Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition

by Elizabeth Knox

  The men were all tall, cut, and as good looking as Quake. The black wolf hybrid was massive. Just guessing, she’d say he was a hundred and twenty pounds or so. Rory was glad to see the shaggy beast offer her a doggie smile and loll his tongue.

  The men were all curious, she could tell. When no one grilled her or asked questions, she figured she could thank Stone for that. He must have ordered them to stand down and give her space, because, to a man, that’s what they did.

  Excusing themselves, Quake put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the staircase, stopping at a door halfway down the second-floor hall. Opening it, he reached in far enough to flip on the overhead light and held the door for her to step inside.

  His room was much nicer than she expected, styled like an upscale rustic retreat with warm wood paneling, beamed ceilings, and a window that faced the back of the property. A dark-colored quilt covered a king-sized bed with a headboard that screamed kink. A small desk held a computer.

  A stand in the corner cradled an electric guitar.

  “Do you play?” she asked, curious to see this side of him.

  Her question made him blush, which she found adorable.

  “Some,” he admitted humbly.

  “What’s your favorite?

  “Heavy metal. Acid rock. Hair bands. Classic rock. Blues. Not a big fan of disco, hip-hop, or rap and you can forget Country, but AC/DC, Guns and Roses, Stevie Ray Vaughn . . . .”

  “Wow.” If he played Stevie Ray Vaughn, he must be good. “Maybe I can talk you into a private concert sometime.”

  She made it sound like she was kidding but she was serious. She’d love to hear Quake play something for her.

  Yawning widely, she smothered it with her hand. Exhaustion was seeping in.

  “Another day,” he smiled. “It’s close enough to when Doc said you could sleep. No offense, but you look like you need it.”

  Rory wasn’t going to argue.

  Moving to a wooden dresser, he tugged a drawer open and pulled out a folded T-shirt. “Here.”

  Shaking her head, she started to strip. “Thanks, but I prefer to sleep naked.”

  Tossing the garment back in with the others, Quake moved to the bed, peeling back the blankets and turning on the bedside lamp for her. “You go ahead. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Shimmying out of her sweatpants, she watched him cross the room to another door. Rory got a glimpse of an ensuite bathroom before he vanished inside.

  Padding naked to the bed, she slipped beneath the blankets with a soft sigh. It felt good. Really good. Better than the dirt floor where she’d spent last night.

  Remembering the darkness and the sense of claustrophobia, she shuddered.

  “Hey, you okay?” Quake questioned as he emerged from the bathroom and caught her reaction. Gloriously naked, he was breathtaking to behold.

  Why did all the gargoyles around here have to look so gorgeous?

  Rory sighed when he turned off the overhead light and joined her.

  “It’s good to be in a bed, that’s all,” she admitted, cuddling into his side when he raised his arm to let her snuggle close. “After I tried to escape, they made me sleep in a pit.”

  Quake’s lips brushed her forehead. “I’m here if you wanna talk about it.”

  “It was bad.”

  His arms tightened around her. “Duchess, nothing you say is going to make me look at you any differently.”

  Raising her head, Rory rested her chin on his pec so she could meet his gaze. “And which way is that?”

  “You’re strong,” he murmured. “A survivor. I’ve seen you stare down customers at The Pole Barn whenever they’ve gotten too close. Watched how you’ve stepped up and defended the other women who work there. You do whatever it takes when a situation calls for it.”

  “Phantom and Khan . . .” Her gaze slid from his. “They did things to me.”

  “And the others?” Quake questioned.

  Rory frowned. “The other Death’s Heads? Some of them touched me but they didn’t . . .”

  “So I only need to kill Khan.”

  Eyes widening, she snapped her attention back to meet his gaze. He was deadly serious. “You’d do that for me?”

  Lips curving up at the corners, he smiled. “I’d burn their whole fucking club to the ground for you, duchess. They don’t deserve to live after touching you without your permission.”

