Logan
Two fucking days it’s taken us to ride here, and I’m pissed. I’m not in the mood for a fucking wedding. But when it’s the President of the Mother Chapter making a not-so-honest-woman out of his old lady, then club protocol really kicks in, all chapters are required to attend, no matter how far we gotta ride. And Vanni Colletti, he’s not a man you disrespect, he’s one crazy son-of-a-bitch, so we’re here, in Mountain Springs, Nevada, whether we want to be or not. I’m the latter, although, as a rule, I’m a fan of Vegas. I’m usually all in when we do club runs here, which is often. ‘Cause I’m not the only brother who’s a fan of this place. But these family weekends, man, this kinda shit isn’t what I do. But I’m looking at it this way – I got myself a weekend of whiskey and beer and my pick of the club girls, yeah. I’ll take that. I got no fucking choice.
“Man, I’d forgotten how much I love this shit.”
I throw Bullet a look, taking off my helmet and hanging it from the handlebars of my bike. He throws me one right back as he drags a hand through his hair.
“What’s up with your face?”
“Sentimental shit isn’t my thing.”
“It’s a fucking biker wedding, Logan. The only time anyone gets sentimental at these things is when the beer runs out.”
He slaps me on the back of the shoulder, which in itself is an instruction to get my game face on, ‘cause we’re not just here to party. We got business to sort out, and Vanni, he isn’t stupid. He organized this wedding to tie in with this meeting; to get all these chapters together in one place, and I gotta give the guy kudos for that. He wouldn’t be running the whole set up if he didn’t have brains, it’s just that, if you didn’t know Vanni; didn’t know what he was capable of, you’d be mistaken for thinking he wasn’t all that threatening. He is. Like I said, he’s one crazy son-of-a-bitch, just like his dad before him, his granddad before that, and his great-granddad, Jesus, crazy sons-of-bitches is an obligatory trait in the Colletti family. The family who founded the Death Knights MC. So we all just kinda run with it.
“Go make sure the crash truck’s here,” Bullet says, a lit cigarette now dangling from his bottom lip. “My old lady’s driving still makes me nervous but, man, I tell Della that and she’d break my balls.”
Bullet strides off toward Vanni’s huge, red-brick house, and I lean back against my bike, light up a joint, and look out across the impressive grounds surrounding Vanni’s home. A whole mess of brothers and their old ladies are already here, kids running round all over the freakin’ place, this party’s already started, and Vanni, he’s spared no expense. He’s got a beer tent, barbecues all fired up, the smell of charred meat fills the air and, shit, there’s even face painting for the kids. Jesus freakin’ Christ, I’m in hell!
I glance over toward the beer tent and catch sight of Dragon carrying his kit into a nearby trailer. Dragon’s our chapter’s go-to brother for ink. Runs his studio out of our club compound back in Burbank, makes us a lot of money, he’s one talented kid. He’s also Vanni’s cousin, which is why Vanni’s given him this gig. He’s not gonna let just anyone loose on his turf with a set of needles. Pistols, rifles, yeah, he’s just fine with all that shit. He’s not even averse to bringing out the rocket launchers, but he’s having no strangers on his land with a tattoo gun. And what Vanni Colletti wants, he gets. No fucker argues with him. Again, like I said, one crazy-son-of-a-bitch.
I draw deep on my joint, toss it to the ground and head over to Dragon’s trailer, grabbing a beer on the way, taking a chance to check out my entertainment for the weekend but, shit, it’s not easy picking out the mamas from the untouchables, ‘cause I don’t want no trouble. I’m not touching no-one else’s property.
“I’ll give you the heads up, brother.” Dragon sits down on the steps of the trailer and lights up a cigarette. “I got a fair idea who’s up for anything, and who to steer well clear of. Make it my business to know all the important shit, when it comes to these kinda gatherings.”
I lean back against the trailer and take a long draft of beer, staring out ahead as a steady stream of bikes, trucks and cars continue to arrive at Vanni’s estate. Yeah. The guy lives on a fucking estate, owns a home big enough to house most of the crowd here this weekend, yet we’re all sleeping in tents out in the grounds. And I’ve slept in worse, so that side of things doesn’t bother me. I just hate fucking weddings, is all. And I’m supposed to be over there, making sure Bullet’s old lady’s arrived with the crash truck, but she don’t need checking. Della’s tougher than Bullet, she scares the shit outta me sometimes. And there’s nothing wrong with her driving. But Bullet got one thing right – she could break his balls pretty damn easy. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Want one?”
