Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love)

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Cover Design – Kevin McGrath – Kevin Does Art. Photo by Allan Spiers Photography.

Description

ONE KISS CAN RUIN A GIRL, OR MAKE HER WHOLE AGAIN...

CORA

Never kiss an outlaw, they said. Easy advice, until the day my father's dirty secrets made me property of the Deadly Pistols Motorcycle Club.

Easy, until I came face-to-face with the beautiful bastard who makes me burn with every glance. Firefly.

I tried to fight it. Threw every insult in the world his way, hoping to hide how bad my lips were begging to be kissed.

Now, I'm losing the battle. Completely.

I turned his life upside down. His cocky, unbelievable promises are flipping mine right-side up.

He says he's going to make me his. I'm going to love it. And he isn't taking no for an answer.

I should slap him upside the head. Instead, I'm becoming a believer in his caveman promises because I can't keep my hands off him...

FIREFLY

No more games. I cut Cora a hundred kinds of slack when she landed in my world, one that's too twisted for a sheltered spitfire.

I laughed at the sass and smears coming out of her mouth 'til the day the Prez made me her bodyguard. Then I put an end to her crap.

I protected her. I laid down the law.

One raging kiss shut her up for good. Never expected what came next, this urge to rip off her clothes, throw her on my bike, and own her.

The monsters coming after her, they're already dead. It's the future that counts, and there's only one I'll live.

Cora, she'll get my ink on her skin. She'll wear my ring. She'll have my kid.

I'm taking what's mine, taking her night after night, and she's gonna get used to my lips on hers forever.

The Outlaw Love books are stand alone romance novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers! This is Firefly and Cora's story in the Deadly Pistols MC series.

I: Fireball (Firefly)

M
y dick never quit.

I had my second fuck of the day under me, squirming like a cat in heat, just the way I liked them. Blonde, curvy, a tramp stamp on her ass.

Her green eyes flashed as they rolled back in her head, begging me to slam her harder.

Fuck yes, I obliged.

“Shit, baby, open those legs wider. All for me. It'll feel better when you start getting the shakes.” I shifted, grabbed her heels, and threw her legs over my shoulders.

She screamed when I plunged deeper.
One-two-three.

She moaned in perfect sync to my balls slapping loud on her ass. Rhythmic, wild, and hot as fuckin' lava.

My cock owned every inch of her soft wetness, stretching her a little more each time I dug in to the hilt. I always left my mark on a woman, one way or another. Inside and out. Once they'd taken my dick, they'd never be fit for anything less.

One-two-three.
Her overpainted lips popped open, making her moans louder. Bitch thrashed, clawing at the sheets around her.

One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-fucking-three.

“Fireball!” Slut practically screamed it as I felt her heat gush wetter around me.

She couldn't remember my name. Fuck if I cared. When I was this deep in pussy, bringing us both off like a champ, a girl could've called me Santa Claus.

That shit went both ways. I'd stopped remembering their names the second we had enough small talk to get her hand on the bulge in my jeans. This one...fuck, I couldn't even remember the first syllable of her name.

I growled, pushed her over the edge, and brought her home.

The bed shook like it was about to break. My balls clapping her ass must've set off something wild inside her. She went ballistic, raked her nails down my back, thrashing like she'd lost her mind.

I let go with a roar. The rubber wrapped around me swelled something fierce. My load shot hot and deep, saved from pouring in her womb only by the sheath. I ground my pubic bone
hard
into her clit, making her sputter the mangled name over and over again like a damned chorus.

Always counted on those fucking things holding. The last thing I needed was to end up like my old man – knocking up a biker bitch too blasted out of her mind to deal with a hellspawn like me.

Fireball! Fireball! Fireball!

My balls throbbed, ached, and spat more fire. Shakes were an understatement when this girl's legs started twitching. They shook like I'd reached down and sent a damned current through her.

That pussy clenched me tight, and I smiled through my release, loving the lightning I'd created.

She came for what felt like five minutes, only stopping when I had to pull out to discard the shit holding my seed.

“Holly hell. Jesus. Wow. Just...wow!” Blondie twisted underneath me, reached up, and smiled.

Gave her a playful pat on the cheek before I turned around, tied up the condom, and threw it into the beat up can across my room.

Mission accomplished. Thirty-four years on this earth, and I'd satisfied the greedy bastard below the belt one more time.

I stood up, hearing her coo when she caught a view of my ass. She already wanted more.

Hell, they always did. Too bad a man could only fuck so many times in a day when he had the patch calling him.

Her little whimper quickly turned to disappointment when I found my boxers and started rolling 'em on.

“Aw, already? Don't tell me you have to work today?”

“Club business, doll. You know that shit never stops. Go shower and get dressed. I need you outta here.”

I gave her a sharp look as I rolled on my shirt. She wrinkled her nose, thinking about razzing me, but the girl had enough sense not to talk back.

