Demented Sons Series Volume One: Books 1-4 (Demented Sons MC Iowa)

by Kristine Allen

  Cinnamon and I both noticed Hacker at the same time, and she let out a soft giggle when she heard me exclaim a whispered “Shit!” He was leaning on his bike next to my car as we approached, and his eyes followed my every step.

  Why wasn’t it illegal for him to look so damn good? My eyes took in his mussed dark hair, muscular arms and the tattoos that wrapped around them, the way his jeans hugged his thighs, and the way his gorgeous eyes followed my every move. Holy Jesus, could the man be any fricking hotter? All my mind could imagine was climbing him like a monkey in a tree.

  Bad thoughts! Go away! Ugh!

  “Girl, what did you do to get that gorgeous hunk of man? You holding out on me? And if you don’t want him, you can toss him my way.” Cinnamon winked at me as she climbed in to her car before I even answered and locked the doors. After her car started, Hacker spoke and told the burly security guard that he had it from here. My heart started to race knowing I was about to be alone with him again. The security guy, Bull, lifted his chin to Hacker and deserted me.

  Fuck. Asshole. You know, like it was somehow his fault.

  “What are you doing here? I told you I didn’t need a ride.” Thankfully, my voice sounded more confident than I felt at that time. At the word ride, I thought to myself I’d sure like to ride him, though, and then my mind conjured up dirty images of our limbs entwined and slick with sweat.

  Wait. What? Where did that come from? Holy Mary, Mother of God, it’s really been entirely too long if I can’t keep my mind out of the gutter. My cheeks flushed with heat. Good thing it wasn’t bright enough for him to notice—well, I hoped it wasn’t.

  It wasn’t like I was a virgin, but I hadn’t dated anyone since getting custody of my brother, and my last “hookup” had been almost a year ago when Matt was staying with a friend. Hell, that was also my last real “date,” if one cared to get technical. On second thought, I could’ve possibly been a born-again virgin after all that time.

  My inner pondering was interrupted by the panty-wetting sound of his voice. Mmmm, I’m telling you, his voice was straight velvet. Like suck-you-in-and-happily-smother-you, rich and smooth.

  “Come have a drink with me, Kassi. It’s still early. I’ll be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.” He held up his right hand, and I had to wonder if someone as sinfully sexy and blatantly naughty was ever a Boy Scout. He was total sin on wheels. “Please?”

  Glancing down, I looked at my watch, noting the time. Matt wouldn’t be expecting me until after closing time, so technically I had the time. Not that he would begrudge me a little “me time,” but I still felt like I should be at home if I wasn’t working. Being responsible for my brother made me feel guilty about taking time for myself even though I knew there was nothing wrong with it. Indecision colored my expression, and Hacker latched onto my wavering resolve like a bloodhound on a scent.

  Wait a minute… how did he know my name?

  “You know you want to. I won’t let you drink too much, or too little. Come on….” When he folded his hands and rapidly batted his thick, long eyelashes at me, I couldn’t hold back my laughter. He grinned back at me, and a single dimple sealed my coffin.

  Why? Why did he have to have a dimple? Shit. I was done for, and I knew it.

  “Okay, fine. You wore me down. Now put away the dimple. That’s not fighting fair. Who told you my name, and where are we heading? I can’t go too far because I do have to get home shortly after closing time. And I only have one request….” I wasn’t sure if he would go for my request because I knew how some guys were about stuff like this, especially the guys in his club. But before him, I honestly had no desire to even talk with any of them, so I was a little surprised I was not only giving in with him, but contemplating going all in. My teeth worried my bottom lip as I debated whether to ask him or not.

  “Hmmmm, one request and she has to be back by closing so she gets home on time…. Are you Cinderella?” Pursing my lips to hold back my smile, I shook my head no.

  “Boyfriend waiting at home for you? Husband?” Ha! As if. Again, I shook my head no after a short burst of laughter snuck out. Was that a look of relief that I saw flash through his eyes? Before he kept asking and hit too close to home, I reached out to grab his hand and batted my eyelashes in a comical rendition of his earlier expression. My personal life needed to stay personal until my life was situated.

