CONTROL: A Dark Bad Boy Baby Romance (Blackened Souls MC)

by Naomi West

  Was that the Blood Warriors? Star's head involuntarily whipped towards them, trying to track their drive as she searched for Tanner amongst them. Her face fell as she realized that, even had he been amongst them, she wouldn't have been able to tell at this distance.

  Martin laughed. “Into bikers now, huh, kiddo? Well, good luck on snagging you one of them, little Miss Priss.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Means you ain't got enough leather or black jeans in that wardrobe of yours to catch their eye.”

  She thought to tell him off, that she would be with one tonight. Not that it was any of his business, of course. But, he wouldn't believe her anyways. Instead, Star just snorted her contempt of the skinny, sleazy man.

  “I'll put the payment plan in your mailbox, alright?” he asked, ignoring her snort. “We'll get you caught up.”

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Don't thank me,” Martin said as he retracted his arm from the door frame and turned to leave, “just fucking pay me. Got it?”

  Star nodded and silently watched as he headed out to his pickup. She closed her door as he climbed inside and drove away.

  Now, the question was, what do you wear to an appointment like this?

  # # #

  Tanner

  “It looks like Brendon's somewhere over by that damn college,” Tanner's mom said to him. They were both in the kitchen, Tova busily washing dishes in the sink and Tanner seated at the kitchen table. The old dishwasher had crapped out a couple weeks before. Just one more problem that needed to be fixed, and just one more reason why he needed to hurry up and get Star pregnant.

  “One of Sandra's boys saw him when he was out picking up a load of scrap over that way. I asked Blade and the boys to keep an eye out for him. I hope they find something soon.”

  “I know, Mom,” Tanner replied, irritation creeping into his voice. “I heard you the last time. You keep forgetting that I don't give a shit, though.”

  “I know you don't,” she said, going back to scrubbing at one of her pans. “I just wish you would, though. He's your brother.”

  “He fucking abandoned us. That's why not. He ran off with that skank of his and stopped taking our goddamn phone calls. It's his fault, not yours or mine.”

  Tova dropped the pan in the kitchen with a loud clang. She spun around, scrub brush in hand like it was the paddle his father had used on them growing up. “Now, you listen to me. I don't think he's with that damned whore anymore. Blood looks after blood, boy. Whether they've forgotten you or turned you out.”

  “Blood's not everything,” he snarled, suddenly livid, as he got up from the kitchen table. “Where is he now, huh? Where's your fucking golden boy right now? He won't even fucking call to see how you're doing. Was he even here when Pops died?”

  Instead of answering, she gritted her teeth and turned back around to finish the dishes. A mean temper ran in their family, but Tova had always been able to control hers better than her dead husband, or her sons.

  “You know who was here?” he continued, his volley of words aimed at her back. “The Warriors were fucking here, that's who. They were here for you, they were here for Pops, and they've been there for me every day since your sweet baby boy left.”

  She slumped at the kitchen sink, her shoulders sagging as he berated her.

  He felt regret for yelling at her like that. But, it was regret mixed with a certain sense of blood-boiling rage and satisfaction. Brendon was a piece of shit who'd walked away from his friends and family. The exact opposite of Tanner.

  Worried about the time, he checked his phone. It was close.

  “Look, I gotta go,” Tanner said as he grabbed his vest off the back of his chair and shrugged into it. “I've got an appointment.”

  “At this time of night?” she asked, looking out the kitchen window at the darkening sky. “Who meets for business this late?”

  “Not business,” Tanner said, even though he knew it was, or should have been. “But, I think it'll fix our problems.”

  Sure, Star was attractive, and smart, and funny. But she didn't want a man like him, not forever. Just for as long as he could pay her bills and take care of his end of the bargain. She was just as desperate as him, just in it for the money like he was. Too bad, too. If she was half as hot under her clothes as he pictured in his mind's eye, she might be too good to just forget about.

  “Fix our problems?” Tova asked.

  “Yeah,” he said as he crossed to the backdoor and opened it.

  Realization dawned on her face. “You're going on a date?”

  “Not a fucking date,” he said. Then, before she could ask any more questions that pried deeper than he liked, he was slamming the door behind him and crossing the backyard to his bike.

  Chapter Six

  Star

  Star was putting on her earrings when she heard Tanner's bike pull up in front of her apartment. He was punctual, just like the day before. There was something to be said for a dependable man.

  She pulled on her heels as fast as she could. Her thoughts returned to Martin's earlier, words about her not having enough black jeans or leather in her wardrobe. She wondered if her jeans and blouse were still too dressy for him.

  She considered taking her purse, but decided against it. Instead, she just tucked her ID and some cash into her pocket and headed out. She locked up behind her, and went as fast down the walkway as her heels would allow.

