Authors: Ann Mayburn
An Iron Horse MC Novel
An Iron Horse MC Novel
By: Ann Mayburn
Published by Fated Desires Publishing, LLC.
© 2014 Ann Mayburn
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All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
Table of Contents
For the first time in my life I know what it’s like to be completely and truly adored by a man who loves me for exactly who I am, a high functioning autistic with more personality quirks than there are stars in the Texas Hill Country night sky.
Some people think my boyfriend, Smoke, is a total biker psycho, a natural born killer who will destroy anyone who threatens what he considers his. They wouldn’t be wrong, but he’s so much more than that. He’s my dark salvation, my beloved fallen angel who is trying with all of his wicked heart to save me from what seems like an entire world bent on either killing me or a fate worse than death.
We’re headed to the Denver, Colorado chapter of the Iron Horse MC, chasing after my narcissistic, junkie mother who decided to steal from some very bad men leaving her two daughters behind to pay the price for her betrayal. My twin sister, Sarah, old lady to the Iron Horse MC president, is looking for my mother as well, but Sarah’s gone rogue and has no one to guard her back which worries me deeply. To further complicate matters, there are traitors in the Iron Horse MC who are working with my mother, not only helping her to escape but also informing my enemies of my every move.
The odds are stacked against me, but I will do whatever is necessary to protect those I love, and with Smoke at my side, I just might make it out of this mess alive.
The burning Texas sun set over the distant hills in spectacular bursts of amethyst, cardinal red, and tangerine, while a warm breeze moved over my skin like a caress. It was late summer nights like these idyllic evenings, when laughter and the smell of cooking food filled the air that made me regret ever leaving the raw beauty of the Texas Hill Country. I took a long pull from my cold beer and gazed across the yard to where my amazing man, Smoke, stood talking with my good friend Indigo’s parents, Ron and Bettie. Indigo’s Asian father looked like a hippie time had forgotten in his tie-dye shirt and long, silver-streaked hair. Her mother didn’t rock the tie-dye, but she did personify the earth mother look with her rounded body and flowing dresses. Smoke seemed all the more dark and dangerous standing with them, like some kind of post-apocalypse War Barron…an apex predator. Except, right now, he looked like an amused predator conversing with two earnest chipmunks.
Ron and Bettie were actually pretty sane for preppers. They were both highly educated and world-wise, but they’d talk your ear off about ‘the man’ if you gave them half a chance. I wondered if Smoke was perplexed or amused by them. I know Indigo thought they were just batshit crazy. They drove her nuts with their ever-evolving list of people they swore were trying to bring down the government. Funny thing was, the more you listened to them the more you started to believe that their weird conspiracy theories might have a ring of truth to them.
Memories of nights spent at Indigo’s luxurious compound flitted through my mind, like sheets of paper caught in a windstorm, as the years peeled back. Ron and Bettie were more than a little odd, but they treated me like one of their own and were two of the few people I trusted on sight. They were close with my parents and would often come over to play cards on our big, screened-in back porch and laugh about the world going to hell. When I needed someone to talk to, they were always there. A bolt of melancholy tightened my chest as I realized how much I missed them…though right now I was far more interested in my man than my friend’s parents.
Poor Smoke, he actually looked like he was really thinking about what they were saying and had a slightly bemused smile curving his lips. Considering Ron and Bettie were conspiracy theorists he was probably getting an earful about the Vagrants, an evil political entity Ron and Bettie believed was slowly taking over the world. That was why they’d decided to stop watching cable TV. They swore the Vagrants had implanted mind control devices in the cable boxes. We watched a lot of DVDs at their house.
Indigo had a touch of their paranoia, but at twenty-one, she was one of the best private investigators in the country, so maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
I had to laugh at myself as I watched my big, badass, biker boyfriend talking with them in their faded, flower child glory. I swear they were roughly half his massive size, and his commanding presence made them seem even smaller. My gaze trailed from his broad shoulders, to his thick thighs and tight ass before returning to his face.
From the top of his head of curly black hair to his sexy feet—no, seriously, the man has gorgeous feet—he was one hundred percent mine. The good and the bad. Sometimes I saw a hint of true darkness in him, the dispassionate gaze of a killer, and it scared me, yet aroused me at the same time. If Smoke was the king of the jungle, I was his queen, and I had a touch of his darkness myself. We were an odd couple, to be sure, but beneath our skin, our hearts beat to the same savage rhythm.