  “We ride your bike.” My teeth worried my bottom lip in my characteristic nervous habit, waiting for him to say he didn’t let bitches ride his bike or something equally chauvinistic but praying he wouldn’t. I hadn’t ridden on the back of a bike since I was seventeen and my boyfriend had one. The only thing that bummed me out when we broke up was that I freaking loved riding on the back of his bike. Probably the single thing that guy had going for him, in retrospect. My parents hated it and him.

  Please, please, please, I chanted in my head.

  “Whaaaat? You want to ride on a big, bad biker’s bike? As in… with boobies against my back? Oh! The scandal!” His expression of mock horror and his falsetto voice had me busting a gut. His sense of humor was winning me over right along with that dimple. And those eyes…. Shit, no lie, he had the whole package. My eyes dipped involuntarily at the thought of the word “package.” Damn, I couldn’t help it! Like I said, I was a hormone-laden, born-again virgin—yeah, I’ve decided that actually is possible—with my senses being assaulted by at least 6’3” of raw, sexy man-god. Or maybe I was a secret closet slut. Sue me.

  In anticipation, I held my breath.

  He took a step closer to me, and his face lit up with a smile. That dimple was in full force, and I gently touched it with a fingertip, feeling that flutter in my belly as our skin made contact. “I told you this here is illegal. It’s unfair and unjust manipulation.” Evidently, my entering his personal space gave him permission to do the same because his hand reached for my ponytail, and he gently wrapped the long strands around his hand, letting them slide through his fingers as it unwound from gravity and it’s sheer weight.

  “And it should be a crime for you to cover this dark, gorgeous hair, but you do it anyway. I knew you were a brunette.” He met my gaze. “It makes your eyes even bluer, if that’s possible. You just gonna stand there looking sexy as hell or you gonna get on the back of my bike, darling? And Bo told me your name, but funny thing is, he doesn’t know much else about you….” His voice took on a deep, husky quality that had my girlie parts tingling. Watching him swing his leg over his bike and settle in took my breath away. With much effort, I peeled my eyes away from his ass and legs. Lordy, he was just too much. For once in… well, forever, I wished I didn’t have all the encumbrances and responsibilities holding me back from being young and carefree. For a brief moment, I wondered what it would be like to be able to bring a man home.

  My inner Kassi smacked me and frowned her disapproval at me. Oh, screw off, I told her as I climbed on behind him with an excited smile. I looped my tote handle over my head and one arm, flipping it to my back.

  “What are you waiting for? Let’s get this show on the road!” I yelled over the rumble of his motor as I held on for the ride.

  “Up All Night”—Hinder

  JESUS.

  What the hell was wrong with me? First, women didn’t get to me like this. Not for a long damn time. Second, women did not, and I repeat, did not ride on my bike with me. Ever. Lastly, I did not date… not since… well… also for a long damn time. But the feel of this girl’s tits on my back with her body pulled tight to me was making me think all kinds of crazy things I didn’t normally think.

  Fuck. Just… fuck.

  Good thing it wasn’t too far to where we were heading, because I swore my brain was shutting down every time her body made contact with mine. In fact, my brains may have been leaking straight to her tits. Damn, that was an example of how fucked up my mind was at that moment.

  When I turned toward Fillenwarth Beach, she held tight around my waist as we turned to whip a bitch and
pulled up in front of the Nautical, my new favorite little bar and grill. It wasn’t my imagination that her fingers ran lightly over my abs after I backed in to a spot in front of the place and cut the power to my engine. For about the millionth time since I first laid eyes on her months ago, I wondered what the chances were I could convince her to come home with me. Vividly depraved visions of how she would look spread out beneath me in my bed, cheeks flushed and panting, flooded my head.

  For fuck sake, I need to pull my shit together. Hell, the only women who had ever even been in my home were my mom and sister, yet here I was thinking of bringing her into my private haven.

  My bike softly ticked as the motor cooled, and my hand rested on her clasped hands over my abdomen. Before letting her go, I scanned the road, then looked over my shoulder to let her know it was safe to get off.

