Cocky Biker (MF)

Dirty Bikers

Evernight Publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 51,100
0 Ratings (0.0)

Meet the Devil’s Barbarians, a notorious one-percenter MC. Debauchery, brawls, and bad boy charm, oh yeah, it’s all going down.

Wyatt Jones is one cocky SOB.
Sure he’s hot. Sure he’s sexy as f…
But those cheesy chat up lines!
Am I really going to fall for them?
Fall for him?
I guess when he shuts up and gets down to business I could be persuaded.
Especially when he’s so damn good and being really freakin’ bad.

Belle Travis is a vision, a curvy sent-from-the-heavens goddess.
And I want her from the first moment I see her.
I have to have her.
And do I give a toss about her beefed up bodyguard and over protective brother?
Hell no!
I’m gonna give her the ride of her life, fulfill her fantasies, and show her there’s still good guys out there.
Even though most people would say I ain’t one of them.

Be Warned: anal play

Cocky Biker (MF)
0 Ratings (0.0)

Cocky Biker (MF)

Dirty Bikers

Evernight Publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 51,100
0 Ratings (0.0)
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Cover Art by Jay Aheer

“So should I have asked Rigor before I bought you a drink?” The right side of his mouth tilted into a half smile as he leaned in.

“No!” A presence loomed at Belle’s side—tall, dark, and very close. “But you should have asked me.”


Her heart did a stupid little flip. He was so damn hot. Everything she remembered and more. He’d scraped his hair back with his shades and a few locks had fallen forward. His lips were a tight, flat line, and his eyes narrowed.

“And you are?” Malc asked, raising his eyebrows.

“She’s with me.” Wyatt slid his arm around Belle’s shoulders, tugging her flush against his hard body.

“No, I’m not.” She slapped her hand on his chest and shoved. “Get off me.”

Wyatt kept her close.

“You heard the lady.” The amused look in Malc’s eyes had quickly been replaced by irritation.

“Stay out of this, bro.” Wyatt flicked his head to the side. “And give us a minute.”

“She said she wasn’t anyone’s old lady.”

Wyatt turned to her. “She must have forgotten that she belongs to me.”

“You were AWOL, Wyatt, so yeah, I’d forgotten about you all right.” She folded her arms. All the burning anger from the last week was getting ready to spew out of her in a torrent of fury.

“AWOL?” Wyatt appeared confused.

“You said you’d call, asshole,” she hissed the last word. “Yet you’ve had your phone off all week. Dick move if ever there was one. Just turning the damn thing off entirely.”

“It wasn’t off, it’s fucked.” From his pocket, Wyatt pulled out a mangled cell with the screen smashed to bits. He held it to her face. “Goddamn Mexicans fired at me, that goatee son-of-a-bitch. Hit my phone.”

A sudden wave of panic went through her. “Did he hit you?”

“No, just the damn phone got wrecked, so give me a fucking break, woman. This is why I didn’t call.”

Malc jabbed a finger at Wyatt. “And this is why I’m single. Always a fucking drama with chicks.” He shook his head and retreated into the crowd with his beer.

Belle glared at Wyatt. He raised his eyebrows, a grin playing with his lips.

That just made her madder. “Get off me.” He’d put her emotions through hell. How could he just brush that aside and think his cute smile would win her over? “And you couldn’t have borrowed someone else’s to call?” she demanded.

“I didn’t know your number.” He shrugged. “It was on my phone.”

“You could have found it out. If you’d really wanted to, that is.” She slipped from the stool, grabbing her purse as her heels hit the floor. It was too hot. She was too hot. Sweat peppered her underarms, her sternum, and her scalp. “Get out of my way.”

To her surprise, he moved, and she stumbled forward in the direction of the exit.

Pushing through bikers, she didn’t acknowledge anyone or look at faces. To her, it was just a sea of cuts and tats and loud conversation.

Once outside, she rushed to the right and into the alley between Champs and a deli that was now closed.

For a moment, she wondered if she might be sick, but she kept going, lurching and using the gritty brick wall for support. It was sharp on her palms, but she welcomed the sensation. It took her mind off the pain inside. The end of the alley was close. It was cooler, darker. Tears squeezed from her eyes.

How could Wyatt play with her heart like this? Had he forgotten it was barely held together as it was? Okay, they hadn’t been together for long, but she’d felt something. Something she hadn’t imagined. They got each other. She’d told him stuff, believed what he’d said about trust.

She was such a fool. Always had been, always would be.

“Belle!” His deep voice echoed between the buildings.

“Stay away from me.” She turned the corner and stumbled to the right. Found herself at a dead end. Her way was blocked by high wooden fences. A bench was pushed against one, an overflowing ashtray in the center of it.

“Damn it,” she muttered, swiping at the tears soaking her cheeks.

Wyatt appeared in seconds like she’d known he would. His breaths were coming hard and fast as he paced toward her.

“Stay away.” She backed up until her shoulders hit the brick wall. Her heart was thudding as he loomed bigger, taller. The sky was a wash of orange and red behind him and rendered him almost in silhouette as he approached.

“Don’t you ever fucking walk out of a bar on me again,” he snarled, a tone of voice she hadn’t heard him use before.

“So you get to make rules, huh, but not me.” She pressed her palms on his chest to stop him from physically pinning her to the wall with his body.

“Goddamn it.” He snatched her hands and dragged her arms upward, capturing her wrists in just one of his hands and jamming them to the brickwork.

Her body elongated, and she gasped, her breasts jutting forward, pressing against the low-cut dress. “Wyatt!”

His face was so close to hers, his eyes flashing.

“Let me go.” She squirmed, but it was no good. He held her captive.

“I couldn’t call you,” he said, his jaw tight as he’d spoken. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you. Think about you every damn minute.” He paused, and his nostrils flared. “Hell, I had to jerk off every morning in the shower just to get through the day without a hard-on.”

She glared at him, trying to find the truth in his words.

“Thinking of you,” he went on, “remembering being inside you, touching your fucking hot body and sexy tits.” He set his hand over her right breast and squeezed. “Made me like a dog on heat.”

She gasped. A tremble went through her, starting in her chest and radiating down to her pussy. She pressed her legs together.

“I just wanted to be with you,” he said huskily. “Counted the fucking days until I would see you at the rally.”

“I don’t believe you.” She tilted her chin. Her breaths were coming in fast pants.

He paused then. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve had pricks say they care when they don’t. Old news.”

“I fucking care. All right? I fucking care and I fucking want you.”

His mouth hit down on hers. It was a wild, desperate kiss that stole her breath and had her pussy clenching.

He slid his hand into her neckline and gripped her breast. His fingers were cool on her hot flesh.

She groaned. So did he.

I don’t want him. I shouldn’t want him.

He’d treated her badly. She’d had a shit week because of him. Yet here he was saying all the right things. Making her feel all the right things.

I do want him.

“Next time,” he said against her mouth, “have some damn patience when you know I’m on club business.”

“Next time. As if.”

“Yeah, next time.”

She yanked at her arms.

He kept them held tight. “You’re not going anywhere until…”

“Until what?” She glared at him.

 “Until I’ve given you an orgasm to fix this … misunderstanding.”

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