Even though my sex was still sore from the hard fuck he’d given me last night, I craved him to the point where I planned on throwing myself on him and tearing off his clothes the first second we were alone. When he’d taken my virginity he woke a hunger in me that bordered on ravenous. I wanted to devour him, to lock us away in my bedroom and make him give me pleasure until I passed out. I knew how good those perfect, full lips of his felt wrapped around my nipples and how his big hands could hold my body still while he bit me with little stinging nips that set my body ablaze.
He was a big, solid man all over, including his magnificent cock with the piercing beneath the base that rested against his balls. A shiver raced down my spine and settled in my belly as I imagined how that wonderful bit of metal would hit my clit just right, while he pounded into me from behind. Another wave of heat sensitized my pussy and I shifted, somehow drawing his attention to me where I stood leaning against a tree and watching the sun set.
When his dark gaze met mine, I swore the world hushed for a moment. Nothing existed except my pounding heart and his handsome face. The setting sun hit his cheekbones and his bold Aztec nose just right, turning him into the living statue of a warrior. Without even trying, he enchanted me, and my knees weakened to the point where I had to brace myself against the tree. I was spellbound by his dark gaze, completely ensnared by his raw, masculine beauty.
That was the only way I could describe my feelings for him. He wove some type of magical enchantment over me that held me in ethereal bondage, draining my will and replacing it with his. I gladly surrendered to him, and my breath caught at the flare of passion between us as he casually rubbed his lips while pretending to listen to Bettie yammer on about the world ending. His gaze moved over me, and I took a quick pull of my beer, trying to cool the fire he’d started in me.
I was wearing a pair of faded jeans and a black tank top with a pair of my beat up old boots, but he stared at me like I was nude and had been rubbed down with oil. His gaze cranked my overwhelming arousal even higher. I didn’t like getting turned on with my parents around—it was weird—but at the same time, I craved the way the heat built between us until I was melting with it. If he slipped his long, rough fingers between my legs right now he’d find me slick with desire.
I had to tighten my grip on my beer bottle, suddenly certain that it would slip from my useless grip as my heart raced when he made his way across the yard to me. Yelling children darted past him while a few of my parents’ friends tried to get his attention, but he avoided the kids and ignored the adults. His attention was focused totally on me, and I couldn’t help my goofy smile as he came closer. Elation filled me and I took one step away from my tree, then another, eager to bask in his presence like a cat in a patch of sunlight on a cold winter day.
When Smoke’s intense gaze focused on me like this, I knew I was the center of his universe. He looked at me in a way no one ever had, like I was more important than air and the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. I would never, ever get tired of the way Smoke watched me. Putting a little swing in my hips, I stepped beneath the green leaves of the old tree until the toes of my battered cowboy boots were touching his black motorcycle boots. The scents of summer filled the air around us, the sun-baked earth mixed with the hickory smoke from the fire, and the sharp, sweet spice of barbecue.
The wind shifted a bit so that I became enveloped in his scent, and I stifled a groan. He smelled really, really good, a hint of sweat mixed with sun-warmed skin and his soap. He’d actually brought a bar of his personal soap with him and insisted on washing me with it when we shared a shower this morning. He seemed to get off on me smelling like his masculine scented soap. Not that I was complaining. Being bathed by Smoke was a decadent experience and one of the best ways in the world to greet the day.
I looked up and brushed a strand of hair from my face while we stared at each other like love-besotted fools. Tonight, I actually wore my high maintenance hair down and loose at Smoke’s request. I was constantly moving it off my face, which was annoying, but totally worth every bit of irritation when Smoke ran his fingers through the long strands with a look of pure satisfaction. He cupped my cheek, leaned down and rubbed his nose along mine, then brushed a soft kiss over my lips. Even that modest touch made my skin tingle, and I sighed against his mouth, pressing my body against his even as I kept my hands at my side. If I touched him, I’d either grab his magnificent ass or run my fingers through his dark, silken curls while hauling his mouth to mine in a rather wanton display that would be totally inappropriate in front of my neighbors.
His tongue brushed my lips and I groaned softly, stealing a taste of him before he lifted his head and grinned down at me, still stroking my cheek in a hypnotizing rhythm. I knew I was the only person who ever got to see the soft, tender side of Smoke, and I relished his open affection for me. In the world of the Iron Horse MC, where he was the Master at Arms for the founding chapter, Smoke was feared, and with good reason. When we first met, I’d witnessed him losing his temper, and the pure rage he put off scared me. Even back then, he’d been oddly attuned to my every need and had immediately calmed himself when he saw that his anger scared me.