  The look on this gorgeous girl’s face was priceless. The cool air had her cheeks flushed, her crystal-blue eyes sparkling, and her hair had pulled loose from her ponytail in places, leaving soft wisps framing her delicate jaw. The happy smile that covered her face, beautiful even devoid of makeup, lit her up and made her appear so young, I had to question how old she was. She had to be at least twenty-one if she was working at the Shamrock, but shit could be faked. No one knew that more than me.

  Bo wasn’t a fountain of information as I had hoped. He knew her name was Kassi and that she only worked the weekends—hell, I knew that already—no friends or family ever came in to see her, and that was about it without looking in her file, because he didn’t get into the dancer’s personal lives. Could I have found out more on my own? Yeah, but only if I went back to one of my computers. And like I said, it seemed incredibly wrong to invade her privacy like that.

  Huh. I wasn’t sure where that blip of conscience came from because God knew, with the exception of a few of the brothers’ old ladies, I had a history of deep distrust of women, and honestly, I was a bit of a woman hater. Kassi was just… different.

  “How old are you, sweetheart, because right about now you look like a little kid on Christmas morning?” There we go, that was a smooth cover. Okay, so my brain isn’t completely mush. Good to know. She got a coy look and lifted a brow at me. Her slender hand raised and pulled her band from her hair, and she finger combed it to work some of the tangles out. It was like a silky dark curtain that my hands ached to touch.

  “Ahh, so what if I am underage? Then what would you do?” Fuck. That was like a bucket of cold water thrown over me. My feet automatically stepped away from her, and I felt my stomach drop to my feet.

  Sonofabitch…

  Her laughter was rich and enveloping as she grabbed my hand and pulled it to her lips where she placed a laughing kiss to my knuckles. Her eyes glittered with amusement.

  “Well, I guess it’s your lucky night because I’m twenty-three.” Her smirk was so damn cute, and the relief that poured over me at her declaration was immense. The little shit. She was going to pay for that.

  “Oh, you got jokes, huh? Well, sweetheart, I will remember that…. Now let’s go sit down.” I took her hand, and we walked into the small establishment. Waving at Dusty, the bartender, we wove our way through the crowd to an empty table back in the corner. The waitress came up and set small napkins down, ensuring she leaned over far enough to give me a view down her low-cut shirt and asked us what she could get us. She practically ignored Kassi, and I was about to say something when a soft hand covered mine and a syrupy sweet voice curled around my body and ended right at my dick.

  “Hacker, baby, I forget which drink you said I would like here, so just order it for me. After all this time, I trust you.” Then, to my surprise, she leaned over the table, resting those luscious tits on my hands and pressing her full lips to mine before slipping her tongue in my mouth.

  Shit, a girl like her just can’t do that to a guy and not have him be all in. My lips, teeth, and tongue damn near devoured her alive before she ended the kiss by biting my bottom lip and tugging it slightly before letting go. Her slender finger slide across my eyebrow, along my jawline, and to my lips where I took it between my teeth and licked the tip before releasing it to speak.

  “She’ll take an Crown Apple with cranberry juice. I’ll take a Crown Royal Black, neat.” Frou-frou drinks weren’t my thing, but I remembered hearing Becca, Hollywood’s old lady, order them back in Vegas. As I ordered, I didn’t even make eye contact with the waitress, and I sure as hell couldn’t tell you what she looked like. My eyes were glued to the gorgeous dark-haired minx across the table from me. The waitress mumbled she would be right back and huffed off to the bar to turn in our order.

  “So, what the heck was that all about? Not that I’m complaining, mind you, I’m just trying to figure out what I need to do to make that happen once more. Or twice more. Or as many times as I can in one night.” She smirked at me and leaned back in her seat, gazing at me for a minute.

  “Well, I just don’t like being ignored because the waitress wants to drool all over my date—umm, not that I think this is a date-date, but well… umm, anyway… she was about to fall out of her top, trying to get your attention, and I see enough boobs in a night without seeing hers. So, I figured I’d give her a big, fat hint that she wasn’t needed tonight. Oh! Unless you’d rather I leave and let you hook up with her instead?” Her eyes went wide in mock innocence, causing me to laugh my ass off at her words, expression, and her general female tactics.

