Savage Kings MC Box Set 1

by Lane Hart

  I may as well be holding her hostage and have her tied up in my bed because she is well and truly fucked. Not that I would be opposed to Peyton restraining me in her bedroom…

  “Take a seat and get comfortable,” she says, pointing with the muzzle of the gun to the empty wall across the sparsely decorated living room. It’s the spot that’s furthest from the door.

  My back slides down the wall and then I’m sitting with my knees up in front of me, shoulders starting to ache since my wrists are still restrained behind my back.

  I did what she asked to make her think she has power over me. Now it’s time to get to the fun part where I remind her who’s really in charge here.

  “Take off your shirt,” I tell her once I’m as comfortable as I can get. I didn’t get to see her titties last night, so I need to remedy that oversight now.

  “What?” Peyton asks as she comes to a stop in front of me and lowers her gun so that it’s now pointing down at the pristine ivory carpet. Who the hell has white carpet? More importantly, how does she keep it so clean?

  “If you take off your shirt, then maybe I’ll be able to recall a memory of what happened to your laptop,” I explain to her.

  She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “That is never going to happen, buddy.”

  “Then you’re never gonna get your shit back,” I respond. “And you and I both know that you can’t keep me here forever…”

  Her shoulders slump just a tad when the truth of that statement hits her.

  “There has to be something else you want,” she counters. “Do you want money? Give me back the laptop and I’ll…I’ll pay you five grand and let you go. We can call the payment a finder’s fee.”

  I’m already shaking my head before she finishes her sentence. “Nope. Believe it or not, I have plenty of money. Do you know what I really want but don’t have?” I ask, and then immediately give her the answer. “Titties.”

  Peyton barks out a non-humorous laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind. Don’t you think you’ve had enough fun at my expense when you humiliated me?”

  “Fun at your expense? Humiliated you?” I repeat in confusion.

  “Yes!” she exclaims, the indignation at what happened in the parking garage written all over her face. How dare she get pissed at me for having an orgasm when I got nada. And it was never my intention to embarrass her. I should’ve left after the kiss, but I didn’t.

  “Jesus, woman. Do you think it was fun for me to get you off with a rock-hard cock and then walk away without getting any relief for myself?” I ask.

  “Poor pitiful you,” she mutters sarcastically. “I’m so sorry you had to stoop so low to get what you wanted from me.”

  “I’m not sorry,” I tell her. “The only thing I’m sorry about is that I had to meet you under false pretenses…”

  “Ha! So you admit it then! You set me up to rob me!” Peyton shouts.

  Shit. I almost said too much. Reel it in, Brady.

  “The only thing I’m admitting to is wanting to fuck you,” I contend. “That’s all men on Tinder want, right? I set up a date just so I could try to fuck you. That was the false pretenses. But when my conscience caught up to me, I couldn’t go through with it.”

  “Liar,” she spits. “You are so full of shit. Men like you don’t want women like me.”

  “It’s the truth! The whole truth and nothing but the truth,” I tell her. “Hook me up to a polygraph machine. The feds have them, right?” And what the hell did she mean when she said men like me don’t want women like her? Criminals like me don’t want to get their hands on hot, curvy, badass agents like her?

  “Your MC is the only thing that’s getting fucked,” Peyton replies. “You busted our CI, he told you about my investigation, and you’re trying to see how badly you’re screwed.”

  “Too bad you don’t have anything but circumstantial evidence,” I mutter.

  “That’s what you think…”

  “That’s what I fucking know for a fact,” I argue.

  Peyton’s eyes widen. “How would you know that?”

  Grinning, I tell her, “Hypothetically, if the MC did get their hands on a government laptop, it would only take seconds for us to access files. Hypothetically, of course.”

  “Great,” she grumbles, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair while her other hand still holds the gun by her thigh. “That’s just great. Criminals stole my computer and accessed confidential files. I have to report this shit to my superiors, and then I’ll be screwed…”

  “You want it back?” I ask her, interrupting her worried rambling. I don’t want her to lose her damn job for this. The MC got what we needed from it, so there’s no reason we can’t return it. “You can have the laptop back. No one has to know that it was temporarily missing.”

