Savage

by Brook Wilder

  My apartment was as I’d left it – a mess. I knew I couldn’t go to work in a few hours, and I called to leave a message explaining I’d be in the next day with big news.

  Luis held me tight in my little bed. He lay quietly as he rubbed his hand over my slight potbelly.

  “I have a feeling that’s Rosa and Momma’s cooking you’re rubbing,” I said.

  He laughed and held me closer. “I’m sorry, Jane. For everything I’ve put you through.”

  I sighed. “It’s been a heavy three days, but we’re safe.”

  He kissed my cheek as I sank into his strong body.

  “You had to know I’d return to you. You scare me more than any biker,” he teased.

  “Little old me?” I giggled.

  Luis was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I feared falling in love. But I want to be in love with you. And I want to be a good father to my child.”

  I covered my face with my hands to hide a stray tear. “Luis, I’m not expecting you to do anything for me. I just wanted you to know.”

  “I understand,” he said. “But I want to be with you and the baby. I want us to be a family.”

  “What about the club?” I asked.

  “I don’t know how much of the club is left. Emilio is seriously injured. We’d have to recruit to replace the men we lost. And we lost a lot of good men.” He paused. “And besides, I’m not sure this is the life I want anymore.”

  I looked into his worried eyes. “What life do you want?”

  “A life where you and the baby don’t have to worry if I’m coming home or not.” His sexy grin slowly replaced the worried frown on his face.

  Luis tickled me until I laughed out loud.

  “I want a house like Momma’s," he said, "with a baby in every room and you cooking a possum in every pot in the kitchen.”

  “Hold on, lover boy. I want a nanny.”

  “How about a husband instead?” he whispered.

  At first, I hadn’t wanted a relationship. Not because I didn’t love Luis, but because I never thought I could truly have him. Not when his life was devoted to the Cazadores.

  My voice was low and sad. “I don’t want to pressure you into marrying me.”

  “You’re not,” he said. “You’re what I want, Jane, and I’m willing to give love another chance, but only with you.” He held me close and stroked my body. “I love you, Jane.”

  My smile firmly fixed on my face, I kissed Luis as if our whole world was starting because it just had. Luis kissed me back so tenderly. Not with the playboy appetite he’d shown when we met, but with the passion of love. He held me close until I felt I would melt into him.

  I pressed myself against him, trapping his cock between us as my tongue explored his mouth. Luis sighed my name, and I opened my legs, draping them along his. My heart beat out of my skin as he slid his hand between us and fingered me.

  “You’re wet,” he whispered grinning. “You must want me as much as I want you.”

  I moaned against his lips and he pulled me on top of him. I straddled his hips and pressed my face to his chest while kissing the outline of the hard muscles that had saved me. I gazed into Luis's dark eyes full of lust. His chest rose with each gasp as I mounted him, sliding my drenched pussy down his hard, gratifying cock. I could have cum from the penetration alone as I moved my hips over Luis's hard body.

  “You didn’t tell me you loved me," he whispered.

  I wanted to, but I was too distracted by the sensations building in me. It didn’t matter. Luis knew how to make me talk and scream. He watched as I rode his thick cock. His hand grabbed my hip then slowly moved to my gyrating pussy. I watched him from half-closed eyes, anticipating what I would feel next as my breathing became shallower.

  “Jane," he whispered. "Who loves you?"

  My head fell back when his fingers pressed my clit. He tortured me with eager movements. The heat of the room surrounded me, forcing me to breathe heavily. I was floating away in that climb toward divine release. He slowed down, and I wailed in need.

  “Luis, please,” I gasped.

  He grinned at me. I was aching to shout until the neighbors complained, but I didn't want to show off. I took in a long breath and declared, “I love you, Luis. Now please fuck me.”

  Luis was like a sprinter jumping at the gun. He stroked me while I rode his hips, and after the third time I came I lost count. His fingers circled me fast then slowed as he thrust up into me, making my body shudder. My heated body shook as I banged against him into another stupefying orgasm. I wanted Luis to love me as much as I loved him, and when I opened my eyes to gaze upon his loving and longing face, I knew he did.

  When he came, he gripped my body as if he wanted it to last forever. I pressed against him, taking his seed again. Not daring to think of what might have happened, instead I would cherish the moments we were together and know there were more to come.

  ***

  By the time we arrived at Momma’s house, she’d heard the news. The Disciples were harder hit than first thought. Someone had tipped of the sheriff, and the police showed up at the embattled compound, arresting everyone on site. Emilio was in intensive care under police arrest and protection. And though Deputy Lopez wasn't convinced by Armando’s story, she filed a report stating he’d been shot in an attempted robbery.

