Twisted Devil (Vicious Vipers MC Book 4)

by Lynn Burke

  She let out a heavy exhale and moved her focus off my face to the woods beyond.

  “I was sexually assaulted by our priest when I was a kid,” I said what I’d rehearsed in my head on the way over.

  Dasia whipped her head back toward me, her brow furrowed deeply. “You were?”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my palms on my jeans like she seemed fond of doing, but held her stare. “I was eleven. Mom idolized the fucker and wouldn’t listen to my accusations.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s why I crave control now because I had none during that time. Fucking zero.” I peered at her, wishing like fuck I could read her face better. “But it’s not an excuse for being a prick to you.”

  “You weren’t being a prick.” She relaxed a little, her shoulders drooping as she reached to tuck hair behind her ears.

  “My Gram believed me and went to the authorities. Either the fucker was loaded or the cops didn’t give a shit—the entire thing got swept under the rug. That didn’t help my insecurities either.”

  “I can imagine.” She shook her head. “That really fucking sucks.”

  “While I was a sophomore at MIT, the fucker made the news for abusing another kid. He got off again, and was shown shaking rich fucks hands while walking out of the court house. It was rumored he was good friends with the judge, too. I rebelled, dropped out of college, and that’s when I met Vigil.”

  “He stole your future,” she said quietly, pulling her blanket tighter around herself.

  “Redirected, yeah, but I love my life. Love the brotherhood I found after dropping out of college. I wouldn’t be a Viper if I’d stayed and graduated. I wouldn’t be a rich as fuck vigilante who loves making people pay for their sins.”

  “Making people pay … as in extortion?”

  Club business, but I needed to show her I meant business about us. “I’m an outlaw, Dasia. Not as violent as some of my brothers, but I break the law, same as them—on an almost daily basis.”

  “You’re a hacker.”

  I nodded, pleased to find she didn’t frown at that fact.

  She straightened. “Can you find the assholes who kidnapped me?”

  “Already on it. Gonna make them pay, too.”

  “Holy shit.” She giggled, putting everything inside me back where it belonged. “That’s awesome.”

  “I told you I would protect you—and I meant every word. I’m going to take down the whole ring and everyone connected to it. Mafia and cartel. They’re going down for what they did to my girl.”

  The last part slipped out without intent, but Dasia didn’t shy away, her smile fixed firmly in place. “Your girl, huh?”

  “Damn right.”

  “You truly don’t give a shit about our age difference do you?”

  “Nope.”

  “The whole restraining thing—it doesn’t include that whole pain with pleasure thing, does it?”

  “I swear on Gram’s life I wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head, Dasia. Ever.”

  She nibbled on her lower lip, and I wanted nothing more than to suckle on the plump flesh and soothe whatever sting she inflicted on herself.

  “If you don’t think you can handle that kind of relationship,” I said when she didn’t respond, “tell me now and I’ll try like fuck to leave you alone.”

  “I-I don’t want you to leave me alone,” she whispered.

  “Come here,” I said, my voice rasped while holding out my hand.

  “I’m only seventeen.”

  “And I’ll wait until next week to bury my dick so far up your young pussy you can’t breathe—but I need to touch you, Dasia. Need to hold you in my arms and taste you.”

  She hesitated, and I cursed my damn runaway mouth. “Shit.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Sorry. Didn’t mean—”

  Dasia scooted off the chair and slid sideways onto my lap before I could blink, her fuckable ass right on my thighs and her face inches from mine.

  I groaned and pulled her closer, snuggling her against my swelling dick. She smelled like a spring morning, all fresh and flowery. Burying my face into her hair, I breathed deeply, filling my lungs with her as the silky strands brushed against my nose and cheek.

  Wrapping one hand up in the long tresses, I tilted her head back and moved along her neck—fucking smooth as silk skin.

  “Tell me to stop and I will,” I murmured, flicking my tongue out for the taste I’d been dying for.