  “I’ve been asking you for it for hours!” Peyton exclaims.

  “Right,” I say. “And I’m agreeing to return the laptop right into your hands. There’s only one thing you have to do.”

  “What?” she asks, brow furrowed because she’s already forgotten my request.

  “Take off your shirt.”

  “Oh my god!” she huffs. “We are not going back to that nonsense.”

  “Then I guess we’re right back to where we started—you kidnapping me against my will and me refusing to tell you anything about your missing computer.”

  Peyton mutters something under her breath, but then she places the gun down on the floor and starts to unbutton the top of her white shirt.

  Holy shit, she’s actually gonna do it.

  My mouth waters as the first hints of her white lacy bra and hidden skin appear through the opening of her blouse. Before she even gets her arms free, I add, “Bra too. Seeing bare tits really helps me to remember things.”

  “No,” she replies without even considering it.

  “Yes,” I counter forcefully, leaving no room for argument, reminding her this isn’t a negotiation.

  After her shirt is in a pile on the floor, we have a staring contest that lasts for about two minutes before she eventually caves.

  “You’re a foul, perverted asshole,” she grumbles while reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, letting the straps fall down her arms before tossing it to the carpet. “There! Now get me my damn laptop so I can let you go!”

  “The shirt and bra stay off until it gets here,” I demand as my eyes take in all of the creamy skin of her beautiful breasts and perky pink nipples. “Oh, and you have to stop investigating the Savage Kings.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  If I could lift my gaze to her face, I bet it would show pure outrage.

  “Then I guess you’ll never see your laptop again,” I mutter. “Such a shame for you to lose your job once the feds find out you gave away all their secrets for a tongue lashing. Do you think they’ll arrest you when they find out about the kidnapping?”

  I do look up in time to see her roll her eyes again and blow out a breath that flutters the strand of blonde hair out of her face. “Fine. I’ll lay off the Kings as long as they don’t become suspects in any new crimes.”

  “Great! Pull my phone out of my pocket.” The burner phone is in the back-right jean pocket, but I don’t tell her that when she comes over and kneels in front of me, her heavy tits swaying in front of my face close enough to lick. I let her dig into each front pocket, pulling out my personal phone first.

  “Nope. Not that one,” I tell her.

  “You have two phones?” Peyton looks up at my face to ask me through her thick, black eyelashes. We’re so close that, for the first time, I can clearly see how stunning her hazel eyes are, with various shades of green swirls circling the pupil. There are an infinite number of rings and I want to count them all.

  “Yeah,” I answer her question once I get to six circles of green and am finally able to break free from the distracting spell her eyes put me under.

  “Of course you do,” she mutters when she stuffs the device bac
k in the pocket, like she’s annoyed I’m a criminal with two phones. Or maybe the notion holds some other meaning I don’t understand.

  Eventually, Peyton removes the burner phone from my right back pocket with an annoyed huff.

  “Find Reece’s name in my contacts, call him, and then hold it up to my ear,” I instruct, and her beautiful eyes narrow at me, making me think she isn’t fond of following someone else’s orders.

  Her fingers get to work, though, and a moment later, the device is ringing next to my ear while she holds it to my head. I think I could drown in her sweet peachy scent with her tits hanging in my face and die a happy man, right here and now.

  “Yeah?” Reece answers.

  “Hey, man. Can you have Eddie go load up my bike from Canal Drive?” I ask, first and foremost, making Peyton sigh heavily.

  “Oh-kay,” he agrees, as if wondering why I didn’t call Eddie directly.

  “And then could you give the laptop to the prospect and have him bring it to me?”

  Reece laughs into the phone with understanding, before he says, “Are you up shit creek without a paddle?”

  “Not entirely,” I mutter, wetting my lips and eyeing Peyton’s tits. Fuck, I want to put one of her pink nipples in my mouth.

