Magnum (Rugged Skulls MC Book 1)

by Amy Davies

  Bringing my gaze to his, we get locked in a stare off, neither of us backing down because we are just as stubborn as each other. He isn’t wearing his shades, so I can see his demon, violet eyes that I love. They have always drawn my attention.

  Licking my lips, his eyes drop to my mouth, before he licks his own, and I feel that between my thighs. He leans on the bar, closing the distance between us. My breathing has picked up, and I can feel heat filling my cheeks. His lips quirk when he sees the effect he has on me.

  I shake my head, and as I go to speak, someone yells, “Get a room.”

  Laughter fills the main room, breaking the connection between Magnum and me. Blinking, I smile and straighten my spine, looking between the men standing in front of me. Pushing my hands against his chest to move him back, my fingertips burn from the contact.

  “Fuck off and let me do my job. Go and enjoy the party while you can still stand and see straight.” I walk away, out the back to get more drinks. Well, that’s my excuse anyway.

  Closing the door behind me, I lean against it before bending over, resting my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. It wasn’t until I walked away that I realized I was holding it.

  Joey Masters will be the death of me. But hell, what a way to go.

  Seven

  Magnum

  Blinking against the sun seeping through the blinds of my room, I try to focus on the half-naked chick poster on my wall. The chick is wearing a black bikini top that is barely holding her tits in place and a pair of short denim shorts and biker boots. The image reminds me of Kara. Man, I bet she would look sexy as fuck dressed like this, while sitting on my bike.

  Tearing my gaze away, I reach for my phone on the bedside table. The screen lights up, and I see that it’s gone eleven. Fuck me, we got hammered last night. We did shot after shot, Kara keeping up with our demands. She fucking commanded that bar.

  I chuckle to myself as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, testing the state of my stomach. When nothing rolls, I stand up and go to the bathroom to take a piss and then shower. Sniffing my armpit, I almost see all the alcohol I drank last night. Damn, I smell rank.

  Once I’ve had my shower and dressed, I head downstairs to the kitchen to get some food in my stomach and a shit load of coffee. Walking down the stone steps of my tower, I can hear the voices of a few of the guys hanging around, no doubt filling their faces.

  I stay in the tower part of the clubhouse, which is aptly called The Tower. It was an old castle years ago that crumbled, all except for the main tower. We bought the land around it and built the clubhouse directly into the tower, but we kept as much of the original stone and structure as possible, just updated it a little.

  As my foot hits the last step, the cheers start. Fuckers. I don’t normally sleep in, but I got fucked up last night. I’m just fucking grateful I woke up alone.

  The boys are all sitting at the tables that have been dragged together. For each meal they do this. Offering to buy one long dining table was shot down because they like the open space of when the smaller tables go back in place.

  “Fuckers, can you keep the noise down? My head is pounding,” I bitch as I make my way into the kitchen to see what Dora has made for us. Pushing through the door, I come to a complete stop when I see who’s cooking.

  Dressed in black shorts and a black t-shirt with a heart cut out of the back, is Kara, with a spatula in hand as she mixes up the eggs in a pan. Giving the room a quick look, I notice there are no platters from Dora’s, but there are plates and bowls of food.

  Bringing my gaze back to Kara, my dick jumps for joy that we’re the only ones in the kitchen. I step closer to her, thankful she hasn’t heard me enter. As I move closer to her, she looks over her shoulder, grinning at me with her sexy mouth.

  “Coffee?” Her voice is soft, a far cry from the state of my dick right now. So much for her not hearing me come into the room. I thought I was being a fucking ninja or some shit. Guess not.

  “Please,” I answer. Keeping my steps up, I close the distance between us, resting my hands on the counter beside her, caging her in. Her breath hitches and her spine straightens.

  “How do you like it?” she asks, making me chuckle.

  “That’s a loaded question, baby,” I reply, then lean into her body more, letting her feel me against her. My cock is chubbing out, loving the feel of her ass against him.

  “Maybe,” is all she says, letting out a little giggle. The sound goes straight to my dick. Lowering my head, I rest my chin on her shoulder. I breathe her in, and her scent hits my senses.

