Sex & Mayhem 01 Road of No Return

• Title Page
  
• Chapter 1
  
• Chapter 2
  
• Chapter 3
  
• Chapter 4
  
• Chapter 5
  
• Chapter 6
  
• Chapter 7
  
• Chapter 8
  
• Chapter 9
  
• Chapter 10
  
• Chapter 11
  
• Chapter 12
  
• Chapter 13
  
• Chapter 14
  
• Chapter 15
  
• Chapter 16
  
• Chapter 17
  
• Chapter 18
  
• Chapter 19
  
• Chapter 20
  
• Chapter 21
  
• Chapter 22
  
• Chapter 23
  
• Chapter 24
  
• Chapter 25
  
• Chapter 26
  
• Chapter 27
  

Road of No Return

a
Sex and Mayhem
novel

Smashwords Edition

Acerbi & Villani ltd

--- Don’t talk to strangers. ---

Zak.
Tattoo artist. Independent. Doesn’t do relationships.

Stitch.
Outlaw biker. Deep in the closet. Doesn’t share his property.

On the day of Stitch’s divorce, lust personified enters the biker bar he’s celebrating at. Tattooed all over, pierced, confident, and hot as hellfire, Zak is the bone Stitch has waited for life to throw him. All Stitch wants is a sniff, a taste, a lick. What follows instead is gluttony of the most carnal sort, and nothing will ever be the same. Forced to hide his new love affair from the whole world, Stitch juggles family, club life, and crime, but it’s only a matter of time until it becomes too hard.

Zak moves to Lake Valley in search of peace and quiet, but when he puts his hand into the jaws of a Hound of Valhalla, life gets all but simple. In order to be with Stitch, Zak’s biker wet dream, he has to crawl right back into the closet. As heated as the relationship is, the secrets, the hiding, the violence, jealousy, and conservative attitudes in the town rub Zak in all the wrong ways. When pretending he doesn't know what his man does becomes impossible, Zak needs to decide if life with an outlaw biker is really what he wants.

As club life and the love affair collide, all that’s left in Zak and Stitch’s life is mayhem.

WARNING Contains adult content: a gritty storyline, sex, explicit language, violence and torture

POSSIBLE SPOILERS:

Themes:
Outlaw Motorcycle Club, organized crime, homophobia, family issues, coming out, first gay relationship, tattoo, piercing

Genre:
contemporary homoerotic dark romance

Length:
~ 100,000 words (Standalone novel, no cliffhanger.)

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living, dead, or undead, events, places or names is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transferred in any form or by any means, without the written permission of the publisher. Uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without a permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law.

Text copyright © 2014 K.A. Merikan

All Rights Reserved

http://KAMerikan.com

Cover design by

Natasha Snow

http://natashasnow.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Stitch downed his third beer of the day and slammed the glass on top of his divorce papers.

“Another?” asked his best friend, Captain, and Stitch squinted at him. He could never be sure whether Captain was winking at him or just blinking. The perils of only having one eye. It didn’t stop Captain from driving a bike like a madman or being the VP of the club.

“Go on, I earned it,” Stitch rasped and leaned his elbows on the greasy counter. He could feel at home in the Hounds of Valhalla club bar. If worse came to worst, he could always fall asleep in one of the guest rooms in the back and not have to face going home. The Louisiana heat was getting to him today so he wore his cut over naked skin, but in hindsight it hadn't been such a great idea, since now the leather was sticking to his back.

It was a busy Friday night, and the bar was full. Most of the patrons were local so Stitch knew them one way or another, with a few outsiders sprinkled all over the large room. During public parties like this one, Valhalla catered to everyone, from old friends, gathered in comfortable booths, to the crowd that spent their time at the counter, to the drunken dancers by the pool table. It was more crass than class, but to Stitch it felt like home, from the beat-up counter to the small room in the back where Stitch had fucked a girl for the first time. Good times.

Captain poured Stitch some whiskey and grinned, rubbing down his black beard into a more sensible shape. “One down, brother. You’ll find yourself a better woman.”

“Of course I will. Not a cheating slut like Crystal.” Stitch sipped his liquor with a frown.

“You fancy any of the pussy by the pool table?” Captain gestured toward the ever-present crowd of hangarounds in sparse clothing. The pool table was off limits on Fridays, unless you were a member of the Hounds of Valhalla. Or a hot bitch.

Stitch followed his friend's nod (to keep up appearances), but he looked right past the girls. He was not dipping his dick in that lot again. Not to mention that none of the girls were even his type. Most of the ones who were in today were cute blondes, like they got the wrong bar or something. That was what had drawn him to Crystal in the first place, she was all tats and rock ‘n’ roll.

“Nah, I’ll pass.” Stitch downed his whiskey and tried to pretend he didn’t see any of the direct looks from the pool table. The sudden spike in interest could only mean one thing: they all knew he was back on the market. “Where’s the rum, Captain?” he said, but his mouth remained open when someone new walked into the bar and stopped at the door, looking around as if he had lost his way. The dimmed blue light made all the tattoos on the stranger’s arms pop out immediately, and while Stitch couldn’t see what the patterns were, the ink was dense, mostly black and white.

