Broken: a bad boy romance novel

by London Casey

  Cora released her fierce hold on the sheets with her left hand and grabbed at my head. She scratched me, hard, but that was okay. Rough was just in my nature. I lived fast, hard, rough, and definitely with no regrets. And I’d never regret finishing what I had started there with Cora.

  “Fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck, it’s… so good…”

  I broke away from her and grunted. I took a deep breath and could taste and smell her all over me.

  “It’s time, sweetheart,” I said. “Come for me. Show me with those hips when you're coming. Got it?”

  She looked down at me, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  I guess she’d never had a man talk to her in the middle of sex.

  “Don’t give me that fucking look either,” I said. “You know what I want. I want to taste you. Give me more right now.”

  My mouth went right back to work as her jaw dropped.

  I fucking had her. She was on the edge of a cliff in a wind storm. My tongue was the storm and she was about to go over the edge.

  Her ass lifted off the bed and fell right back down. Her head fell back and she propped herself up on her elbows. I moved my hand from her breast and admired the way she stuck her chest out. Her tits were fucking perfect. Mouthfuls. Her nipples jutting out stiffly, a proclamation to what I was doing to her.

  Between her legs she began to grind her pussy against my tongue. My finger was still inside her too, feeling her squeezing, releasing, building herself to a climax she could never turn away from.

  “Yes,” she groaned. “Oh, yes…”

  With that second yes, she began to climax.

  I hurried to take my finger from her sweet core and moved my mouth down a little. I was there to collect and savor all she had to give as she came. My hands went back to where they started, at her inner thighs, keeping her legs open as she all but jumped up and down on the bed.

  I handled her beautiful body through the orgasm and slowly worked my way up to her soft and smooth mound. I kept going, stopping at her navel. I thought about back in the kitchen when she had been reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

  I flicked my tongue into her naveland she cried out with a moaning giggling sound.

  I pulled away from her and looked at the woman before me. Her legs were trembling, her toes curled tight against the side of the bed. I could still see her hips faintly moving, her body comprehending what I had just done.

  She looked at me, out of breath, an almost stunned look on her face.

  “Been too long?” I asked.

  “It’s never been that good before,” Cora blurted out.

  Her face turned red again as I smiled.

  I wasn’t going to hold that comment against her, I knew what I was capable of.

  She then sat up and grabbed for my jeans. Her hands worked quickly to open my zipper when I felt my cell phone start to vibrate.

  “Shit, sweetheart,” I said, backing away. “I have to take this.”

  I turned and pulled out my phone.

  It better had been something good to tear me away from Cora and what she was planning on doing to me.

  I looked over my shoulder as I took the call.

  The innocence of her almost filled the room, yet there was a secret burning in her eyes.

  The call was short.

  One person talked and it wasn’t me.

  I ended the call but didn't turn around.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  I glanced back and eyed her up and down one more time.

  “Get dressed,” I said.

  “What?”

  “We’re on lockdown, sweetheart. And Prez wants you there too.”

  We had to move and move fast. When Prez called for a lockdown, nobody would rest until the entire MC was there. And usually as a little ball breaker of a joke, the last member to show up would have to be bartender for the night. Prospects would guard the gate and wait for members. If other charters were called up, Prez might even stick some guys on the roof with high-powered sniper rifles. Yeah, shit could get that serious. Especially when we were dealing with the Irish. The relationship had been very touchy for years, and from what I knew about the origins of the Irish and the MC dealing business, now it was even worse.

  By all rights, we should have been enemies for life, the way we treated the Hell Five or the Night Soul MC. But the Irish were bigger and crazier. They infiltrated from the streets of Belfast to the skyscrapers of New York City. They were mob-like in nature and just as ruthless. If they wanted a body to disappear it would fucking disappear. But if they wanted a body to be found, they knew how to make that happen, too.

  Just like with the guy that had his throat cut after taking two bullets from me.