Good.
That instinct would serve her well if she ever wanted my dick inside her again.

Obviously, she did. They always came begging for more.
Always.

I was still rejecting bitches who came from Georgia and the Carolinas every so often for another piece of me. Women I'd fucked years ago.

Just an endless, nameless train lined up like Cinderellas hoping I'd hand 'em their damned slipper, head over heels for a chance to be that special gal I'd slap my brand.

Sometimes, they got another fuck outta me. But they all walked away empty handed because the girl worth wearing my name on her ass real official didn't exist. Especially not in this world of easy pussy.

“Oh!” I spun around to see why she looked so surprised when she stood up naked, desperately tearing the sheet off the bed to hide her body.

My eyes followed her to the tall silhouette standing in the doorway. “Shit.”

How fucking long had the Cap'n been standing there watching?

Dust's salt and pepper stubble twitched on his chin as he reached up and pulled the smoke out of his mouth. “Get your ass together. Need you clean and on your bike in the next five minutes, Firefly. We've got work to do.”

“How long you been there, Prez?” I said, rolling my cut on over my shoulders.

“Long enough to wonder why the fuck you can't find something better to do in your free time.” He gestured at the blonde bitch sneaking into the bathroom.

The door slammed shut, but not before the whore gave him a scorned look.

“What goes down in my time off's none of your damned business, Cap'n,” I growled, smoothing out the wrinkles in my vest. My fingers tingled when they brushed the skulls and pistols I'd earned over the years.

Every single stitch of this death meant something, born in blood, sweat, and tears.

“No, it ain't,” he said with a nod, stubbing out his smoke on the wall. “You being sober enough to ride when I tell you to is. Pussy makes you suck the bottle like a fucking pacifier, brother.”

I clenched my teeth, but didn't say shit. The bastard was all too right. Drinking and fucking went together like peanut butter and jelly.

“Five minutes.” He held up his hand – as if I was so bombed out I needed a visual. “Tell the slut to get out, then lock up the garages. We're stretched too thin today to have any thieving skanks in the clubhouse, siphoning our booze.”

“Yeah.”

Prez turned around without another word, and I watched the club patch on his back disappear.

DEADLY PISTOLS MC, TENNESSEE. Same holy scripture shared on my skin and leather. A skull with wings and two guns blazing on the side.

That's what I'd sworn my life to. That's what owned me. That's the god I'd serve 'til the day I died, and no woman could afford to get in the way of that.

The bathroom door swung open and Blondie stepped out, warm and dripping wet. My cock jerked, begging me to haul her back into bed, especially when she smiled.

“You're
sure
you don't some more?” she whined, squeezing her tits. “I'm off all day.”

“I'm sure it's time for you to get some clothes on and walk the fuck out of here.”

“Aw, Fireball.” She gave me that sad puppy look as she reached for her clothes, tangled all over the floor. “Well, if you ever change your mind...”

Don't fucking tempt me, woman.

One and done. Those are the fucking rules.

Knew she'd been hanging around the clubhouse long enough to know it. Only a handful of lucky sluts had gotten a couple dozen fucks out of me over the years before I'd dropped 'em.

She'd be getting a lot less than that unless my dick was
very
hungry and
very
desperate. My eyes trailed down her body and noticed the skinny dip in her stomach, the stretch marks, the tired, worn out lines below her eyes a girl only gets in her twenties from too much booze. Maybe some other junk on the side, too.

My guts churned, pissed that the Prez was right again.

I could do better. Thank fuck I'd used a condom. I fucked like a maniac, but I wasn't stupid.

'Course, none of this mattered to my cock. That single-minded sonofabitch got harder just looking at her naked, begging for a hot, anonymous hole to fill.

I turned around to try to settle the hard-on beating my brain stupid. Fucking shit. Even when she was long gone, I'd be riding wherever the hell the Prez ordered me at full staff.

How many times did I have to fuck to keep the bastard between my legs down? Booze didn't do it. Neither did these easy ass sluts.

I'd never admit it to anybody, not even my closest brothers, but I'd had a piece of me shaking loose for a long fucking time.

I waited 'til she had her shit on before I kicked her out. She'd be back to sucking off the prospects next week, probably letting Tinman and Lion rail her at the same time.

Not the kinda woman I'd ever think about filling twice, much less calling my old lady.

Never told the bitch today was my birthday. Thirty-four years riding, kicking ass, and fucking hard above ground, and there was just one thing I was more sure about than my loyalty to the skull.

There wasn't a woman worth keeping. And thank fuck for that.

Every brother who'd ever let cupid ram his sneaky shit into their heart just got something else to worry about. Wasn't a fuckin' chance I'd ever let it happen to me.

* * * *

D
ust didn't say shit when I walked out. Just handed me an address written on a napkin in his crabbed handwriting.

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