BITTER SWEET CRAVINGS (The Kingsmen MC Book 6) (18 page)

“How ‘bout a friend? Let’s start there.”

He purses his lips in thought. “Can friends buy friends lunch?”

I laugh.

“Yeah. They can. Maybe a beer, too, if you’re lucky.”

~*~

CLINK

“You take care of that little project?” Jay tosses his tool belt into the cab of the truck.

I step closer, knowing the information we’re about to share isn’t for everyone’s ears, leaning up against the fender of the cherry red Ford. 

“Dawson wasn’t interested, he says he’s already taken care of it.”

“Stupid motherfucker! He’s gonna bring a fuckin’ drug cartel right to his goddamned doorstep!” Jay kicks the tire, causing the truck to rock violently.

We’ve set things up real nice to cover up all the shit that went down between the doc, the cartel runner, and all the collateral damage. We should have known it was too good to be true, that the Slayers, that
Dawson,
wouldn’t just stick to the plan.

“It’s out of our hands, brother. He wants to dance with the devil? He better be prepared to tango, ‘cause those fuckers won’t be interested in playin’ around.” I keep my voice low as Jean and Sunny walk past.

I nod to them and they wave. Everyone’s packing up for the day, getting ready to call it quits till tomorrow.

“His funeral,” Jay wipes the sweat from his brow. “He’s on his own. As long as he keeps his mess in his own backyard I’m washing my hands of it.”

I shrug my shoulders, not really giving a damn. Dawson’s got a hot head, reacts quick and doesn’t think about the shit it could bring down on him, or his club.

He was helpful enough, setting everything up the night of the shootout. We took the half-conscious Mexican and set him up as the shooter, carrying out what’s been chalked up as retaliation for a drug deal gone bad against the good doctor.

We kept him pretty loopy and stumbling in the street outside Charlie’s house with an empty assault rifle. The cops showed up just in time to spot the bloodied man carrying a weapon in front of a shot up house and just as we hoped, opened fire on the threat.

Once they entered the crime scene and found the body of Dr. Walker, the murder case was considered shut. Charlie had an impenetrable cover story with plenty of witnesses, who just all happened to be Kingsmen.

Neat. Tidy. The local PD couldn’t have asked for a better case if it plopped in its lap, which… it kind of did.

All of our loose ends were tied, all of our asses covered. It was the perfect ending to a perfectly fucked-up situation.

That was… until Dawson decided he wasn’t content with things the way they sat. He wanted to send a message to the Conquistadors that tried to move in on his turf. He sent that message… a bloodied picture of the Mexican man hanging from a chain before we let him down to plant in the crime scene.

The photo message came with very explicit warnings of what Slayers do to other dealers who move in on their turf. It’s only a matter of time before it comes back to bite him in the ass… but I have a funny feeling that’s just what the fucker wanted.

“I gotta get outta here, pick some shit up at the store on my way home. You ready for tonight?” Jay breaks out his keys.

“Ready as I’m gonna be. Any last words of advice?”

He laughs. “Ask me tomorrow after you do it and I’ll give you a whole fuckin’ list of ‘em. If I tell them to you now, though… it’ll just scare you off.”

I tap the fender twice as the truck drives off, Jay laughing loud enough to be heard through the window.

The sun sets, blinding me as I watch the truck drive off into the horizon. It’s getting late. I check my watch. I gotta get going myself and get everything set up before Sugar gets home.

~*~

CHARLIE

The lights are on as I pull in the driveway. I can’t help but feel the butterflies swirling around in my stomach as I set eyes on the house, knowing he’s waiting inside for me.

It’s our last night together before Brendan comes home, and he’s warned me that he’s planned something special. I’ve given him plenty of time to get whatever it is setup.

Tuesday night is the night that I take Sable to the meeting down at the church for recovering drug addicts. She’s had a rough go of it, but she’s doing it. I know Blue’s been supportive of her cleaning up her act, but she says she doesn’t want him taking her to the meetings. Not yet, anyway.

So… for the last two weeks, I’ve taken her.

