Consume Me

by Ryan Michele

  Consume Me

  Copyright © 2015 by Ryan Michele

  Editor: Lea Marika at Indie Express LLC (https://www.facebook.com/Indieexpress)

  Proofreader: Julie Deaton

  Cover Artist: Melissa Gill at MG Book Covers (http://salon.io/mgbookcovers)

  Photography: Eric Battershell at Eric Battershell Photography

  Cover Models: Ian Daviau & Priscilla Lee Badger

  Formatting: Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats (https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats)

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  All rights reserved.

  Prologue

  Chapter 1—Blaze

  Chapter 2—Blaze

  Chapter 3—Tug

  Chapter 4—Blaze

  Chapter 5—Blaze

  Chapter 6—Tug

  Chapter 7—Blaze

  Chapter 8—Tug

  Chapter 9—Blaze

  Chapter 10—Tug

  Chapter 11—Blaze

  Chapter 12—Tug

  Chapter 13—Blaze

  Chapter 14—The Clubhouse

  Chapter 15—Tug

  Chapter 16—Blaze

  Chapter 17—Tug

  Chapter 18—Blaze

  Epilogue—Tug

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  I knock and there’s no answer, just as I expected. I smile to myself as I open the creaky door, slowly, not wanting to disrupt her rest. I walk over to the bed, noticing that only her beautiful head is poking out from under the covers. God, I love her. I love her more than anything in this world.

  Oh no… her lips. Her lips are a weird color; they’re so pale. I place my hand on her head. Cold. Ice cold. No. God, no. I rip the covers away from her body and put my ear to her chest. Nothing. No. Please. No. I open her mouth and breathe inside of it then begin pumping her chest. This can’t be happening. Please, God no.

  Tears stream down my face as I scream at her to wake up, to just fucking wake up. Pumping and breathing feverishly into her lugs, I will her to open her eyes. My stomach drops to the floor. She’s gone. Holy shit.

  My tears become sobs after long minutes that feel like hours, and then reality hits me and I stop myself.

  I take a moment to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” I whisper to her still form.

  Survival kicks in as I take in my surroundings. I have to get out of here. Now. If I don’t, there’s no way I’ll ever escape…

  The light flashes on, its heat penetrating my skin, illuminating my body from the top of my overly done hair to the tips of my pointed heels. My barely-there clothes offer little protection from the warmth, but they are not intended for that. Their sole purpose is to entice, to leave the audience wanting more—more of my body, more of me. And I will make sure they’ll be begging for more. The coolness from the metal pole alleviates a little heat as I rub my back against it. Catcalls and whistles fill the air as the music blares through the speakers. I close my eyes, breathe in deep, and allow every cell of my body to absorb the music. His eyes are on me only, ratcheting up the fire.

  Showtime.

  “American Woman” pumps through the room as Blaze takes the wide stage. She doesn’t just take it. She owns that shit. She exudes confidence from every inch of her body and fuck if it isn’t the biggest damn turn on. Her gaze smolders, laced with unadulterated sex appeal as she silently scans the crowd. Her eyes draw each of us in more, leaving us craving her, desiring her. Blaze’s body is a vision from the gods: all curves, toned, long legs, silky hair the color of brown sugar, and a huge fucking rack that I can tell from sight is all real.

  Blaze hooks her leg around the metal bar, her hand grasping it as she swings around the pole, stopping just short of the floor. The way her muscles flex with each movement tells of her strength and skill. She does things on that pole that weightlifters wouldn’t dare.

  Her arms reach up the metal rod and she locks her ankles tight around the bar then hangs upside down, the rest of her body falling down the pole’s length. She hangs there for several seconds as her arms reach down, almost touching the floor; her ample tits come close to spilling out of her flimsy red top. It would be nice if they did.

  She releases her ankles slightly and slides down the pole until her hands are firmly planted to the floor, her bare ass staring me in the face. Whoever invented thongs needs a fucking award. Only thing better than a thong is nothing at all.

  Blaze’s ass is something that men dream of fucking and women dream of having. Those taut, curvy globes beg to be spanked and then fucked repeatedly.

  Kicking her slender legs out, she lands on the black stage and sensually stretches her arms above her body. Her hips sway to the music as she turns and faces the crowd, her beautiful face shining. Every contour is perfection, from her small nose to her sexy as shit eyes… perfect. The only problem is her smile. It’s not real and doesn’t reach her silvery-blue eyes. From the screams, obviously others haven’t noticed.

  I do.

  She continues her seduction of the crowd. My cock thickens. I grip the front of my jeans, adjusting to relieve the pinch from my zipper. Damn I hate when that happens. Nothing worse than a dick pinch.

  Her eyes connect with mine and those silvery heavens bore into me. My heart rate picks up, beating rapidly. A small smirk plays on her lips, not the fake smile, but a genuine one. She knows exactly what she’s playing at, including what she’s doing to me. The entire crowd is eating from of the palm of her hand, but to me they don’t fucking exist. It’s only her. Her teeth pull her plump bottom lip into her mouth and she touches it with her finger, so fucking sexy. Aligning her back with the pole, she stretches her arms above, arching her back, tits poised for my viewing pleasure, and she closes her eyes. This woman definitely gets a fucking A in seduction. My already hard cock twitches inside my jeans, aching to be free and inside of the buxom brunette.