  “Quake, I’m an exotic dancer. A whore . . . .”

  Cupping her jaw, he silenced her words by pressing his thumb against her lips. “That doesn’t give anyone the right to take what isn’t given freely or consensual. You might sell your body, but it’s your choice who you take as a lover and what you let them do.”

  “I tried to escape . . . ,” Rory whispered. Tears threatening, she blinked them back.

  “You’re free now. Here. Safe.” Removing his thumb, he replaced it with his lips in a sweet, tender kiss. “Let’s get some sleep. You look ready to drop.”

  He reached for the bedside lamp, but she grabbed his arm before he could switch it off.

  “Please,” she begged. The thought of losing the light made her chest so tight, it hurt to breathe. “Can you . . . can we keep it on?”

  Quake searched her face for a moment before nodding. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

  “Thanks.” Rory hated that the dark would remind her of the pit. She was scared she’d end up back there and find this was just a dream. “Do you mind holding me for a while? I think I’ll go to sleep easier if I feel you with me.”

  She didn’t say that she liked the way he smelled—a fresh, clean scent with a woodsy note and primal musk. But every breath would remind her she was somewhere safe with a man who’d protect her. Who’d avenge her. He had killed Phantom, he said, and planned to kill Khan.

  How could she ever begin to thank him, let alone repay him?

  Quake lay back down, adjusting his pillow under his head then reached under the covers and adjusted himself. Seeing the telltale movement of his hand, Rory reached for him. If nothing else, she could help him sleep better.

  Lightning-quick reflexes caught her wrist before she could touch him. “No,” Quake scolded. “You’re going to close your eyes and get some sleep. Be a good girl, and I’ll let you touch me in the morning, not before. Understood?”

  Rory had to admire a man who said no. He was a rare breed.

  Like her.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. “I’ll be good.”

  Only because that’s what Quake wanted.

  Rory drifted off, waking in the wee hours to feel breath ruffling her hair and a hard-on nudging the crack of her ass. “Someone’s morning wood is knocking on my backdoor,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. “If you like anal, I can take it.” She’d noticed when he did threesomes with Candy, he was usually the front man. “Just use lube. Slick us up enough and you can fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “Christ,” he groaned, flexing his hips and grinding against her. “Be right back.”

  He disappeared in the bathroom, taking time to empty his bladder, wash his hands, and brush his teeth. Wrapping up in a condom, he returned with lube and a hand towel.

  She was primed and ready, remembering his possession and the feel of them together.

  Throwing back the covers, Quake looked at her hardened nipples and the hand she had shoved in her crotch.

  “Did I give you permission to play with yourself?” he growled, his eyes darkening, his words laced with a delicious thread of menace. He had all the trademarks of a natural Dominant. Why hadn’t she noticed before?

  “No, Sir,” she replied but she didn’t take her hand away, either.

  Just that fast, he rolled her onto her stomach and swatted her ass, five hard strokes on each side, painting her bottom red.

  “Hands above your head,” he ordered. “Grab the headboard and don’t let go until I tell you. The way I’m feeling, you’re in for a rough ride.”

  1
4

  Quake was pleased when Magenta obeyed him, her body responding to the dark promise in his voice.

  Kneeling behind her, he lubed his length and greased her up, stretching her out with his fingers. Wiping his hand clean on the towel, he kicked her legs apart and climbed between them, finding her most intimate opening and pushing his way inside.

  She panted, forcing herself to relax. Maybe he should talk more, remind her that this was him, not Khan. He was a Dragon, not a whoremaster. A gargoyle, not a jackal son of a bitch.

  “That’s it, duchess,” he crooned. “That’s a good girl. Relax and let me in.”

  Quake worked his way inside until he more than filled her. Stretching her out, he tunneled in deeper until his pubic bone was pressed against her bottom and his balls were bouncing against her box.

  “Jesus,” he breathed. “Fuck if you don’t feel like heaven. I’ll try to go easy on you, sweetheart, but it’s gonna be hard not to cut loose.”