It’s been a good experience for her. And for me. I may not have grown addicted like she was, like all the people in that room are every week, but I know I came dangerously close to sliding down that slope.

I was escaping shit, running away from things. It took me a while to realize you can’t run away from your demons. The faster you run, the faster they catch up.

I’m thankful for the life lesson, though. Without it, I wouldn’t have realized everything that I could lose… everything that’s worth fighting for in my life.

One of those reasons is standing there, somewhere in that house, waiting for me. And I’m not going to keep him waiting a moment longer.

“That sounds really great, kiddo.” Clink’s eyes dart up as I open the front door. “Hey, she just got home. You want to say hi?”

Clink hands me the phone as I set my bag down. He gives me a kiss on the forehead before walking passed.

“Hey, sweet boy! I miss you!” I haven’t spoken to Brendan since his last call a couple of days ago. “You having fun with Granny?”

“Hey, Chawlie! We’re gonna drive the truck home tomorrow!” He’s so excited.

I laugh. “I know. We can’t wait for you to come back home. Make sure Granny has plenty of Turtles movies for you to watch in the car.”

“Chawlie…. I don’t
like
the Tuwtles anymore. They’re for babies. I like the Avengers.”

I laugh again, louder. “Okay. We’ll have to go get some Avengers for you. Make sure you brush your teeth. And say hi to Granny for me, Okay?”

“OK,  Chawlie. I see you tomawow.”

I take a deep breath, “I’ll see you tomorrow, kiddo. Love you.”

I don’t expect him to say it back, but it breaks my heart in the best way, every time he does.

“I Love you, too. Night!”

I stare at the phone long enough to hear the dial tone before I finally disconnect.

“We have to go shopping tomorrow morning,” I inform Clink as I place the phone back on the receiver.

He raises his eyebrow. “Yeah? For what?”

“Avengers stuff, because apparently he’s not a baby anymore.”

Clink laughs. “Thatta boy. Pretty soon he’ll be wanting toy motorcycles and Harley t-shirts.”

I roll my eyes. “God help me.”

“Speaking of which. I told you I have a surprise for you.” His eyes dart to the kitchen table where a white box sits.

I smile. “Baby! You didn’t have to get me anything.”

I walk over to him and slide my hands up into his hair, drawing him in to let my lips thank him properly. The late-day stubble on his chin is the perfect length to give the right amount of rawness to the act.

“Mmm,” he moans as I have my way with him.

“You eat? You want me to make you something?” I ask.

He smiles wickedly. “Don’t you worry about me. I’m gonna eat real soon. I’m gonna have a fuckin’ feast.”

I roll my eyes at him and the crude words that immediately turn me on like a faucet.

“Open it,” he reminds me of the box.

I carefully take off the lid and push aside the tissue paper. I take a very sharp breath and look to him. He smirks and I turn back to the gift, holding it up to see. It’s my rag, my leather vest. Not a new one, but the same exact one.

I turn it over to see the back, where I’d cut it in half in anger. My fingers trace the perfect stitches that have brought the two halves back together.

“It’s… it’s-”

He steps closer, wrapping his arms around my waist, eyeing the garment from over my shoulder. “It’s us.”

I turn in his arms. “Huh?”

He smiles. “It’s us. Broken in half, each part incomplete without the other. But now, you see, it’s
stronger
than before. The stitches reinforce it, adding strength to the place it was weak. Now, it’s not so easily broken for the next time.”

“The next time?” I wonder aloud.

He nods. “Yup. My momma once told me that the good things never come easy. But, you gotta ride through it to get to the best part.”

“Your momma sounds like a really smart lady. And she raised a pretty special guy. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Clink bites his lip. “You remember the first time I gave you that rag?”

My stomach drops thinking about all the delicious things we did to each other that night. “Mmm hmmm,” is all I manage to reply.

“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna strip you naked just like I did that night, and you’re gonna wear my leather on your back as I do to you just what I did that night. Do you
remember
what I did to you?”

“Mmm hmmm,” I repeat as I begin to pant.

