Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  Over the duration of the pregnancy, Jonny’s and my relationship grew stronger than ever. He made up for leaving me, but in a way, I knew why he did what he did. I mean it’s hard to get over your first love. He is mine and I don’t think I could ever find another man to love as much as I love him.

  Jenn will forever be a part of our lives and I am happy with that, because this amazing woman brought us together, it was fate if you ask me. Pain laces through me again and I scream bloody murder.

  “FUCKING HELL, GET HIM OUT OF ME!”

  “Okay, Eden, honey, you are ready to push. Are you ready to meet your son?” the amazing nurse says. I nod my head, looking over at my husband.

  Yep, you heard that right. One month after Jonny came back, we got married, we had a biker wedding on the land surrounding my, well, our home. There were bikers for miles and miles, but it was something that you don’t see often, and it won’t be something I will ever forget.

  “Come on, baby, you can do this. I mean, how hard can it be to bear down and push a baby out of your pussy. It’s used to having something big and thick stuck up there,” Jonny pipes in. The nurse laughs and shakes her head at him.

  I reach up and tug on his beard that I love so much and pull so we are nose to nose.

  “Easy? Do you want me to force an orange up that little pee-pee hole that you have on the end of your cock and make you push it out? Huh, do you?” I spit out at him.

  His eyes dilate, and I shake my head at him in warning.

  “Fuck, I love it when you get sassy.”

  “Oh shut it,” I hiss and the need to push becomes unbearable.

  I push, and push, one nurse holding one leg, Jonny holding the other. My body pulses as the blood rushes to my head, but I keep pushing through the burn until I hear the most angelic sound in the world.

  The sound of my son crying.

  “Fucking hell, baby, I love you. He is here, holy shit, I’m a dad.” Jonny’s voice is filled with emotion as the baby is placed on my chest, thankfully all cleaned up. He kisses my head, my nose, my eyes, and my mouth.

  Searing a kiss that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

  “I love you too. Hey, baby boy. I’m your mom and this hairy beast here is your daddy.” I kiss my son’s head, breathing in his baby smell and sighing in contentment.

  “Thank you, Eden. For everything, you have made me complete, baby. My ride brought me to you, and in turn got me my son. My boy.”

  He kisses me again and settles on the bed, with one arm around my head, the other cradling me and our boy between us.

  “He needs a name,” I speak up.

  “Merrick Hutchins,” Jonny answers, kissing my head on his answer, and I nod in agreement.

  “Welcome to the world, Merrick Jonny Hutchins.” I hear the intake of Jonny’s breath, but I say nothing and snuggle into his body, letting his heat soothe me.

  He told me his life was complete, but so is mine.

  My man. My son. My family.

  The End

  Hell’s Fury MC: Dangerous Curves

  (GUARDED HEARTS BOOK 7.5)

  Claire Marta and Nia Farrell

  Season 2 Prequel

  To our beta readers/proofers Anne Bright and Kristie White Bivens. Thank you for helping our work to shine.

  ~ Claire and Nia

  1

  Friday, 15 November 2019

  All he’d wanted was a quiet evening and a cold beer at The Dragons’ Den bar. Quake paused with his pilsner halfway to his lips when a dozen muscle-bound bikers wearing Death’s Head MC colors walked in.

  Front and center was Phantom, their former Sergeant-at-Arms.

  Every sense went on high alert. The Death’s Head MC had a bar. There was no reason for them to be at the one owned by his club unless it was to cause trouble.

  With jackal shifters, it was a safe assumption.

  Quake’s cut identified him as one of the Enforcers of the Hell’s Fury MC. The bottom rocker panel on the back placed him with the Las Vegas, Nevada chapter. There were twelve clubhouses scattered across the country, manned by members of The Order of the Dragon, a brotherhood of gargoyle shifters. What made them unique among their kind were their robes of flesh, engineered with four-strand DNA as part of the Next Genesis Project. Funded by The Eden Foundation in Rome, the global project sought to advance human evolution and ensure the survival of the species. Their numbers would increase as fated mates were found.