  That was a clear message to the MC and it seemed like a clear message to me alone.

  Cora moved but not fast enough.

  I wasn’t going to yell at her because I didn’t need her to get even more scared than she was. Her body seemed wobbly, the effects of my outlaw tongue still lingering.

  “You almost ready?” I asked.

  Cora turned her head and nodded. She had a deer-in-the-headlights look. She was unsure of what waited at the clubhouse. Hell, even I was unsure of what waited there and I considered that place to be my home.

  When she turned away from me, fumbling through her closet, I grabbed her bag and took it to the dresser. I figured since I’d torn her panties off her body, what was the worry of my packing some for her? I opened the top drawer and hit the jackpot.

  I took a handful of a mix of colors and textures, throwing them into the bag. In my mind I imagined myself tearing each and every pair off of her beautiful body.

  I opened another drawer to grab some socks and whatever else was waiting there. I noticed a piece of paper tucked into the drawer. Probably not my business at all, but I wasn’t in the business of privacy. Not when people were getting attacked. Not when my clubhouse was going into lockdown.

  Unfolding the paper in silence, I looked at the handwritten text.

  It was sloppy but read pretty clearly -

  Either way, you pay. Cash or your life. Don’t fuck with me.

  “Hudson?”

  I folded the paper, tucked it away, and shut the drawer.

  I spun around, the words fresh in my mind.

  Who the hell was this woman? What was she secretly battling?

  “Cora,” I said. “You ready?”

  “What’s going to happen? Am I in trouble?”

  After reading that note? I’d say, yeah, you’re in trouble. But why are you hiding it from me?

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Cora,” I said. “I wouldn’t want you to lie to me either. Right now I’m just telling you we need to get to my clubhouse.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I grabbed her bag and tossed it onto the bed. I walked right up to her and grabbed her by the hands. I pulled her close and took her face into my hands.

  I didn’t do this shit. I didn’t hold a woman after I took care of her. I made sure there was a wide barrier of what reality was.

  Cora slipped her hands around to my back.

  My body was against hers.

  My cock throbbed, wanting to finish what was started.

  “I’m going to take care of you,” I said. “You have no business being involved in whatever this is. It’s my fault you are. The club will protect you.”

  Cora nodded. “Okay. I believe you.”

  That’s where the moment should have ended.

  But I did something stupid.

  I kissed her.

  So much for fucking barriers.

  13

  CORA

  When we got to the clubhouse, the gates were opened for us by two men. We pulled through and the gates shut behind us. There were bikers everywhere. A group collected outside that looked like a mob. They were all wearing black leather cuts with the Back Down Devil MC logo on the back. A group was at a table, drinking. Another group collected around a barrel
with flames coming out of it. Motorcycles were parked everywhere, all looking strategic and in perfect placement.

  I looked at Hudson and could sense that he hated not being on a motorcycle himself.

  He backed his truck into a spot far away from everyone.

  “Stay close,” he said, and that was it.

  Next thing I knew I was walking alongside him toward the crowd of bikers. Then, one by one, all the bikers turned their attention to Hudson. Sticking their fists out for him to touch. Offering their hands to shake. Grabbing him for a hug. Patting him on the back. Everyone asking about his leg. A few jerks made comments about the way he was walking, calling him a pirate. Someone yelled out peg-leg-Hudson and the crowd burst into laughter.

  Hudson slipped his hand into mine and kept walking.

  Then some drunk guy stumbled out from the crowd and blocked our path.

  “Hey, there you are,” he said in a slurred voice. “You’re attracting the Irish, huh? They keep going for you.”

  “Get out of my way, Micky,” Hudson said. “Go find something to fuck.”

  “Hey, wait-wait-wait-wait,” Micky said. He put his hand out and looked around. “I got a joke.”

  “What?”

  “What’s a pirate’s favorite letter?”

  “What, Micky?”