  Diego helped himself to a plate of Momma’s empanadas. Luis sat down to his own plate as I wolfed down a brick of cheddar cheese for the baby.

  “You’re going to have to learn how to cook, Jane," said Diego.

  I arched an eyebrow. “Is that all it takes?"

  Diego nodded as he placed another loaded fork in his mouth. “You take care of him, and he’ll take of you.”

  Luis winked, and I blushed. I actually blushed. It must have been the baby's doing.

  “We were thinking, Momma," started Luis, "that maybe Jane should move in here with me. It would be difficult to be a real family without you.”

  Luis avoided Momma’s eyes as he spoke. I guess he didn’t want to see her tear up. Momma rushed to Luis and grabbed him in a hug so fierce his fork dropped. I thought his face would turn red from the squeezing he received.

  “Of course, Luis. You come here with Jane and we'll be a family."

  They pulled me into the hug and held onto them, the loving family I hadn’t expected to find. Diego finished his plate and joined in. He hugged his stout body hard against Momma’s plump backside. Momma shouted and whipped her oven mitt against his head several times.

  “Not you. You horny old goat! Go wash your plate in the sink, or you’ll get no dessert,” she swore.

  Diego winked at Luis. “The ladies love us even when we’re bad.”

  END OF BOOK 8

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  PREVIEW – HELLION

  CARLOS

  I hate this city. I don’t know why I even live here. It was gray even when the sun shone. And in November, the walls, the street, and the sky, it all looked gray. Even the people looked gray. White, black, brown; skin color didn’t matter. They all looked gray in sunny Mesa, California.

  I heard laughter and followed it to the corner market looking for Armando. The Navarro’s owned the market and their son, Armando, was our prospect for the Cazadores. He survived the run on the Disciples, so odds were good he’d be getting his colors soon. Our president, Emilio Nieto, had decided anyone who survived that blood bath was hardcore badass and worthy of our colors.

  The store looked brighter and cleaner since the Navarros repaired the damage with the help of insur
ance funds covering the costs. The Disciples had driven a truck into the store to prove their point; they didn’t want the Cazadores in their city, or anywhere else. Even though our city smelled like piss and shit, they still felt the need to claim it.

  A banner hung down from the new awning of the corner market announcing ‘Grand Re-opening.’

  They had replaced the old, dim lights with LED fixtures. The inside looked like a franchise store in a good neighborhood, but I knew better. Appearances were deceiving.

  Armando accepted a payment from a customer for a brown bag. I knew a person could get high for hours and feel no pain on what was concealed inside. Those plain brown bags were how the Cazadores distributed our drugs.

  I laughed as I entered. “Armando, are you trying to impress your old customers?”

  Armando stood behind the counter giving me a pointed look, his hand resting on a brown bag. I shook my head. I needed to get off the stuff. With a sly grin, Armando put it away.

  “I wanted to hang a ‘New Management’ banner,” he said, “but I didn’t want the old customers to be disappointed when they saw me still behind the counter.”

  Armando and I had the same jaded view of life; everybody’s a thief so you might as well steal it first. The MC considered us clever, and we were used for our brains, stealth, and cunningness. Armando and I had similar builds: tall, lanky, and wiry. I didn’t have the bulk of some of the other the Cazadores, but we could fight to the bone. I’d coil up like a snake to strike my target over and over again until they were dead cold on the ground.

  “Where’s your bike?” Armando asked. “You sold it? You need another? I might have one to sell you.”

  Laughing, I threw back my head. Nothing got past Armando. “It was at the shop,” I replied. “when the cops busted the place. I’m using my muscles until I can get it back.”

  I look down at the rack of newspapers in front of the counter. The headline announced Mayor Pryor’s big win and displayed his posse in four color glory. Prick. They might not have worn flannel like the Disciples, but they were all the same. Suits and better haircuts were the only difference between this scum and that. I picked up a paper and pounded my index finger against it.

  “Emilio lost his chance to move us into the Mayor’s clubhouse,” I announced.

  Laughter came from the front of the store as Simon, Armando’s younger brother, walked in carrying a case of bright orange soft drinks that would kill a person faster than cigarettes. Simon wanted to join the club, but the kid was barely a teen and as skinny as my wrist. He’d have to wait.

  Simon laughed the loudest to show his approval. “If we all go straight, we’ll win next time.”

