Romance: Motorcycle Club Romance: Outlaw Biker's Baby (Contemporary Alpha Male MC Biker Romance) (Bad Boy MC Biker Pregnancy Romance)
Authors: Tia Siren
Copyright 2015 by Tia Siren - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
A Biker Romance
By: Tia Siren
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Table of Contents
MOTORCYCLE Romance – Outlaw Biker’s Baby
MAFIA Romance – Owned and Protected
MAFIA Romance – Bought By the Hitman
ROCKSTAR Romance – Bad Boy British Rockstar
BILLIONAIRE BOSS Romance – What the Boss Wants, He Gets
BWWM Boss Romance - The Russian’s Love Child – Ella’s Story
BWWM PI Romance- The Billionaire’s Love Child: Keke’s Story
BWWM MAFIA Romance - The Russian’s Love Child: Nicki’s Story
SPORTS Romance - My Stepbrother’s Game – A College Hockey Romance
SPORTS Romance - Not With the Coach
SPORTS Romance – The Perfect Game
SPORTS Romance – The Coach’s Game
STUDENT TEACHER Romance – Professor London
PARANORMAL SHIFTER Romance – The Bear’s Bravery
PARANORMAL SHIFTER Romance – The Dragon’s Desire
PARANORMAL Shifter Romance – To Lure a Mate
WESTERN BILLIONAIRE Romance - A Heart in Trouble
WESTERN BILLIONAIRE Romance - Gold in Texas
COLLEGE Romance Collection – College Desires
MOTORCYCLE CLUB Romance – Outlaw Biker’s Bride
MOTORCYCLE CLUB Romance – Bad Boy Biker Stepbrother
MOTORCYCLE Romance – Outlaw Bad Boy Biker
MOTORCYCLE CLUB Romance - Bad Boy Biker’s Bride
1
The young woman looked over the bike. She put her hand on her chin, the way she remembered her father doing when she went with him to used car lots. He was a car
guy; he
loved buying
old
beat up ones, working on them for months at a time, and then selling them for huge gains. She stroked her chin though she obviously didn’t have a beard the way her cuddly bear of a father had.
Her name was Vanessa Keller, and her father had been dead for ten years by the time she was staring at the Harley at age twenty-two. His name had been George Heller, and it had been just the two of them until he
died
and had been since her mother had passed away when she was two. Mother dead as a toddler, father dead at twelve, and then she had gone to live with Aunt Kathy, out in Utah.
She hated Utah. It was too hot. Too dusty. Too boring. Well, mostly boring. From a young age and through her teen years Vanessa had found one thing she loved about Harrington Utah, the small town her aunt
lived in
. A massive biker gang, one of the largest in Utah
was headquartered
in Harrington. They were the Pythons, and the men in the biker gang all wore vests or jackets with an insignia stitched onto the back, a massive green snake coiled around a skeleton.
There were no women in the club
proper
though each man always seemed to have one on the back of his bike, thick girls with massive breasts and fat asses, long blonde hair, and as many tattoos as the men had.
Vanessa didn’t look like that. Not as a teenager, and not as a young woman. She was taller, thinner. She had rounded feminine hips, and a taut ass, but it wasn’t big. Her breasts were perky, perfectly formed, but she didn’t bust through her bras the way the biker chick’s all seemed too.
She was
beautiful,
though. He face was angular, perfect, her lips plump, her eyes a soft blue. She had a long string of boyfriends throughout school, but she always went for the bad boys, and things ended badly.
And still she was missing something. Those boys, the bad boys of
high
school, they weren’t bad enough. She had a thing for the bikers she saw all over town. Not the old
ones,
of course, the fat guys with their big white beards, she liked the young ones. Thin and tanned, with hard eyes and harder muscles. That’s what she wanted.
When she
graduated,
Vanessa planned on moving far away, but something stopped her.
Instead,
she went to a local
college
and got a degree in creative writing.
She
had always loved writing. She lived with her aunt while she went to school, commuting to the small campus every day. And then she graduated, and she didn’t know what to do.
She wanted to write.
To be a writer.
But she didn’t know what. She felt as though she had stories within her, stories she wanted to tell, but how to get started?
She wrote short stories and sent them
into
magazines and websites. Most
were rejected
, but some
were published
. Still, it wasn’t enough to
live on
. Aunt Kathy had always loved her, and had always taken care of her, but Vanessa could tell she would be happier if, now after college, she found her
own
place. Aunt Kathy had been married once, but divorced since before Vanessa’s father passed away. She dated off and
on
but had grown to enjoy a solitary lifestyle.
She
had no kids of her
own
and liked it that way. Vanessa sat down with the older woman and told her she would be getting a job and moving out. They hugged, and Vanessa felt a bit sad. She could feel the relief flowing off of her aunt.
She needed a job before she could find her
own
place. There were small apartments down on Mill
Street
, which was the main
street
which ran right through the center of Harrington. She could afford
one
if only she could find a job.
She was drawn to a few places downtown. A small antique store owned by an old woman who was an antique herself. Another was Nathan’s,
a small
diner. Vanessa was pretty sure she would make
a good
waitress. The last place she was considering applying to was The Devil Dog. That was a seedy bar at the far end of Mill Street, where the place was usually full of bikers, and Python’s more often than not. She could tend bar
there; she
was pretty sure, and
she
would be around those guys she had lusted after for so long.
Of course,
Vanessa didn’t want to be at any of those jobs for long, they would just be until she wrote that great
American
novel she had in her. She ended up applying to all three places, and all three had her interview.