  Micky threw his head back and laughed. Then he yelled out, “Arrrgghhhh!” as loud as he could.

  The group of bikers roared with laughter.

  I felt Hudson’s hand slip from mine. I tried to grab for him before he did anything to hurt himself.

  He walked over to Micky and nodded. “That was a good one. Mind if I take swig of beer?”

  “Have at it, one-legged-bomber,” Micky said.

  Hudson took the beer bottle and without hesitation, he swung it and slammed it over Micky’s head. In the movies, the bottle exploded and the guy would stumble back. But this wasn’t a movie. The bottle made a thick thud sound and Micky looked stunned. Hudson swung again, harder, and this time the bottle popped, shattering, and Micky went down for the count.

  The crowd was suddenly quiet.

  Hudson looked around. “Anymore fucking comedians out there?”

  Someone pushed through the crowd.

  It was Jasper.

  “Jesus, brother,” Jasper said. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing, VP,” Hudson said. “Can I get into my clubhouse now?”

  Jasper made a path and we went inside the small building. The first notion I got was that it was a complete dive bar. There were bikers everywhere. A fog of smoke billowed around the ceiling, swirling with the movement of anyone walking near it. The smack of a pool stick to a ball. The thud of a dart to a board. The sudden cackle of laughter, glasses clinking, voices murmuring. And then my eyes watched as women strutted around almost completely naked, touching the guys, the guys grabbing them, pinning them against the wall, kissing and groping.

  We went to the corner of the bar where I saw Cash and Cade. There were a bunch of other bikers and they were all sympathetic to Hudson.

  Except for one.

  He grabbed Hudson by the shoulder. “Brother.”

  “Xavier.”

  “Looks like you’re the last one here. You know what that means. Get me a fucking drink.”

  Hudson looked back at me.

  “Don’t worry,” Cash said, jumping up. “I’ll take good care of your girl here.”

  “Like fuck you will,” Hudson said. He grabbed for me. “You sit right here, sweetheart. I have to serve drinks.”

  “Why?”

  “Club rule.”

  “You can’t walk back and forth all night,” I said. “Your leg…”

  “Aw, look,” Cade said. “You brought your mother.”

  I took survey of where I was. Of what it took to survive this. I wasn’t stupid, even if I was scared.

  “You want a drink, Cade?” I asked.

  “Hell yeah. I could use a refill.”

  I grabbed a glass off the bar and threw the amber liquid right at Cade’s face, splashing him with beer.

  Everyone around me burst into yelling and cheers. Cade stood there, stone faced, beer dripping off his chin.

  “Well, fuck me,” he said. He licked his lips. “I don’t like light beer.”

  “I like this one,” Jasper said. He punched Hudson on the arm. “Get behind the bar and get us all a round. Especially Cora.”

  I sat on a bar stool. I had never been in a place like this before. My heart rate was through the roof and there was no calming it.

  Hudson did whatever job he was supposed to do. He got a round of beers, including one for me. I sipped it. He gripped the edge of the bar as he walked. I watched as the night started to wear on him, his limp getting worse. It really pissed me off to see him in such pain. There was good pain and bad pain. Healing pain and damaging pain. I offered Hudson healing pain. Being behind the bar gave him damaging pain.

  The only good that came of the sight was to see him interacting with his club. Seeing him smile, laugh, tell jokes. Watching his sheer size command the bar and those needing him. It was powerful and really sexy. He took off his leather cut and was in nothing but a white t-shirt. The more he moved, the more that t-shirt clung to his chiseled body. The t-shirt was a sort of enemy of mine as I wanted to see his bare flesh. Taste his hard skin. Repay what he gave me.

  My thoughts became so rampant that I had to look down to calm myself. My body was getting a little too warm for comfort.

  “I can smell you,” a voice said next to me.

  It was Cash.

  “What?”

  “You’re all wet, babe,” he said. “My nose picks up on pussy from miles away.”

