Bad Boys of Romance - A Biker Anthology Read online

  Damn she’s beautiful.

  JENN

  My brow furrows when he introduces himself using his nickname. I would have thought he’d at least say his proper given name. I guess it’s just another trait of his bad boy persona. It annoys me that I like it. Before today, I would have thought a person was arrogant and rude if they failed to introduce themselves properly. But now? Now, I think it’s attractive. He’s obviously confident enough in his own skin that he doesn’t have to put on some façade. He’s just himself. And that is attractive. It’s manly, and I like it. A lot.

  “Please, take a seat,” I gesture for him to sit across from me. I inwardly applaud myself for keeping my voice level. My eyes slowly roam over his body. I notice immediately how his black shirt fits snug against his torso. Over that he’s wearing a leather vest with a patch sewn on it stating President.

  “Firstly, I want to start off by thanking the Mayhem motorcycle club for their generous donation toward this fundraiser. I’m sure you’re aware the McMahon family lost everything except their lives in the fire, and while I didn’t know them personally, it’s heartwarming to see a community support one of their own in such an enthusiastic way.”

  “One of the best things about Salt Rock,” he agrees.

  I squeeze my legs together, his deep, raspy voice causing my stomach to tighten.

  “Yes, well, uh, right,” I stutter, completely blanking on where I was going with this conversation.

  “So, this meeting is just to go over the details for the ball?” He prompts.

  “Oh, yes.” I grab my notes sheet. “As you know, the ball will be held here, at Joe’s, in the large ballroom that we have. It will be the first time it has been used and we’re very excited about that. So far, ticket sales have exceeded our expectations and we’re almost sold out, despite the event being two weeks away.”

  “That’s fantastic.”

  “It certainly is. On the night of the ball, after the silent auction has been completed, the live band will begin and as our major sponsor, we thought it would be nice if you, or one of your club members, would share the first dance of the night with an employee of Joe’s Bar. It will most likely be me,” I add, my cheeks heating.

  “Sounds like a great idea. I’ll have a word with the brothers, find out who hasn’t got two left feet,” he chuckles, making me relax slightly. Even so, I can’t deny the pang of disappointment that shoots through me when he doesn’t immediately offer himself up for the challenge.

  “Great. Well, I think that’s about it. Unless, you have any questions for me?”

  He pauses for a moment and then opens his mouth as if to say something, but he snaps it shut before any words come out.

  “That’s all. Nice to meet you, Jenna.”

  “You too, Switch.” I stand as he does and shake his hand, trying in vain to ignore the tingling sensation that is shooting up my arm.

  He flashes me a smile and leaves without another word. I sink down into my chair and rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on.

  It’s no wonder he’s taken. All the good ones are.

  For the rest of the afternoon, I bury myself in my work and try my hardest not to let Switch consume my every thought.

  It’s a hard battle, but I win…mostly.

  SWITCH

  Three days.

  Three motherfucking days.

  That’s how long it’s been since I’ve seen Jenn’s beautiful face. It’s also how long it’s been since I haven’t been able to get that beautiful face – and body – out of my mind.

  It’s driving me crazy and my brothers are noticing. The bastards are making sly comments and taking jabs at me. They know something’s up, they just don’t know what. In saying that, they also know the only thing that will piss a man off this bad is a woman.

  And, if you’re a man, you’ll know there’s two types of pissed off a woman can make you. There’s the type that turns a man in a raging asshole no one wants to be around. Then, there’s the type that turns you into a moody asshole everyone wants to make fun of because they think it’s funny when you fall for a woman you’ve got little hope of landing.

  Usually, I fall under the first kind of asshole if I’ve spent more than five minutes in the presence of Amber. But, during the last three days, not even she can dampen the vibe I have going on.

  Yeah, I’m moody, but there’s no malice in it. I’m just pissed off with myself that I’ve got myself into a situation I’m not sure how to navigate yet. Sure, I could follow my dick’s lead and see if Jenna’s up for one night…one night where I could get my fill of her and then forget it ever happened.