In the end
she was offered a job by the old woman at the antique store, and Chet, the grizzled man who owned The Devil Dog. She took the job at The Devil Dog.
The hours were
tough
, but she had always been a night own
anyways
, she worked five days a week, all nights, going in seven and getting off at three in the morning on Monday’s, Thursday’s, Friday’s, Saturday’s, and Sunday’s. She had back to back days off, which was nice, and it turned out to be sort of like the weekend.
Chet was a nice
man
if a bit short with his employees. She didn’t get much guidance from him when she started beyond “Show your tits off and you’ll get more tips.” Luckily Susan took Vanessa under her wing.
Susan was in her early
fifties,
and she had been a bartender at The Devil Dog for over fifteen years. She was
pretty,
but her lined face was evidence of a live hard lived.
She
had been an alcoholic she freely admitted, though she had managed to be sober, even working in a bar, for over three years.
She spent a week showing Vanessa the ropes, and the often worked together. The only time Vanessa tended alone was on the ultra slow Monday’s, but she had one of the two cooks with her, both large muscular men, in case anyone got out of line.
In The Devil Dog, people got out of line often. Most of the customers were bikers, their black and chrome hogs like beasts from Hell when they pulled into the parking lot, and they were parked, slanting slightly against
kick stands
, in front of the long porch which wrapped around the front of the bar.
Most of the bikers were Python’s, but a few other clubs frequented the place as well. That was always likely to go up in like a powder keg. It only took one wrong word, one sideways glance, and men would be throwing punches. The bikers took their clubs seriously, and a slight against one
man
meant one against his fellow club members too. Vanessa found the whole thing a little bit silly, and she was wondering if she had made a mistake by picking the bar over the antique shop by her second week there.
As ridiculous as the grown men playing war was, she had to admit the younger men were exactly the types that got her motor revving so to speak. There were strong, and tough, and weren’t afraid to show their interest in her.
One of the most handsome, and one of the boldest, was a man in his
mid-twenties
named John. Of course, like most of the bikers that frequented The Devil Dog, no one called him by his real name. He had a nickname. Since starting her new job, Vanessa had been assaulted by idiotic nicknames all night. There was the fight Python with the bald head but the
walrus-like
mustache called Snakebite, and a younger guy with glasses that everyone called Dipstick.
John,
though, as far as biker nicknames went, his wasn’t
bad
. Tank. It wasn’t
good
of course, but
at least,
it wasn’t Dipstick.
Vanessa was fairly sure she knew why he was called Tank. His arms were massive, barely constrained in the sleeves of the leather jacket he always wore. His pecs pressed against the thin material of his tee shirts, and his legs were
thick like
tree trunks. He was a muscular man, and Vanessa was sure Tank would no doubt be able to best any man in the bar when it came to a
fight
or feats of strength.
Tank
had taken a liking to Vanessa. She had seen him with women before,
pretty
but overdone young girls with massive tits and short skirts. Vanessa knew she was prettier, and she had heeded her boss’ advice and bought a few new low cut shirts when she
was hired
, but she still was restrained when she
was compared
to Tank’s girls. He cycled through at least three, and they would come into the bar with him, and giggle and laugh as he pulled them onto his lap, and they would grind their pert asses against his cock through his jeans.
The young bartender found herself grow jealous when she would see that. She yearned to
be pulled
onto his
lap; she
yearned
to feel his dick grow hard beneath her. No matter if he was
with
a girl or not, when Vanessa worked, Tank was sure to spend some time at the bar, bullshitting with her.
One Saturday, after she had been working at The Devil Dog for almost three months, she finally gave into him. It was late, nearing three, when the bar shut
down,
and the bikers had to
go find
a bed to sleep it
off in
.
Tank
had come in with a girl,
a pretty
little blonde thing named Tiffany, but she had drank too much and thrown up and been taken home by a friend of hers. Since then Tank had been at the bar, smiling at Vanessa, flexing his muscles, and coming on to her in his
own
special way.
“I would love to slide my dick between your tits,” he said.
Vanessa laughed, blushing at his forwardness. “Me?” She asked.
“Yeah you, why not you?”
“Have you seen my breasts?” She asked.
“No, but I would love to,” Tank said with a grin.
“Trust me, they aren’t as big as your little blonde friend’s tonight,” Vanessa said. She was
self-conscious
about her
own
brunette hair, as soft and shiny as it
was
because she had only ever seen the biker with blondes.
“Ah, fuck her,” Tank said.
“That’s what I’m telling you to do,” Vanessa teased.
“Why you always gotta make it hard
on
me?” The biker asked her. “I complimented you.”
“You don’t
really
think
telling
a girl you want to tit fuck her is a compliment, do you?”
Tank laughed. “Sure it is.
Hey,
I got an idea, do a shot with me.”
“That
’s a bad idea
,” Susan said, stopping by on her way to the kitchen with a dirty plate.”
“Come on Susan, don’t piss all over our fun because you
don’t have fun yourself no
more,” Tank said, and Vanessa tried not to wince at his grammar. She was a writer after all.
“This one is bad news,” Susan said, ignoring Tank but nodding her head towards him. “Mark my words.”
“I can handle myself,” Vanessa said, and then she set two empty shot glasses on the bar. “What are we drinking?” She asked Tank as Susan went on, leaving them alone.
“Vodka,” Tank said, and he set a large bill on the bar. “As much as this will get us.”
Vanessa smiled and poured the first of many shots.