  “What can I get ya?” Misty, one of the new dancers at Studio X, asks us—us being myself, and Buzz and Breaker, my fellow Ravage Prospects that happen to be identical twins. We all sit staring, mesmerized by the woman on stage, not taking our eyes off her for a second. With the spotlight on Blaze, nothing else in the room exists, but I answer wanting to get rid of the woman.

  “Shot of Jim and a beer.” My words are barely heard over the pumping music as Buzz and Breaker yell their orders in as well. We spent the damn evening cleaning up Jace’s fucking corpse. Stupid motherfucker. I’d like to have him alive just so I can kill him again for what he did to Casey. No one should lay a hand on a woman, ever. I don’t give a shit what she has or hasn’t done. In this case, Casey didn’t do a fucking thing except be part of GT’s life; loving a Ravage brother made her a target. Damn. Growing up with that shit day in and day out, I will not stand for it. Having witnessed my father hit my mother repeatedly, I won’t stand for it ever again.

  The brothers caught Jace and took care of the problem, even if I got the shit job of cleanup at the end. Being a prospect, I get all the fun. Right. Cleaning the clubhouse from top to bottom isn’t
fun at all, but it’s shit that has to be done and as low men on the totem pole, it falls to the prospects.

  I’ve never said shit or complained once about cleaning whether it be the clubhouse, blood, or the brothers’ bikes. Everything I’ve done this past year has been out of love and respect for the Ravage MC. And I know that each of the brothers did this exact same shit to become members and they wouldn’t have me do anything that they wouldn’t do themselves. It’s all about respect and I have it for all of them tenfold.

  Snapping to the here and now, I see her drop down into a split, her ass hitting the shiny floor. She bows her head, hair falling all around her, and extends her arms over her legs. The music plays its last notes as she flings her hair behind her, one arm up in the air, and locks eyes with me. I lick my lips at the intensity of her stare. Her eyes flare as she rips the top away from her body. Fuck me.

  The damn stage lights go dark all too fast and I pray the fuckers come back on. Whoops and whistles ring through the room and cash flies all around, like green leaves scattering in a blur as the lights come up revealing an empty stage.

  Blaze and I have been playing this cat and mouse game for the past few months. Her taunting me from on stage, her beckoning eyes, everything calling to me, drawing me in. One time, she came out on the floor of X and talked to me briefly. Her hulk of a guard, Cali, stayed glued to her side the entire time. She was short and to the point with me, not giving me a fucking inch, and damn did it turn me on.

  Thinking about the way her metallic blue eyes bore into me has me craving to see them again. Sure, I’ve fucked many women since the first time I saw her, but it’s been a while. That always-there-pussy isn’t tempting me as it once did. I’ve had enough and decided Blaze will be mine.

  I’ve made it my mission to be around this past week. Every night after she gets done dancing, I either go backstage to say hi or meet her by her Jeep in the lot. She’s a strong woman, but there’s something in her eyes when she’s not on stage that says otherwise. I want to find out what’s behind them, and I intend to do just that.

  It’s been made very clear by the entire club that Blaze is off limits, and I’m pretty sure Princess is behind that order. She makes money for the club therefore she’s protected, but no one is to lay a hand on her. First Diamond and then Pops clarified that Blaze is not a club momma and will not be treated as such. And damn it if it doesn’t just make me crave her more—knowing my brothers haven’t touched her, knowing that I’m the only one that will. And I will. I’m patient and determined.

  I’ve always gone after what I wanted. Life is too short not to. It can end in a flash and I intend to end it happy with Blaze at my side.

  Tonight, I’m making a stronger move. I’m normally a take life by the balls because of my life’s too short policy, but with Blaze, I’ve made a slight adjustment. She may come off confident as shit, but from the looks on her face sometimes, she’s hiding inside and even a bit scared. The confidence she shows everyone is a front. I’m sure she doesn’t want me to know that, but it’s not hard to figure out if you pay attention. And I pay attention. I also intend to find out what, why, and who did that to her. Then decide who I need to kill.

  My brothers’ eyes are transfixed on the next dancer. I glance up. She’s not bad, but does not hold a candle to Blaze. Mossy blonde hair, okay curves… but nothing.

  Buzz, Breaker, and I have known each other for years. All the way back to basic training. They may not be blood, but they are my brothers.

  “I’ve got shit to do.” I throw some bills down on the table.

  “Where the hell you going?” I nod to the door that leads backstage and snag my beer, gulp a final pull, and set it down on the table. “You haven’t got a shot in hell with her,” Buzz smarts, shaking his head, and the corner of his lip quirks up.

  “We’ll see.”

  He’s been with me long enough to know how persistent I can be. The words giving up are not in my vocabulary. He’s giving me shit, which is normal, at least for him. What are brothers for?

  I rise without another word and charge through the crowded room. Princess sure has done a bang up job with this place. Hordes of men and women line the tables, waving cash like it’s nothing, ready to throw it at the dancers. Good for the club. The deep red she chose keeps the place sexy and the damn bar is crammed with people waiting to get drinks.

