by Hazel Parker
Diamonds
Savage Saints MC
~
Hazel Parker
Diamonds - Savage Saints MC Series © 2019 Hazel Parker
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Dom
Chapter 2: Jenna
Chapter 3: Dom
Chapter 4: Jenna
Chapter 5: Dom
Chapter 6: Jenna
Chapter 7: Dom
Chapter 8: Jenna
Chapter 9: Dom
Chapter 10: Jenna
Chapter 11: Dom
Chapter 12: Jenna
Chapter 13: Dom
Chapter 14: Jenna
Chapter 15: Dom
Chapter 16: Jenna
Chapter 17: Dom
Chapter 18: Jenna
Chapter 19: Dom
Chapter 20: Jenna
Epilogue
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Author Bio
Prologue
Dominick “Dom” Browning
We had won.
The Sinners were no more, or at most, they were pockets of resistance that could not fight us.
And now, with little Saints on the way, we had cause to celebrate.
All around me, the Savage Saints—both the California and the Las Vegas versions—celebrated with drinks, women, and shouting. Mama had just finished giving her speech announcing the birth of her second child, the death of her first one, and the future that was to come for everyone. Usually the image of harsh, brutal truth, Mama at that moment was the image of beauty, vulnerability, and tenderness.
It was very unlike what I had seen from her in my years in the club.
Then again, as I looked around and saw Richard with Natasha, Barber with Cassie, Mama and Pork, and the California Savage Saints with their women, it felt like everything was unlike what I had grown accustomed to in the club.
The Savage Saints were savage because we took what we wanted, when we wanted, and how we wanted. For the boys, that meant taking whoever we wanted, whenever we wanted, and however we wanted. I took that ideal to the extreme, but I was far from the only one who lived that life.
The notion of settling down with a single woman, of devoting my life to one gal, of not having multiple girls in the span of a week, let alone a span of months, may not have been that unfamiliar in my life, but given present circumstances, it confused the hell out of me.
Plus… I mean, we had access to the hottest girls in the world. Las Vegas was the entertainment capital of the world, and Los Angeles, a mere four-hour drive or a quick flight away, was the porn capital of the world. People in Sin City used to joke that the Thursday LAX to McCarran flight was called “Stripper by Southwest” because of the number of girls flying in for their shift. They didn’t know that a good deal of those girls just skipped their return flight home to party with us that Tuesday and Wednesday night.
Given that it wasn’t just a game of quantity but a game of extraordinary quality, it baffled my mind that anyone would ever want to give that up.
They’re probably wondering if you’ll ever give up your lifestyle, though. And they wouldn’t be wrong to wonder it. Not that they’ll ever know.
Mama turned to me with a grin. I must have looked like I was outwardly contemplating everything romantic in the club because she came over to me and offered a hug. With Mama, you never refused the chance to speak to her—even with her pregnancy and her newfound love for Pork, she still had a command of the place greater than even Richard.
“That was beautiful,” I said.
Before Mama could hug me, though, someone else—Pork, who else?—did. I loved Pork; he was my roommate. I also wanted to smack Pork as much as Mama used to for his apparent utter aloofness and silliness with his humor.
“I don’t mean you, I mean her,” I said with a snort.
Pork moved back and, pulling a move from Mama, playfully slapped me. Unfortunately, Pork didn’t have the experience in slapping that Mama had, and he hit me a little harder than he probably meant to.
“Dude!”
“I hope we can still be friends in the future after that,” he said. You and your lines. “Tell me I’m beautiful!”
I put on my trademark smirk, the smile that I loved to use to melt ladies’ barriers and assuage my male cohorts in the club. In this particular case, it was my way of saying, “I like you, Pork, even though there’s no way in hell I’m going to tell you that you’re beautiful.”
“I see Pork is still Pork,” I said before adding an eye roll, and my attention shifted to the person I’d wanted to see. “But Mama, seriously.”
She threw her arms around me, squeezed me tight, and whispered into my ear.
“Thank you for everything, Dom,” she said. “I know we give you grief, and I give you grief, but you’re a great asset to this club.”
“Well—”
“Shhh,” she said, forming a cone around my ear to whisper to me. “I see your face. You see all of us falling in love. Don’t ever change who you are, Dom. No one expects you to go for love if you’re not ready for it, hun. Hell, no one expects you to think or decide if you’re ready or not. So just do you. As long as you keep the club’s interests at heart, you are always welcome here.”
I swore, that woman always—always—knew what people were thinking. I wished I had that superpower, as it would make getting laid even easier than it already was. What could I say—unlike some dudes who didn’t like to use cheat codes of sorts, I had no qualms mentioning what I did, what kind of a badass life I led, or using my smile. The goal wasn’t to slow play—it was to foreplay.