  “I’m sick,” she whispered, and I pulled back to find tears in her eyes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dasia

  “Sick like illness?” he asked, his brow denting the slightest bit.

  “No,” I rushed to explain, trying to keep the tears from welling too much. “It’s just … I’m broken, Devil.”

  “Adrian—call me Adrian.”

  His firm insistence dried my eyes up, and I relaxed against his hard body, soaking in his warmth and the sweet scent of licorice, not caring a blanket, long t-shirt, and panties were the only thing separating my body from his touch. “Okay—Adrian.”

  “Tell me why you think you’re broken.”

  I tried to study his face in the darkness, but lost the emotion in his eyes to the darkness surrounding us. “I like the idea of you tying me up. Restraining me, making me beg—and I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t want that so damn bad that my body burns, that I ache inside so much I can’t breathe.”

  With a groan, he took my mouth, and I couldn’t breathe. Soft lips, slick tongue licking along mine... Wetness seeped from my pussy, soaking my panties in a blink as my pulse thundered in my ears.

  My blanket dropped to my waist as I grasped his sweatshirt, holding on for dear life.

  I’d kissed boys before, but they were exactly that—boys. Adrian destroyed my senses, overrode common sense, carrying my entire body away like a violent ocean with a mere swipe of his tongue. I parted my lips, and he sank in deep with a groan, his hand dropping from my cheek to my thigh, pulling me tighter, every brush of his tongue along mine pulsing energy directly to my clit and tightening my nipples to points.

  His hard length dug into my thigh, and I squirmed with need to be closer.

  I’d wondered who would ever want a broken soul—and Adrian, the badass biker—answered that for me, clearly and without hesitation. A knight in shining armor, a devil in sheep’s clothing.

  “We’ll be broken together,” he murmured against my lips, stinging my eyes again.

  Whimpering, I twisted and turned, refusing to let go of his mouth while straddling his thighs. His jeans rubbed the insides of my thighs as I slid in closer until resting my soaked panties against him.

  At the brush of his hard cock against my core, I gasped and lifted my head, desperate to see his face, his eyes.

  Heavily hooded, they peered at me, attempting to suck my soul from my body.

  He grasped my hips and swiveled his own.

  “Oh...”

  My fingers dug into his shoulders, and I ground against him without thought, panting—needing—uncaring I probably left a wet spot on his jeans.

  “How many more days?” he asked, his low tone rumbling and low as he thrust against me like we fucked for real.

  “Until?”

  “You’re eighteen and I won’t get my ass tossed in jail for sliding my dick into your sweet pussy.”

  I gulped, never having known dirty talking was so fucking hot. “S-seven,” I gasped as he grabbed my hands and shoved them behind my back, forcing my chest to poke out toward him.

  He studied my face as my heart beat in my ears and my lungs sucked in oxygen.

  “Okay?”

  I licked the sudden dryness from my lower lip and nodded. “Very.”

  His focus slipped downward to my nipples strained against the thin cotton of my sleep shirt.

  Yes, oh, please, yes...

  He leaned in and closed his mouth over one.

  Fire raced over my skin, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. My cli
t throbbed in time with his flicking tongue, and his gentle bite caught my breath.

  My hands jerked in his hold, not wanting to escape, but to grasp his head to hold him close. I whimpered and squirmed until he maneuvered both of my wrists into one hand and shoved the other between us.

  He palmed my pussy and let out an animalistic growl. “Goddamn, Dasia.” His mouth found mine, our lips and tongues frantic, my climax already tingling my toes.

  “So wet,” he said against my mouth, his fingers dragging along the edges of my panties.

  “Please,” I moaned, moving against him, desperate for his touch.

  He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers continuing to tease. “Please what, Jail Bait?”

  “Touch me—my skin.”

  “But I am.”

  Another whimper escaped me.

  “You mean like this?” He slipped his thumb beneath, and we both groaned as he slid up through my swollen lips to my clit. “So fucking wet.” One gentle circle around my throbbing nub, not nearly enough to pitch me over, and he slid back down to circle my dripping core.