  He'd stayed astride his bike, out on the street that ran in front of her place, waiting like James Dean, or some other bad boy from myth. The breath almost caught in her chest as she hurried along, as her eyes traced that strong jaw again, those muscular arms, his MC vest.

  Realization set in, and a little palpitation of excitement ran through her body. She was going to fuck this man tonight. Or, rather, he was going to fuck her. It had been so long since she'd gotten laid, and never before by a hunk like this. It hardly mattered that she didn't know anything about him.

  And, on top of a good lay, she'd be getting what she wanted: a solution to her years of financial problems.

  Still thinking, she chewed her lip. Was this really how she wanted to pay her bills, though? Wasn't she just a whore for doing this? But, a whore was just someone who gave pleasure in exchange for money. Somehow, this was worse. Wasn't it?

  Her mind flashed back to Martin, to his snide comments. To his grubby body, and his grubby hands. She needed to be able to pay rent, and fucking her landlord was out of the question. If it came down to a choice between eviction and screwing him, she'd rather just call her hatchback home.

  Still, even with the doubts, that little thrill was still there, that exciting, wondrous feeling that reverberated throughout her whole being. Somehow, despite all the warning signs to the contrary, this felt right. And it had been so long since anything had felt good.

  Who knew making five-hundred grand could be so exciting?

  Or so terrifying?

  Tanner's pale blue eyes followed her like a desperate, hungry predator sizing her up for its next meal. His eyes lingered on her shapely hips and thin waist, taking them in.

  Another realization stopped her in her tracks, though, and she clutched her hands together in front of her. “I've never ridden on a bike, before,” she announced as she approached.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “How do I get on?”

  “First, you come here,” he said with an uncharacteristically wry smile and a beckoning hand. “We ain't gonna bite.”

  Hesitant, she made her way slowly forward. First one step, then two, then three. She reached out and grabbed hold of his hand, and he guided her onto the back of his seat.

  “Watch the pipes back there,” he said loudly, his voice clear over the engine, “and put your arms around my waist.”

  She made sure her legs were free and clear of the hot-to-the-touch exhaust pipes, as the vibrations of the motorcycle began to give her some hot-to-the-touch feelings. She
leaned forward and wrapped her arms loosely around his chiseled torso. As she settled in, his muscles twitched and flexed beneath his black tee and vest.

  “You need to hold on. These things aren't exactly what you'd call safe.” He pulled her arms tighter around him, his rough hands lingering on her soft skin for longer than she knew was necessary. “You ready?” he asked over his shoulder.

  She nodded. “Sure. Let's go.”

  They set off into the paltry traffic and headed for the outskirts of town.

  The drive itself felt hours long to Star, full of new sights and smells. Riding in a car was different from riding on Tanner's bike. The wind whipped her face, the exhaust fumes of the cars on the road filled her nose, and the moon hung just above her head like a Chinese lantern. Her first turn, she nearly screamed in terror. On the second, it was just in excitement.

  At their first stoplight, Tanner looked back over his shoulder to check on her. “How you doing back there?” he asked over the engine, his face transformed from a dour bad boy biker to an enraptured bad boy biker. A wide grin split his lips, like he was home for the first time in forever.

  She grinned back as the vibrating between her thighs revved up. “I love it,” she shouted.

  “This is just in town,” he said. “You need to come out with me for a real ride.”

  The light turned green, and Star didn't have a chance to reply. Instead, she just squeezed him tighter as they took off.

  About five minutes later, they were pulling up in the driveway of a small, simple home with a little front porch. The yard was a bit overgrown in spots, and the flowerbeds lifeless, but the paint on the place was relatively fresh for an older house

  “This is yours, then?” Star asked as Tanner killed the engine and climbed off the bike.

  “This is it. Bought it a couple years ago.”

  “I like it,” she said as he helped her down off the bike and headed for the front door.

  “It's home, I guess,” he said as he let them inside.

  The inside wasn't fancy. Just, well, plain. Like it was barely lived in. The art on the wall was haphazard, mostly a mix of bikes and western-inspired scenery, and there weren't any book shelves. Just a coffee table, a couch, and an older television against one wall. It was as close to the definition of a Spartan lifestyle as one could get.

  Of course, it was at least cleaner than Star had imagined. A bachelor living on his own didn't really inspire much confidence in her, as far as proper habits, but it looked like he could at least pick up after himself. That was good, particularly if he ever took their kid for the weekend.

  But, she was also implying that he was interested in being a part of this child's life. They hadn't even talked about that. They'd just talked about money.

  Tanner didn't even glance behind him. He just headed through the entryway and into the living room. He kept going, though, past the couch and coffee table, and into a short hallway.

  “Where would you put little Tanner if he stayed for the weekend? Do you have a spare room?” Star asked as she followed behind him.

  “What?” he asked as he stopped in front of a closed door just past the small, but tidy, bathroom.