  Their brothers in New York, members of The Order of the Phoenix, were the first to be ordered to mate and procreate. Hopefully, the Dragons would be single for a while longer. They enjoyed no-strings sex too much to be tied down with women and babies.

  Just to be safe, they always wrapped up. The introduction of seed into a fated mate started a transformation process known as the flux, which activated her four-strand DNA and forever changed her body. With an extended lifespan and accelerated healing, she could only conceive with one of their kind.

  The Phoenixes were artisans. The Dragons were warriors, assigned to protect their area of the world from darkness when it threatened. Their chapter rode and flew over the rural Nevada landscape outside Las Vegas, keeping it safe for humans and supernaturals alike.

  As a club Enforcer, it was up to Quake to stop shitstorms like the one he sensed brewing. Thankfully, the other club Enforcer, Rock, was here to help. Quake had speed but Rock fought as a mixed martial arts heavyweight. Too bad they’d ridden in tonight with their Sergeant-at-Arms, Mason, and their President, Stone, instead of their club champions. Chaos and Beast were currently keeping tabs on a pretty little ATF agent from New York City who’d flown in earlier with her team. They were making certain Casey Andersson stayed safe and out of trouble.

  Quake looked at Stone. “I thought Phantom was in prison.”

  “He was,” Stone murmured, lowering his voice to a level that would be inaudible to anyone without their supersensitive hearing. “Just to be on the safe side, let’s do a partial shift.”

  A full shift to gargoyle form would mean clothes off and wings out. With a partial shift, they grew a few inches taller and considerably heavier. They retained their human appearance but their skin became impervious to bullets and blades.

  Their chairs groaned, complaining of the additional weight when they shifted.

  Protection in place, their President pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text.

  Thirty seconds later, his cell pinged twice.

  “Phantom’s out early,” Stone informed their table. “Good behavior, if you can believe that.”

  “Someone did or was paid to,” Mason commented dryly. “Money talks in politics and prisons.”

  Stone didn’t respond. Glancing at his list of texts, he read one more and tucked his cell phone away, saving the rest for later.

  The Death’s Head MC members bellied up to the bar, forcing patrons off their stools so that they could take them.

  Their bartender, Bunny, braced herself, her inner rabbit urging her to flee from the predatory jackals. They started hitting on the attractive blonde shifter right away, demanding drinks and emptying the pretzel and popcorn baskets just to make her refill them, making lewd comments about her tits and ass.

  Prime goods that Rock knew well.

  The other club Enforcer started to rise, prepared to intervene.

  “Easy,” Stone admonished, pulling out his cell and looking at his texts. Swear to God, that man was glued to his phone. Their President blew an exasperated sigh at the newest message. “I need to make a quick call. Back in a minute.”

  The President went down the hall and unlocked the door to the private office. Whatever it was must be important.

  Quake took another sip and scanned the thinning crowd. The Death’s Head bikers were killing business. Sensing danger, the regulars were settling tabs and slipping out. Things escalated when one of the jackals got handsy, grabbing Bunny’s Double-D tit. The buxom blonde squeaked and jumped back out of reach. Her attacke
r dove over the bar after her.

  And the fight was on.

  Thanks to their partial shift earlier, the three Dragons were ready for action. Fists flew. Tables and chairs were overturned. Glass shattered on the stained concrete floor. Stone heard the ruckus and raced to help. Not that they couldn’t have handled it. Twelve jackals were no match for one gargoyle, let alone four, but the quicker they could end it, the less they’d have to replace or repair.

  Phantom was the last to go down, the stubborn son of a bitch. Quake caught the bastard’s fist and delivered a blow to his solar plexus that robbed him of air and sent him to his knees.

  “Get the fuck out,” Stone ordered, his tone daring them to disagree. “Go back to The Snake Pit where you belong.”

  The ones who could stand easily helped the rest to their feet. Mason and Rock herded them toward the exit. Pausing at the door, Phantom stretched out his arm with his index finger and thumb extended, pointed his hand at Bunny, and jerked it like he was shooting a gun.