  “You smell so fucking good.” My voice is low and gravelly. I’m horny as fuck. I haven’t touched anyone since the day Kara turned up. Call me a fucking pussy or whatever but seeing her again has my cock in a full ‘Kara-hold’. He doesn’t respond to anyone but her.

  We stand like that for fuck knows how long, just taking a moment. Enjoying the contact between us. Something is shifting, and we both know it’s coming. As President of the club, there’s always some shit going down, so times like this are always fucking welcome, especially if it’s Risky pressed up against me.

  “Fuck, Martha Stewart, you are a badass cook, Risk,” Slide pipes in, bursting through the door.

  And our moment is over. Risky moves away from my body, giving the pan of eggs her full attention. Her scent lingers as I turn to face my brother. Though at the moment, I use the term loosely.

  “Oh, fuck, was I disrupting something sexy?” Slide asks, smirking at us. Prick.

  “Yes,” I growl.

  “No,” Risky chimes, before turning back to the eggs. I scowl at Slide, who just winks at me behind Risky’s back. I mouth ‘fuck off’ to him but the fucker doesn’t listen. He moves over to where Kara is scraping the eggs into a bowl to go out to the boys.

  “Mmm, smells good, Risk.” He looks over his shoulder at me, winking again.

  Growling, I step over to them, gripping the back of his cut and pulling him away. He yells then laughs at me, causing Risky to turn around and see what’s happening. She frowns at me, then Slide.

  “What’s going on? What did you do now?” she asks Slide, before she picks up the bowl of eggs and a tray of biscuits and walks out of the room. We both follow her like lost fucking puppies. When she sets the bowl and tray on the table, my gaze is glued to her firm, round ass.

  Biting my lip, I step up to her and grip her waist pulling her to me. Her back to my chest. Leaning in, I rest my head on her shoulder again, whispering in her ear.

  “Dibs.” She sucks in a breath, her head turning slightly each way, looking at each end of the table, most likely checking to see if anyone else heard. Sliding my hands from her hips to her stomach, I hold her firm, loving the feel of her skin under my palms.

  “Magnum, I—” I cut her off.

  “Nope. Mine, Kara. All mine.” My eyes find Opal’s across the table, and he smiles at me. Shifting my gaze over, I’m met with Edge’s penetrating gaze. After a few seconds, he nods, acknowledging my claim.

  “Sit your sexy ass down and eat, woman. These fuckers can make any extra they might want,” I tell her, tapping her on the ass before taking my seat at the head of the table, next to Opal. The seat on my other side is filled by Sarge, who soon moves to the next seat, giving Risky his chair.

  Shaking her head, she walks toward the kitchen, and I frown at her back. What the fuck? I go to stand, but Opal grips my wrist, stopping me. Swinging my gaze to him, he nods in the direction of the door. I look up and see Risky coming back in with two large pots of what I can assume is coffee.

  Giving Opal a nod in thanks, I settle back into my chair and watch as Risky takes her seat. She loads up her plate before digging in. When she moans around the mouthful of eggs that have a tint of red to them, my cock goes on high alert. I really fucking hate that fork right now.

  Don’t think I have ever been jealous of a utensil before.

  Reaching down, I adjust my dick in my jeans, before for
cing my eyes away from my girl and eating my own breakfast. While eating, the boys at the table chat among themselves, leaving me to take it all in, to enjoy the moment with no shit running through my head or any fucking drama. But we are the Rugged Skulls, and I know that drama is never too far away.

  “How did you learn to cook like this, Risky?” Slade asks from down the table, his old lady and old man sitting either side of him.

  Looking down the table, Risky wipes her mouth with a napkin that I didn’t fucking know we had here at The Tower. She leans forward so she can see them down the other end before she speaks.

  “When my parents were killed, my uncle Crude and my auntie Jewel took me in. They treated me like I was their own. Jewel taught cooking classes, still does. When I wasn’t in school, hating the world, or babysitting the MC kids, I was with her, learning everything there is to know about cooking. Including cooking large batches.” With a shrug, she goes back to eating.

  “That’s awesome. I wish I knew how to cook; Jase does all the cooking in our house,” Ida adds, smiling at her old man.

