Jet

by Vivian Gray

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Jet: A Motorcycle Club Romance (War Choppers MC) (Outlaw MC Romance Collection Book 5) copyright @ 2018 by Vivian Gray. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

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  Contents

  Jet: A Motorcycle Club Romance (War Choppers MC) (Outlaw MC Romance Collection Book 5)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Sneak Preview of SILAS

  Silas: A Bad Boy Motorcycle Club Romance (Death Knells MC)

  Chapter One

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  Jet: A Motorcycle Club Romance (War Choppers MC) (Outlaw MC Romance Collection Book 5)

  By Vivian Gray

  I’ll make her mine… no matter the cost.

  I never thought I’d lay my hands on the goods I’m sworn to protect.

  But I had to make an exception for her.

  She thought this would all go down on her terms, that she was in charge.

  Time to show her just how wrong she was.

  JET

  Overseeing these auctions lost its shine a long time ago.

  I'm an outlaw who takes what he wants, no questions asked.

  But apparently some men prefer the transaction.

  And as long as there are women willing to put themselves up, bare and afraid, on that stage…

  And underworld criminals eager to buy the rights to their bodies…

  Who am I to deny them?

  Then she stepped up to the auction block, wearing nothing but sheer terror.

  And I’d never wanted anything so badly in my life.

  She was a feast for the eyes.

  Every man in attendance wanted a bite of the main course.

  The price for a night with her skyrocketed, but I wasn't about to be outbid on my own turf.

  I paid whatever it took to own her.

  Now, she's mine.

  But pretty little Bree won't break so easily—and I love a girl who requires a firm hand.

  There’s more to her than meets the eye.

  And something tells me it's not just the promise of money that keeps her on my lap…

  Straddling my bike…

  And bent over in my bedroom.

  BREE

  All I ever wanted was to pay down the student loans that were drowning me.

  Now, I find myself learning hard lesson after harder lesson as my desperation takes me deep into the den of an outlaw motorcycle club… the War Choppers.

  In the depths of the MC, I end up pinned beneath the sheets with a rogue biker as powerful as his name:

  JET.

  It only takes one taste of him to hook me.

  My auction was just supposed to be a one-night engagement.

  But it turns out Jet has deep pockets…

  And hands that refuse to stop exploring my body.

  I’m in over my head. But I just can’t stop.

  And then Jet makes an offer too hot to ignore.

  Soon enough, I'm the human high card getting played time and again… and I'm practically begging him to throw me down on the table.

  Too bad this underworld is populated with insatiable alphas, and most of them don't take kindly to being outbid…

  I chose to start this ride with the biker.

  But he’s determined to be the one to finish me.

  Chapter One

  Bree tugged at her very, very short skirt one more time. Cat had straight up reached right down the front of her shirt and yanked her boobs up until they were mounded up like two big scoops of ice cream. Her nipples were practically right out there for everyone to see. Of course, that was probably the point. She was basically an advertisement for how good she’d be in bed.

  “One quick weekend,” Cat had said.

  “Get enough money to pay for next semester, and then some,” Cat had said.

  God, Cat had the worst ideas. Bree somehow never managed to say no until she was already at the hair salon, under the tattoo needle, or – in this case – standing on the auction block, about to literally sell her body to the highest bidder.

  Yeah, there was a thrill to it, she couldn’t deny that. She’d seen the men out in the crowd as she’d walked into the room. Of course, then she’d been wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her fuck-me outfit still tucked inside the tote bag on her shoulder. The men had to know why she was there, but she’d hidden her curves inside bland clothes and a deliberately small demeanor. Now her hair was straightened, she was wearing clothes that would have been less revealing if they were made of paint, and her makeup was just a little too much.

  She looked like a cheap whore – the kind who’d happily hit her knees in an alley and take her payment between her tits. Bree was telling herself that she shouldn’t be enjoying any of it; she looked cheap, and she wasn’t supposed to want to look cheap. She’d worked too hard to get away from all of that.

  Bree’s family hadn’t been poor, exactly, but they were always on the cusp of being poor. She’d grown up never quite sure that the money would last, never absolutely positive that things would line up like they needed to. Her clothes were always a little outgrown, and her boots just a little too small, the zipper on her backpack about to give out. She’d worked hard to get away from feeling that way. She didn’t buy brand name things – she couldn’t stand to waste her money on jeans that cost three times as much and were exactly the same – but she wore new things, nice things, careful things.

