Notorious Devils MC Complete Collection: BoxSet

by Hayley Faiman

  “Love it when you beg for me,” he growls.

  His fingers swirl my clit right before he gently slaps it. I gasp before I mewl at the sensation, and then he begins to pinch, circle, and slap over and over again, ramping my body into overdrive.

  When his fingers tighten around my throat, I come—I can’t stop it. My entire body shakes and my legs give out, but Johnny holds me up as he takes over and begins to thrust hard and deep inside of me. His fingers don’t stop their torturous cadence of pinch, circle, and slap against my clit, either.

  “I can’t,” I cry as tears fall from my cheeks.

  “You can and you will,” he murmurs behind me.

  He bites my shoulder as his cock twitches and he fills me with his climax. The hand on my throat releases and presses against the wall to hold us both up.

  “Fucking hell, Hattie. I love you, princess.”

  DIRTY JOHNNY

  I watch as Hattie pulls up her jeans and I smirk as her legs quiver with each move she makes. She turns around and her tangled up, light brown hair and big, green eyes almost send me to my knees.

  She looks freshly fucked, and I feel like the fucking king because I’m the one that put that look on her. Me and nobody else.

  “I have a Christmas present for you, too, but I don’t know if it could top this,” she says, waving her hand around. I turn on the light so that I can see her pretty face better.

  “You didn’t need to get me anything,” I say, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Well, it’s not something I bought. Actually, it’s something I didn’t do,” she says, chewing on her bottom lip.

  I look at her in confusion but don’t say anything. I have no fucking clue what she’s getting at.

  “My appointment for my birth control shot was yesterday,” she says. I stay silent, waiting for her to finish, feeling my heart rate increase with her talk of birth control.

  “Yeah?” I ask when she doesn’t continue.

  “I didn’t get it. I cancelled the appointment,” she says. Her eyes widen as though she’s surprised herself, too.

  “What are you saying?” I breathe.

  “I want to give you a baby, if I can.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it sounds like she’s screaming.

  I don’t respond.

  The blood is rushing through my head, and I can’t think. I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but stare at her like a big fucking idiot.

  “I want to make you as happy as you’ve made me, Johnny,” she murmurs.

  I charge her like a fucking bull. I back her up against the wall and I wrap my palms around her cheeks as I kiss her. I press my lips to hers, hard and unrelenting, and I kiss the fuck out of the woman I love. Then I press my forehead to hers before I speak.

  “You already make me happy. I’m the happiest motherfucker in the world just having you at my side. Giving me a baby will just add to the happiness; but you don’t have to, not until you’re ready,” I say quietly.

  “I love you so much, Johnny. You’re making my dreams come true, just as you’ve promised. You endure Sunday dinners with my family, you provide for me, and you’ve done all of this. How can I not give you that? How can I not give this world more of you?” she says.

  “If you’re ready, Hattie, then I’m more than willing to take this journey with you.”

  “I didn’t make this decision lightly. I’m ready to give you a family, Johnny. I’m ready to make your dreams come true.”

  I kiss her again.

  I kiss her to shut her up, because if she says anything else, I’m going to break down like a little bitch right here in front of her.

  This woman.

  This woman is mine and she’s giving me everything I could ever want.

  She is everything I could ever want.

  The future is going to be fucking sweet, and I can’t wait.

  Rough & Ruthless

  Notorious Devils MC Book Four

  This is a ruthless world and one must be ruthless to cope with it.

  Charlie Chaplin

  Prologue

  MARY-ANNE

  There’s nothing worse than realizing that you’ve made a mistake. Not a little mistake, like forgetting to pay your car note and being penalized, but a colossal mistake, like falling for a man who is exactly like your father. Except, he’s hidden it—a wolf in sheep’s clothing, if you will.

  I thought that Kyle was different. He said and did all the right things. He worked in finance, in one of those big buildings in the middle of downtown San Diego, and he wore a suit. With his styled blond hair and brown eyes, he was the polar opposite of my father, in every way.