Mama gently pulled back. I patted her on the arm, a little unsure of how to respond. I wanted to keep the cheerful, flirtatious, buoyant spirit going, seeing as I was the only one, but Mama getting all serious on me… I just patted her arm.
“Thanks, and congratulations again, Mama.”
I wheeled around, taking in the crowd as I turned. I found my target immediately. There was a table with four girls that I vaguely recognized—I think one of them was a new dancer, while the other three… one of them, I think I’d slept with. I didn’t think I’d done so with the other two.
I wasn’t trying to be crass. I just had stopped keeping track of who I’d slept with. It was probably easier at this point to think of whom I had not slept with, Mama’s warnings aside.
I went over, extended my hands, and put the smile on my face. New Girl grinned excitedly at me. The other three looked at me with anticipation. Clearly, my reputation proceeded me.
“Ladies,” I said. “Seems to me that while this is a night of celebration, the four of you need a little spark to get the celebration going.”
“Are you going to help us?” New Girl said.
/>
She had some spunk. I liked her. I was going to have her tonight.
“Help you?” I said. “I am the spark! Allow me.”
I took a seat, turned to the bartender, and motioned for us to have five shots.
“I do not believe I have met you,” I said. “I’m Dom, Vice President of the Savage Saints.”
“Vice President,” the girl said in awe. Check and, eventually, mate. “I’m Cindy.”
“Cindy, pleasure,” I said, shaking her hand and kissing it.
I was bound to forget that name. It was my tendency to forget the names of the girls I slept with, mostly because I’d slept with just about every name in the book.
Unfortunately, the two names I really wanted to forget, I could not, and for very different reasons. One was…
Well, tonight was not the time to reflect on that, and facing four beautiful women to give me the fourth orgy of my life—that was not artificially planned—was an opportunity that could not be interrupted.
“Now, all of you,” I said. “I see only champagne glasses before you, but at The Red Door, you all know—”
“Dom, just give us the shots, would ya?” the one I’d slept with, I think a gal named… Christine? Maybe Christa? Well, whatever her name was, she said it, and she had a nice rack.
“Hey now, hey now, patience is a virtue, and oh, look at that, the shots are here.”
I gave a twenty-dollar bill to Katerina, our long-time bartender, and told her to keep them coming in 20 minute intervals. She knew the drill—I would progressively turn that twenty-dollar bill into a hundred dollar bill the looser the girls got.
And wouldn’t you know it, within less than forty minutes, three shots later, the flirting was going on so easily that it almost felt unfairly easy. I mean, I didn’t like to struggle for pussy, but it had literally taken maybe four or five lines to have Candy—Cindy?—in line with me. The others fell into place easily.
And I never stopped smiling. It was a genuine smile that appreciated the good times, but it was also a tool that worked quite well. Like I said, it was a cheat code.
“Now listen,” I said, deciding I’d grown tired of waiting to get to the point. “This is all good and fun. But it’s awfully loud in here, you know? And I think if we want real fun, we need to be able to hear each other and respond to each other.”
I nodded toward the back door, where my studio was—and where the fun would begin.
“I have my own private room and bed back there. Let’s move there.”
Candy—goddamnit, Cindy, whatever—got up first. She insisted on holding my hand. Well, I wasn’t going to argue with that!
I looked out on the crowd as the other gals walked with me, each of them clamoring for attention from me in a different way. Was it any wonder that I was smiling so damn much? Of course, when I caught Mama’s eye, she stared daggers at me. We were in a constant war about me sleeping with dancers of the club.
As I’d told her before, until Richard made it law that no one could sleep with a dancer in the club, I considered everyone fair game. And seeing as how Barber was now with one of his own, such a rule would either deprive Cassie of her employment here or force Barber out.
In other words, the train of pussy coming my way was not going to end.
“I’m sorry,” I said with an exaggerated shoulder shrug.
Mama knew better to say anything.
All was going perfectly tonight. I had my orgy. No one else was going to come back to the studio. We had no sudden threat of the Sinners coming to disrupt our party.
And then she entered.
The woman who ruined everything for me.
We made eye contact. We always did when she entered—it was like even if we were seated in a stadium on opposite ends, our eyes would somehow end up finding each other. I couldn’t help but notice her, because even though her looks were very typical—long black hair, curves falling out of her dress, tanned, olive skin—the green eyes and the looks they could give were something I would never forget.
Especially why they gave me the looks that they did.
“Dom!”
I looked back into the meeting room. The new girl—whatever her name was—had already started to take her dress off. I didn’t even have to try, and sex came to me.
But unfortunately, I didn’t even have to try, and my past also seemed to come to me.
“Coming,” I said.
I gave one last glare to the most wicked person I knew before stepping into heaven.