  “Let me guess. You’re at her place in Raleigh?” he asks, having already figured out my situation.

  “Yep.”

  “Shit. I thought that SUV parked outside this morning looked familiar. You good? Need any backup?”

  “Nope, I am fan-fucking-tastic,” I assure him honestly, since my only complaint at the moment is that my hands are restrained behind my back.

  “Then sit tight. I’ll send the kid off right now,” Reece says before he ends the call.

  “It’s on the way,” I tell Peyton.

  “Good,” she says as she closes the phone and straightens in front of me. Tossing the phone down next to me on the floor, her hands go to her hips. “Wait. You didn’t tell him my address.”

  “Didn’t have to,” I respond with a wink. “You’re not the only one who’s been doing some investigating.”

  “Now I really should arrest you,” she grumbles before walking a few feet away and taking her breasts out of my line of sight.

  “Hey, you’re the one who kidnapped me and brought me to your house!” I remind her. “You shouldn’t have showed me where you live unless you planned to kill me. It’s a rookie mistake.” I withhold the fact that I sat out front with Reece and watched her for two days last week.

  “Do you ever stop talking?” Peyton asks when she turns to face me again.

  “Yes. Whenever there’s something in my mouth. A tongue would suffice. Or a titty. I’m pretty fond of pussy, especially yours…”

  Going over to her discarded clothes, Peyton picks up her shirt, strolls over, and then crouches down to press the fabric to my mouth, typing the ends at the back of my head. Which is fine because her tits are pressed against my face again while she works.

  “I agreed to remain topless, but I didn’t agree to stand in front of you.” Then, she smiles smugly at me before she picks up her gun and walks away with a proud sway of her hips, down a hallway.

  Really? Did she forget I’m not restrained to the floor, that I can get up and move around? It only takes a second to get to my feet, then wiggle the shirt out of my mouth so it falls down to my neck, and eventually flutters to the floor when it comes untied.

  Tiptoeing as much a man who is well over six feet tall and weighs two-hundred plus pounds can, I ease down the hall until I locate her bedroom. It’s empty but the door inside of it is shut. She must be in the bathroom, so I go over and stretch out on her bed, my booted feet spread eagle, cuffed hands behind my back, lifting the crotch of my jeans up in offering.

  The bathroom door opens and then Peyton gasps before yelling, “What are you doing in here?” She even pulls out her gun from her pants holster to point it at me.

  “You didn’t tie me down to anything,” I remind her.

  “Get back in the living room!”

  “We have a few hours before the laptop gets here. Want to have some fun?” I ask, thrusting my hips in the air. “You could start with blowing me as a thank you for the tongue fucking I gave you last night.”

  “Sure,” she says sweetly with a sardonic smile. “If you want me to bite your dick off.”

  “Once you see my masterpiece cock, you won’t want to hurt it,” I tell her. “It’s too fucking incredible to destroy.”

  “Get up and get back to the living room,” she orders with her arm and gun pointing the way.

  “I could’ve fucked you last night,” I remind her. “You would’ve let me, and you would’ve loved it. But I didn’t.”

  “Oh, you fucked me all right,” she mutters, lowering her arm to cross both over her chest, gun still in her grip. “Just not in an enjoyable way.”

  “Now, that’s not exactly true,” I tell her. “You creamed on my face so hard that your juices were dripping down my chin.”

  “Stop talking about that!” Peyton snaps. She raises the gun this time when she says, “Go.”

  “Can I at least sit on the sofa?” I ask as I squirm over to the side of the bed and get to my feet.

  “Fine,” she huffs. “Just get out of my bedroom and don’t say another word!”

  Wow. She’s really pissed because she wants me, and she’s just too angry at me to give in and touch me.

  But I have a feeling it won’t take much for me to get Peyton out of her panties again.

  In fact, I bet after she gets her laptop back, she’ll be much more likely to get naked with me. She’s halfway there already since she’s topless.

