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Biker Rockstar Billionaire CEO Alpha
Author: Violet Blaze

Seventy miles north of Las Vegas …

Seven Days Later …

 

The gun pressed tight against the back of my skull, a kiss of metal held in arcadian stillness. The wind swirled my hair against the barrel and whistled around me, ominous cries of pain that mimicked my sister's whimpering. I wasn't crying yet, but I couldn't blame her for shedding some tears—she'd already been shot.

I swallowed hard and tried to get past the taste of sand in my mouth. The gritty granules rubbed against my teeth and scoured my tongue, drying up what could very well be the last words sitting in my mouth. Why you? That's all I wanted to ask, all I needed to know. Of all the people in my life, why did it have to be him? As hard as I tried though, I couldn't speak. I tried to turn my head, but the gun changed my mind about that in an instant, pressing even tighter against me. It was like a violation, an assault.

A creak of leather sounded behind me before I could feel his breath on my neck. A droplet of blood, twice as scalding as the white sun above us, slid down my tattooed arm and pooled against the silver chain on my wrist. In the back of my mind, I imagined that I could hear the squealing of tires on the pavement, the growl of hogs in the distance. But that was all my imagination. Nobody was coming for us this time. My brothers had always said that one day, I'd bite off more than I could chew.

I guess I had.

And I'd taken Layla along with me.

“Let her go,” I pushed those words out in a whispered hiss, sand soaked saliva sliding over my lips and drying instantly in the sun. My mouth felt cracked and blistered from my fall; I didn't even want to know what my face looked like. Let's see, thirty miles an hour? Hard packed sand and dirt? Some rocks? Gravel. That hurt. That really, really hurt.

“Nobody's going anywhere. Not you, not her. Not even me. We're all going to sit here and wait.” I could hear the disgust in his voice. I supposed if I was in his position—ignorant and arrogant and stupid as hell—I'd have it, too. He knew it all. Everything. The sordid details of my existence for the past week. Out here with the desert sky looking down on me and the mountains' pointed glares, I had no reason to deny it. For years, I'd played it safe, not wanting people to look at me the way he was looking at me right now.

Guess I was getting what I deserved.

Seven days. That was all it had taken for my life to transform completely, set me on a path I never knew I'd be following. From lying to myself to seeing a crack form inside of me that would set all my dark truths and desires free. From hating what I'd become to relishing it.

And it all started with a boy—with an asshole.

 

 

I loved it when my ol' man called me into his office—mostly because I liked to screw his secretary.

“Fuck,” I groaned, grinding my hips against the petite little blonde's, twisting my fingers in a handful of her hair. She tilted her head back and gave me access to her pale, perfect throat. I ran my tongue along her skin, tasting the sweat that was beading there, eating up the proof that I was doin' this right, doing her right.

See, I didn't just like to fuck women—I wanted to pleasure them, shake them to their cores and feel them tighten around me when they came. Can you even believe Miss Laura here didn't have her first orgasm until she was twenty-four? That's a goddamn travesty if you ask me. Thankfully, I was able to take care of that for her. Imagine how many other women must be suffering in the same way?

I might've just been one man, but I aimed to make the world a little better—one hot, frenzied fuck at a time.

“Oh my god, Dash,” she moaned as I rammed her into the granite countertop of the ladies' bathroom. Hopefully nobody walked in on us. But if they did? Oh well. I was the prince of this palace so to speak, future CEO of Buchanan Bikes—much to my own damn chagrin. Besides, my sins weren't nothin' when compared to my daddy's. They could deal. “Deeper, Dash. Deeper.”

“Turn your ass over and I'll be happy to oblige.” I slid out of Laura's slick, wet heat and spun her around, pushing her chest into the sink. We both groaned as I filled her up again, pounded my pelvis into her firm round ass.

And I'd thought visiting my dad today was going to be boring?

Hell, if this was on the agenda for the workday, I'd gladly quit avoiding his calls and drag my butt over here more often—even if all he ever fuckin' did was bitch about my music and my band. That crotchety old bastard could go screw himself; he was more twisted than the panties hanging off Miss Laura's dainty white ankles.

I glanced up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, sweat beading on my forehead, a stray droplet sticking to my lower lip. I flashed a grin and then leaned over, curling my fingers gently around Laura's pale throat, drawing her head up so I could meet the eyes of her reflection. She bit back a gasp, tucking that red rouged lip of hers beneath white, white teeth. Her eyes were ringed in liner, and they looked huge, open, bare as I kept our gazes locked, ramming into her again and again and again.

An orgasm caught her first; I could see it building in the curl of her spine, the tightness of her fingers as she clawed at the countertop with her perfectly manicured nails.

“Dash!” she screamed, loud enough that I wouldn't be surprised if one of the security guards came traipsing in here. “Oh God, yes.” Her voice broke like a wave cresting on a rock, crashing around me as she squeezed tight, holding my body captive for one, perfect moment. One fucking perfect moment where I didn't have to be anyone or anything except myself. Sex is like a drug, ain't it? And I couldn't seem to stop myself from leaping between highs. “Wow,” Laura said as I pulled away and dropped my used condom in the stainless steel trash can. I fixed my jeans as I watched her turn around and gather herself together, smoothing strands of blonde back into place, adjusting her suit jacket and skirt, pulling up her panties. “That was amazing. Please tell me you'll be coming into the office more often?”

I shrugged and reached into my back pocket for a smoke.

“I'm going on tour this summer with the girls,” I told her and pretended not to notice when her face crumpled. Laura was nice and all, but she had this attention to detail that drove me nuts. Everything with her was so perfect, so put together. I liked angry, messy girls, girls with wild hair, makeup on one eye but not the other, a bedroom floor strewn with books and T-shirts and high heels still in the box. I didn't have to ask myself why or get introspective about it—I knew why I liked chaos. The answer was pretty simple: my father made me this way. That son of a bitch raised me in nothin' but chaos. “I'll see you when I get back?” I lit my cigarette and watched as Linda's eyes crinkled at the corners. Last time I saw her, she gave me a packet of brochures on the dangers of lung cancer.

“Sure thing, Dash,” she said and then pointed a red-nailed finger at me, “just don't tell your dad we did it again.”

 

I stood outside the door to my father's office with my hands tucked into my front pockets. There was nothing—and I mean nothing—in this world that made me feel like less of a human being than my dear ol' dad. I was twenty-nine years old, but standin' here like this, I felt like I was thirteen again, fumbling through life with nothing but his drunk cursin' and the weight of his disappointment to keep me company. You'd think a man who'd spent a good portion of his adult life as a criminal, an addict, and an outlaw biker would be a little less … judgmental. Nobody outside his own family would ever believe my pa used to go to church and sing in the damn choir. Fuck. If I'd been told the man was ascended straight from hell, I'd have believed it.

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