  “You think it’s that easy,” scoffed Armando. “You don’t know about these things, little bro.”

  “I do know,” said Simon. “Mayor Pryor doesn’t ride a bike or wear leather, but he’s still a thug. He hides it better so the rich people can pretend he’s not a crook.”

  “Out of the mouths of babes,” I said.

  That encouraged Simon to continue. “It helps when your sheriff can’t find a clue. Maybe you should sell him one in one of your bags, Armando?”

  “He’s crooked,” argued Armando. “Not clueless.”

  Simon disagreed. “No, he’s just dumb like that sheriff in the movie who chases the red car.”

  “You mean the Dukes of Hazard?” I asked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” continued Simon.

  The boy was cheerful to be included in our conversation. Usually when we talked business, we made him leave.

  “Didn’t his belt slide down around his ankles and he fell over every episode? That’s West.” Simon pantomimed. “Where’s my gun? Where’s my gun? Oh, it’s in my hand.”

  We were laughing hard and loud, but we stopped when three white men entered in flannel shirts. Disciples.

  The Disciples were a white supremacist group that misused the Bible for their hate rhetoric.

  Simon picked up the crate of orange soda, while Armando unlocked his drawer. I knew enough to get out of the way, so I stepped into an aisle. We all eyed the men as they eyed us.

  “Can I help you?” asked Armando. Usually, he had a light accent, but around strangers he made it thick and unwelcoming. His lips were firmly pressed together and his hands remained out of sight.

  “Just passing by, amigo,” said the heavy man in front. “You carry any brands not made in China?” The man had a tiny white bandana wrapped around his shaved head. He wore mirrored glasses so we couldn’t see his eyes, but we didn’t need to see them to know they were hard and cold.

  Armando glanced at Simon, and I took another step back.

  “What brand are you looking for?” asked Armando.

  “The Cazadores?”

  Armando sighed then looked around the new interior of his store with a resigned look. I knew what he was thinking. A week hadn’t even passed, and he would need to clean it up again.

  “That’s not a brand we carry,” replied Armando. “Sorry cannot help you today.”

  “Funny because it looks like you carry it,” the man said as his buddies chuckled.

  “Look, we don’t want trouble,” replied Armando.

  The heavy man stopped laughing and his face snarled in anger as if Armando had made a rude request. “Well, you should have thought of that before you started making trouble.”

  Continue reading HELLION today

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  A Word from Brook Wilder

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for reading Savage, the eighth standalone book of nine in the Southern Bikers series!

  In the Southern Bikers series, you’ll meet nine dirty-mouthed badass bikers, see them go toe-to-toe with nine equally sassy women who’ll bring them to their knees, and ride through nine adrenaline-soaked adventures to their happily ever afters.

  Are you ready to see what comes next?

  If you enjoyed Savage, you’ll love the rest of the Southern Bikers series. The stakes are higher, the sex hotter, and the story will have you holding your breath until the end.

  I hope you’ll join me.

  Brook Wilder

  READ WRECKED HERE

  READ SHATTERED HERE

  READ DEFILED HERE

  READ PROTECTOR HERE

  READ GUARDIAN HERE

  READ SENTINEL HERE

  READ MONSTER HERE

  READ SAVAGE HERE

  READ HELLION HERE

  Books in the SOUTHERN BIKERS Series

  BOOK 1: WRECKED

  HE CLAIMED MY BODY AND WRECKED MY HEART.

  Zack Hale was all of my firsts.

  My first kiss. My first love. My first heartbreak.

  He was the bad boy who destroyed my good girl reputation.

  He was the reason I had to leave.

  Fate pulled us back together to find a girl taken from her family.

  And I found myself needing him more than ever.

  Unfortunately, the years made him irresistible.

  I can’t give in to him. I can’t let down my guard.

  But each moment tempts me more than the last.

  I know what I’d let him do to me if I give in.

  I know what he’s capable of all over again:

  To leave my heart wrecked beyond repair.

  Until the only thing that I know for certain…

  … is that I belong to him.

  READ WRECKED HERE

  BOOK 2 – SHATTERED

  HE WAS MY BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND WHO SHATTERED MY HEART.

  Everyone warned me to stay away from him for my own good.

  Instead, I craved his hard gaze and his rough hands.

  He gave me what I wanted: but it cost me everything.

  All I ever wanted was for Neil Wheeler to give me his attention.

  He was my brother’s best friend, and I was off-limits.

  That didn’t stop him from pursuing me
.

  We were together for a brief time, but each day was hotter than last.