“
Very
good. But this time, it’s gonna be a little different.” He whispers in my ear. “Do you know how it’s gonna be different?”

I shake my head, wanting so desperately to skip the explaining and get to the doing.

“This time, you’re gonna wear something else of mine.”

What? What’s he talking about?

I pull away to see him holding his hand closed. My heart stops. I know what’s inside. Holy shit! I didn’t see this coming in a million years.

His eyes twinkle mischievously. “Do you
know
what’s inside here?”

I nod, unable to make even the most basic moan that I had before.

His lip twitches in that carnal way that lets me know he’s about to be intense. I feel the hot drop of liquid trailing down my leg, soaking into my jeans.

“Do you
want
what’s in here, Sugar?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

I nod. He reaches down to grab hold of my ass and hikes it high to straddle him. I clutch my man in my arms and my rag in my hand as he steers us toward the bedroom.

“Good. ‘Cause tonight… tonight you’re gonna fuckin’
earn
it, Sugar.”

THE END

…or is it?

When one story ends, another begins.

Continue reading for a sneak peek at a brand new

Spin-off series of the Kingsmen M.C

THE SLAYERS, MC

Book 1

FIRST RIDE

November 2015

By Tara Oakes

“Since when are bikers the good guys?

….they’re FILTHY as sin.”

CHAPTER ONE

DAWSON

“You get the delivery?”

I may be speaking to the man, the brother, Uno, as he pulls up a seat next to me… but I’m most definitely looking at the chick in
front
of me. She
knows
it, too, feeding off it, putting on a show just for me… and my cock.

“Yeah, boss. Damn Russians are getting greedy about it, too. Say they’re gonna up the price five percent for the next order. I think they can tell we need it bad.”

His one good eye settles on me.

I take a sip of the tall bottle and suck on the opening a little bit, nursing it, before arching my eyebrow and holding it up for the stripper on stage to see. I’ve banged her a time or two before, and I know this chick, Candy, is
always
up for a good time. Especially one that puts a little extra money in her pocket.

She drops to all fours, saunters over like a lioness in heat, never breaking eye contact with me as her hips sway to the heavy beats of the blasting music. Her perfectly fake tits hang low, jiggling with each stride until she’s in front of me on the raised platform of a stage.

Finally moving her eyes from mine, she fixes on the bottle I hold to her. She knows what I want. Her bright-red lips open wide, practically unhinging her goddamned jaw like a pro before closing around the tip of the dark amber-colored glass bottle.

Her cheeks hollow as she sucks the air in, creating a vacuum that my dick remembers all-too-well, before sliding down and mouth-fucking the beer as I watch.

My cock stirs.

Uno gasps, enjoying Candy’s demonstration of one of her many, many, talents. She’s one of our best girls, gets paid top dollar, too. I feel the hungry eyes of all the other patrons ogling her and know she’s gonna be making bank tonight, with each one of their sorry asses wanting to get a little taste of her.

“Boss, we got a problem.”

Candy doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t let our intruder break her rhythm.

“What?” I growl.

The kid hesitates, quickly picking up on why this might be a bad time to interrupt. “Uh… Tommy says he got a problem with one of the new girls. He’s gettin’ all ballsy again.”

I take the bottle back reluctantly, with a loud popping sound echoing as it leaves the tight confines of her sucking mouth.

“Here,” I hand the bottle to Uno, done with it for now.

I laugh to myself as the dozens of men perched around the perimeter of the stage do just as I’d thought they would, and wave green bills around in the air eagerly to get their own private demonstration from the naked woman on stage.

My heavy boot kicks the bottom of the double swing-door leading back to the dressing rooms, not happy that I have to intervene yet again in staff shit. I pay Tommy good money- you’d think he’d be able to do his damn job and handle this shit on his own.

I hear the loud slapping sound like a fuckin’ fire alarm, and quicken my step.

“I
told
you, you’re gonna go out there and shake that little ass of yours!” The balding man’s hand is still held in the air, threatening a repeat.

