Home > NUTS (Biker MC Romance #5)

NUTS (Biker MC Romance #5)
Author: Scott Hildreth

Prologue

 

 

Fascinated at the feeling of having his thick cock in my hand, I stroked the length of his shaft anxiously.

Our lips parted, and he leaned away from me.

He locked eyes with me and pushed his jeans along his thighs. After adding them and his boxer shorts to the pile of clothes at our side, he stood before me completely naked.

I looked him up and down. The muscles of his tattooed biceps were tense and bulging. His wide chest paid perfect complement to his narrow torso. The scars on his hands gave hint to his protective nature, and he stubble that had grown since he last shaved gave him enough edge to create pause.

But. It wasn’t his outer shell that had drawn me so closely to him. It was his heart.

In short, he was my perfect man.

There was one thing I was versed on, and although it wasn’t all I had to offer, it was what I was comfortable giving him at that moment.

I desperately wanted to please him. I lowered myself to my knees and looked up. “I want you in my mouth.”

“You don’t have to--”

“Please?”

A slight sigh escaped him.

He took a step forward.

I licked my lips, opened my mouth, and ached in anticipation.

He guided himself toward my lips. I flicked the tip of my tongue against the precum that glistened from the tip of his cock. Fueled by the slightly bitter taste, I eagerly took him into my mouth.

I slid my lips up and down his thick shaft, taking more of him with each stroke of my mouth. With his scrotum cupped in my hand, I sucked excitedly, eventually accepting him into my throat fully.

I looked up, hoping to see satisfaction in his eyes. His head was tilted back and his eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

I reached behind him, gripped his bare butt in my hands, and forced what little of him that remained past my willing lips.

He drew an uneven breath and then met the gaze of my watering eyes.

“Jesus,” he breathed.

He reached for my head and pulled himself from my mouth.

My heart sank. “You didn’t like it?”

“You’re too damned good at it,” he said. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“You liked it?”

He guided me to my feet. “Loved it.”

I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand and looked at him wantonly, hoping that he’d somehow justify continuing our sexual adventure. I’d waited a lifetime for what I was poised to share with him, and I was afraid I could wait no longer.

I felt if he’d give himself to me, that we’d connect on a level that secured my presence in his life, and in his being.

A magical existence known only to those who truly belonged in each other’s lives. A feeling so difficult to define, that any combination of words would fall short of an accurate description. These were the things I was certain we would share afterward.

He lifted me from my feet and turned toward the bed. I sucked in a breath. He must have anticipated my desires, but it came as no real surprise. At times, it seemed he could read my thoughts.

I hoped this was one of those times.

I’m giving myself to you because I trust you.

Be careful with me, please.

You’re my first.

 

 

Chapter One

 

 

Joey

I heard the heels of his boots on the tile floor long before he came into my line of sight. With my hope of sneaking out before he woke now crushed, I glanced toward the sound of his heavy footsteps.

Just inside the kitchen door, he paused and rubbed the stubble on his unshaven jaw. Still wearing the prior night’s jeans and grease-stained tee shirt, he looked like living hell. His closely cropped hair and muscular build made confusing him with the Marine’s stationed at Camp Pendleton easy, but he’d been out of the military for six years. His mind, however, was still at war with someone or something.

He fixed his tired eyes on mine. “You need to find a better job,” he said, his voice dry and raspy. “You’re not living here for god damned ever. You need to--”

My stepfather was impossible to reason with. When he was sober, arguing came a little easier, but still exposed me to the risk of revealing his red-hot temper. Nonetheless, I took the chance and interrupted him mid-sentence.

“It’s not like I’m lying around doing nothing,” I carried my cereal bowl to the kitchen sink. “I’ve got a great job, it’s just not good enough to support me. Yet.”

“This food’s not free. All this shit cost money. The lights, the water, the mortgage. Money I work hard for. How in the fuck am I ever going to retire if you stay here for fucking ever? I can’t afford to have you mooching off me for a lifetime.”

Finding a job that would support me wasn’t an easy task, especially with the high cost of living in southern California. It was frustrating and I was embarrassed, but it didn’t change the fact that for the time being I was barely making more than the minimum wage. I wanted to leave him and his violent outbursts more than anything, but if I could somehow double my income, I still wouldn’t be able to support myself.

I glanced over my shoulder. “I bought the cereal.”

“You put milk on it, didn’t you?”

“I paid for it, too.”

“Working at the parts counter of the fucking Harley dealer isn’t going to get you anywhere. I haven’t said anything for a while, but it’s high time you get where you can stand on your own two feet.”

My face washed with skepticism. I turned to face him. “Haven’t said anything for a while?” I couldn’t help myself. A laugh escaped me. “You bitched me out last weekend. Pulled the covers off me at two o’clock in the morning, screaming. Remember that? Probably not. Too drunk, huh?”

His jaw went tight. It was seven o’clock in the morning, and I’d already hit a nerve.

His eyes thinned. “Don’t you dare call me a drunk.”

He clenched his fists and took a step in my direction.

Planning my path of escape, I glanced to my left. “If you so much as touch me,” I warned. “I swear, I’ll call the cops.”

“You’re not going to talk to me like that, no matter how old you are. One of these days you’re going to learn to respect me, so help me god.”

He may have been my stepfather and guardian, but I’d never respect him. Having grown up without a mother more years than I did with one, it would stand to reason that I’d be attached to him. That we’d have developed a meaningful relationship, something that may even resemble a friendship. His drinking, however, brought on unpredictable acts of violence that prevented it.

Each time it happened, he later apologized.

But, nothing changed. He was who he was, and despite my begging that he quit drinking, he never so much as tried.

He took a few stumbling steps toward me. We’d been in enough fights that I knew what was next. A wad of my hair in his clenched fist and the back of his hand against my cheek for starters.

His weary eyes and awkward sense of balance told me he was either nursing a serious hangover or that he was still drunk. I took a step to my right, and he staggered in that direction. As soon as he did, I took off in a dead run to my left.

In a few long strides, I was in the living room. As I rushed past the couch, I snatched my purse off the end table and headed for the front door. Halfway down the sidewalk my pace slowed to a brisk walk. I knew from experience that he wouldn’t dare come outside. At least for the time being, I was safe.

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