  On our first date, Kyle came to my apartment door with a bouquet of a dozen red roses. They were gorgeous. I knew at that moment that he was special.

  No man had ever given me flowers before.

  No man had called me beautiful the way he did.

  No man had ever looked at me the way he did, like he couldn’t believe I was on his arm.

  Then, once we were official, things started to change. No, after he met my brother, Bates, things shifted. Bates actually liked Kyle. He said it was nice that I was with a man who had a good job, was clean cut, and wasn’t one of his brothers.

  When we returned from our visit with Bates and his new wife, Brentlee, Kyle was different—or rather, his view and treatment of me was different. He would make remarks to me, call me stupid or trashy. I no longer felt beautiful to him; rather, everything about me was pathetic and ugly.

  I accepted it all, though.

  Why?

  Because he didn’t hit me like my father hit my mother and me. He loved me—or at least he said he did. His words were hurtful, but he didn’t use his fists on me.

  In the bedroom, he was a lackluster lover and extremely boring, but I was okay with that as long as he was a nice man.

  I figured life could always be worse. He could be great in bed but beat the shit out of me, and I didn’t want that. So lackluster as long as he was nice was okay by me.

  It was when he started using his words to abuse me, when the snide names turned into downright cruelty, that I started fighting back.

  I’m submissive by nature; my father beat that into me. Bates was my strength my entire life. When he left, I had nobody to fight my battles, so I surrendered to my father’s hand.

  I never told my brother exactly how our father treated me. I think that somewhere in the back of his mind he must have known, but he’d rather believe that it was only him and mom who suffered the wrath of Grisha Lukin.

  Kyle was supposed to be different from my father, he was everything Grisha Lukin wasn’t. Until he was everything that embodied what was my father.

  It was nothing but a slap the first time.

  The second time, it was a punch to the stomach.

  I refused to do what he wanted, refused to be used the way he decided I should be. At twenty-seven years old, I’m not beholden to anyone. I own my own business and pay my own bills.

  What Kyle wants me to do is not something I can ever do. I’ve seen other women do it, I’ve known them too, but that isn’t me.

  The women that do those things do them because they want to, not because their man wants to get ahead in business. And that is exactly what he wants—to climb the ladder, using me as his step-stool and his whore.

  I’m no man’s whore.

  My brother left me in the lion’s den to save himself and eventually came back to save me. I won’t degrade him, or myself, by returning to a different den. So I do the only thing I can think of.

  I call a man I know can and will be ruthless. A man that will save me and not call Bates while doing it. I can’t bring this to him. He’s been through way too much with his wife and her abusive ex-husband already.

  In the bathroom of Kyle’s home, a place I’ve been invited to live, but haven’t moved in quite yet, I call Max, MadDog, Duhart—the president of the original charter of the motorcycle club, the Notorious Devils. T
he scariest man I have ever seen in my life.

  It has been years since I’ve laid eyes on him, but I have his number. Bates had instructed me to call him if I ever needed help, as he was closer to me, living in Northern California.

  It will take him at least nine hours to get to me, but I don’t really need him until tomorrow evening anyway, so that will be all right.

  Tonight, Kyle is going to needle me with words to help him advance his career. Lucky for me, he won’t touch me. I am safe from his dick tonight. He wants to save me for his client. A man coming from New York.

  A big executive who can catapult Kyle’s career.

  He likes young women. He likes to fuck them and tie them up, and he likes their boyfriends to watch. It’s his kink. Using an unavailable woman. He likes that feeling of power over them.

  I understand it, I really do.

  Men in power only crave more power.

  I am not going to be a pawn in this game, though. I don’t give a shit if Kyle rises to the top of his field. He isn’t nice anymore, and I want nice. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

  I turn on the shower to drown out my voice, and I call the only man I know who will make Kyle shit his pants and rescue me all at the same time.