  Knowing the Death’s Head MC, Khan would have relished causing her pain. Quake focused on her pleasure, giving her multiple orgasms before finding his release. He bit the back of her neck and drove in deep, body jerking, shooting his wad, and filling the end of his condom.

  Magenta keened, arching back into him. “Quake!”

  “I’ve got you,” he panted, kissing her nape where his teeth had bitten down. “Fuck that was . . .”

  Quake couldn’t find the words. He’d been with plenty of partners before but there was something about this woman that made him forget all the ones who had gone before.

  Carefully pulling out, he rid himself of the condom and tied a knot in the end, chucking it in the bin by the wall.

  Lying beside her on the mattress, he tugged her against him. Cradled in his arms, she felt . . . right.

  More than right.

  Perfect.

  Trying to think of something poetic to say, he was interrupted when her stomach growled loudly.

  Pressing her hand to her tummy, Magenta laughed. “I think we missed breakfast.”

  “No, I just haven’t brought it up yet.” Quake grinned, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear.

  She looked up at him, lips curved in a tempting smile that made him want to stay where they were for the rest of the day. “Breakfast in bed? A girl could get used to something like that.”

  So could he, if Magenta was that girl.

  The thought of her going back to The Pole Barn and fucking other men made sparks of jealousy stir inside him. She wasn’t his. Yet the thought of anyone else sleeping with her brought a primitive urge to warn off any other male.

  “You’re frowning.”

  Quake snapped his gaze to hers. “I’ve been thinking about what to feed you.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie, but betraying his thoughts was something he knew better than to do. The women at her club didn’t have relationships. If he told her he wanted to see her outside work, it could send her running.

  Her stomach growled again.

  Climbing off the bed, Quake grabbed his jeans. “I’ll be back in a bit. You can use whatever you need if you want to take a shower.”

  Magenta stretched languidly but stayed where she was, lounging naked on the mattress. “Thanks.”

  It took everything Quake had to force himself to go downstairs and forage for food. What was it about this woman he found so alluring?

  A few of his brothers were in the kitchen. Mason chuckled when he saw him. “I see you came up for air. I thought you two would be at it for another few days.”

  “Magenta is hungry,” Quake told him, feeling everyone’s eyes on him.

  Leaning against a counter with a mug of coffee, Beast wore a knowing smirk.

  “You two a thing now?” Inferno questioned, nudging Ryder in the ribs.

  Padding barefoot across the room, Quake raided the fridge. “A thing?”

  Inferno grinned. “You know. Dating.”

  “Belle’s girls don’t date,” Quake reminded him. “You know that as well as I do.”

  “But you and Magenta have got chemistry,” Beast pointed out. “You don’t just let something like that go.”

  Searching out a platter from a cupboard, Quake filled it with cold cooked chicken legs, boiled eggs, cheese, apple slices, four of the breakfast burritos Cookie had made that morning, and a shot glass of hot sauce on the side.

  “I didn’t realize you guys were watching,” Quake muttered.

  “You two aren’t hard to miss,” Beast drawled.

  Mason agreed. “You should ask her out.”

  “Right now I need to feed her.”

  Quake wrapped flatware in a couple of paper towels to use as napkins, tucked them in his back pocket, and filled two large mugs with coffee, leaving room at the top for sloshing. Balancing the platter on one arm, he caught the two mug handles in his other hand and headed back upstairs.

  He realized his planning was lacking when he didn’t have a free hand to open the door. “Magenta?” he called softly, then a little louder when she didn’t respond. “I got breakfast. Can you open the door, please?”

  He heard the rustle of sheets, the soft pad of bare feet on the floor, the turn of the knob, and the click of the latch releasing.

  The door swung open to reveal Magenta still naked as Eve before the Fall. Her violet eyes lit with delight when she saw his offerings. “Here, let me take the platter. I’ll let you handle the mugs.”

