UnScrew Me (Savage Beast MC Book 1)

by Hayley Faiman

It feels forbidden and naughty—it feels like an adventure.

  A few minutes later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Joel’s pickup truck and we’re following behind Buster and Trista. “Will you tell me now?” I ask.

  He grunts, his fingers squeezing the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. “I don’t know anything, yet. She’s in our makeshift jail. I called her Old Man, Trista’s dad, and told him to get his ass here,” he grunts.

  “What will he do?”

  Joel shrugs. “Maybe he’ll keep me from killing her slowly for even thinking about taking my boy, let alone attempting to.”

  I look out of the window for a few minutes, taking in the two heads in front of us. Trista’s body doesn’t move as she drives, but I can see Buster’s animated hands as he tells her something. “Why would she ever put him in danger?” I whisper. “She practically raised him, didn’t she?”

  Joel grunts as he turns the truck toward the clubhouse gate. “She didn’t practically raise him. Maybe she thinks she did, but Savanna has been a fucking mess for years.”

  Trista is let in through the gates, with no issue, and so are we. “Trista wouldn’t do anything for her mom, would she?” I ask, ignoring his observation about Savanna. For someone who was enamored by her for years, he doesn’t think very highly of her.

  He clears his throat, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair. “She wouldn’t. She’s a good kid who got dealt shitty, selfish, parents. She’s not her mother,” he explains as he parks the truck.

  He reaches over, wrapping his hand around my thigh after he’s shifted the truck into park. “I’ll handle it all, cariña.” He squeezes my thigh. “They’re here, nothing will happen to him. I’ve already texted a brother to keep an eye on them for the night, though he’s pissed he’s going to miss the branding,” he chuckles.

  My stomach twists at the word branding. I’m not sure I’m ready, in fact, I don’t think a person could ever be ready for something like that. He releases me, opening his truck door and walks around the front of the vehicle. I hold my breath the entire time, too scared to inhale or exhale. When the truck door opens, he holds out his hand to me.

  “Trust me, mi vida,” he rasps, his dark liquid eyes staring right at me.

  I gulp, nodding as I slide out of my seat. He wraps his arms around me, sliding one of his hands down my ass, and between my legs. I gasp when he finds my center. His fingers pinch my clit which causes my breath to whoosh out of me.

  “You need to relax. Buster is safe here, and you’re going to be claimed tonight. It’s going to be so fucking beautiful,” he growls, nipping my earlobe.

  I whimper, lifting my hands to curl against his cut. “You’re scaring me.” I try to sound scared when I speak, but it ends up coming out like a moan.

  He chuckles, nipping my lobe again. “Your soaking wet pussy and moans say otherwise.” He moves his head until his mouth is hovering above my own. “Trust me,” he grunts.

  “I’m trying,” I sigh as his fingers fill me from behind.

  He hums, his mouth crashing against my own. I moan as he fucks me with his fingers, filling me, but never touching my clit. I need that, I need him. I almost beg, but his teeth nip my bottom lip. “Trust your man. You have to, cariña. If you want to be in this, you have to trust me.”

  Joel continues to pump his fingers in and out of me while his black eyes focus on my own. “I want to. I want to so damn badly,” I sigh, shifting my hips.

  “You will. Let’s mark you, mi vida,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of me and takes a step back.

  Reluctantly, I release his cut as he lifts his hand to his face. I watch him slip his fingers into his mouth, tasting me and I clench my thighs together. I want his mouth between my legs, not sucking my taste off of his fingers. I want him licking, sucking, and filling me.

  Without another word, he reaches for my hand and tugs me behind him. I’m wearing a pair of low high heels, and it’s hard for me to keep up but Joel isn’t bothered by that, he just continues pulling me behind him.

  Trista is face to face with a pissed off looking Taz when we walk through the clubhouse doors. “Get her ass upstairs,” Joel growls as soon as he sees them.

  “Not with him,” Trista says, stomping her foot and crossing her arms for good measure. I look down at Buster who only rolls his eyes.

  Taz does the same, except he looks like he’s trying to ask God for help, maybe an intervention. “Don’t give a fuck what you got goin’ on. Taz is watching you, get over it. Now get the fuck upstairs,” he growls.