  When these three started their little three-way relationship, no one batted an eyelash in the club. We’re a free range kinda club: as long as you aren’t hurting anyone, or causing someone distress, then you’re free to fuck whoever the hell you want.

  “I can teach you sometime if you want. Maybe when these misfits are out on a run, so they won’t bother us or steal the food we make,” Risky adds, smiling down at Ida.

  “Groovy. Sounds like a plan.” Ida returns the smile.

  “Groovy? Where did you pick that up?” Kara asks. The boys around the room smile and a few chuckle while all turning their heads to me. Shaking mine, I tap Risky’s hand to get her attention, so I can explain.

  Risky gives me her eyes, and I swear to fuck my heart melts. Her smile is gracing her beautiful face, and her eyes are soft, not guarded like they have been around me. Taking her hand in mine, I explain.

  “A while ago, I needed to help a brother out. He was arrested for something he didn’t do. It was my luck that my cousin from another club in the UK had members here on vacation, and did a rescue mission, so to speak.”

  “Rescue mission?” she asks, sipping her coffee. Nodding, I continue.

  “Yeah. EC was in love with two people but didn’t want to scare one of them. But he fucked up by doing shit with the other person. Little did one of them know that they both wanted her. So, Mae, aka Click…” I smile at her, waiting for the recognition settle in. When her eyes widen, I know she’s put the pieces together.

  “Yeah, baby, Click. EC was in love with Click and Levi. They hurt her, and she fled here, not actually knowing that the club was here or related to the club she was linked with back home. My uncle Suede is the club’s Pres, and my cousin Dyson is the Unforgiven Riders MC’s VP.” Nodding, she keeps her eyes on me, taking in all the information I’m laying on her.

  “So, nothing happened between you and Click?” she asks. Shaking my head, I take the cup from her hand and set it down on the table. I shift my chair so I can reach her, then cup the back of her neck, pulling her to me so we are nose to nose.

  Her breath hitches and her pupils dilate, but I’m not giving her our first kiss in front of these rowdy fuckers. Keeping our gazes locked, I kiss the tip of her nose. Her eyes flash with disappointment before she masks it.

  “No, baby, nothing happened. Click became a really good friend, as did her old men. You’d like her. She was a feisty one, that’s for sure.” I smile and pull back, digging into my breakfast.

  “Okay, cool,” is all she says.

  “Click happened to stumble upon Jase’s tattoo parlor and they became friends, then he introduced her to us, and we became friends,” Ida explains her relationship with Click.

  Everyone goes back to eating and talking about anything and everything. It doesn’t take long for the drama I knew was coming to come barreling though the door. The main door crashes open and a livid Dora barges in. Her eyes go wide when she sees the food spread out for us. I chance a look at Risky and see her smiling sweetly.

  My risky fucking minx.

  “What the ever-loving fuck is going on?” Dora screams at the room. Cocking an eyebrow at her, her steps stagger but she keeps coming.

  “Breakfast. What the feck does it look like?” Rookie asks, coming into the room with some half-dressed girl behind him. He points to the door and nods.

  “Are you serious? You’re kicking me out?” she screeches. Fuck me, what is it with women having the need to scream so high.

  “Shut ya gob and leave. NOW,” Rookie bellows, making her jump and scamper to the door. Everyone turns back to their food and Rookie takes a seat, loading a plate up then filling his coffee.

  “Magnum, want to explain why I got an email cancelling the food order early this morning?” Dora asks, stepping up to the table. Her overly used perfume makes my stomach roll, and I cough to hide my gagging. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Risky hiding her grin behind her coffee mug.

  It’s only then I notice the quote on her mug—‘Fresh out of fucks’. I smile at her, and she returns it.

  Turning my head to look at Dora, I see her glaring at Risky. I snap my fingers to get her attention. The second her eyes land on me, the anger fades a fraction, but I can tell it’s bubbling. And I’m about to make her explode, and not in the good way.

  “Because I wanted to change it up. You got a problem with that?” I ask her, cocking an eyebrow in challenge.

