Bayou Devils MC: The Complete Series

by A. M. Myers

  “No.”

  He presses his hips against mine, letting me feel the bulge in his jeans and I moan, fighting back the “yes” that desperately wants to spill from my lips.

  “Don’t you want me, Princess?” he teases in my ear and I’m too turned on to even give a damn that he called me princess again. Gripping his shirt in my fists, I roll my hips against him and he groans. He leans in and kisses my neck before whispering, “Give me what I want.”

  I shudder, as he drags his tongue up the side of my neck, and nod. “Okay.”

  He steps back, a wide grin on his face as he adjusts himself and I grip the counter behind me, my head dizzy with desire. Damn him! I had no intention of giving into his rule but then he gives me the best damn kiss of my life and I was weak.

  “Anything else?” I spit, annoyed but my anger lacks passion, like maybe I always wanted to give into him.

  He smirks. “No.”

  “Then, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

  His smile falls and I resist the urge to giggle, pleased I got the upper hand again. “What?” he asks.

  “I’ve had a long, shitty day and I can’t do this right now, so I need you to leave.”

  Today’s date flashes in my head again and I turn away from him, taking a deep breath. This was a terrible idea. I should have shut the door in his face when he showed up here. It’s hard enough to resist the things he makes me feel on my best day and it’s clearly impossible now.

  As he closes the space between us, I turn to face him and he cradles my cheek in his hand again. “You’re not lying, are you?”

  “No, I’m not lying,” I reply, meeting his eyes and letting him see a glimpse of how totally fucked-up I am. He studies me for a second before nodding and pressing a kiss to my forehead.

  “I’ll come over tomorrow after you get off work.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll call you.”

  He smirks, nodding, but I can tell by the look on his face I will see him tomorrow no matter what I say. Leaning down, he presses his lips to mine again as my body molds to his. He hums in approval before pulling away and planting a few more quick kisses against my lips like he’s finding it hard to leave. I know the feeling. When he finally steps back, his gaze travels over my face before he smiles and trails his thumb over my bottom lip.

  “See you tomorrow, Princess.”

  * * * *

  Chance leans in, kissing my neck slowly like he’s savoring me and I arch my back, trying to get just a little closer to him. His hand skates up my side gently. The featherlight touch sends fire licking across my skin as his lips crash into mine, tearing me apart as much as he’s building me up. My fingers skirt over his chest and the defined muscles there before venturing lower and dragging along the little line of hair leading to the button on his jeans.

  “Go on, Princess. Take ‘em off,” he growls against my lips and a needy little sound slips out of my mouth as I pop the button. He peppers kisses up my jaw to my ear and nips at it as a shiver zips down my back. Suddenly, his weight is gone and I cry out.

  “Chance?” I ask, reaching out in the bed next to me as my eyes flutter open. Cold sheets greet me and I grab the pillow next to me, slamming it down on my face and screaming out my frustration as I kick my legs against the mattress. My clit throbs and my breasts ache with the desperate need for release. I’m not even out of this damn bed yet and I know it will be another long day.

  My mind drifts back to yesterday and the kiss I replayed in my mind all night long before I remember the card and check in my trash can. Growing up, I didn’t have friends. Not really, anyway. What I had were people who pretended to like me and accept me as long as it suited them. Maybe it was because they were bored and lacking attention at home or maybe because of their parents’ absence, they had been hurt and twisted up until they truly were just that cruel. I honestly don’t know and I don’t like to dwell on it. All they cared about was how they could use me to get what they wanted and not one person ever stopped to think about how their actions would affect me. I was just an object to them, a toy to be played with and discarded when I wasn’t all bright and shiny anymore.

  With another sigh, I sit up and grab my phone, trying to push those thoughts out of my mind before it drags me down into yet another awful mood. The notification light blinks on my phone and Chance’s name on the screen has me smiling.

  Chance:

  Good morning, gorgeous. What time do you get

  off work today?

  Me:

  Around five but I have plans.

  Smirking, I reread my text before pushing send. I know Chance thinks he’s won but there is no way in hell I’m giving in easily. I was serious when I told him this wouldn’t be more than sex—even if I agreed to not sleep with anyone else. When the time comes, I’ll cut him loose even if it kills me because the cost of trying to be with him is much too high.

  Setting my phone back on the nightstand, I crawl out of bed and strip off my tank top and panties as I walk into my spacious master bath and turn on the shower. Gingerly stepping in, the hot water hits my sensitive skin and I let out a breathy moan as the ache between my thighs returns with a vengeance. I close my eyes and I’m right back in my dream with Chance as he kisses a path up my neck and my hand slips between my legs. Leaning my shoulders back against the tile wall, I rub my finger over my clit, imagining his hand trailing over my body and his teeth sinking into my skin. I can almost feel him, like he’s really here with me under the hot spray and I pinch my nipple with my other hand, my body begging for release. I’m already so close. With the image of him pressing his lips to mine and his fingers trailing a whisper light touch down my neck and over my chest, I explode. My hand slips into my hair and I grip a chunk of it as my body bucks with an orgasm that wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I had hoped.