  After Babs trashed X, Princess pretty much had to start from scratch. Even with red carpet, somehow the blood still showed through.

  I shove the thick, red curtain aside and force my way behind it, blinking a few times to adjust to the lights. It’s much brighter than the sultry atmosphere in the front. One of the new bouncers, Doug as the nametag on his shirt says, stands in my path blocking me and I come to a halt. With his arms crossed over his beefy chest and his long blond hair tied in a ponytail, he tries to throw around his bulk. Not fucking happening.

  “Where ya headed?”

  His words piss me off. I should drop his ass right here for even questioning me. The club owns this damn place, owns him. He has no fucking right to question anything I fucking do here.

  “Move your ass to the side. I’ll go any-damn-where I please.” Fury bubbles in my veins as I clench my fists tight. I fucking hate being questioned, especially by pissants who think their shit doesn’t stink, but my face stays blank, my tone low and fierce.

  He looks me up and down, trying to intimidate but only pissing me off more. Wrong fucking move.

  My fist connects with his stomach in a flash. Doug lets out an ugh, uncrosses his arms and bends at the waist, but doesn’t go down. He gasps for breath, but not enough for my liking. It was only one hit though. Tough motherfucker, glad Princess hired him.

  “You work for us, motherfucker. Remember that shit. This is Ravage’s club. You see men with leather, you’d better move the fuck out of our way. Don’t you fucking forget it.” I may not be a full-fledged brother yet, but I will not be disrespected by anyone. No. Fucking. Way.

  “Why’d you have to do that?” Doug shakes off the punch, his eyes narrowing as he stands to full height, which is an inch shorter than me. What is wrong with this fucker? My hands open and shut, ready to land another punch, as his posture is anything but demure. If he wants to fight, let’s go.

  I learned to fight from the best in the military. Even if he wanted to go at it, he wouldn’t last five seconds with me. I trained relentlessly for hand-to-hand combat. When my muscles couldn’t function, only then would I be allowed a break. I won’t even begin to discuss the weeks on end of torture simulations. If I can get though that shit, I can get through anything and anybody.

  “If you don’t get the fuck out of my way, you won’t walk for a fucking week,” I growl, seething from anger. Another part of my military training is the motto “Never Back Down.” The motto goes the same for the club and my future brothers. I stand by them, they stand by me. Trust, honor, and loyalty till the end.

  “Fine.” He begrudgingly steps aside, and the ladies in the room, primping for the stage, give me their I-want-to-fuck-you-now eyes.

  I ignore each and every one. I don’t give a shit that I’ve fucked most of them at one time or another over the past year. They’re easy and don’t hold any appeal for me anymore. Always-there-pussy. I direct myself toward Blaze’s dressing room in the far corner. Her days of skating around me are over. This time, I’m not allowing it. I’m done with games.

  The white door is closed and Cali stands in front of it with his arms crossed, his eyes swinging to me. Cali is six-three, has cropped, jet-black hair, and is built like a fucking tank.

  I step toe-to-toe with him. “You gonna be a problem too?” The coolness in my voice is not reflective of the anger leftover from Doug’s idiocy. I’m damn sure that Cali can feel the pulses bouncing off of me.

  Cali holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not a dumb shit like that one.” He motions to Doug behind us. I made my point with him and if he needs clarification, I sure
as shit will give him that. What I won’t give him is the satisfaction of getting my attention again. “Blaze is changing, though. Give her a minute?” His brow rises, as he wonders if I’ll listen to him. At least Cali has respect for the club; that’s more than I can say for the other asshole.

  “No problem. I’m gonna knock and tell her I’m here.” He steps to the side, but stays near the door. Definitely going to have to ask her why all the security. None of the other women have this and I’ve never asked at the club. I need to remember that.

  I knock, allowing any lingering anger to dissipate, and get ready to get to my girl. Yes. She’s mine and I don’t give a shit who thinks otherwise. She may only be mine for a night or a few days, or maybe a few months or a year, I’m not sure yet. But for me, she is mine.

  “Cali, I’m changing. I’ll be out in a minute and we can go,” Blaze’s honeyed voice calls through the door. Desire consumes me from just the sound.

  “I’ll go wherever you want me to, darlin’.” The noises stop and she inhales so deeply that I can hear it from out here.

  “Tug?” she utters, breathily.

  The way she says my name has my cock throbbing. I can’t fucking wait to hear that when I’m balls deep inside her.

  “Yeah, sweet lips. Get your fine ass out here.”

  Rustling noises on the other side of the door pick back up, along with shuffling of feet and ughs coming from her beautiful lips. I wonder what she’s changing into. It could be a garbage bag and she’d still be hot. The door flies open, sending a whoosh of air past my body. Blaze has the slight sheen of sweat from her dance still covering her skin, making it glow in the light. Her black shorts hug her hips, her damn legs are a mile long and perfect for folding around my back. The bright pink shirt fits snug around her boobs, stretching the material and giving a damn great view. She’s fucking gorgeous. I lick my lips, lips that are suddenly so damn dry.