  Trista’s eyes widen as she looks from me to Joel. A slow smile appears on her lips. “Okay, Silver. Have fun.”

  He grunts and I watch as he ruffles Buster’s hair before the three of them take off. “I promised Buster we would have a family day tomorrow. Movie and dinner,” I announce.

  Joel’s head swivels, to look back at me. His eyes are that deep dark liquid color I love so much, but I can’t tell if he’s pissed or not about my promise. “I’m sorry if I overstepped,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head, a slow smile appearing on his lips. “Sounds fucking perfect, Presley. I didn’t expect it, but I probably fuckin’ should. Any woman who makes homemade chocolate chip cookies for my boy, and stuffed pork chops is going to welcome him with open arms,” he points out.

  “How’d you know?” I ask, my mouth falling open slightly.

  His smile widens. “I talk to my boy. I try to call him every day, just like I try to call you every day. He told me everything,” he rasps.

  My face feels hot and I know it’s bright red. I open my mouth to say something but Dragon’s voice booms over the top of mine.

  “The Savage Beasts are getting a new Old Lady tonight,” he shouts.

  Everyone around hoots and hollers at the news. I turn my head toward Joel’s chest and attempt to bury my embarrassment. He only laughs, but it isn’t loud, just a low chuckle as his hand reaches around grabbing ahold of my ass.

  “It’s time, cariña.”

  Lifting my head, I look up at him. I’m not ready. Not at all. Joel lifts his hand, his rough fingers cupping my cheek.

  “Tu aventura esta esperando, mi vida,” he rasps.

  I gulp, looking toward the crowd of eager men. Then I look back over to him, lifting my chin before I give him a quick nod.

  SILVER

  Presley’s eyes tell me she’s terrified, but my girl is trying to trust me. She shouldn’t. This shit is going to fucking hurt. There’s no way to make it better, or to ease the pain for her. This is so much worse than other clubs who only tattoo their women.

  Maybe there was something wrong with our founding members, maybe they were sadistic fucks. Maybe we’re the same since we’ve never made an attempt to change the laws. I slip my hand around the small of her back and guide her over to the table that’s set up in the middle of the room.

  “Joel,” she breathes.

  I cringe. “Hop on, Presley,” I order.

  She looks up at me, then over to the table. I wait for her to fight me, to question me, but she doesn’t. She moves slowly, but she doesn’t complain or question as she does. Once she’s sitting on the table, I instruct her to roll over and move her hair to the side.

  Once she’s on her stomach, and her hair is shifted, I use the straps hanging down to strap her ass down. “I’m sorry, but it’s for your safety,” I murmur against her ear. She nods, not speaking. I don’t blame her. She’s probably too fucking scared to talk.

  I pull the restraints tight. One around her shoulders, one around her upper back, one around her middle, and two more around her legs. Dragon brings the branding iron out from behind the bar where it’s been resting in the hot coals.

  Picking up the iron by the handle, I look at the design. I had it made for her a couple days ago, and I’ve seen it, but it wasn’t orange with heat, it wasn’t mere moments from searing my woman’s skin. There is an intertwined S and G. It’s simple and elegant, plain
and modern.

  Looking over at Wolfe, I lift my chin. “Hold her head still, brother,” I murmur.

  Esther is standing next to him, her eyes round and her face pale. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I assume she’s panicking because she is probably next on this journey.

  Wolfe holds Presley’s head still, I lift the branding iron and with careful precision, I press it against her neck. I hear her cry out, then whimper as the brand burns her skin. I can smell her flesh, and I know the rest of the room does as well. They all watch in silence until it’s over.

  Lifting the iron from her neck, I look down at the masterpiece. It’s fucking beautiful. It’s exactly as I pictured and I know that once it’s healed and scarred over, it’s going to be spectacular. Dropping the iron back into the hot coals, I reach for the salve and slowly slather it on her skin. She’s shaking, whimpering and assuredly crying.

  Once the salve is applied, I slip my hand up the middle of her thighs. Most of the men disperse, the excitement now over. “Joel,” she whimpers as my fingers find her clit.

  “Come for me, Presley, you’re so goddamn wet,” I grunt.