  “Do you even want this kid after -”

  He just looked at her with those icy blue eyes of his. Eyes the same color as the skies over those western landscapes hanging on his wall. In them, she saw her future. She was going to be taken by this man, and just be along for the ride.

  She bit her tongue as she felt her knees weaken. She tumbled into those cool depths, speechless till he broke his gaze from hers and pushed open the door and stepped inside the dark bedroom.

  “Lights on or off?” he asked.

  “On,” she said, licking her lips unconsciously, “I think.”

  He didn't turn around. Instead, he just reached up and pulled the chain on his ceiling fan. Dim light flooded the room, coating the small chest of drawers in the corner and the king size bed in a yellow patina. On one wall, overlooking them both like a massive totem, was a giant black flag that read “Blood Warriors Motorcycle Club,” in arching letters. Below it read the subtitle “Oil is Thicker than Blood.”

  She clutched her hands in front of her. She was nervous, doubtful, and those damned butterflies were having a field day in her gut. She wanted this man, wanted him like she'd never wanted another man before. But, could she really have a child with him?

  He took off his vest and tossed it over the arm of a small rocking chair, the kind passed down from a grandmother to a grandson that sat in the corner.

  Up to that point, that vest of his had been like a second skin. She'd never seen him without it on. He seemed almost naked, now.

  Wordlessly, he bent over and began to untie his biker boots. He kicked them both to the side and took his socks off.

  Tanner turned around, his hands beneath the hem of his perfectly black tee. His eyes found hers, glinted in the poor light of the fixture overhead, as he pulled his shirt up and over his head. His body was like a Greek god's. Chiseled, lean, defined, with broad shoulders and washboard abs. Scars dappled his rugged skin, tattoos covered his arms and chest. This was a man who worked with his hands, not bent over some desk. This was a man who fought with his fists, not his words.

  The realization of how real this all was finally set in. She was about to sleep with this man, this man who was undressing just feet from her.

  Her worries evaporated. Instead, she was wet.

  “How do you want it?” he asked as he unbuckled his belt.

  It was like she was somewhere outside her body, watching herself from the outside. “Just fuck me,” she barely whispered, her voice dripping with desire as she stepped out of her heels and, fumbling a little, began to unbutton her top.

  His eyes settled on her hands, watching as they worked the buttons and revealed her creamy white skin to the cool air.

  She'd worn her matching set of lacy black underwear. It wasn't every day a girl had an appointment for sex – not like this, at least – and she wanted to be dressed appropriately. With her eyes still on his, she pulled off her blouse and tossed it on the floor.

  Now, they were both standing topless.

  Tanner unzipped his tight jeans as his vision roamed up and down her half-naked body.

  Star sucked in a breath, still nervous. She didn't have half the confidence he did, not about this. But, still her desire, both for the money and now his body, won out. Seemingly of their own accord, her hands unsnapped her jeans and began to unzip them. She pulled them down over her hips and ass, slithering out of them like a snake shedding its skin. But, instead of fresh scales beneath, she had black bikini cut panties.

  Tanner smirked as he realized she was ahead of the game. He quickly dropped his jeans so that he was only wearing his gray boxer briefs, his half-bulge prominent at the front.

  Star allowed her eyes to break their gaze, and let them flicker down his washboard abs, past the little “v” they formed, to the front of his underwear. “Oh my,” she said.

  He didn't smirk. Didn't say anything. He just hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled them down.

  Star restrained herself from crossing to him, from running to be crushed by those corded, veined arms of his. Instead, she held herself back and watched as he stripped the cotton from his body, slowly revealing his hard, rugged skin and his more–than-adequate cock. She didn't normally think of men's penises that way, as cocks. But something about Tanner's just screamed the word at her.

  “I think I'm suddenly under-dressed,” he said, deadpan.

  “Not for long,” she murmured as she reached up behind her back and unsnapped her bra. She leaned forward a little, her shoulders scrunched, and freed her breasts. She dropped the bra at her feet and, following Tanner's lead, hooked her fingers in her underwear and pulled them down, letting them slide to her ankles. She gingerly took a step toward him, out of the pool of underwear she'd left on the floor.

  His eyes traveled up and down her, taki
ng in her hips, her breasts, and the small patch of pubic hair. “Good,” he said as his eyes lingered between her legs. “Always been a fan of women, not girls.”

  She shivered at his strange compliment, suddenly wanting to show him what a woman she really was.

  He looked up again, his eyes on hers.

  She held her breath.

  He roughly took her into his arms. His hands ran over her body and grabbed her ass like it belonged to him. She let herself be pulled against his unyielding, naked chest. His hand squeezed her round orbs, kneading the flesh.

  Thank God, this was it. Lips half-parted, she tilted her mouth up to his.

  He crushed her lips with his, pushed his tongue into her mouth.