“What the
fuck
are you doin?” I feel my chest rumbling like a diesel engine at what I’ve walked in on.

The small girl standing with her hand covering her cheek is stone still, crying. I don’t recognize her, but hell, I usually can only tell these girls apart by their tits and their asses, and this girl’s not showing either of them right now.

“H-hey, Dawson,” he stammers. “The new girl says she doesn’t want to dance, says she’s changed her mind.”

“And?” I ask, shifting my eyes to scan her. The dark jeans she’s got on hug her short little legs just enough for me to tell what’s underneath the fabric is mouthwatering.

“Last I checked, we got ourselves an open door policy,” I remind the prick, although I’m gonna be reminding him of a whole lot more in a few minutes.

“She’s supposed to go on next, D. We got no one else here right now.” The washed-up snake of a man tries to justify himself.

It’s a Tuesday, one of the slower nights for business. We keep all the regular girls on a pretty tight rotation, giving most of them this night off.

A heavy breathing draws my thoughts to the petite young thing who’s finally moved. She wipes the back of her hand against her lower lip. I don’t know why it caught my attention the way it did, but I watch the plump little cushion of her mouth rebound and her long-lashed eyes widen as they spot the drop of red on the porcelain skin of her hand.

I’ve seen blood more times than most- bucket loads of it. But, the one lone drop of it smeared on the tiny woman is enough to have me seething.

I move quick, fast enough to cause the little thing next to me to jump in place as I charge the greasy-skinned man in front of me, sending him crashing into the wall.

“What did I tell you about keeping your hands to yourself, Tommy? You think I give a flyin’
fuck
if I got an empty stage for a few minutes? Apologize to her.”

The only things holding him high in the air right now, suspended against the wall with his scrawny legs dangling, are my fists- fists that want desperately to pound the ever-loving shit out of him.

“I- I’m sorry, D. Really.” He’s practically pissing his pants.

“I said! Apologize to
her
.” My teeth are like heavy stones grinding together.

Guys like this… they get their kicks outta hitting women ‘cause they don’t have the balls to hit another man. Guys like this need to be taught a lesson, a lesson they won’t forget.

His eyes dart passed me to where I’m certain the girl hasn’t budged. “Sorry.”

“Hey, Esè!” I call back to the prospect who summoned me earlier. “Pick out the prettiest little G-string you can find. Tommy here’s gonna fill the empty time on stage.”

I feel my lips crack into a smile as I cast down the man’s sentence onto him. “And if he tries to step off that stage one fuckin’ time before his song’s over, you make sure to take him out back and show him how a
real
man hits.”

“D… D-- don’t get carried away, Dawson. I- I won’t ever hit another one of these sluts again, promise.” He wiggles around like a fuckin’ weasel in my grip.

I feel my eye twitch, involuntarily, hearing the word “slut” come out of his mouth and I change my mind about practicing a little self-restraint.

I pull back my right arm, my deadly arm, and wail right into his out of shape, flabby, beer gut, causing him to double over as I drop him. His gasping and retching for air is like music to my ears and I close my eyes as I savor it.

“Esè!” I call the prospect. “Get him outta my sight and up on that stage!”

The young guy moves fast, eager to please me as he grabs the scruff of the sorry sack of shit of a man and drags him away.”

I move my neck harshly to the side, cracking the joint to relieve the tension that’s built up.

“Thank you,” a soft whisper of a voice breaks the silence.

I turn, expecting her to be cowering in some corner, but she’s not. Now in front of her, I can finally get a good look. Her dirty-blonde, shoulder-length hair is pushed back, fully showcasing her bright blue eyes. They’re clear- not red and stoned like I’m used to seeing around here.

“I’m sorry about not dancing, about causing all this trouble”, she says.

I see the base of her throat constrict as she swallows hard. The sight of watching this pretty little thing’s throat closing tight, makes my cock harder than anything Candy could’ve done on that stage as I find myself wondering if this angelic little blonde’s got a gag reflex.