I look down at the cigarette Dragon’s offering me and I take it, lighting up and drawing deep. “You met the future Mrs. Colletti yet?”
Dragon nods and blows a steady stream of smoke up into the air. Air which is still filled with the smell of barbecued meat, combined with a faint hint of marijuana. “She’s pretty. Real pretty.”
“That why he’s been keeping her hidden, huh?”
The corner of Dragon’s mouth twists up into a smirk. “Maybe. But most of us are smart enough to know that if we touch his old lady, if we even look at her in a certain way, shit happens.”
I chuckle quietly and drop my gaze, flicking ash onto my battered army boots. “You know much about this meeting he’s called?”
“It’s a territory thing, as far as I know. I might be family, Logan, but he don’t tell me shit. I’ve only just been patched in, so…” He shrugs and takes another drag on his cigarette. “You’ll know more than me, I reckon.”
I know as much as he does. Vanni likes to play his cards close to his chest, doesn’t like too much information out there, until it has to be.
Stubbing my cigarette out on the side of the trailer I drag a hand back over my head. “I’m gonna go check out the scenery.” I throw Dragon a knowing grin. He returns it.
“Look at the ring fingers, brother. You don’t wanna be playing with just anyone’s toys.”
No. No, I fucking don’t…
Piper
“Baby girl, do you have any idea how beautiful you really are?”
I close my eyes as Vanni’s fingers lightly trace my collarbone, his breath warm against my neck as his mouth brushes my ear.
“So-fucking-beautiful.”
My breath hitches as he drops his other hand, slides it up underneath my skirt and pushes my panties aside, and when he slips his fingers inside me I bite down on my lip, and I hear him laugh low and dirty as his thumb circles my clit.
I love Vanni Colletti, I do. I love him, in a way most people will never understand. He keeps me safe, won’t let anything hurt me, he’d kill, for me. And he might need to, one day. I don’t know. But marrying him, it’s something I need to do, to keep him as my protector. Just in case.
“Get naked,” he murmurs, his mouth almost touching mine and I swallow down his breath, gasping quietly as he withdraws his fingers and steps back from me. “Come on, darlin’, let me see what you got.”
I walk back over to him, grasping his jacket collar and pulling him against me, my mouth barely touching his, and I feel his cock already standing to attention. He likes these games, he plays them so well. “You already know what you got, baby.”
“Still gotta see it, sweetheart.”
He thrusts a hand back up under my skirt, tearing off my panties, they were barely there to begin with. And then he grabs the hem of my skirt and hitches it high over my thighs, at the same time twisting me around and pushing me up against the wall, pulling my hips back as his knee shoves my legs apart. And I hear him unzip himself, feel his hands on my ass pulling me open, and I get ready to take him, I want him, inside me. So when he finally enters me, it’s almost a relief.
His hand rests on my stomach, and he pulls me up and back against him, his thrusts strangely slow and gentle, but it won’t stay like this. Vanni’s preference is hard sex, he likes it fast, likes it dirty and raw and I’m with him, on all of it. I’m his whore, he’s my soldier. This is who we are. Who he made me? No. I won’t have him blamed for that, he doesn’t deserve it.
“I still need you naked, Piper,” he murmurs as his cock slams into me that little bit harder, causing me to cry out quietly, his hand pressing against the side of my neck, he’s letting me know who the dominant one is now. But we share that role, which is strange, for a man like Vanni. But I guess I see a different man to the one he shows his club brothers.
He pulls out of me and I turn around, lean back against the wall, lift a leg and kick him away and he laughs, his eyes burning into mine. And he keeps them there as I slowly nudge my short leather skirt down until it hits the floor, and I step out of it, reaching up to yank off my T-shirt, and only then does Vanni’s gaze drop. He loves my tits, loves looking at them, loves touching them more, and I raise my arms up above my head and close my eyes and wait, for him to touch them.
“Baby, baby, baby, you fucking kill me, darlin’. Every freakin’ time.”
Another quiet gasp escapes me as I feel his palm press against my nipple, feel his mouth touch mine, his other hand grasping my wrists, keeping my arms raised. And as he kisses me I feel my stomach jolt, my heart beat faster, and I can hear the noise of the party outside from here in our bedroom. The windows are open, I can hear people laughing, music playing, the roar of more bikes arriving for our wedding. Tomorrow… Tomorrow I become Mrs. Vanni Colletti, old lady to one of the most respected, feared and envied outlaw bikers in the country.