  “I’m not,” she attempts to deny.

  Chuckling, I swirl my finger around her hard little clit. Her hips attempt to buck at the sensation. Rubbing circles against her clit, I bring her closer, although I think she may like pain because her fucking cunt is soaking my hand.

  “Cariña, you’re so wet, it’s so damn sexy. My brand on your neck, your pussy wet and waiting for me to fill it, fuck you’re amazing,” I whisper just loud enough for her to hear me. Her hips jerk again.

  I rub her harder, then alternate between slapping her pussy and rubbing her clit. On the third slap, she lets out a sound that is a mix between a sob and a moan. Her pussy floods my hand with her release and I groan just at the fucking sensation.

  Removing my hand, I wrap her neck to keep it from getting infected before I silently unstrap her. Only when I untie the last strap do I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Good girl, Presley. My God, you were fucking amazing.” She only moans as her response.

  Helping her to sit, I finally get an opportunity to look into her eyes. They’re glazed over, she looks tired yet satisfied and something else. She looks almost at peace. “I have something else for you,” I murmur, taking in her gorgeous features.

  “You do?” she breathes.

  The cart that the branding iron is on, has a bottom shelf. Reaching down, I pick up the black cut. It has a few similar patches to mine. The back Savage Beast emblem, and a few others. But it’s the rocker that is the most important part.

  “When we go to any club shit where other members might be there, or we’re out in public as a group, you wear this,” I explain.

  She runs her fingers over the stitching. “Property of Silverback Gorilla,” she whispers, sounding almost in awe. “This is real,” she rasps.

  My brows snap together at her words and I open my mouth to say something, but she beats me, speaking first. “I love you, Joel,” she breathes.

  Lowering my head, I take the cut and set it down next to her. “It’s real, mi vida. It’s so goddamn real, even though I feel like it’s a fucking fantasy,” I admit.

  Her lips smile, her hand reaching out to wrap around the side of my neck. “I would have rather you not made me come in the middle of the clubhouse, or maybe char my skin,” she smiles. “I’m ready for this adventure though,” she admits.

  “Yeah?”

  She leans forward pressing her lips to mine. “Oh yeah, I’m so fucking ready,” she giggles.

  Sliding my tongue into her mouth, I taste her. I consume her, the way she fucking consumes me. I love this woman. I fucking love her and I can’t wait to make her adventure a reality. I know I’ll never make her happy, not the way she deserves, but fuck I’m going to aim to try my fucking hardest.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  PRESLEY

  “Down it, girl,” Wolfe chuckles. He whoops and hollers when I do exactly as he’s instructed. The rest of the room erupts in shouts and cheers as well.

  I tug on my cut, it feels weird, the cool leather against my hand. The stitching on the patches. The fact that it claims me as a man’s property. Then my hand travels up to my bandaged neck. I can’t feel anything, my body too numb from the dozen or so shots I’ve ingested. I’m claimed as his property there too, even if nobody but another motorcycle club member understands it—it’s there.

  “Cariña, don’t touch,” he murmurs softly, his lips skimming the opposite side of my neck.

  I close my eyes and lean back against his chest when his hand slides around to my belly. My breath hitches as his fingers slip beneath my dress and fill me in one quick motion. My hips jerk as he grinds his palm against my clit.

  “I need you,” I slur, my head rolling to the side.

  He chuckles, his tongue tasting my neck. He nips my skin, his fingers pumping in and out of me, his palm grinding. I’ve completely forgotten that I’m in a bar room full of people. All that matters are his fingers inside of me, his palm against me, and the orgasm that is threatening to take over my entire being.

  Without warning, he removes his hands from my legs. I feel his fingers touch my lips and he growls against my neck. “Open.” I’m hungry, for more of his touch—more of him. I open, obliging him so that he’ll reward me, hopefully, with release.

  He shoves his fingers into my mouth and I close my eyes, sucking my taste from him. He groans, grinding his hard length against the crack of my ass. We have too much material between us. His jeans, and my dress—it’s all too much.