  But, my head isn’t stupid enough to believe my dick.

  My head knows that one night will never be enough.

  And, I think even my dick would agree that once he’s had a taste of Jenna Mason’s pussy, he knows he’ll be ruined for all other pussies.

  Pulling my bike into my drive, I hesitate before cutting the engine. I don’t want to go inside, but I know I have to. My gut tightens as I reach the front door. Walking inside, I recoil at the smell.

  Fucking Christ!

  I march through the house and into the bedroom where I know I’ll find my wife.

  “What the fuck is going on, Amber?” I shout when I spot her, passed out on the bed, her hair caked with a vomit and a trail of saliva running from her mouth down her cheek.

  She groans before throwing a pillow over her eyes. “Stop yelling,” she whines, her voice croaky.

  “You’re a fucking disgrace, you know that?” I grip her arm above her elbow and heave her out of the bed. I frog march her into the shower and turn the spray on, not giving a fuck that it’s freezing cold. I push her in, clothes and all and slam the glass door behind me as she starts screaming and thrashing about.

  “Clean yourself up,” I growl at her before stalking out of the room. The entire house smells like stale booze and fresh puke.

  Dirty fucking alcoholic.

  I don’t even know why I bother coming home anymore. Actually, it’s always been this way, it’s just that when it began, I was too stupid and young to know what I was getting myself in to.

  She’s five years older than me, but acts about ten years younger. I married her three years ago after she fell pregnant with my baby.

  Two days after the wedding, she lost the baby and she’s been ‘drowning her sorrows’ ever since. Least, that’s what she says. Problem is, she was always a big drinker, so her reasoning doesn’t stick with me. Not only that, but it hurt me too when she lost the baby, but you don’t see me downing vodka like it’s water every single night until I obliterate myself so badly I piss and shit all over myself.

  If I call her out on it, though, she cries and begs me not to be angry at her, and up until now, I usually let her get away with it. But, now? Now, something inside me is shifting and I’m just so fucking sick and tired of this shit.

  I sigh and scrub my hands over my face. An image of Jenn appears behind my closed eyelids and I smile.

  She’s really something.

  My eyes open and I scowl. There’s a trail of vomit through the living room, into the kitchen, up the cupboards and into the sink.

  Fucking Christ!

  For about the millionth time in the last three years, I wonder how my life turned into this.

  Why have I put up with it for three fucking long-ass years?

  Why did I even marry her in the first place? I never loved her, that’s for sure. I guess I felt a sense of responsibility to my child and I wanted a stable family environment for it to grow up in. Amber railroaded me; told me we should get married straight away. She didn’t want to be fat in the wedding pictures and she couldn’t wait until the baby was born because she didn’t want to spend her wedding night caring for a newborn.

  To shut her up, more than anything, I agreed. We got married in a short service at the courthouse. I can’t even remember what she wore.

  I clean up the vomit and get Amber out
of the shower before dressing her and putting her back to bed.

  “I’m goin’ to the club.”

  “Please, don’t leave me,” she begs, climbing to her knees, her body swaying, her words still slurring.

  I sigh, wearily. “I’ve got to go. You need to get yourself sorted out. I ain’t livin’ with this shit forever, Amber,” I reply harshly.

  She blinks. I’ve never once spoken those words to her and they shock her. To be honest, I had resigned myself to living like this for the rest of my life, but ever since meeting Jenn this week, something inside of me has changed. All of a sudden I don’t want to live with an alcoholic for a wife for the rest of my life. I don’t want to live in a loveless marriage.

  I want something better. I want a woman who I want to come home to.

  I take a good look at her. Her mouth is open in shock and she’s staring at me with sad eyes. Her blonde hair un-brushed, ratty and wet. Her skin a ghostly pale color, her cheeks sunken, her bony arms barely supporting her malnourished frame.

  She needs help.

  I’ll get her help. Then, I’ll leave. Start afresh. And, maybe, for once in my life, I’ll have something better.