  After a moment, I sigh, pushing off the wall and busying myself with washing my hair as I try not to think about the fact that I would much rather have the real thing in here with me right now. Not once have I ever dreamed about any of the guys I’m hooking up with or thought about them while I took care of myself. It’s all so brand new and more than a little scary but something about him is impossible to ignore.

  Why is he so different?

  As I shut off the water and step out of the shower, I promise myself I’ll do better today, be stronger, and not allow him to get to me so much. I can and I will keep this arrangement between us casual.

  With new resolve, I wrap a towel around my body before going back into the bedroom. Sunlight streams in through the large windows that cover the east wall of the room and I sigh as it warms my skin, a smile teasing my lips. I take one last look at the city of Baton Rouge laid out below me in the warm morning light before turning and walking into my closet. Thumbing through the racks of clothes quickly, I grab my favorite pencil skirt and a light pink button up blouse. After getting dressed, I walk back into my room and pick out jewelry when a flashing light on my phone catches my eye. As I saunter over to the bedside table, I anticipate Chance’s reply and a smile teases my lips. He doesn’t disappoint.

  Chance:

  Yeah, you sure as shit do have plans, Princess.

  With me. I’ll be there around six.

  Sinking into the mattress, I shake my head, unsure if I should feel annoyed he thinks he can just boss me around like that or give into the laugh I’m barely holding back. Honestly, what did I think would happen when I threw down the challenge? Did I really believe Chance would roll over and give into anything I wanted? I may have just met him a week ago, but I already know better. Chance is the first man that’s ever pushed me back when I tossed out my rules. He doesn’t let me walk all over him and run the show like I’m used to. All the other guys were happy to go along with whatever I said as long as they were getting laid but not Chance. Maybe that’s why I can’t seem to walk away from him. Maybe the challenge of getting him to give into me is making this whole thing more interesting than it normally wou
ld be.

  I stare down at my phone and try to think of something to say but I can’t come up with anything. He wanted to ensure that he got the last word and it’s exactly what he will get. Glancing up at the clock, I bite out a curse and toss my phone on the bed as I rush into the bathroom. I’m running late—again—so I throw my hair in a low bun at the base of my neck and put on eyeliner, mascara, and a lip stain. When I look presentable, I grab my shoes from the closet and slip them on. I grab the phone off the bed just as it rings and my mother’s name flashes on the screen. A loud, dramatic groan slips out of my lips and I squeeze my eyes shut, contemplating ignoring her for a moment before I shake my head. If I don’t answer, she’ll just spend her morning calling me until I pick up and then chew me out for not being at her beck and call. Even though this is the last thing I want to do this morning, it’s less painless to just pick up the phone.

  “Hello, Mother,” I answer, my voice clipped as I walk into the kitchen, my heels clicking against the bamboo floors.

  “Carly, did I wake you up?” she asks, her voice sweet like she gives a damn if she woke me up, but I know the truth.

  “No.”

  If I had been sleeping, she would have scolded me on wasting my morning away in bed. Which would have inevitably led to how I will never land myself a decent man if I spend all my time in my apartment or at work.

  “Oh, good. I was just calling to remind you about the gala this weekend.”

  I hold in another groan as I slip my laptop in its case and grab my purse off the counter. In all honesty, I had forgotten about the stupid gala this weekend and I would have preferred to keep it that way. “Yep, I’ll be there.”

  Even through the phone, I can hear her tsk and I roll my eyes. “Carly, what have I told you about speaking like that?”

  “Mother, I promise you are one of the only people on this earth that gives a damn if I say “yep” instead of “yes”.”

  “Carly Rae Mills, don’t you dare curse at me,” she hisses and my hand itches to end this call. “Now, what are you going to wear on Saturday?”

  I scan through my closet in my mind as I rush out the front door and lock it behind me. I have plenty of dresses for the occasion but it’s impossible to know which one she deems acceptable for this event. “Uh, the blue one, maybe.”

  “The blue one?” my mother asks, mocking me in the special way she does, and I already feel a headache coming on. “Please tell me how I’m supposed to know which blue dress you’re speaking of?”

  “It’s the blue one I wore to the charity thing on New Years.”

  She gasps in horror and I once again resist the urge to hang up on her. It’s too goddamn early for this shit. “Oh, god, no. Wear the black beaded one I got you for your birthday. It will look lovely on you.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I reply through gritted teeth and wonder how much hell she would rain down on me if I really hung up the phone. No doubt, the black dress she’s talking about shows ample cleavage because my mother does not pass up an opportunity to set me up with my first husband.

  “Good. I’ll see you this weekend, then.” She hangs up before I even have time to respond and I shake my head as I tuck my phone into my purse and step outside. The fresh air and bright sunlight makes me feel a little better and I decide to walk to work since I only live six blocks from the office. I can also grab breakfast and a coffee at a café along the way since I ran out of my house without caffeine - thanks to my mother.

  I get halfway to work before I think maybe this was a bad idea. It may only be eight thirty in the morning but it’s still July in Louisiana and it’s the kind of hot that makes you think about moving to the arctic. A breeze quickly blows through the trees and I’m thankful for it as a bead of sweat rolls down the back of my neck. Thank god, I was running late and didn’t wear my hair down today or it would be a mess by the time I showed up at the office. My phone buzzes in my bag and I pull it out.