  The rabbit shifter paled, color draining from her face.

  “Son of a bitch,” Quake growled, ready to shove that finger up his ass.

  “Leave it,” Stone ordered. “Let them go. We don’t need the law coming down on us. They’re leery enough of bikers as it is. Most of them don’t see any difference between us and those jackals. Rock, you’re assigned to Bunny tonight. Stick around. Make certain everything gets locked up nice and tight. See that she gets home safe and sound. Got it?”

  Oh, yeah. Rock got it alright. His dick visibly seconded the notion of seeing Bunny to bed.

  Quake’s pecker protested, feeling left out. He hadn’t been laid in a few days, he had money in his pocket, and he knew just the place to get a piece of tail. “Stone, Mason. I’m headed for The Pole Barn. You interested?”

  The Pole Barn was officially a rural strip club with some of the prettiest bitches he’d ever seen. The upstairs bordello wasn’t legal but for the right amount of cash, you could buy a lap dance or a dance between the sheets, take your pick. Wolf shifters loved it doggie. They could take being ridden rough. In his experience, they were worth every cent.

  “Nah,” Stone demurred. “I need to get back. That call I made earlier was to our brothers in New York. I promised Malik and Iosefa if their ATF agent comes to tomorrow night’s fight, I’ll personally keep an eye on her. I’ll either be watching that fine ass of hers or saving it. We’ll see.”

  “I’ll come with,” Mason decided. “Been a while since I’ve seen the girls, and Candy knows how to work that pole.”

  All of the women who worked there could move like world-class gymnasts, and every one of them was drop-dead gorgeous. None of the other local strip clubs measured up.

  Parting ways with Stone and Rock, Quake and Mason exited The Dragons’ Den and headed for their bikes. The parking lot was strangely empty and blessedly quiet with no trace of Phantom or anyone from his club. Taking that as a good sign, Quake mounted his Harley and rumbled onto the road.

  The Pole Barn was thirty minutes away, located on a former ranch that had been converted to meet the current owner’s needs. Two main buildings and numerous smaller ones dotted the property. The massive barn was now a strip club and bordello. The large house, off-limits to patrons, was where some of the girls and the owner of the club lived, choosing to keep their private lives separate from the demands of their profession.

  Madam Belle was strict on rules. Head of the mismatched pack living under her roof, she protected them fiercely.

  Quake and his brothers had never had a run-in with her but plenty of others had. She might look small and delicate but you learned quickly not to mess with the Fae. Piss her off or hurt one of her employees, and you’d be waking up the next morning missing your manhood.

  Or so they’d heard.

  Parking beside Mason, Quake headed for the front door, giving a friendly nod to the bouncer, Amos. The burly bear shifter acknowledged them with an appreciative look and a sigh of disappointment that only two of them had come.

  The crowd was packed and the atmosphere was electric like every night they found themselves there. The lights were dimmed, tables were filled, and the alcohol was flowing. Stage lights spotlighted women wearing next to nothing, gyrating sexily around the poles positioned on three different stages.

  Whatever Madam Belle was doing, she was doing it right. This place offered stunning supernatural women whose energy only added to the magic in the air.

  Yep, The Pole Barn was the place to be if you wanted a memorable night.

  Sidling up to the bar, Quake scanned the crowd for Candy, the pink-haired she-wolf they’d had fun with before. He found her stage left, giving a performance that would have made her the feature in any other strip club.

  Wearing nothing but a silver thong, she worked the pole with a grace and agility that made Quake’s cock hard. Against his will, his gaze kept tracking, drawn by the woman who commanded the center stage. Long, shapely legs ended in a pair of nine-inch spike heels. The fabric of her thong was nearly see-through, offering a glimpse of her plump, shaved snatch. Her bare tits were as perfect as a Hindu goddess’s—round, high, and firm. There was a carnal light in her eyes when she looked out over the crowd, connecting with her fans.

  When she was through, one lucky son of a bitch with a platinum card or a bankroll would follow her upstairs for a private session.