  I gasped. “What…”

  Cash winked. “It’s okay. I love Hudson too much to step on his tail. I owe him my life. He saved me.”

  “He saved me, too,” I said. “From the same guy.”

  “Cheers to that. I hope his leg is okay.”

  I opened my mouth to protest Hudson being behind the bar. Before I could speak a door opened behind me. I looked back and saw three men emerge. They were larger than life and everyone in the bar went silent at the sight of these men.

  The three stood there, looking around.

  Bikers stood holding their pool sticks and their darts. The ones with women pushed their women away and focused on the three men.

  “Miller and Villie will address their clubs,” the third man said. “I’ll address mine. Lockdown is in effect until morning. We keep this clubhouse safe and we die to keep it standing.”

  “Here, here!” everyone shouted at once.

  “We ride with the reaper,” one of the other men said. “We die with the reaper. But we die wearing our cuts.”

  “Here, here!” everyone yelled again.

  “I’m simple,” the third and final big man said. “My blood runs red… with a shade of black. Just like everyone who took the oath to honor the cut. I won’t stop fighting until everything is black.”

  “Here, here!” the final time echoed through the clubhouse.

  The three men all hugged and then two of them left.

  “What’s the word, Prez?” Cash asked.

  I felt something touch my arm.

  It was Hudson.

  “Sweetheart,” he said. “That’s Trev. President of the charter.”

  I nodded. “Should I be worried?”

  “No. His command brought the lockdown and your invite here.”

  “Hey barkeep!” a voice yelled. “Get me a fucking beer!”

  Hudson winked at me and turned. “Niles, you talk to me like that again and I’m making you swallow a shot glass.”

  “He loves swallowing,” someone said.

  The bar erupted into laughter.

  “Fuck you all,” Niles yelled.

  I then felt a presence behind me.

  I slowly turned like I was in a horror movie and the monster was behind me.

  I looked up at Trev.
r />   “This seat taken?” he asked and pointed to where Cash had been.

  I shook my head.

  Trev settled on the seat and put his fists on the bar. His sheer presence had me nervous.

  I thought about what to say. How to say it. A few times I opened my mouth but didn’t talk.

  Finally, I went with kindness.

  “Thank you for letting me be here,” I said.

  “How’s his leg?” Trev asked, nodding toward Hudson.

  “Damaged,” I said.

  “How’s he healing?”

  “Being behind a bar right now is a bad idea. Too much is no good.”

  Trev looked at me. “Doctor?”

  “Physical therapist.”

  “Car almost took you out?”

  “Almost,” I said.

  “I heard you told the police it was a drunk guy.”

  “It was,” I said.

  Trev cracked a quick smile.

  “Think Hudson will ride again?” Trev asked.

  “If he listens and lets me help him.”

  “If you were in charge right now, what would you do?”

  “Get him out from behind the bar,” I said. “If you need someone, I’ll do it.”

  “You’ll bartend?”

  “If it gets him out from behind the bar.”

  “You care that much?”

  “About his leg, yes.”

  “And him?”

  “I don’t get personally involved,” I said. My mind played a quick flashback of my bedroom. Hudson on his knees. His hands gripped tight between my legs. His tongue slashing against the most sensitive parts of my body.

  “You know anything about serving drinks?”

  “Nothing.”

  Trev stood up. He stuck his fingers into his mouth and whistled. All eyes went to him. He pointed to Hudson and motioned for him to come over.

  “Prez,” Hudson said, standing at the bar, holding onto it.

  “Your doc here says you shouldn’t be working the bar,” Trev said.

  “I’m not a doctor,” I said.

  “How’s your leg?” Trev asked.

  “Hurts but I’m walking.”

  “Why don’t you get a beer and have a talk with me.”

  “Who’s going to cover the bar?” Hudson asked.

  “Prospects got it.”

  Hudson gave a nod and walked around from the bar.