  Izzy:

  Drinks on Friday.

  You in?

  Me:

  Absolutely.

  Slipping my phone back into my bag, I can’t help but smile. Drinks with Izzy is exactly what I need if I’m going to survive a charity gala with my mother on Saturday. I’ve hated going to these things for as long as I can remember. No matter which event you attend or what cause they are championing, you can break all the attendees down into one of three groups. For my mother, it’s about socializing. She’s always on the hunt for her next ex-husband and a benefit full of rich, eligible men is her playground. There are also those who go because of status. All they care about is being seen there, letting everyone know just how important and well off they are and then there is the tiny group of people that go to support the charity. On the plus side, after I attend on Saturday, I can get out of going to them for, at least, a few months.

  When I reach the coffee shop, I duck inside and let out a sigh of relief before breathing in the rich aroma of my second favorite beverage. Behind wine. The air conditioning feels like heaven and I consider calling Mercedes to see if I can work from here, so I don’t have to walk the remaining block to the office. There are a few people waiting in line, so I stand behind them and pull out my phone, noticing a text from Chance.

  Chance:

  Are you allergic to anything?

  Me:

  Just you.

  A soft giggle escapes me as I stare down at the screen, waiting for his reply before I shake my head and glance up to see if the line has moved. I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to him. Whatever. What’s the harm in flirting with him as long as he and I are on the same page? If we both know this relationship has a shelf life, we won’t read into things like that. My phone buzzes in my hand and I’m smiling before I even unlock it.

  Chance:

  You wound me, Princess.

  Me:

  You’ll survive.

  “Can I help you?”

  My head jerks up and the barista smiles as I step forward and close the space left by the person in front of me in line. I glance up at the menu, even though I always order the same thing, before meeting his eyes again.

  “Large vanilla latte with a double shot, please. And a blueberry muffin.”

  He nods. “Coming right up.”

  As he turns and makes my order, I glance down at my phone and reread my last text as a smile forms on my lips.

  “You have a gorgeous smile,” a deep voice says. I glance to my left; my smile more forced than it was moments ago. He’s an attractive man but he looks like the kind of man my mother would set me up with and it makes him hideous in my opinion.

  “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me,” he practically purrs, flashing me a smile designed to make women swoon, but I see past him. His eyes hone in on me, a mission in his gaze and the calculating smile and designer suit say more than he is. My mother would absolutely lose her shit for a man like him. “I’m Damian Griggs. It’s nice to meet you…”

  “Carly,” I supply and he holds his hand out. I reluctantly shake it as the hair on my arm stands on end and I can’t rip my hand away fast enough.

  “Wait. Carly Mills?”

  I nod, feeling uneasy. “Yeah.”

  “I think I know your mother. Grace Mills?”

  Of course, he does. It becomes clear this is retaliation for my outburst at breakfast and I have to bite my lip to keep myself from saying anything that would earn me an earful from my mother. I bet she took one look at him and had to physically stop herself from salivating over the possibility of hooking him up with me.

  “Yep. That’s her.” I turn away to face the counter and wait for my coffee because I have nothing left to say to this man. I’m sure he thinks knowing my mother gives him some kind of advantage, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. Just as I think I may get out of here without having to speak to Damian again, I feel him behind me, closer than is acceptable for a woman you met only two minutes ago.

  “I have to say, yo
ur mother’s description of you didn’t do you justice.”

  Why am I not surprised? Laughing, I shake my head, refusing to turn around and face him. “Am I supposed to be flattered?”

  He’s silent for a moment before softly chuckling in my ear. Goose bumps race along my skin and my body tenses in response. “Guess not. I like how you call me on my shit, though.”

  The barista saves me from saying anything else as he sets my drink down on the counter in front of me and I offer him a smile as I reach into my bag. Before I can even touch my wallet, Damian steps forward and snaps his fingers at the barista.

  “One coffee, black. And I’ve got all this.” He motions to my order as the barista nods and gets to work, rushing to complete his order.

  “Thank you but you don’t have to do that,” I object.

  Damian turns and leans back against the counter, slipping his hands into his pockets as he smiles at me. “And what if I want to?”

  “I appreciate it, but I would just prefer to buy my food.” I grab a twenty out of my wallet and try to reach around him to lay it on the counter, but he stops me, wrapping his hand around mine with the money still in my fist.

  “Please, I insist.” He smiles again, laying on the charm but all it does is creep me out more. I know guys like him. They were born into wealthy families and have more self-esteem than any one person needs—making them think every woman should drop to her knees as soon as they enter the room. I’ve been down this road before and nothing about it appeals to me.

  The barista sets Damian’s coffee down and tells him the total but I’m not paying attention as I stuff my money back into my purse and try to grab my things so I can get out of here. I grab the muffin, but the coffee is just out of my reach and I contemplate if I really need it. As I think about going through my morning without it, though, I know the answer is a resounding yes. Damian turns, the same creepy smile on his face, and my coffee in his hand.