The man was tall enough to stand out in the crowd, slim but toned. He walked through the bar with a self-assured sway, looking like a character from a futuristic movie. Stitch didn’t know where that comparison came from because the guy wore a simple outfit consisting of narrow pants stuck into knee-length combat boots, and a tank top, but he did look like an outsider in the old-school biker bar. His hair was pitch-black, with shaved sides and the long strands at the top of his head gathered into a ponytail. There was a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he approached Stitch of all people.

A silly grin surfaced onto Stitch’s face like a dead body floating in the bayou. That would be his choice of ‘pussy’ if he could have his way. He knew it wasn’t gonna happen, yet he still straightened up on the bar stool far too small to properly hold his bulky body and turned to the stranger. The man was first to speak, but he looked past Stitch as if he were made of glass.

“Hi, how are you doing?” he asked in a rich, velvety voice, reaching out to shake the hand of Joe, one of the Hounds of Valhalla’s prospects, currently serving at the bar. He had short, blond hair and a small gap between his front teeth. Stitch always saw him as a younger brother he never had.

Joe smiled at the tattooed man and shook his hand. “What can I get you?”

Stitch never took his eyes off the stranger, now even more set on getting his attention. The newcomer had large, expressive eyes the color of a cloudless summer sky and a heavy brow line over a firm, straight nose and pale, wide lips. It was a handsome face, yet it somehow made Stitch think of a malevolent spirit, which could be due to the piercings on his face. There were two balls on either side of his nose between the eyes, a small ring with a purple ball in his septum, and then a piercing in his left brow, and a round metal hoop circling the mid-point of his bottom lip. In contrast to the moderate size of those were thick spirals plugged into the flesh of the man’s earlobes, stretching them over their normal capacity.

“A beer would be nice,” said the stranger with a grin. “Listen, I’m new in town. Do you think it needs its own tattoo studio?”

A drop of sweat trailed down Stitch’s spine and into the back of his pants like an invisible hand.

“Get the man a beer, Prospect.” Stitch waved a hand at Joe, never taking his eyes off the hot, tattooed flesh. There were so many designs on the stranger’s skin that Stitch wasn’t sure which ones to focus on. “You should ask someone who’s actually inked, not baby boy Joe.”

“Oh yeah?” The stranger’s blue eyes were on him immediately, but they soon trailed lower, and Stitch felt heat rise in his chest under the skull and fire tattoos the guy was looking at. “And I suppose that would be you?”

“Yeah, I know a lot of guys who’d like to visit a good ink pusher. And I suppose that would be you?” Stitch smirked and couldn’t help but flex his stomach muscles.

The guy gave him a crooked smile, still looking down at Stitch’s chest, but then raised his gaze and offered his hand. “I’m Zak.”

“Stitch.” He shook Zak’s hand with a smile, making sure not to hold it too long. Joe put a beer on the counter, and Captain passed Stitch a glass of rum that smelled like catnip for pirates.

“Oh, I know a tattoo Stitch needs to cover up!” Captain chuckled. Stitch frowned, knowing exactly what his friend meant and imagining ways in which he could scalp Captain’s black, furry head for mentioning the unmentionable.

Zak raised his brows and gathered the bottle in his hand, tapping it with a whole array of heavy signets. “Confess.”

Stitch had some rum and poked Captain’s ribs so hard the guy yelped. “Okay, okay. Prospect, out,” he ordered Joe, and the guy walked to the other side of the bar to bother other customers. Stitch got up from the stool and stole a second of breaking into Zak’s personal space before circling the bar and gesturing for Zak to follow. It was good to have free access, it made him almost feel as if he were the sole owner of the whole place. “I got divorced today, you see. So I need to get rid of a love crime.”

“Sounds interesting.” Zak marched behind him, and Stitch noticed that the handsome newcomer was even a bit taller than him. As soon as they disappeared behind the counter, the man leaned in, flooding Stitch with the smell of a musky, fresh cologne. “Is it on your dick?”

Stitch snorted and winked at Captain. “Nah, almost.” Stitch opened the big skull buckle on his belt and went on to unzip his jeans. He was trying not to get too excited and not being alone with the guy was helping him keep his cool. This was probably as close as his dick would come to Zak anyway.

“So, what do you want to get?” asked Zak, loud enough for Stitch to hear his voice through the noise.

“I haven’t thought it through yet.” Stitch pulled his pants down low enough to expose the ink on the inner side of his hip, next to his pubes. He took out his cell phone and turned the screen on to illuminate the tat for Zak, who unceremoniously scooted down. It brought him face to face with Stitch’s crotch, and made Stitch’s heart stop, even if for a brief moment.

“Yeah, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Captain started laughing so hard that Stitch reached over the counter to smack the side of his head. “Shut it!”

“Sorry, man. It just looked like--”

“I know what it looked like,” Stitch growled and looked down to Zak. “Good. I’ll make an appointment then,” he tried to talk without slurring and pulled up his pants.

Zak got to his feet, unfazed by the mocking and produced a card, which he passed to Stitch. “Have a look at my portfolio first.”