  There was nothing new, nice, or careful about this outfit, and it was making her feel more than a little aroused to stare at the whored up version of herself in the little makeshift dressing room she and the other girls had been given.

  Cat was there with her; at least Cat hadn’t decided to try and serve as Bree’s agent or something ridiculous. That had actually been her first plan when she’d heard about this escort auction; she’d work the crowd, convincing them to spend more to buy Bree, and she’d get half of whatever Bree made. Bree had actually managed to stand up to her friend for once when Cat had suggested that. If Bree was going to stand up there and try to sashay around and get someone to pay for her, Cat could humiliate herself right along with her.

  Cat’s next suggestion – that they sell themselves as a package deal and make twice as much money – had somehow been even more awful. Bree barely wanted to do this in the first place; the last thing she wanted was to be compared to Cat as her best friend did her full porn star routine. Bree wasn’t sure anyone would pay for her to blush quietly in the corner, and that was about all she thought she’d manage in that situation. Maybe someone got off on that though? But surely that was too much of a specialty for this sort of situation.

  However, Bree did have one thing that she thought mig
ht increase her buying price. She’d blushed hard when she told the tall, thin man who was the auctioneer, then blushed harder when he’d pulled her aside and – how had he said it? – “verified” that her story was true. And then his face had gone almost hungry. The point of the auction, after all, was that the group holding the auction got twenty-five percent of what the girls were auctioned for. She had been pretty sure that this was going to raise her price to something that would both pay for next semester and pay off some of what she had needed to take out in loans for last semester. And it sure as hell wasn’t something Cat could offer.

  Bree tugged her short skirt down one more time, then sighed and pulled it back up. Her mother had always snarled at her that she looked like she was selling herself on a street corner, dressing like this. Well, this time, she basically was.

  And she was totally getting off on it.

  ***

  Jet leaned back against the pleather of the booth, in the back of the club, where the lights weren’t too bright. He tried not to look as completely bored as he felt. This was not the first auction the War Choppers had held, and it wouldn’t be the last. He had bought his fair share of girls, gotten his cock sucked, and ridden more times than he could count, and had enjoyed it well enough. But there wasn’t anything new about it anymore.

  The girls up on the stage pretended to be so excited and thrilled at the chance to get fucked by a bad boy biker, but most of them were working girls who just wanted an easier weekend then hooking on the corners. He respected that, and he encouraged his men to spend his money as they wanted.

  God knew he promoted the auctions amongst the other groups in the city; it was one of the more lucrative ventures the club maintained. And the cops couldn’t do a thing about it; the men were merely offering the girls a weekend vacation. What the girls chose to do during that time was their own business.

  It could have been better than that; there had been times when it had been better than that. But he was too busy now, too stressed by the various factions within the War Choppers and trying to keep everyone together. Kane in particular; Jet could see him across the club, even with the lights dim and the crowd busy. Kane’s pale skin and the dark tattoos which extended up onto his bald head made him hard to miss. Everyone acted like Kane wasn’t slowly working on creating the right climate in the Red Runners to try and take over War Chopper territory. Everyone knew it was happening. Jet didn’t have enough proof to stop it yet. And, if he were entirely truthful, he didn’t entirely want to.

  He’d been single-handedly running the War Choppers for ten years; he was more than a little tired of the power. It was arrogant to say, but when absolutely everyone around you was giving you exactly what you said you wanted, you started to ask for more and more ridiculous things, just to see what would happen. He’d been able to be quite ridiculous before people started batting an eye.

  Up on the stage, the auction had started; he looked up from his private booth to watch. It was only polite, after all. Now and then he’d throw out a bid to drive up the general interest of the event. He’d made it clear over time that outbidding the president was just fine, even encouraged. If he needed someone to suck his cock that badly, he’d find one of the club girls. The groupies were always willing.

  The first three girls on stage didn’t even register to him; the next one, a tall girl with long black hair and one hell of a swagger was at least worth attention. She was confident and looked like she’d be a wild ride in bed; there was something about the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave the crowd a come-get-me grin that was absolutely calculated to drive a man wild. Jet placed two bids on her, then let the crowd take over.

  His attention wandered to the amber of his whiskey as the next two girls came up, were sold, and moved on. It would be hard to say what pulled his attention back to the stage as the blonde girl stepped up, but it was pulled. Yanked, even.