“Yeah… you don’t really look like the type that comes in here to dance.” I state the obvious. Her jeans may be tight around the luscious thighs I’m sizing up, but her top isn’t. The plain black shirt she’s wearing isn’t even cut low enough for me to tell if the round handful-sized mounds that sit high on her chest are real.

“I thought I could do it. I really did,” she shakes her head, disappointed in herself. “I needed to do it.”

Her reaction baffles me. I’ve never seen a chick disappointed in
not
becoming a stripper. Usually… it’s the
other
way around.

“Come again?” I arch my eyebrow.

“Sorry,” she’s quick to try to erase her last statement. “It’s not your problem.”

I don’t know what it is about her, maybe it’s the honesty behind her words, the demure way she carries herself so differently than most of the broads that walk through these doors, but it’s
something
.

Maybe it’s the real disappointment I see on her face as if she’s pissed at herself, clearly not used to falling short on things.

“You in some kind of trouble, darlin’?” I get the feeling there’s more to this story than just a chick not being able to fulfill some stripper fantasy.

She closes her eyes softly, shaking her head. “I’ll figure it out.”

What
is
it about her?

“That hurt?” I take the steps to go to her, expecting her to flinch or jump back like most people do when I get close.

She doesn’t.

She just scrunches her forehead, confused. I take my thumb and trace under the pink area forming near the corner of her mouth. Her skin is warm… so warm and inviting, so perfect.

She hisses as I touch near the wound, instinctively raising her hand to protect the cut, settling her warm, delicate, fingers over mine. Her eyes widen in shock as she feels the swelling of her lip.

“You ever been hit before?” I already know the answer, judging by her reaction.

She licks her lip, biting on the bottom one a bit. “No.”

I didn’t realize I was holding my breath waiting for her answer until after she’d given it. Good. A sweet little angel face like this has no business being touched like that.

I search her eyes, trying to find something, anything, that will help solve her mystery.

“I should go,” she whispers.

I snap my hand back. Yeah, she
should
go. There’s no room here for a woman like this.

“Here,” I take the wad of cash from my pocket, pulling off the money clip. I don’t count how many bills I hold out to her. It doesn’t matter… I’ve got plenty more.

“No,” she steps back and waves the money away. “I can’t. I didn’t dance. I didn’t earn it.”

A lightning strike of anger courses through me and I fear she’ll sense it, will be afraid of it. A woman like this shouldn’t have to earn her money shakin’ her shit for drooling men.

“You earned it, angel.” I don’t know where or when I came up with the name, but it suits her. Despite the bruise forming on her otherwise perfect mouth, she’s got the face of an angel. “You saved me a fuckin’ headache, did me a favor. That piece of shit’s got no business being around my staff. I’m just sorry it took him hitting you for me to realize it.”

She breathes deep, her chest rising, bringing her an inch or so closer to me and I revel in it. I see her watch the money hungrily, like it could mean a world of difference to her. I see the war raging in her eyes whether to take it or not, and most importantly, I see the pride that’s holding her back from accepting it.

I do the hard part for her and place the money in her hand, closing her fingers around it. My hand lingers, holding hers within, longer than it should.

I can feel her breathing against my chest, struggling with the decision, with the closeness. I’m struggling, too. I’m torn between wanting to fuck her raw, or throw her ass outta here so she can get as far away from me as possible before I do it.

The devil in me could
ruin
a perfect little angel like this. Normally, I wouldn’t think twice.

“See ya around, angel,” I whisper before leaving her speechless, getting the hell away from her before I no longer have a choice in the matter.

Part of me believes my words, hopes I’ll see her again. Part of me doesn’t. That’s the part of me that senses this chick, this angelic little thing,
could douse me in fucking holy water and I’d beg for more if it meant I could look into those big blue eyes while she’s doing it.

I didn’t catch her name and it’s probably better that way. She doesn’t need a name, doesn’t need anything to make her any more real to me. I like the name I gave her, instead.

Angel.

Did you enjoy this sample of

FIRST RIDE

Book 1 in the brand new

Slayers MC series?

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on Amazon.com

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Revealed on October 20, 2015.