  Spinning around in his arms, I place my hands on his chest and slowly slide my palms up until they’re wrapped around his neck. Shifting my fingers into his hair, I tug on the soft strands, leaning forward and licking the warm skin of his neck, at least the bit that isn’t covered by his beard. Nipping his skin, the way he did mine, I groan when his fingers grab handfuls of my ass.

  He picks me up, and I let out a squeal, my feet dangling from the floor. The whole crowd erupts in catcalls and shouts again as he walks away with me. I don’t mind, none of them are being malicious, in fact, it’s almost heartwarming, or maybe that’s because I’m drunk. Joel carries me to his room. I let out another high pitched cry when he throws me down on the bed and I bounce once.

  “Show me, Presley. Show me my property,” he growls.

  Without hesitation, mainly because I’m completely shitfaced, I spread my legs wide. His hungry gaze watches me, stares down at my pussy and then his eyes come back up to me and he grins. “Hell yeah, that’s mine,” he announces.

  Feeling brave, sexy, and still drunk, I slip my fingers between my legs. My eyes stay on Joel’s as I touch myself. He watches, his gaze dancing between my legs and my eyes. I’m already on edge from him touching me minutes ago.

  Letting my head drop back I whimper as I bring myself closer. My hips lift, my fingers pumping and curling inside of me. “I’m close,” I cry.

  “Let me see, cariña. Show me,” he demands.

  His voice is so rough and so damn sexy, it sends me over the edge. I let out a mewling sound as my hips jerk and buck against my fingers. My thighs tremble, twitching with my release when the door flies open. I scream, slamming my legs closed together, my hand between them, my fingers still deep inside of myself.

  Eagle looks over at me, then to Joel and over to me one last time as a slow smile appears on his lips. “You want to tell me why you busted into my room when the fuckin’ door was closed?” Joel roars.

  Eagle’s smile vanishes, and he turns his gaze back to Joel. “That bitch wants to talk, and she’s sayin’ she wants to talk right fuckin’ now,” he announces.

  Joel stands, and I watch as he adjusts his dick. “I’ll just bet she does,” he grunts.

  His eyes move over to me and gone are the warm liquid black eyes that I’ve had the entire night. They’re cold, hard, and downright frightening. I shiver at his intense look as he
walks over to me. He lifts his leg, his knee sinking in the bed next to my hip. He lifts his hand cupping my cheek.

  “Don’t take your bandage off until I get back. I don’t want it to get infected.” His thumb runs over my bottom lip and his face inches closer. His mouth brushes mine. “Sleep naked. I’ll lock you in. I’ll be back soon,” he promises.

  He’s gone before I can even blink. I watch the door close and then hear it lock behind him, just as he promised.

  Slowly, I remove my hand from between my legs, then go about undressing. I rip my dress off, throwing it on the ground, but the new cut, I lay it nicely on the top of his beat-up dresser. Looking back at the bed, I’m surprised to see that the sheets have been changed, they look clean and the room that was once kind of gross and dingy, holds a somewhat sparkly finish.

  Frowning, I wonder who cleaned it as I crawl into the bed. I continue to wonder for about two seconds before I pass out.

  SILVER

  I watch the bitch smirk as I walk through the makeshift cell. I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head to look down at her. Dragon is next to me, and judging by the scowl on his face that I can see with my peripheral vision, he’s about as pissed off as I am.

  “Did I interrupt something?” she coos.

  Dragon snorts and speaks before I get a chance to say anything. “Bitch you know you did. Stop acting like you’ve got something on us. Not when you’re the one tied up and on death’s door,” he growls.

  She narrows her gaze at Dragon, then promptly shifts over to me, ignoring him. “I can’t believe you branded that bitch, that was for me,” she hisses.

  I laugh, shaking my head. “You’ve got an H on your tit, babe. Not enough room on your body or in your heart for me.”

  “But there is in yours for her?” she quips.

  Leaning forward slightly, I look into her eyes. “What is all of this about? It’s not because of Presley, so don’t pretend it is. That just makes you look fucking pathetic.”

  Her eyes narrow into small slits and she exhales. “Fine,” she snaps. “I wanted in. It’s bullshit you men get to control everything. A needed gone, then a new contact was going to be brought to you, but of course you had to go to that asshole Karma and his even bigger tool of a brother.”