  She was smiling, posing, just like all the other girls, but there was something different about her. She didn’t have the same surety, the same confidence about her. She looked like the kind of chick who’d get cast as “the girl next door” in some coming-of-age drama that he wouldn’t relate to. And his dick was standing straight up looking at her and the way she was moving around the stage, doing her absolute best to look like she was heading off to the set of her next porn flick.

  And then Brass, the auctioneer, called out something that made Jet impossibly harder: “And our little Bree girl has a special secret waiting for just the right man. That’s right, boys, the son of a bitch who takes her home gets to be her very first.”

  There was a sudden hush, and then the bidding kicked in, fast and furious. There is no way, Jet thought. No way that an actual virgin would volunteer herself for something like this – it was the shit of urban legends and spooky stories. The girl had to be twenty or a little more, but when Brass called that out, her cheeks went absolutely scarlet. The girl with the black hair had her chin about down on her generous boobs.

  Bree’s hands were shaking, and Jet looked around the room with fresh eyes. The men who were bidding – hell. Hell and fuck. These were the sort of guys who made him wince when they bought working girls who’d been around the block. There were rules about what you could do with the girls who were auctioned, and Jet made it very clear that if they were not followed, the man in question would not be welcomed back, but there were ways of pushing those lines. Jet knew it damn well.

  It didn’t matter if the girl was a virgin or not, not really. He wasn’t going to let her be sold to one of these fucking brutes.

  He raised his hand to bid, immediately offering double the highest bid at that moment. The crowd went quiet. They were all used to his low-key amounts designed to drive the price a little higher. This was unprecedented. And only one man was going to challenge that.

  He was ready for Kane’s answering bid and snapped back his own before Kane’s words had even fallen out of his face. Kane bid again, and Jet let the anger show in his voice when he had to call out another number. His cock was absolutely throbbing, both from the girl and from the sheer display of brutality he felt, imagining that his voice was a slap in the face to Kane with every echoing crack.

  They went back and forth four times before Kane threw his hands up in anger and turned away. No one else was going to challenge Jet.

  “Going once… Going twice… SOLD to the boss-man in his private booth!”

  Bree was the last girl on the stage, and Brass started passing the girls out like the property they were – at least for the next seventy-two hours. Kane hadn’t gone away empty-handed after all; he slung his arm around the black-haired girl who had been gaping at Bree. And Bree was led to Jet’s private booth, trembling like a leaf.

  “Hey, pretty girl,” he said, trying to sound like a nice guy instead of the brute he knew he was. “Let’s go somewhere a little more quiet, alright? Have you had anything to eat tonight?”

  She was slow to respond, but that made sense. She looked completely terrified. He felt almost bad about it, but she was still working hard to look hot and sexy. Which one is the act? he wondered. The shy little girl, or the sexpot waiting to happen? His dick was not calming down at all.

  He saw her eyes wander, taking him in, and he didn’t bother to hide; he leaned back just a little, letting the jeans he wore go tight around his cock. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted like she was thinking about sucking him off. He twitched so hard he wondered if she could see. There was absolutely no way this girl was a virgin; he was suddenly, absolutely sure of that.

  “Yeah, okay,” she said. “And I’ve – I’m not hungry.” She pushed a smile onto her face, and it looked a little more genuine this time. Good. Good fucking girl. “Not for food.”

  He stood up, leaving his drink and the fucking groupies behind him. He put his arm tight around her waist and pulled her along as he left the room. “Let’s go get you fed then, baby girl.”

  Chapter Two

  Bre
e pushed herself to control the shaking in her knees. She’d made this choice, and it was a good one. She’d gone along with all of Cat’s other ridiculous ideas to make them enough money to get through school. She’d tried auditioning as an exotic dancer, and didn’t have anything like the strength needed – though her tits had repeatedly been complimented, and she’d been told to do a few ballet classes and then try again. She’d tried cam girl work, but she couldn’t type and finger herself at the same time, so she’d missed out on big money. She’d thought phone work would be easier, but it turned out that talking dirty was harder than she’d thought.

  She needed the money, or she was going to have to drop out of school. There were worse ways to lose her virginity. She could handle this.

  She’d never meant to hit the ripe old age of twenty-two without having sex. She’d been kept under lock and key all through high school, and then she’d been working two jobs to try and keep herself going through school. Her parents weren’t going to help – they couldn’t have helped even if they wanted to, and they didn’t want to – so she had to figure this out on her own. She was good with numbers, and work as a CPA would be reliable and lucrative. She’d never worry about where her next meal was going to come from.