  I attempted to ride his hand, ached for him to be inside me, but couldn’t find words to beg for what I wanted. He teased and teased until tears slid down my cheeks, and he licked them off.

  “Do you want to come?”

  “Y-yes.”

  He released my wrists and scooted down on the lounger so damn fast I squeaked, grabbing the chair’s arms to keep from toppling over. He grasped my hips and lifted me—right onto his face.

  Oh God...

  His mouth covered my pussy—through my panties, and my head tipped back as I arched, lower lip between my teeth to keep from moaning too loudly. Nobody had ever gone down on me before, and at the first brush of his tongue along the edge of my panties, twisting to get beneath, my breath left in a rush.

  Soft … so soft.

  I spread my thighs as wide as they would go, my arms shaking from my hands’ grip to keep me upright.

  I shouldn’t have worn panties—should have ripped them off before climbing onto his lap—

  Adrian shoved them to the side and dove in like a man dying of thirst, his groans and the wet sounds of his sucking on my flesh taking me past the point of no return.

  “Adrian...”

  “Take what you want, baby.” He latched onto my clit, and I bucked against his face, biting down hard on my lip as my climax burst through me like a flash of lightning, currents of energy reverberating over my skin. My pussy pulsed with an ache so damn sweet more tears slid down my cheeks.

  The second I sagged atop him, Adrian shifted and moved my limp body back into his arms, holding my cheek to his chest.

  His heart pounded against my ear, his cock digging into my hip. A shiver slid over me along with a sigh as he kissed my forehead.

  “Okay?” he whispered.

  “Never been better,” I heard myself say through the ringing in my ears. “No one has done that to me before.”

  His groan rumbled against my cheek, tingling through my pussy. “Tell me I can have all your other firsts, Dasia. Fucking tell me.”

  “Someone already stole that.”

  “And I’ll erase his mother fucking memory—promise.”

  “I want you to be my first everything else, too, Adrian.” I melted against him, my eyes closing in absolute euphoric rightness.

  “I want it all, Dasia. Every fucking inch, every tear, every hint of laughter off your lips.” He captured my hair again and lifted me off his chest, his dark eyes close enough I could see the black of his pupils ate at the amber brown surrounding them. “You want the goddamn picket fence, it’s yours. Walk-in closet? I’ll clean my shit out and give it to you. You want a dozen kids? I’ll give them to you—or die trying.”

  “God, no.” I couldn’t keep from grimacing, the thought of kids almost killing the mood. “No kids.”

  “Thank fuck.” He took my mouth again, and until I crawled into my bed an hour later, my lips bruised and nipples sore, I wished to sleep the week away so my devil could take what belonged to him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Devil

  My fucking balls ached. They hung blue, heavy, and hurting even though I’d emptied my damn sack a few times a day after finally getting a taste of my woman. Goddamn, just the memory of her tangy sweetness on my tongue, her cum coating my lips, hardened me to the point of pain in a flash.

  Too-young pussy, tasty as fuck. The aphrodisiac of the goddamn century.

  And she was all mine.

  But I had to stay the fuck away from her, or I was in trouble. Keeping my dick inside my jeans while touching and tasting my woman had been the hardest temptation I’d ever faced. Ever. And that’s saying something considering all the dirt I had on Hollywood elites and politicians alike.

  Me: I’m taking you for a ride on Saturday.

  I’d planned on a hell of a lot more than that, and riding in various ways.

  Jail Bait: Where we going?

  Me: North.

  I watched her sitting in the chop shop’s office through my monitor, fighting the urge to palm my dick.

  Ryker strode into the office, and she dropped her cell into her bag like the damn thing burned her hands. They chatted a bit, he showed her the papers in his hands, and he left once more through the door leading into the shop.

  She waited all of two seconds before grabbing her cell again, hunching over it, her fingers flying.

  Jail Bait: Ryker might have a thing or ten to say about that.

  I scowled, knowing she was right—and that I needed to get shit done.

  Me: You let me worry about him.