It was too bad it had come just after remembering what hell felt like.
* * *
Jenna Saunders
What the fuck am I even doing here?
Goddamnit, Mario.
My boss, Mario Gutierrez, sent me there every so often on the basis of keeping an eye on the Savage Saints. It was a nice notion, but the lines that we crossed to make this happen were a little more pronounced than I wanted them to be.
For one, I looked like a fucking pinup doll in my red dress, my heels, and the amount of makeup I wore. It was not a particularly joyous conversation Mario and I had had in which he explained I should look as sexy as I needed to for their parties. It also wasn’t particularly pleasant when Mario explained that I needed to do this because if he went to a party instead of an actual show, it was a bad look. But if a junior cop went, not as a cop, but just as someone who wanted the night off…
And it wasn’t like the Savage Saints didn’t know who I was. In fact, Mario had had explicit conversations with Richard, the club president, about me coming. He didn’t say why—to stay up to date on Saints activities—but he did say that it was a way to keep things easy while letting me have fun. So the whole undercover cop that remained undercover wasn’t a thing here.
Still, we spied on them, just as I felt sure that they spied on us to some degree. We operated professionally in person, but two groups as close to violence as the LVPD and the Savage Saints never got too comfortable with each other.
But what made all of this even worse was seeing Dominick.
It was painful to be reminded of the worst mistake of your life. It gave me no pleasure whatsoever—actually, it gave me a shitload of heartache and bad memories—to see the man whose life I’d ruined all those years ago. It hurt that he despised me so much that I couldn’t even carry on a conversation with him.
When I walked in, all of those feelings of doubt, of wondering what the point of my arrival was, came to the forefront. Because of course, the first person that I saw when I entered was Dom.
He had his usual cohort of girls with him, his medicine to numb the pain of the past. He didn’t flick me off, and he didn’t have any awkward conversation with me, unlike the first time I’d encountered him at the club, but his eyes most definitely told me to rot in a ditch and die.
There was a period of time in my life where I was in full agreement with him and wanting to do the same.
But then, just as quickly as he stared at me like I was the daughter of Satan, he had disappeared. He’d shut the door rather loudly, briefly interrupting the conversations around us, but the party still picked up in full.
I looked around for people to talk to, for guys to hit on. I never came here and slept with someone, but, begrudgingly, I knew how the game worked. Flirt with the boys, get to know them, get them to talk, and then stay quiet on my end. Do just enough to make it look like you’re having a good time, and then find a way to duck out.
I found one guy, a dude that I recognized as Joseph “Pork” Young, hanging by the bar, sipping on some drinks, a big grin on his face. He was the closest target and an officer. I walked over, pushing my chest up, and smiled at him.
“Hey, Pork,” I said. “You doing OK?”
“Doing OK? Or are OK?”
Oh, right, he’s the funny guy. I chuckled to humor him.
“Yeah, I’m great. My girlfriend just announced her pregnancy.”
Well, so much for that.
“Really!” I said
, genuinely happy to hear something good was happening to the club that didn’t involve sex or the death of another human.
“Yeah, Mama.”
“Hey, hun.”
As if on cue, Mama came between us, kissing Pork on the cheek before turning her attention to me. Mama knew me as well as Richard did; my identity was no secret to anyone in the club, but with Mama and Richard being the ones to most frequently interact with Mario and the police, she took the most interest in me.
“Hey, Mama,” I said, sharing a kiss on the cheek with her. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to flirt with your man—”
“Oh, stop it, girl,” she said. “If you didn’t flirt with a man this handsome, I’d be questioning what you’re going for. How’s Mario?”
I shrugged. Time for deflection.
“Not a whole lot new. He’s getting a little old and has been making noise about maybe retiring, but he’s been saying that for a couple years now. I think it’s his way of making sure all of us try to be good enough to be the chief. What about you all?”
Mama and Pork just looked at each other, smiled as couples did without saying a word, and looked back at me, the single, lonely girl. I scanned the room. A shockingly high number of the club members had women by their side, but the body language of the couples seemed less sexually charged and more just peaceful and at ease.
“Is everyone in the club taken now?”
Pork laughed.
“I don’t think they’re taken; I think they’re giving themselves up for love!” he said. “No, as far as I’m aware, Dom still refuses to fall in love.”
Of course. Hearing his name, even though I had seen him just mere minutes ago, had a way of just shutting down the outside world. I could still hear Pork continue to say, “Although he falls into something with a different girl every night,” and I could hear Mama laugh at it, but it wasn’t exactly something that registered in my brain.
I just felt a strong surge of sadness for Dom instead. All of those girls… all of the sex he was having, all of the work he was putting in to try to forget what had happened… and yet, none of it was working. If it had, he would have found someone else by now.
