisses were wild, her body grinding like a whore’s, her nipples hard, the sounds coming from her driving him insane.

  Lifting her hips in invitation, she sucked his tongue and he groaned. Her heated skin singed his fingertips, his lips, his hands and mouth.

  “Megan, I gotta fuck you, baby, then we gotta go back out there.” He tore her thong and pushed open her legs, thrusting into her hard. She arched against him, exposing her slender throat.

  Christopher bit her. “You wanted dick, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she breathed. “Yours.”

  He closed his eyes and hammered her again and again until she came for him. This was a quick fuck, to appease his territorial rights over her and her insecurities. He grunted and trembled, filling her with his cum. Afterwards, they lay wrapped around each other, breathing hard.

  Christopher rested his chin on the crown of her head. “Put somethin’ else on for me, baby. Please. I gotta keep my head on straight and I ain’t gonna be able to do that if I gotta watch over you.” And fuck up any motherfucker who looked at her. He’d never thought of himself as the jealous type but with Megan, he’d kill anyone who touched her.

  She kissed the spot where his neck and shoulder met. “What do you want me to wear?”

  He pulled out of her and leaned back on his hunches. “A burka. A sari. A habit. You choose.”

  She lifted herself on her elbows. His dick hardened all over again at the sight she presented in that outfit, legs spread and revealing her reddened, engorged pussy, his cum leaking from her. Her curled hair was wild now, her lips were swollen, and her cheeks were flushed. He bent and suckled her clit and she shuddered. Her head lulled to the side. “I’ve never worn something so revealing.”

  “Coulda fooled me,” he grumbled, dragging his mouth away from her and sitting up.

  “It makes me feel naughty.”

  It made him feel murderous. “Feel naughty for my ass, Megan,” he said, guiding her to a sitting position. Unable to stop himself, he buried his hand in her hair and pulled her against him to kiss her.

  She drew to her knees and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “Christopher,” she whispered.

  With effort, he separated himself from her. “I gotta get back out there. See that everythin’ is goin’ the way I ordered.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and nodded, her sadness returning. “When I arrived, there was a girl outside with two guys,” she began quietly. “One had his penis in her mouth and the other one was having sex with her the normal way. They were on the ground out in the open.” She cocked her head to the side. “Do things like that happen at all the gatherings?”

  “Most of them,” he admitted. “Unless there’s old ladies around.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, babe, none of us ain’t had a old lady in a while. The brothers that do stopped hangin’ round two years ago or so, unless there was church.”

  She lowered her lashes. “Did all those girls really perform oral sex on you?” she whispered.

  “What do you think?” he asked with a sigh.

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “Were you gonna let one of them do it tonight?”

  He caressed her cheek, thinking about their conversation last night when he told her about leaving her with his mother to return to Kiera and Ellen. “I thought ‘bout it.”

  Her lower lip trembled but she nodded. “Okay.” She crawled past him and got to her feet. She looked so fucking hot standing there in that outfit. “Um, I’m tired, Christopher. I think I’m going to turn in. Why don’t you go and enjoy yourself?”

  Why did she do this to him? Any other bitch he’d let walk the fuck away. Instead, he scrambled after Megan and caught her shoulders. “I ain’t sasid I was gonna do it. Fuck, Megan! Where you see us goin’? Huh?”

  “Nowhere,” she retorted. “Because you don’t want us to go anywhere.”

  He did. More than he could ever explain. “Megan, I already told you we ain’t ever gettin’ married.”

  “Yeah, you just want me to have your baby.”

  That’s not all he wanted from her. “My name, baby, ain’t worth shit. I ain’t wantin’ the fuckin’ name Caldwell. I’m ashamed of it. Why I want a beautiful angel like you to have it?”

  She blinked and her eyes glittered with fierceness. “Because it’s part of you and there’s nothing about you I consider shameful.”

  Those words hung between them and she challenged him with a look. But what the fuck could he say? When motherfuckers put him down or pissed him off, he knew how to respond. Her words, though? They were from her heart, expressing a belief in him no one ever had.

  He took her in his arms and hugged her. “Come back out there with me, Megan. We ain’t gonna be out there no more than another hour. I gotta make sure everybody seen to.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Ain’t never been more sure of anythin’ in my life.”

  She stepped back and smiled, scooting around him and heading for the bureau where he’d given her a drawer for the clothes she’d purchased at the mall. Instead of getting another outfit, she pulled out another thong and put it on.