  I don’t go to the club.

  After picking up a pizza and a six-pack of beer, I find myself pulling into Jenn’s drive. Her car is there, so I stop behind it and cut the engine.

  Balancing the beer and the pizza in one hand, I knock using the other and wait for her to answer.

  Thankfully, it doesn’t take her long.

  “Switch?” She says upon opening her door. “What are doing here?” She looks over my shoulder, as if she’s expecting someone to be with me.

  “You gonna let me in, bright eyes? This pizza’s fucking hot and it’s burning a hole through my arm.”

  “Oh,” she gasps, her good manners taking over. She moves out of the way and lets me in. I set the pizza on the counter, grab a slice and pop the top of a beer before holding them both out to her.

  “W-what’s going on?” She stammers, looking fucking adorable in her confused state.

  “You’ve gotta eat, right?” I shrug, still holding my hands out to her.

  Warily, she takes the beer and sets it on the counter before taking the pizza and reaching over into a cupboard to get some plates.

  I toss a few slices onto the plate she hands me, and load hers up with some more as well. “Grab the beer, will you?” I take the plates and walk over to her couch.

  She sits in the far corner of the couch, determined not to sit close to me at all. As she nibbles on her pizza, I don’t miss the concentrated glances she keeps sending my way. I don’t call her out on it though. Truth be told, I like her looking at me. Especially when she gets that lusty glaze clouding her eyes.

  “Switch,” she calls, her voice solid. “I’m going to be blunt.”

  “Okay?” I resist the urge smirk at her warning tone.

  “Why are you here?”

  Before I can answer, her eyes go wide and she winces. “I’m sorry, that came out incredibly rude. What I should have said is, thank you so much for the pizza and the beer, but I don’t understand why you’re here, considering you’re wearing a wedding ring. I can’t imagine why you’re not at home with your wife.”

  I want to tell her the truth. I want to tell her that despite only meeting with her one time, she evokes feelings in me that I’ve never felt before. But, I don’t want to push her too far and end up pushing her further away.

  “I thought we should get to know each other before the ball,” I say, lamely. Fuck! I should just man up. My pops never raised no damn pussy-assed man.

  “Oh.” Her beautiful lips make a perfect ‘O’ and I want nothing more than to suck the plump bottom flesh into my mouth. If I’m not mistaken, a small dash of disappointment flicks across her eyes.

  “Actually, that’s bullshit,” I admit, surprising myself. “I’m here because I can’t get you out of my fuckin’ mind. You’re all I think about. Yes, I have a wife. But, it’s not what you’re thinking. I’ll explain it all in due time, but honest-to-God, Jenna, I’m here because I want to explore things with you.” I lay it all out, surprising even myself with my forthrightness.

  “You’re married and you want me to be your mistress,” she whispers, horrified.

  “No! Fuck no! Jesus woman. What sort of man do you think I am?” I turn my body toward hers on the couch and grasp her chin, forcing her to look me in the eyes.

  “Well, what did you think I would think?” she shrieks.

  Fuck, that hurt my ears.

  “You just admitted you’re married and in the same sentence you admit you want to explore where this goes with us!”

  “Woman,” I growl, quickly losing my patience. Not at her, at myself, because I’m wording this all wrong.

  “I think you should leave,” she rips out of my grasp, standing abruptly.

  “No,” I rumble, my blood beginning to heat. I’m so fucking frustrated with myself, and she’s standing there in front of me, all assertive and throwing her confidence at me. Confidence I’m sure is a façade because I can see right through that shit. But, fuck if it doesn’t turn me on that she’s not afraid of me.

  My cock twitches and I don’t even try to calm it.

  Jenna marches over to the front door, swings it open and plants her hands on hips.

  If she starts tapping that beautiful foot of hers I’m not going to be able to hold back my laughter.

  “Leave.” She demands. Her eyes are heated, burning a rage at me, and all I can think about is how much fire burns behind them when she’s about to come.

