Bikers Desire (BBW Motorcycle Romance) (Dark Souls MC)

Bikers Desire

Dark Souls MC

By Aubrey Watts

Warning

This erotic biker story is extremely graphic and
not
intended for the fainthearted. If the notion of being pounded and seeded by a group of sexy bikers bothers you then read no further. This story was written with the intention of leaving you
hot
and in need of a release. It contains elements of extreme male dominance and fantasy that may not sit well with some readers. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Copyright

1
st
Original Edition, November 2014

Copyright © 2014 Aubrey Watts

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, are entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.
No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.

I
was in my last year of nursing school when I met Liam. He was everything I ever secretly fantasized about in a man. Tall dark and handsome and built like a prize-winning stallion. The moment he entered the tiny bar, one I frequented quite regularly throughout my college years, every female in the room took notice.

He looked so startlingly out of place against a sea of frat boys and outdated 1960s décor. His shoulder length black hair hung in his chiseled face, accentuating a tattered leather cut and muscled beater. I watched wide-eyed as he walked in my general direction, slow and methodically, his steel toe boots thumping against the tile floor beneath him.

He stopped at a table full of Phi Beta Kappa’s and grabbed a Heineken out of a slack-jawed nineteen-year-olds hand, chugging it as he and his brothers watched on in shock. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, he handed the empty bottle back to him with a wink and a nod and continued on his path.

My best friend and nursing colleague, a ditzy sheltered type named Holly, drew in a sharp breath. It was obvious now that he was coming towards us. I looked over at the bartender, a friend of mine named Jason, but he simply shrugged at me, a gesture that indicated what I already assumed. He didn’t know what was going on anymore than anyone else did.

I set down my martini and prepared to defend Holly and myself in the event that I might have to, shuffling through my purse for a nail file. It wasn't much but it would do. At least I hoped so. I couldn't imagine any of the men in the bar coming to my rescue if this man decided to try anything fishy. They'd almost certainly kill themselves in the process and while I might have been easy on the eyes I didn't think I was worthy of committing suicide over.

The mere thought of having to defend myself against this towering man who was at least twice my size was laughable. But as I calculated all of my options, the gap between him and myself began to quickly close until finally he was standing flush in front of me.

I looked up at him and put on a face, trying my best not to appear as alarmed as I felt. Who was this man? As I looked around the room it became clear to me that everyone else except me seemed to know. In fact, they all looked as though they were seeing a ghost.

"Yes?" I finally heard myself question, my words wavering slightly as they left the confines of my mouth. He smelled like a combination of oil, leather, and stale cigarettes. A scent that reminded me of my long-deceased father. And while it wasn't the most enticing of smells it wasn't all that off putting either. In an eerie way, it was actually was sort of comforting.

I watched in slow motion as he extended his large hand to me but I no longer got the feeling that he was trying to cause me harm. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and grainy, as though he had smoked one too many cigarettes in his lifetime. But somehow it worked for him.  “Mackenzie.”

I drew in a breath. He knew my name?

“I need you to come with me,” he continued, grabbing my jacket from off my chair and sliding it over my shoulders. His fingertips brushed lightly over my flesh and I felt far too frozen to move.

“Now,” he stressed, noticing my hesitancy and glancing over at Holly, who was staring up at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

Who was this man? Why did he think he could give me orders? And better yet…why was I obeying them? He was a total stranger, an intimidating one at that, but there was something about his intense and rigid demeanor that I couldn’t help but find completely captivating.

So I followed him, meekly promising Holly that I would be all right and waving goodbye to Jason as both of them stared after me in shock. They both seemed quite torn and horrified by my sudden departure but neither one of them were about to test this man's boundaries.

If he wanted me to leave with him then that’s what I had to do. It was clear just by looking at him that there was no negotiating.

When we got outside he approached a jet black Harley and handed me his bulky helmet. There was a large white skull painted on the back. I swallowed hard. I might not have known much but I knew enough to know that the logo was only associated with one thing in Logan County. The Dark Souls, a popular M/C organization that more or less ran the town.

They were what my father once revered as
the real deal
but that didn’t mean he would approve of me associating with a member.

“Put it on,” the man urged, starting up his bike with a loud roar that tore me from my thoughts.

I eyed it nervously and swallowed hard. I wasn’t the type of girl who threw caution to the wind and straddled the back of a motorcycle. But even though I was nervous, I didn't feel comfortable taking his only protection. Not when he would be the one driving.
How ironic,
I thought. Here I was being more or less kidnapped and instead of putting up a fight, I felt a strange need to protect my captor. It was definitely the nurse in me.

I shook my head and tried to hand the helmet back to him. “I can’t take that,” I insisted. “You’re the one driving. You should wear it.”

The man looked at me as though I had told a joke and shook his head, his dark eyes warm and intense against my face. “Sweetheart,” he began. “Look at me and look at you.”

As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. I stood as still as I could manage and allowed him to slide the helmet over my thick red hair. Then, as quickly as he had swept me from the bar, we were off. 

It was absolutely electrifying. I pressed my protected head against his back, balling my tiny hands into tight fists against his rock hard abdomen. I was sure that if I moved it would be the end of me. We were on the freeway now, going at least seventy in a fifty zone. One wrong move and I could be dead. We both could be.

That’s how it felt anyway.