  I scroll down the list on my phone and I find him.

  MadDog Duhart.

  MADDOG

  I look down at the blonde head that’s bobbing in my lap, and I groan. Not because she’s doing such a great job blowing me that I can’t help myself, but because she isn’t. She’s young and hot, but she’s fucking terrible.

  I wrap my hand around the back of her head and I push her as far down as she can go, then I lift my hips and I fuck her mouth until I come.

  I release her and lift my chin, signaling for her to go away. She obliges, thank god. Christ, had I let her continue on her own, it would have taken me another ten minutes just to get off. I tuck myself back in my pants and make my way toward the bar.

  I tap the bar top and wait for my beer. The prospect’s fast, thank fuck. I have a beer and a shot sitting in front of me in less than three minutes.

  Young punk ass kid.

  I down the shot and then take a pull from my beer before I turn around and place my elbows on the bar, looking around at my clubhouse.

  I’m getting too old for this shit, but what am I going to do? Quit? Retire? I won’t lie and say that retiring hasn’t crossed my mind. I have three grandkids now, and I miss those little brats. They are fucking perfect.

  I close my eyes for a minute and think about my dead wife, Eleanora. My granddaughter Ellie was named in her memory, a beautiful tribute to the woman who had my heart for so many years.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I look down, surprised at the person who’s calling me.

  Mary-Anne Lukin.

  ‘’Ello,” I murmur into the phone as I walk to my office where it’s quiet, taking my beer with me.

  “It’s Mary-Anne, Bates’ sister,” she whispers.

  It sounds like there’s running water behind her, and I furrow my brow as I lock my office door behind me.

  “Know that. What’s wrong, babe?”

  “I need your help, MadDog, please.”

  Her voice sounds so small, and I feel this knee-jerk reaction—protect.

  I need to protect her.

  The last time I saw her, she was about seventeen years old, a skinny gangly lookin’ thing with thick, black hair. I haven’t seen her since. Sniper didn’t bring her around the clubhouse much as she grew up, and I sure as fuck don’t blame him.

  “Tell me what you need and it’s yours,” I grumble.

  “You, I need you. I need help,” she whispers. It sounds like she’s on the verge of tears.

  My cock goes rock hard at her words— I need you.

  “Where ya at? It’s gonna take me a little time to get to you,” I say as I stand and grab my keys from my desk drawer. She spouts off an address and tells me she’ll text me if her location changes before I arrive.

  “It’s a guy’s house, the guy I’ve been seeing; but MadDog, I need out,” she states. She isn’t pleading anymore. She’s telling me she needs out, and she’s matter-of-fact about it—set and determined.

  “Hold tight, darlin’, I’ll be there soon’s I can.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  My dick presses even harder against my jeans. Fuck me. I’m a dirty old man. She needs my help, a young kid asking for help, and I’m getting’ hard by the sound of her fucking voice. Christ.

  “I need five guys to come on a ride down to San Diego,” I announce as soon as I walk back into the bar area.

  “For what?” Grease, my Vice President, asks.

  “Sniper, from the Idaho chapter, his sister needs our help. She’s in a bad situation and needs out,” I say.

  “Fuck, yeah, I’m in,” Grease grunts and stands up. Four others are quick to volunteer, and we all quickly go out to our bikes.

  I don’t know the details of her situation, but she called me, and not Sniper, so my guess it’s probably pretty bad. She knows Sniper would lose his shit.

  A sister protecting her brother. Family. That’s what this whole fucking club is about. Family. And I aim to always protect mine, and that includes the little sister of one of my brothers.

  Mary-Anne Lukin.

  Chapter One

  MADDOG

  Mary-Anne’s tits press against my back as her small hands fist my t-shirt at my waist.

  Fuck.

  I have to fight my cock from going rock hard in my jeans. I groan when her thighs squeeze the outside of mine as I merge onto the freeway.

