Craving Control

by Kylie Hillman

  “You little fuck. The whole time we’ve been trying to clean you up, you’ve been getting high behind our backs.” Crouching over him, I rip the baggie out his hand then grab his pipe. Standing up, I throw the pipe to the ground and crush it under my boot. Glass shatters, spreading over the floor next to him and he groans. “Good luck trying to get fucked up now.”

  Leaving him on the threadbare rug, I slam the door shut behind me as I go searching for his accomplice. Finding him talking to Timber, I push my way through the crowd. I grab Kid by the back of his cut, rip it down his arms, and hold it in front of his face when he swings around to see who’s messing with him.

  The moment it registers with him that it’s me, he ducks his head. I grab him by the front of his T-shirt and yank him closer to me. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t know.”

  I don’t tell him what he’s supposed to know. I don’t have to. When Kid lifts his head, I let the baggie hang between my fingers and shake it in the air. To his credit, he doesn’t drop my gaze when he answers. “I’m sorry, Mad Dog.”

  Tossing his cut to Beast, who’s come to find out what the commotion is about, I show him the drugs as well. “Found this on Benji. Kid was in on it. Think it’s time for you to step up and do something about your fucking son right-about-now. Don’t you?”

  Beast inclines his head to acknowledge my words but doesn’t agree. He hands Kid his cut back then melts into the crowd without saying a fucking thing. I take two steps after him, determined to have it out with the bull-headed fuck, only to come to a stop when Timber grabs me by my arm. “Let him go. Once he’s wrapped his head around it, he’ll deal with Benji. Gotta be hard when it’s his son going off the rails.”

  Tilting my head so I can look my giant-sized best friend in the eye, I growl. “Shouldn’t be fucking hard when he’s been given proof.”

  Timber shrugs. “Just keep your mouth shut for now. You wanna keep your SAA patch, then I wouldn’t advise pissing off the Prez.”

  Ignoring his advice, I glare past his shoulder at Kid. “What the fuck are you still doing here? Go deal with your best friend. He’s probably still lying on the floor whining like a little pussy.” Kid nods, turning on his heel to head for the bedrooms. “If I was you, I’d make sure he stays clean. Next time I find out you’re helping him; I’m removing my name from your noms.”

  His step falters at my threat—it’s a big one, threatening to take away my backing of his nomination to become a Black Shamrock. “Won’t happen again, Mad Dog.”

  “How’s Princess,” Timber brings my attention back to him with his mention of Lainey.

  “The same.”

  Nudging me with his shoulder, he moves me in the direction of the exit. “You should get back to her, then.”

  It takes an effort to stop him from pushing me along, but I manage it. Cocking my head to the side, I take a good look at him. Usually, he’d be on my ass to stay and party with him, not pushing me outta the door. “You cool?”

  The fakest fucking smile I’ve ever seen crosses his face, and he nods. “Yeah, yeah. All good.”

  Shaking my head, I snort. “Okay. And, I’m the fucking pope. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just been lost in my head all day.”

  The shadows of ghosts that should be dead and buried flit across his features. “Amy?”

  “Yeah, it’s two years today.”

  Raking my fingers through my hair, I buy myself some time. I have Lainey waiting at home in fuck knows what state, and in front of me, I have my best friend. Fuck. My two people. The only ones I’d lay my life on the line for.

  “You wanna spend the night at my house? Can’t guarantee a good time, if you come.”

  “Nah,” Timber shakes his big head, then jams two fingers in his mouth and whistles. Every single one of the Club sluts turn at the sound and—occupied with another brother or not—they head in his direction. They all want a slice of the kinky fuck, and knowing him, he’ll oblige.

  Flicking my hand in the direction of the stampeding whores, I shake my head. “They’re all yours. Try not to drown in all the pussy.”

  “No promises.” He laughs as he walks toward them, holding out his arms so they can all swarm around him and touch what they want. He buries his head between a pair of tits on one slut and jams his hand under the skirt of another.

  I think he’ll be okay for the night.

  And, on that note, I head home to my woman.

  The one I can’t touch.

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  *

  Already read the entire Black Shamrocks Mc series?

  Delve deeper into the story of their parents with the prequel series, Black Shamrocks MC: First Generation. Flip the page to read the first three chapters of Conan, the first book in this new series that’s set in the 80’s and 90’s.

  *

  He’s sworn to be loyal. She’s desperate to escape. Betraying his MC may be their only path toward love...

  Colin “Conan” Blake’s only ambition is to be a part of the Black Shamrocks. With the club running in his family, the only thing they need from him is his sworn allegiance. But when he finds out the MC's curvy waitress is underage; his protective instincts force him into conflict with his sworn brothers.

  Colleen McCormack wants nothing more than to get her sister away from their scummy uncle. After the seventeen-year-old is bartered as the Shamrocks' next topless waitress to settle his drug debt, she spends every moment planning their escape. But she never expected one of the bikers to join her fight and steal her heart.

  Forced to keep their budding attraction a secret, their romance comes under threat when they accidentally reignite a deadly MC rivalry.

  Can Conan save Colleen and keep their love alive before club rules destroy their chance for happiness?