It was then that I learned his name. I don't know how I hadn't spotted it before. It was patched into the back of his jacket beneath the same white skull symbol that was on his helmet.

Liam Walker.

I ran my finger over it as he drove onto an exit ramp, veering quickly to the right. A thick wave of déjà vu began to settle over me. I had heard that name before. I just wasn't sure where.

Had my father known him?
I wondered. There was definitely a chance. At his healthiest, he was one of the most gifted bike mechanics in all of Logan County. One local club, the Reapers, even honored him with his own honorary cut.

Yes,
I decided. My father had to have been the link between this Liam Walker and I. It was the only thing that made sense. But it still didn’t change the fact that I had no idea what he wanted from me.

A few miles down the road he pulled into an abandoned looking parking lot and skidded to a stop near a patch of trees as gravel and dirt flew around us.

I recognized the place almost immediately.  It was my father's old body shop. The first one he ever started. The pieces were beginning to come together little by little. Liam’s intentions still weren't entirely clear to me but at least I knew they had something to do with my father.

I removed his helmet and set it on the seat of his bike, watching as he paced and spit into the distance, smearing it into the ground with the heel of his boot. It was getting dark out. If I wasn't back to my dorm soon Holly would begin to worry even more than I was sure she already was.

“What is this?”  I finally found it in myself to ask. “What are we doing here?”

But Liam didn't say a world. It was almost as though he hadn't heard me at all. I watched on uneasily as he approached the abandoned building, shaking a large metal lock attached to the front door. Realizing that his efforts were futile, he wiped a bit of dust from the window and peeked inside.

All of a sudden he appeared angry. As though he had reached some sort of dead end. He kicked the ground in frustration, running a rough hand through his flowing mane and lighting a cigarette. When he finally spoke, stomping towards me, it was clear by his tone that he was no longer playing nice. “Your father did some faulty repairs on one of my brothers bikes. Repairs that killed him,” he seethed, pointing a calloused finger in my face. “And you know what I think? I think he made a deal with someone. I think he was paid.”

I shuddered and stumbled back, feeling as though all the wind had been knocked out of me. That couldn't have been right. It
wasn’t
right. My father had been dead and gone for over six months and even when he was alive, he wasn't capable of hurting a fly.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head and licking my lips. “I’m sorry but that can't be true. My father wouldn’t do that.”

I flinched as Liam grabbed me roughly by the collar, his large hand engulfing my throat. “It is,” he breathed, his eyes burning against mine. “And either you know something about it or you didn’t know your old man quite as well as you thought.”

“Please,” I begged him, grasping for my purse. I had to get hold of the nail file but before I could, Liam slid his pointer finger over the curve of my heart shaped lips and parted them slightly.

I wanted him to let go of me but there was also a small, uncertain part of me that didn't. I figured he must have had that effect on a lot of women, but regardless, I couldn't bring myself to believe what he was saying about my father. It contradicted everything I knew to be true about him. He was a good man, a god-fearing man, and above all else an honest man. There was no way he would do intentionally bad work. Not for any amount of money.

But it was clear by the look on Liam’s chiseled face that he was done rationalizing with me. He said what he had to say and as the warmth from his finger began to settle over my tongue, I felt my original fear creeping its way back.

I wasn’t a stupid woman. I knew that he whole-heartedly believed my father had wronged him and his club, and since he was dead, I was going to be the one to pay for it. I saw it in his piercing brown eyes. Felt it in his heavy hand as it inched its way towards the crest of my throat. He would have his way with me whether I liked it or not.

It was the former that surprised me. As Liam began to explore my curvaceous form, taking his time, an unintentional moan vibrated against my throat. No man had ever touched me that way before and as much as I didn’t want to I couldn’t help but feel captivated.

Even worse was the fact that Liam could sense it. I watched as his strong facial features twisted up in displeasure, his thick eyebrows furrowing under a sea of hair. It was like watching the Incredible Hulk get angry only far more real and imminent of a reality.

“You like this?” he questioned, pushing me away from him. I knew it wasn't the reaction he was fishing for. He was trying to punish me for my father's alleged sins but I only appeared entranced. But I couldn't help it. It was like I was under a spell. One I couldn't just snap out of.

I stumbled back slightly, falling on my ass as Liam stomped towards me and grabbed me up like a rag doll. “You’re not supposed to like it,” he said matter-of-factly, his grip tight on my wrist. His tone gave way to his frustration but it was also tinged with something else. Wonder. I watched as he took me in, soaking me up like a piece of fine art. Then he appeared to make a decision, pulling out his phone and reluctantly dialing a number.

“Yeah?” I heard a man on the other end of the line answer, his voice one of the most intimidating I had ever heard. Somehow even more intimidating than Liam’s.

“Come through,” Liam managed, glancing at me and swallowing hard. “I brought her like you wanted. We’re at the spot.”

What the fuck?
I thought, feeling suddenly lightheaded. Whatever I was in for it was now clearer than ever that it wasn't good.

No more than twenty minutes later two bikes approached in the distance, engines in full roar. It was as dark as ever now and I was sure that Holly would call dorm security soon to report me missing, but as the bikes headlights neared, I felt overcome by the realization that I wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

I felt like a fool. I shouldn't have gone with him. I should have just stayed at the bar. Where it was safe. Where the prospect of being taken by a group of bikers twice my age and size was only a distant fantasy. Not a quickly impending reality.