  I stride toward her, my dick leading me. I slam the door and back her up against the wall, my body a breath from hers.

  “Switch,” she whispers, all traces of anger gone. Her chest rises and falls heavily with every breath she takes. I drop my eyes to her parted mouth and watch as her tongue sneaks out to trace along the seam. She’s driving me wild.

  I take a half step so my body is pressed flush against hers. She’s tall for a woman, probably five foot nine. Her head tilts back to meet my eyes and I will my mind to stop thinking about the way my cock is pressing just above her pussy, right at the base of her stomach.

  She can feel it. I know she can. She shifts slightly, her body rubbing across my shaft and I almost groan. Her nipples are pebbled. I can see them pressing through her top and it’s driving me crazy.

  “You feel that?” I whisper, referring to the overwhelming electric current that permeating the entire fucking room.

  “Yes,” she whispers back, her eyes glued to mine, heated, wanting.

  I drop my head a little, waiting on her to make the next move. I don’t have to wait long. She moves slightly, coming forward. Right before her mouth connects with mine, she pauses. And, that damn tongue comes out to lick at her bottom lip, swiping mine in the process. I can’t hold back any longer. My head falls and my mouth slams into hers. I push her back into the wall, my hands move up to grip her neck, my fingers holding her jaw so I can tilt her head and deepen the kiss.

  Her fingers dig into my sides as she grips me, holding me close to her.

  My tongue plunges inside of her mouth and she whimpers.

  Fuck, she tastes like heaven.

  I can’t get enough.

  I don’t want to stop.

  I almost roar with pleasure when her hands sneak around and grip my ass, squeezing and massaging as she pulls me even closer to her, if that’s possible.

  All too soon, I pull back. I open my eyes, resting my forehead against her as we both pant. Her eyes open and the glazed look in them almost has me dragging her to the bedroom.

  “Let me explain everything to you. Don’t push me away.” I’m not above begging.

  She swallows hard and then nods slightly. “Okay.”

  I lean back in and touch my lips to hers in a brief kiss. “Thank you.”

  JENN

  Somewhere, in a deep recess in my brain, a voice of reason is
screaming, what the fuck are you doing? But, it doesn’t take much effort for me to close the voice off.

  I can’t get enough.

  His mouth. God. God! His mouth. So skilled and sweet. Firm, yet gentle. Commanding, yet sensual in his assault. So, so good. Addictive.

  But, so wrong.

  Fuck.

  “Fuck.” The whispered word leaves my lips. What have I done? What sort of woman am I, that I would kiss another woman’s husband?

  Oh God.

  I’m a home-wrecker.

  I feel sick.

  “Hey. Hey!” Switch’s harsh voice filters through my mental bashing of myself. “Quit it,” he orders.

  “What?” I blink, suddenly coming back to the present.

  “Get out of your fuckin’ head.” He tugs my hand and leads me over to the couch. He sits and then gives my hand a pull. I fall down next to him, and I immediately respect that he cares enough to give me some space. I think we both know he could have pulled me into his lap and I would have stayed without much of a fight.

  “You said you’d let me explain. So, let me do it without you going into your head.”

  “Sorry,” I reply meekly.

  “Babe,” he sighs, a grin twisting his lips as he shakes his head a couple of times. “Don’t apologize. Ever.”

  I swallow down my fears and gather my courage before looking him square in the eyes. “Tell me.”

  “My wife,” he sneers and I blink at the clear contempt in his tone. “Is an alcoholic. I married her about three years ago.” I continue to sit and listen quietly as he explains he married someone he didn’t love because she was pregnant and he wanted to do right by his child. I patiently wait as he tells me about living in a hell he thought he deserved because his wife lost their child only days after they married, how he thought he was doing right by the woman by sticking by her and trying to support her as best he could, even though she spends almost every hour of every single day drunk.

  “I’ve never even entertained the thought of leaving her and being with someone else. Until I met you. And now, you’re all I can think about. You’ve managed to invade every single thought I have and I can’t escape you. I don’t want to escape you.”