  “Of course not, Magnum. Whatever you want, hon. But who cooked all of this?” Her eyes look over the table, taking in the bowls and trays of food that are mostly empty thanks to these greedy fuckers.

  “Risky did,” Slide pipes in around a mouthful of food. Shaking my head, I chuckle at him. He hasn’t stopped eating since Kara brought the food out.

  “She did what? Some little girl wannabe biker chick is now making the food for the brothers?”

  The sound of a chair scraping across the floor has my head snapping in the direction of the noise. I see Risky standing, glaring at Dora like she wants to rip her throat out. I have no doubt that she would if we let her.

  “Say that again, bitch,” Risky dares her.

  “Little girl wannabe biker chick. What you going to do about it?” Dora dares her back, and fuck me, it’s the wrong thing to do.

  A growl leaves Risky’s throat, and she darts around my seat, getting to Dora before we can even comprehend what the fuck just happened. Leaping from my chair, I snatch Risky around the waist, pulling her off Dora. Her fists are tight around her hair, so when I give an extra pull, the hair comes with us.

  Losing my balance, I fall onto my back, and laughs and cheers go up around the room. Tightening my hold on Kara, I keep her flat against my body, her legs still trying to get to Dora. She’s like a feral animal, and fuck me sideways, it’s making my cock hard.

  “You fucking cunt. Get out and don’t come back. This is my house now, bitch,” Kara screams. Lifting my head off the floor a little, I see Sarge charging Dora out of the clubhouse, yelling at her that her services are no longer needed.

  Laying my head back, both of us panting like dogs in heat, Kara’s body relaxes against mine. Her heated skin under my palms, her ass against my cock, and her scent completely invading my body, I only have one thing to say.

  “DIBS, MOTHERFUCKERS!”

  Eight

  Kara

  The sun burns into my fair skin, but I love it. I have always gone a golden-brown back home, but here, I can see my skin is turning a plush pink from too much sun. Sitting up, I pick up the sunscreen and spray my body. Thank God it isn’t that sticky shit; oh, I hate that stuff.

  “Here you go,” Dezi says to me, handing me my drink. It’s nice to be served drinks rather than serving them for once. Don’t get me wrong, I love working here at the bar, but it is nice for a change.

  Dezi is one of the nicer Rugged Regs. She’s an accountant that works for her brother, wh
o thinks that women should be seen and not heard. She comes here to let her hair down and be herself.

  “Thanks, doll face.” She’s sweet and great to talk to. Unlike some of the other Reg’s here, she isn’t out to get tied down. She likes to fuck and that’s it. Being only a few years older than my twenty-three, she isn’t ready to settle down.

  Love and live life I say.

  I still don’t understand why it’s okay for men to sleep around, but when a woman does it, she’s called all the derogatory names under the sun.

  Sex is sex; enjoy that motherfucker.

  Over the last week, things around the clubhouse have been tense, to say the least. The Regs have been giving me the stink eye every chance they get. They’re even worse when they’re all together, like last night. Since the shit blew up with Dora, they’ve become even nastier. But do I look like I scare easy?

  What has me feeling scrambled is Magnum. Every chance he gets, he touches me: light touches as he walks past me, kisses to my forehead or temple. He even slings his arm around my shoulders. But still, no kiss to my mouth.

  I mean, who does that? What kind of badass biker is he, if he won’t even kiss the woman he’s called dibs on? Jesus, I feel like I’m in kindergarten when he calls dibs.

  “Fuck, I’m so hot,” I complain, fanning my face. It probably doesn’t help that I’m in a black bikini with gold buckles that sit on my hips, and one between my boobs.

  “Damn fucking right you are.” His voice startles me, and I yelp as the cold drink in my hand spills over onto my chest, running down my stomach. Flicking the liquid off my body, the seat next to me dips and his shadow casts over me.

  “Let me.” I look up at his words and see his eyes are focused on my breasts. My wet breasts. With no warning, Magnum leans forward and sucks up the amber liquid that has collected in my belly button.

  I’m usually ticklish, but this… his tongue makes me moan. I can’t stop it from escaping my lips. Looking down at him, I watch his lips and tongue move over my heated skin. My pussy becomes just as wet as my beer-covered skin.