  PROLOGUE

  Colin

  “Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things.” ~Ken Segall~

  During my life, the whole nineteen years I’ve graced this earth, I’ve learnt one thing. Rules are for other people. I’m a Blake; prospect for the Black Shamrocks MC, son of the Sergeant-At-Arms. The dictates of society that everyone else is forced to live by don’t apply to me.

  I can do what I want when I want.

  As long as it doesn’t affect the Club, I’m golden.

  My days as a Prospect are numbered, I know that. It’s a no-brainer. The first generation of sons born in Australia are ready to patch in and learn what they need to do to continue our Club’s legacy. The granting of my membership into the brotherhood that binds the Shamrocks is guaranteed.

  At least, I thought so.

  Until I found myself on the wrong end of their oath.

  Brotherhood before blood. Brotherhood before everything. They wanted me to put the brotherhood before her ... and I wasn’t sure if I could.

  Colleen McCormack called to the very thing inside me that was accountable for my change from a boy into a man. In her green eyes, dark strawberry-blonde hair, and hips that curved for days, I saw my future. I saw kids. I saw a responsibility for her happiness that made my soul sing with pride.

  I saw the pair of us—old and grey, and still in love.

  Too bad she was about to become one of our Club sluts.

  According to my father, you shouldn’t give a second thought about the sluts. You fuck ‘em, you share ‘em, you laugh at ‘em when they keep trying to come back for more.

  You don’t fall in love with them.

  You definitely don’t ask them to marry you.

  And you don’t use your position with the Shamrocks to exact revenge on the fucker responsible for whoring her ou
t in the first place—especially without taking it to Church.

  I’d spent my life thinking that the rules didn’t apply to me.

  Turns out that they did.

  Because once the Shamrocks are done putting out the fire I started with the still-smoking end of my gun, I’m going to feel the full-force of those rules.

  Thankfully, she’s more than worth it.

  ONE

  Colin

  “Jesus. Fuck.” my best friend, partner-in-crime, and fellow prospect whistles as the entertainment for the night begins to funnel into the bar of the Clubhouse. “Tonight’s gonna be fucking awesome.”

  Paddy grabs his dick and moves it up and down. I exchange a look with my other best-friend, Vic, and shake my head. This is the first brothers-only party that we’ve been allowed to attend since we began prospecting. We’re usually stuck behind the bar serving the brothers and watching the action go down with hard dicks that we have to fix with our own hands once they’ve bedded down for the night. Tonight, I want to sample some of the delights. I want to be on the fun side of the bar. Except I know if Paddy makes a scene, we’re all out on our ass. It won’t matter who his father is.

  “Keep him under control, would ya?” The eldest son of our Prez rolls his eyes at Paddy when he passes us. “If he fucks up tonight, he’ll take the lot of you down with him. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Yeah, we know,” Vic answers before I can tell Lenny to go fuck himself. While our Prez is a reasonable man, his oldest son has a giant stick up his ass. Thankfully, Paddy is too busy ogling the half-dressed chicks who keep wandering past to bother with his big brother. Which is a bigger blessing than I can ever explain since those two are poison to each other.

  “I’m gonna mess with his pretty boy face one day very bloody soon if he keeps going.” I state my threat at a level that only the three of us can hear.

  “Bro, cut him some slack. He wants to be Prez one day and he’d be a fucking good one. Except we all know Paddy’s gonna be chosen. You’d be a cunt too if you knew that—”

  “True.” I cut the conversation short when I see Paddy’s eyes turning a darker shade of blue. He’s working himself up over something—who knows what—and it doesn’t bode well for our night. We three—plus Brian who’s missing for some reason—have a blood pact.

  Doesn’t matter who starts the shit, we have each other’s back while we end it.

  If I’d known back in grade three that my then-sane friend would grow up to have a screw lose, I’d have found a way out of it. His moods change without rhyme or reason, dragging all of us into shit we’d otherwise avoid.

  When Paddy lunges forward, I grab the back of his cut, and halt his movements. He’s a big fucker so it takes some effort. Thankfully, I stand at six foot eight and have a bulk to match. Vic steps in front of him. He widens his eyes and glares at Paddy until he stops fighting me. Once our friend is still, Vic puts his hands on his shoulders and leans in close. “What the fuck is your problem? You’re gonna get us booted if you don’t calm the fuck down.”

  “Her,” Paddy mutters. He stares over at the entrance. I follow his gaze, my breath catching in my throat when I take in the full sight of the beauty who’s caught his attention.

  Vic turns and shrugs. “What about her? She’s just one of the sluts.”

  “I call dibs,” Paddy crows. He pulls out of my grip, pushing past Vic, and heading for the three girls standing at the door looking lost.

  “We’re never getting our patches with him around.” Vic pushes his hands into his hair and snorts. “He knows we’re not supposed to touch the sluts until the brothers have had their fill. He’s gonna get us killed.”

