Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (romance book recommendations .TXT) 📗

“Jesus,” I rasped out as I held myself still above her. Once I was sure I wouldn’t blow my load in the first few seconds, I pushed her thighs to her chest and rested her shins against my body. “Hang on, baby.”

Snow

“Still Breathing”—Green Day

As we pulled on our gloves and helmets, Reaper and Joker both glared at me.

“What?” I finally asked them, exasperated.

“You kept us up all goddamn night,” Reaper muttered. Joker smirked but tried to hide it by dropping his gaze to the ground.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I questioned, though I knew.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, old man. That bed damn near came through the wall,” Joker said with a snicker.

“Old man? Who the actual fuck are you calling an old man?” I growled with a frown as I sat on my bike. They waited until I was mounted up before they did.

“Well, with all that gray,” Reaper replied with a chuckle. Joker slid his shades on and tried not to laugh. My blood boiled a little. I wasn’t fucking old.

“Fuck. You. My beard started to go gray when I was thirty. I can’t fucking help genetics. But last time I checked, thirty-seven wasn’t old. And I can assure you she had no complaints.” Ending the conversation, I drowned out their laughter by starting my bike. They followed suit, and we pulled out of the lot.

As the miles slipped away, I admitted to myself that part of the reason I was in such a shitty mood was because the chick from last night was gone when I woke up. Not that I expected anything lasting, but one for the road would’ve been nice.

All the way home to Grantsville, I replayed the night before. It was completely and totally worth the lack of sleep. Everything about her was perfect—and I didn’t mean her looks, though they were too.

The fact that she was feisty, yet a little broken. The way she boldly met my every demand. Not once did she shy away from what I gave her. She reveled in it and met me move for move.

It was probably best I hadn’t gotten her name or number. Because I swear to Christ, I would’ve been tempted to make the six-hour trip for another round with her. My dick was rousing at the thought.

Backing my bike up to the clubhouse, I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a long ride, and it was good to be home. Too bad I still had trouble brewing.

No rest for the weary and wicked.

“Snow, how was the trip?” Vinny asked the second I entered the dimly lit clubhouse.

“Long. I want a sitrep ASAP. Call church in one hour. I need to wash the road grime off my ass.” Vinny nodded, and I went straight to my room.

The hot water beating down on my back did nothing to relax my knotted muscles. Shoving my face in the stream, I stood there until I couldn’t breathe. Both hands scrubbed my face and shoved my hair back.

A flash in my mind of a fiery vixen on her knees before me had my junk going hard as a rock. Remembering every second of what she’d done, I stroked my length in a tight grip. Eyes closed, I saw her ruby-red lips stretched around me as she took me as deep as she could.

Before I knew it, I was shooting jets of cum down to the floor, where it washed down the drain.

“Fucking hell,” I said with a ragged breath as I pressed my forehead to the cool tiles.

After cleaning up, I dried off and dressed in clean clothes. Brushing my hair and beard, I stared sightlessly toward the mirror. I wanted to go back and scour Kansas City for her.

I needed to get my head in the game. I was the motherfucking president of the Demented Sons in Iowa. There was no time or room in my head to obsess over some random one-night stand.

Locking my memories of her up in a mental vault, I pulled on my boots and stomped to the chapel. Focusing on my current problem, I sat at the empty table to wait. Whoever was peddling this new shit in my area was a dead man.

“The shit is going by the street name of Black Night. It’s a blend of opiates, heroin, and synthetic shit that varies from batch to batch. It’s unstable and can be extremely toxic. It can be swallowed, snorted, smoked, or injected—whatever trips the user’s trigger. From what I can find, it’s being brought in from over on the East Coast, but no one can pinpoint exactly where.” Hacker looked up from his laptop after he was done.

“Jesus Christ,” muttered Apollo. No one called him DJ anymore. Not since he’d been patched, anyway. He’d grown up around here too, only leaving for a couple of enlistments and two tours overseas. This shit was personal to him too. This was home.

“No idea who’s slinging that shit around here?” I asked, smoothing my beard in frustration.

“The only one we tracked down overdosed right before the kid here did. Shit is no joke.” Hollywood slouched back in his chair as he nervously tapped his fingers on the tabletop.

“I want everyone on this. Pull in any of the informants we have. Known junkies from over at the Lakes, here, anyone. If you have an in with the kids in this area, use it. No leaf unturned and all that shit. Someone has to know something, for fuck’s sake,” I growled.

We made a plan to divide and conquer. Everyone stood when I ended church and filed out of the chapel. No one stopped at the bar for drinks—we had shit to do.

Besides this shitshow with the fucking drugs, I needed to get over to the planning committee meeting for the annual fundraiser at the Leon Adolescent Drug Prevention and Rehabilitation Center. I might be