  She was like a fresh breath of air to a man held under water for too long. My mind told me I needed to back the fuck up and chill. The interest I had for her couldn’t be more than short term. Long term led to places I swore to never go again in my life—places I didn’t deserve to go.

  Not to mention, no matter how beautiful and funny she was, she was still a woman, and therefore not to be completely trusted. Something told me she could easily worm her way inside that cold, dead organ in my chest that somehow managed to circulate my blood, and I could not let that happen. Of course, there was nothing wrong with her being an enjoyable distraction from all the shit we had going on in the club, for the time being. Keep telling yourself that.

  “Fair enough. By the way, I hope you like Crown Apple, baby. Oh, and does that mean we’re hooking up? Goodness, you move fast! I thought this was just drinks.” Her face flushed red, despite her laughter. “So, tell me a little about yourself, Kassi…. Is it short for anything, like Kassalene, Kassita, Kassanova?” How I maintained a straight face with those names, I have no clue, but it was so worth the humor I saw dancing in her eyes as she laughed once again. Warmth spread slowly through me at the melodic sound of her laughter and the sight of her smile.

  I was so very fucked.

  The waitress brought us our drinks, and I paid for them, despite Kassi trying to give the waitress the money for hers. She huffed and puffed a little before conceding and graciously accepting the drink. The waitress walked off after rolling her eyes and muttering under her breath, “Jesus, just let the man fucking pay.” Kassi’s cheeks were flushed a becoming shade of pink, and I couldn’t help but think she was damn adorable.

  She sipped from her drink, an obvious stall tactic, before her eyes closed and she made a soft, little groan as she swallowed. Of course, my filthy mind and dick imagined her making those little groans of pleasure as I was fucking the ever-loving hell out of her.

  Shit, I was a single man in his twenties, what else would you expect? Just because I rarely had sex these days, didn’t mean my junk didn’t work.

  “Damn, that is good. I don’t usually drink, but that is some good shit. I need to remember this for the next time I drink—you know, next year. And for the record, my name is actually Kassandra. Kassi is what I have gone by since I was young. I grew up a ways away from here, but moved here for a change of pace about three or four years ago.” Doing the math quickly in my head, I realized she was around nineteen or twenty when she moved here.

  “So, what is a beautiful, smart, young woman like you doing wo
rking as a stripper?” I realized there wasn’t necessarily a “type” for a stripper, but despite that, she didn’t seem like a woman who had aspired to be an exotic dancer. She seemed so innocent, smart, and collected. It was hard to reconcile this fresh-faced beauty in front of me as one of our dancers, when she seemed like the quintessential girl next door; one who should have better alternatives. It just didn’t seem to fit for some reason.

  “I’ve been working at the Shamrock to pay for college. Not much of a story. We’re not all born rich, and college isn’t free.” Something, along with her lack of eye contact and fiddling with the small black straw from her drink, told me there was a lot more to it than that. What I really wanted to know was why it mattered to me what the rest of the story was. It shouldn’t matter diddly shit what her background included, since I didn’t want her around long term. Right? But some insatiable beast seemed to be trying to claw its way out of me—intent on devouring every detail about the beautiful, dark-haired woman in front of me, running her fingertip through the condensation on the glass.

  “So that’s it? No family? What are you going to school for?” Shit. I sure as hell never meant to ask all these questions. Like I said, it didn’t matter. Really, it was irrelevant. If I kept telling myself that, I would believe it and adhere to my thoughts. It just seemed my mouth wasn’t paying any attention to this inner voice of reason, and when it opened, it was pure word vomit.

  “Ummm, yeah, not much to tell. No parents.” Her face flickered with a brief glimpse of a deep, ravaging pain. One thing my stint in the Marines taught me was how to read people, but with her, it seemed to be hit or miss. She was pretty good at keeping herself hidden—her real self. Despite that, it was obvious the loss of her parents was either recent, or still deeply painful.