  Magenta was the crown jewel of The Pole Barn, with long, flowing hair dyed to match her stage name. The purple-red locks were as unique as her species. A rare red maned wolf shifter, she commanded a premium price that was far too rich for Quake’s blood. He’d settle for Candy, but that wouldn’t stop him from lusting after Magenta, closing his eyes, and pretending it was her underneath him.

  The number ended. The girls worked the crowd, leaning down to get bills stuffed in their thongs. One patron tucked a wad of cash in Magenta’s and motioned her closer to whisper in her ear.

  She looked at Madam Belle, who nodded her head.

  She’d just been bought for the night. Fuck it all.

  Quake was feeling low until Mason slipped back onto his barstool.

  He hadn’t even noticed he was gone.

  “We’ve got Candy for an hour,” he told him. “Starting in thirty minutes. Room 7. I need to check my stash. Make sure we have enough condoms to last.”

  They’d learned to bring magnums with them rather than trust that enough were on hand for males their size.

  Their height wasn’t the only thing that could shift when they were excited.

  “Sounds good. Thanks,” Quake told him, trying to sound upbeat. He should be grateful he was going to get laid even if it wasn’t the woman who starred in his favorite fantasies.

  Getting off would have to be enough.

  Of course, they’d make it good for Candy. She enjoyed their attention, more for the way they fucked than the money they spent—although she enjoyed that too. She liked group sex, and she liked it rough. They could ride her as hard as she wanted.

  Mason went outside and came back with a brand-new box of rubbers. When the clock hands edged close enough, they finished their beers and sauntered down the hall to the bodyguard at the bottom of the stairway. IDs checked, they went upstairs and stopped outside Room 7.

  Quake rapped on the door. “Candy? Are you ready for us?”

  “Come in, gentlemen! Come in!”

  Opening the door and stepping inside, the men were treated to the sight of Candy’s nude body, posed on the bed for their pleasure. Rising gracefully, she came to where they stood and began helping them out of their clothes. “How do you want it?” she asked them. “Separate or together? Mouth, pussy, or ass?”

  Mason grinned and called dibs on her backdoor. Where they had an hour, Quake asked for a dental dam, intending to practice his oral skills. With Mason’s cock up her ass, it shouldn’t take much to make her climax. Candy was one of the most honest whores he’d ever met. She never faked an orgasm with them.
>
  Then again, she never had to.

  Which might explain the sweet spot she had for the Hell’s Fury MC gargoyles. They were favorites with some of the other women too.

  Rule number one with the girls here was no kissing. Denied that pleasure, he and Mason each took a breast, molding her naturally large tits with their callused fingers, tormenting her nipples, sucking on them while Quake played with her clit and Mason lubed up her crack.

  Like a dance they had memorized, his brother picked Candy up and tossed her onto the bed. She landed on all fours and shook her tail at him. Growling, Mason wrapped up and stalked toward her, wetting his cock on her juices and shoving it into her pussy.

  She gasped to feel his nine inches drilling into her.

  “Fuck,” he grated. “Feel that, bitch? Feel me filling your cunt? As soon as I get you stretched out for Quake, I’m reaming out that ass of yours.”

  He started banging her box, the force of his thrusts shunting her forward. Mason grasped her hips and held her in place while he took her, making her pant and moan with pleasure.

  Quake watched, fisting himself, waiting for his turn to join them. Leaning against the wall, with his supersensitive ears, he couldn’t help hearing the tryst next door, male grunts accompanied by the sound of bedsprings being worked hard.

  “Oh, yeah, fuck me, fuck me just like that,” came the husky voice he knew well.

  Magenta.

  Quake growled low in his throat. Closing his eyes for a moment, he absorbed the other dirty comments she crooned to her customer. Imagining it was his ear she was begging in, he pumped his shaft, keeping rhythm with what he could hear, enjoying her every whimper and moan. Christ, he could almost feel those long legs of hers wrapped around his waist and her tight little pussy clutching his dick.

  “Quake, did you fall asleep on us?” Mason questioned.