  Besides, it’s true what they say. Angry sex is in fact one of the best kinds of sex. And right now, I’m pretty sure Peyton is so furious with me, she would fuck my brains out.

  Chapter Six

  Peyton

  When the doorbell rings about two hours later, I glare at the jackass lounging on my white sofa like a king and then shove my gun into the holster on my pants. Quickly slipping on my shirt, sans bra, I button it up on the way to answer the door.

  A glance out the peephole shows a young kid in a leather vest similar to the one all of the Kings wear. Dalton referred to him on the phone as a prospect, so he’s nothing more than an errand boy for the club. Still, I take in his baby face and red hair, dark eyes, remembering every detail so I can try and add him to the file later.

  “Open it,” Dalton says from the sofa because he obviously thinks I’m nervous and that’s why I’m taking my sweet time. “He’s a kid. He won’t hurt you.”

  As opposed to himself, a big, grown-ass man who has a twinkle in his gorgeous blue eyes that make it obvious he likes hurting people. He sure as hell hurt me. Maybe not physically, but he lied to me and used me to steal my shit. Then I let him manipulate me into going topless for hours. He really is too pretty and smart for his own good.

  Too bad I was lying about laying off the Savage Kings investigation. Now, I won’t stop until every single one of the bastards wearing the bearded skull crown goes down.

  Unlocking the deadbolt, I pull open the door and snatch my briefcase from the boy’s hands before he even knows what happened. Then I shut the door back in his face and lock it.

  “There. You got it,” Dalton calls out from the sofa. “Now get these fucking cuffs off of me!”

  “Hold on,” I tell him while I take the bag over to the small kitchen table and set it down to pull out the laptop and start it up. Once I enter in my password, it loads my home screen, and everything looks intact. I click on a few files, the Savage Kings one first, to make sure nothing has been erased. Seems like it’s all there, which is a huge freakin’ relief.

  “Happy now?” Dalton asks from right behind me, making me jump about a foot off the floor.

  “Jeez,” I mutter.

  Why do I keep forgetting he’s not bolted down to anything? He sure does know how to sit still and make people for
get how dangerous he is. Last night, the idea he was a biker who came to the white-collar bar posing as an attorney, with the intention of robbing me, never crossed my mind.

  Facing him once I get my heart rate down, I pull out the small handcuff key from my pants pocket and tell him, “Turn around.” He does, giving me his back that’s covered in the huge Savage Kings patches, including the smug bearded skull wearing a crown. They call themselves Kings, like they think they’re untouchable. We’ll just see about that.

  Finally, I turn the metal in the lock so it clicks open, and remove the cuffs from each of the jerk’s wrists.

  “That’s much better,” Dalton says when he turns around and looks down at me with those too-gorgeous-to-be-real blue eyes while his fingers massage his wrists. “I’m all for getting handcuffed, but it would be a helluva lot more fun if we were in bed and naked.”

  “Get out,” I tell him, pushing aside any thoughts of him and me naked from my mind, despite how intriguing the stupid idea may seem at the moment.

  “No,” he replies.

  “No?” I repeat with an unfiltered gasp of surprise. “The cuffs are off. You can go now,” I say. “If you hurry, I bet you can catch a ride back with your friend.”

  “He can leave without me. I’m not ready to go just yet,” Dalton tells me with his gaze lowered to my lips.

  Oh no. No way am I falling for his crap again! And dammit, why am I shaking? I’m not scared of him. If he wanted to hurt me, I know the cuffs wouldn’t have stopped him.

  “Do I need to show you where the door is?” I ask, hoping he can’t hear the new shakiness in my voice.

  “Nope. I remember,” Dalton says, then takes the handcuff keys from my hands and puts them on the kitchen table beside my laptop. “And if you really wanted me gone, you would’ve pulled your gun on me again.”

  “I-I do want you gone,” I contend, but I’m not even sure if I believe the words. My back is against the chair at the table with his big body looming over me. I should slip out from between the tight space or shove him back a few feet. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.