  “Megan–”

  “I wanted to talk to you about Ellen,” she interrupted, heading for the door and opening it to step into the hallway.

  Tuning her out, he gritted his teeth and followed behind her. His scent clung to her, so every motherfucker there knew she belonged to him. Besides, he wouldn’t let her out of his sight or his reach.

  Later, though, when Megan fell asleep, he was going to take the clothes she wore and burn those motherfuckers.

  AFTER RIDING ON THE BACK of Christopher’s bike for two and a half hours, he turned onto a private access road. Meggie figured she’d walk funny. Maybe, bow-legged. He sped past a couple houses, situated several hundred yards apart, to the end of the road. She kept her cheek pressed against Christopher’s back, her arms around his waist, breathing in his scent, the leather he wore, the tang of the ocean.

  Memories of their shopping spree yesterday filled her with happiness and she tightened her grip on him. True to his word, they’d left at five o’clock in the morning and headed across the Columbia to Pioneer Place in Portland, so they could go to a more upscale mall. He didn’t know until they arrived why she wanted to go shopping—to buy gifts for everyone. She’d received her last Christmas present, three years ago, from her daddy, a hand blown glass Minnie Mouse. Thomas had taken one look at it, set it on the floor, and smashed it beneath his cowboy boots.

  Dragging Christopher to the mall for other people and not herself hadn’t sat well with him. He’d indulged her and allowed her the pleasure of buying gifts for whoever she wanted. She’d taken her time and chosen gifts for each person, based on what she knew about them. She’d mentally purchased her friends, Farah and Lacey, a couple things from Juicy Couture while she’d imagined giving her mom a Coach purse. She’d agonized over Christopher’s gift and thought she wouldn’t be able to purchase anything for him when he’d insisted he didn’t get gifts, so “she ain’t had to worry ‘bout me, ‘specially since I gotta to pay for it with my own fuckin’ money”.

  “Well, put the money in my hands and give it to me. Then it’ll be my money,” she’d reasoned. “And once you give me money, it’s mine to do with what I want.”

  He hadn’t relented, until she’d given him the silent treatment and he’d stuffed money into her hands. Convincing him to leave her side for the time it would take to pick out and pay for his present hadn’t been as easy.

  “Ain’t fuckin’ happenin’, Megan,” he’d said through gritted teeth. “Not with that motherfucker on the loose.”

  “Christopher, Snake’s not–”

  “No
. You can be dumb. I clue you in, you ain’t dumb no more. But I can’t take stupid. Ain’t a fuckin’ lot of hope for stupid. And you bein’ fuckin’ stupid thinkin’ that motherfucker won’t take any opportunity to strike. Who the fuck said I was talkin’ ‘bout Snake any-fuckin-way? You think I forgot ‘bout your step fuckhead?”

  Bull’s eye. Meggie huffed in frustration. “Can’t you just stand outside the store? You can monitor whoever’s going in and out. If you see one of them, grab me and we can alert security.”

  He’d opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut and leaned his face into hers. “Like I said. Fuckin’ stupid. I have no clue how assfuck looks, Megan.”

  They’d been standing in the middle of the mall, arguing like school kids. Pulling him to a bench, Meggie had described Thomas to him. He seemed uninterested and bored, almost as if he’d seen Thomas before.

  Still, when she finished, he said, “Fine. Find the store you wanna buy my gift and Ima guard the entrance. You got thirty fuckin’ minutes.”

  When she pointed out she didn’t have a watch, he’d taken his off, being nice enough to set the timer once they’d reached the shop in question. By the time she finished, with three minutes to spare, they’d both been starving, so they’d gone to the lower level and gotten something to eat. Meggie was grateful for the rest, still exhausted from the club’s Thanksgiving celebration where they’d feasted on all sorts of goodies and drank like there was no tomorrow. Well, Meggie hadn’t but Christopher had and, if anyone had asked her, she’d have sworn he wouldn’t have been able to move to take her shopping. He’d really fooled her.

  After they’d eaten breakfast, she’d thought they would head back to his pickup. Instead, he’d taken her shopping. Like really, really shopping. As in Tiffany and Juicy Couture and Victoria’s Secret and…yeah, shopping. When they’d returned to the clubhouse last night, they’d chatted with Val, Digger, and Mortician while drinking a beer, then went to their room for their sex fest.