  This ride back up north is going to be the fucking death of me as long as she’s on the back of my bike.

  When I pulled into her townhouse’s driveway and watched her open the door to her place, my heart and dick jumped simultaneously at the sight of her. She’d texted me just minutes before we arrived in the city to let us know that she was at home, alone.

  Mary-Anne is tall, long and lean, with her black hair straight, even longer than it was at seventeen years old. Her blue eyes met mine and, swear to fuck, I felt that shit in my goddam dick.

  I signal to my five men after about three hours of riding to pull off at the next exit. We need food and a little breather before we finish the long trek home.

  I need to ask Mary-Anne some questions, too; find out what exactly we’ve gotten ourselves into and what we’ve jerked her out of.

  Pulling into a parking stall of a small diner, I tap her thigh and wait for her to dismount my bike before I follow and do the same.

  I remove my helmet and hold my hand out to take Mary-Anne’s as well. I watch, thankful for my sunglasses, as she shakes her hair out, lookin’ like a fucking wet dream while doin’ it, before placing the helmet in my hand.

  I don’t say a word to her, observing her, feeling like a fucking dirty old pervert at the same time, too. I stow our helmets, trying to keep my hands busy so that they don’t roam what I know has to be a tight ass beneath her skin-tight jeans.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when my brothers pull into the restaurant next to us.

  “Get us a table,” I bark out to the only prospect that joined us, a twenty-two-year-old kid named West.

  He’s going to make a great Devil, and I’ll be proud to call him brother once it’s time. He doesn’t say anything, lifting a chin, instead, and leaving us to go inside.

  “Max,” Mary-Anne whispers as she takes a step closer toward me.

  I hear boots hitting the ground and then fade away as she makes her way into my space.

  I bite back a moan when her hand lifts and rests against my chest. My eyes immediately move to it, and I want nothing more than to take her delicate hand in mine and haul her lithe body closer to me.

  “Mary,” I mutter.

  “I don’t think I could ever repay you for your help,” she says, her voice soft and sweet.

  I close my eyes and try not to tell h
er that repayment is easy, and that I could think of at least ten different ways she could do that for me.

  I don’t know what she’s been through. I don’t know why she’s running; and I sure as fuck am not going to make her feel forced into doing a damn thing.

  In fact, I need her as far away from me as possible before I fuck her hard, fast, long, and unrelentingly.

  “You’re family,” I grunt.

  “Yeah,” she sighs, taking a step back from me and turning her head.

  “I need to know what I just took you out of,” I say, trying to keep my usually gruff voice gentle for her.

  “A different version of hell than I was raised in, but hell nonetheless,” she says softly.

  Lifting my hand, I cup her cheek with my palm, and wince when her face flinches with the movement. That answers some of my questions right there, the telling flinch of a woman who’s had a man’s hand lifted and struck against her in anger.

  “I’ll get you sorted, babe,” I murmur.

  Her light blue eyes widen, and I don’t mistake her face as it weighs a little heavier against my hand, accepting my touch.

  “I trust you, Max,” she sighs.

  I knit my brows together. She shouldn’t trust me. No way in fuck should she. Granted, I’ll help her, and I won’t physically hurt her in the process, but she damn sure shouldn’t trust me.

  Not when the thoughts running through my mind about what I want to do to her body would probably send her screaming to her brother for help.

  No woman has ever made me want to protect her, fuck her, and fight for her like she does. I’ve only said a few words to her, and yet, I know that she’s someone special.

  Maybe it’s the way her haunted blue eyes look up at me, or maybe it’s the strength I see in her after only minutes of being in her presence. I don’t know, but it makes me want to know more. I’ve never been affected this way before, not even by my wife, Eleanora.

  I feel like a shit even thinking it, because I loved Ellie wholeheartedly. Maybe because I’m older now, I know that what I’m feeling right this minute with Mary, it’s different than anything I’ve felt before in my life.