  I can’t speak to agree with his more-than-likely correct assumption of the situation. My tongue is immobile because my eyes are too busy watching my best friend barrelling toward the young women. The curvy-as-fuck redhead looks scared, her jade-green eyes bright as fear billows from her like an invisible cloak. My feet itch to go to her and smooth the lines I can see creasing the sides of her eyes as she takes in the debauchery going down in the bar and appears to find it too much to handle.

  But, I don’t. Because like Vic said, we’re not allowed to touch the sluts until the brothers have finished with them. As much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, she wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t been tried and tested by them and found to meet their requirements.

  Warm. Wet. Willing.

  That, and the ability to keep their mouth shut, was about all it took to become a slut for the Black Shamrocks MC. Four specific conditions that every female in this room met with abandon.

  Paddy comes to a stop in front of the redhead. My heart stops, waiting for him to claim the first woman to grab my attention in this parade of willing pussy. It flips in my chest, restarting with a jolt, and a smile curls my lips when he holds out his hand to the skinny blonde standing next to her. My redhead looks relieved. The frosty brunette on the other side appears pissed at his behaviour.

  Before he can make his move, our VP comes up behind him and slaps him on the back of the head. It sends Paddy reeling. He stumbles in front of the girls and they laugh at him.

  Vic growls, stealing my attention from my idiot friend.

  “What?” I ask out the corner of my mouth.

  “We’ve been summoned.” Vic points toward the table where his father sits with mine and our glaring President. The three of them look like someone’s pissed in their cornflakes. My dad lifts a blonde eyebrow that frames icy-blue eyes that match mine, and he beckons us to them again.

  “Fuck.”

  Our wayward comrade returns just in time to see the second signal. He skids to a stop, muttering under his breath. “Stupid fucking bitches.”

  As our trio moves toward the leadership of the Shamrocks, I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re the stupid bitch. We’re gonna get our asses chewed out because of you.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Cole. My old man ain’t gonna punish me for fucking with the sluts. That’s what they’re here for.” I wish I had his confidence. My gut tells me that the three of us are on bathroom duty for the foreseeable future. Obviously, Paddy doesn’t share my worry. He hits me with a broad grin. “Don’t give a fuck anyway. I’m still gonna nail the blonde.”

  “Knock yourself out.” My mouth is in gear before my brain. “As long as you stay away from the redhead.”

  Vic and Paddy skid to a stop. They turn and look at me with disbelief on their faces. Of course, Paddy recovers first, and he can’t resist the urge to vocalise his thoughts about the gauntlet I just laid down. “The redhead? Why her? She’s fucking fat.”

  There’s a saying that my father embodies, and I’m coming to learn that it’s the same with me. On the outside, we both appear placid and easy-going. A big friendly teddy bear are the words normally used to describe us—and, that’s the case most of the time. Except, people don’t realise that underneath our calm surface a temper to rival Mount Vesuvius bubbles ... and like a volcano, it explodes with little warning, for an apparently benign reason.

  “Shut your fucking mouth,” I yell at my best friend seconds before my fist connects with his bull-head. “She’s not fat. She’s fucking perfect.”

  Paddy hits the floor and I lay my foot into his midsection. He rolls away from my steel-capped boot when I pull it back to drive it into his ribs a second time. Vic grabs hold of me, wrestling my arms to my sides, and pinning them. I fall still. My chest heaves, rage ringing in my ears.

  The silence in the room is broken when a loud whistle breaks the hush. A bellow of laughter follows—one that I easily recognise as my dad’s. It’s joined by more chuckles, until all the leadership and then the other brothers have joined in.

  “We’re really fucking dead now,” Vic says in my ear.

  I nod. “Tell me about it.”

  Paddy gets to his feet and I brace for his retaliation. None comes, proving once again how unpredictable he is. Instead, he bumps my shoulder. “She’s all yours
, bro.”

  With the amount of trouble that’s about to come down on our head, looming large in front of me in the form of our unamused hierarchy, I should be shitting myself.

  I’m not.

  Because across the room, grateful green eyes have locked with mine. A plump grin has curled her ruby-red lips, illuminating her gorgeous face, and elevating her beauty to another realm. The redhead holds my gaze and mouths “thank you”. She continues to smile at me until her brunette friend drags her attention away with an urgent tug on her arm.

  Her appreciative approval has me floating toward the table that holds our furious president, unperturbed by the fact that I’m about to have weeks of punishment brought down on my head. My stinging knuckles and the corresponding swelling around Paddy’s eye are outward signs of my lack of control. If my heart wasn’t singing, I’d be pissed at myself for losing the tight grip I usually have on my temper.

  I can’t muster a single emotion other than happiness.

  She heard what I said, and she liked it.

  Hell, she even smiled at me.

  Now I need to find out her name.

  TWO

  Colleen

  My uncle said that I shouldn’t be scared to meet the Black Shamrocks. He said that the Club would look after me because I was collateral.

  Whatever that means.

  Having learnt the hard way over the past eight months that my uncle’s word means nothing, I’d begged my two best friends from my old neighbourhood to come with me. Shari is the daughter of a police officer, which might stop the Shamrocks from being too mean to me, and Bonnie is so damn beautiful that she always has everyone looking at her instead of me. I figured the less attention I receive the better.