  He almost joked that he’d handle her jugs but he bit his tongue, preferring to keep on her good side. He didn’t ever want to sound like she was nothing more than tits and ass to him.

  Not seeing anywhere better to put it, Magenta slid the platter to the midline of the bed near the top. Quake set one mug of coffee on her nightstand and rounded the mattress to place his on the other. Pulling the flatware bundle from his pocket, he unfolded it and spread it out beside the platter for their use.

  “Dig in,” he told her. “Don’t be shy. I brought plenty for both of us.”

  He didn’t have to tell her twice. She attacked it like a ravenous maned wolf, refueling her body to offset the deprivations she’d suffered. She’d said that they’d thrown her in a pit. He didn’t know how long she was in it or if they’d given her any food or drink while she was down there. Instincts made him keep his questions to himself. If and when she was ready to talk, he’d be there to listen but he wasn’t going to push her, not when things were still so fresh and raw.

  “That was so good,” she sighed once she’d eaten her fill.

  Quake smiled. He hadn’t eaten as much as he usually did, content to let her have more, knowing she needed it. “We should do it again sometime.”

  The second the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Shit. He’d gone and fucked this up. Why hadn’t he kept his mouth shut? What was she going to think?

  A slash of pink washed across Magenta’s cheekbones. “You mean breakfast?”

  “Yeah,” he replied, grateful that she hadn’t read more into it.

  “I’d like that.”

  Her soft words had his gaze slicing back to meet hers. “You would?”

  “Sure.” Biting her lip, she gave him an enigmatic smile.

  Quake wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried. “It’s a date—I mean breakfast.”

  Magenta laughed. “I’m not sure anything can beat that burrito, though. It was heaven!”

  Quake froze with his response on the tip of his tongue. He hadn’t thought anything of a vehicle pulling up to the clubhouse until someone pounded on the front door and the unmistakable voice of Madam Belle demanded entrance.

  Magenta looked at him in alarm. Belle was loud enough for her to hear, too. “Shoot,” she muttered, rolling off the bed and finding the charity clothes that she’d worn here. Pulling on her socks and sweatpants, she slipped on her top and wedged her toes into her flip flops. “I gotta go,” she mumbled, already headed for the door.

  Catc
hing her mid-stride, he wrapped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to him for one last kiss laced with the desperation of a man facing an uncertain future. “Please. Wait here just a sec.”

  Grabbing a pen, he pushed up her sleeve and wrote his mobile number on the inside of her forearm. “Text me. Let me know how you are. When we can have our next breakfast together.”

  Magenta stood patiently, letting him scribble on her skin and hiding it with her sleeve. “I will, I promise.”

  She didn’t resist when he pressed another kiss to her lips. “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I gotta go,” she whispered, lips brushing his mouth over and over. “She’ll come looking if I don’t go down.”

  Somehow they made it to the hallway door, mouths still locked. Quake wished that she didn’t have to leave. He’d have given anything to have her under him again, moaning his name while he fucked her.

  “Bye,” she breathed. Pushing away, she slipped into the hall and raced down the stairs.

  Releasing a long sigh, Quake closed the door and rested his forehead against the smooth wood. Magenta wanted to see him again. They were dating . . . sort of. Or breakfasting, if that was even a thing. Whatever you called it, she hadn’t said no.

  Gathering the empty mugs, he placed them on top of the platter and returned them to the kitchen downstairs. Magenta and Belle had just left. Quake could hear the crunch of tires as they pulled away from the house and the engine of a bike following close behind.

  “Mayhem rode shotgun,” Inferno told him, trailing him into the kitchen. “To make sure they get back to The Pole Barn safely.”

  Hearing it, Quake breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been worried about the Death’s Head MC going after Magenta again. He’d even thought about accompanying her himself.

  “So?” Beast questioned, appearing in the doorway.

  Moving to the counter, he unloaded the platter and took care of the scraps. “Hmm?”