  Jail Bait: Pia is making me brownies for after dinner. Want to join us?”

  She nibbled on her lower lip while I debated.

  Me: Rain check on those brownies. I’ll pick you up at seven. Dress warm.

  A frown furrowed her brow as she sat back and stared at her phone as though trying to figure out what I had planned.

  She’d asked a half-dozen times already every time we’d texted in the previous three days, but I refused to speak up.

  I’d thought of stealing her away for the entire damn weekend, locking us away in a motel somewhere Ryker wouldn’t find us, but I wanted to make her birthday special and not just about fucking.

  Jail Bait: We’re taking the bike?

  I laughed.

  Me: Yes. I’m taking you out for a night on the town—on the back of my bike.

  She did a little dance on the office chair, enough to jiggle her tits.

  I bit back a groan and dialed her up even though I’d told myself I wasn’t going to talk to her in person until Saturday.

  “Hey,” she answered, all breathless, twitching my dick hard enough pre-cum oozed from the slit.

  “Hey, back.” Refusing to be an absolute perv, I clicked off the monitor and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against my chair.

  “Why are you calling me at work?” she half-whispered.

  “Because I can’t stop thinking about you and I’m hard as fuck.”

  “O-oh.” She let out a light giggle, and I shoved my hand beneath my sweats’ waist band to grasp my aching length. “Are you going to do anything about it?” she whispered.

  “I’ve already got my hand wrapped around my dick, Jail Bait,” I told her, sliding my grip to the base. “Does that make you wet?”

  Another puff of laughter sounded in my ear, but more embarrassed than humorous.

  I gathered the beading pre-cum and slid back down, imaging it was her pussy grasping at my dick. “Well?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, what?”

  “Knowing you’re playing with yourself while talking to me turns me on.”

  Playing with myself. I bit back my own snort of laughter. There was definitely no playing going on. I shoved my hips upward, groaning at the need tingling in my balls.

  “I’ve been jerking off three times a day,” I told her through clenched teeth. Hell,
I’d jerked off more in one week than I had my whole damn life. “Thinking about your mouth. Your too-young pussy. Your sweet as fuck ass.”

  “Will you take that first, too?” she asked, the nervous desire in her voice seizing my balls up tight against my body.

  “If you’re offering,” I groaned out, fighting to keep from blowing my load.

  “I want to give that to you,” she didn’t hesitate to answer—and cum shot up through my dick, spurting all over my t-shirt, sweats, and hand.

  “Goddamn, Dasia.” I grunted with the last spurt and sank into my chair.

  “Did you come?” she whispered.

  I glanced at the mess I’d made. “All over the fucking place.”

  “I wish I was there for another first.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, wiping my sticky hand down my pants.

  “Licking it off you.”

  Fuck. Me. My hand stilled. Could she be any more perfect?

  “Gotta go!” she whispered quickly, and the line went dead.

  Saturday couldn’t come soon enough.

  ****

  I continued to dig through cyberspace, network after network, hacking into home security systems, seeking the shit that would put the entire cartel and Russian mob in the slammer.

  The crumb trail I gathered into files took shape, but rather than just dump it all in the FBI’s hands, I realized they would need to not just show evidence, but the paths leading to it as well.

  When the time came, I would click send on an untraceable email account from an untraceable IP address with the beginnings of that crumb trail. I’d already begun the process so that once sent and opened, the entire trail would flash through, showing exactly what systems I’d hacked.

  They just wouldn’t know how.

  Someone banged on my front door, and I pulled up the images from my security system showing the front porch.

  Ryker—and the fucker scowled deeper than usual.

  Goddamnit.

  Heaving a heavy exhale, I pushed up and made my way downstairs.

  “What’s up, daddy-o?” I asked, pulling the door open.

  “If you think you can just make plans to take my girl out without asking, you’ve got a shit ton of other thinks coming, you cock-sucking prick.” Pissiness radiated off his tense shoulders, but he hadn’t yet fisted his hands at his sides.