I’ve been his property for only a short time, it’s been just a few months since Vanni Colletti found me in that bar just off the Strip. His bar. He found me, sitting on my own, nursing the same glass of vodka I’d been trying to make last all night because I couldn’t afford another one. Vanni bought me a bottle, shared it with me out in the parking lot as I sat astride his Harley Roadster with no clue at all as to who he really was; how dangerous a man he could be. I just knew that he’d bought me vodka, spoke to me like I was human; fucked me like I wasn’t just some random whore. I’m his whore. I was from the second he touched me outside in that parking lot. And that hasn’t made me popular, amongst the other club girls; the other old ladies. I was cutting in line as far as they were concerned, this stranger he picked up in a bar and moved into his home overnight. They still feel that way now. They feel like I don’t deserve to be with him, he’s too important, and I hadn’t worked my way through the ranks, so to speak. I didn’t have to be a club girl, do my time as a mama, work my way up to old lady, of any biker, never mind the man in charge of the entire Death Knights MC. Every chapter. In every country. Vanni oversees them all. They all answer to him. His family created this club, it’s his. As am I. Now. He’s powerful and terrifying but he loves me. I love him. So they can say whatever they want, I’m marrying this man. Tomorrow.
He lets go of my wrists but keeps his hand pressed against my breast, hooking his free one behind my knee, lifting my leg slightly, and he’s back inside me in a fraction of a heartbeat, the more familiar, harsh thrusts back to break my body. His cock slams into me hard and fast, his fully clothed body pressing against my naked one as he takes me, all of me, and I’d give myself to him a hundred times over, he never needs to ask. He doesn’t seek permission, that isn’t his way. It isn’t mine, either. If we want each other, we take what we need, that’s what we do; how he likes it. And I struggle to remember a time before Vanni Colletti and his fucked up ways. I just need to keep a vague reminder, there in the back of my mind, that there could come a time when I need my man to be that soldier he is to me. For me.
“Look at me, Piper. Look at me, baby girl.”
I do as he says, my eyes boring deep into his as he comes, his fingers digging into my flesh as he fills me with his fucked up poison, I need it. Without it – without him I’m nothing. Nobody. I’m alone.
“Jesus…” he gasps, dropping his gaze as his body sags against mine. “I needed that.” And then he raises his head and he looks at me. He’s handsome, in a strangely ordinary kind of way, it’s difficult to explain. He’s got these really deep, really dark eyes, very short dark-brown hair; days’ worth of stubble permanently covers his strong jaw line and his skin is rough but lightly tanned, a nod to his Italian heritage, even though he’s Vegas born and bred. “You get there, baby?” he asks as he pulls out and steps back from me. I shake my head, and his mouth twists up into a smirk as his eyes scan the length of my still-naked body, bar the knee-high, spike-heeled boots he likes me to wear sometimes. “You wanna do that for me?”
I pull myself away from the wall and step toward him, reaching out to trace his jaw line with my fingertips. “For you?”
“Yeah. You do everything for me, remember?”
I smile back, running my thumb lightly over his lower lip. “That’s what I let you think.”
He laughs and rests a hand on the small of my back, pressing me against him. “It’s what you do, Piper.”
He kisses me, a slow, deep kiss that reaches into my soul and grabs hold of my gut, twisting it up until my breath catches.
“For me, baby girl.”
“Why does it take so much to satisfy you, huh?”
“’Cause I got you fucking with my head, darlin’. Now sit down.”
I let go of him and sit down on the edge of our bed, spreading my legs as he leans back against the wall and lights up a cigarette, his eyes dropping the second I touch myself. He likes to watch, too, he doesn’t just enjoy the taking part. He likes to watch me do a lot of things, and I don’t mind him, watching me. I’m not exactly a stranger to dark and twisted shit, not anymore. So I’m fine, with this.
I push my fingers inside myself and throw back my head as I press hard against my clit, moaning quietly as I touch myself deep, and I can still feel him, inside me. And I like that traces of him are still there. I like that he’s a part of me. And that’s all I need, that trigger, that thought – I’m coming, wave after wave of intense pleasure floods my core, it’s beautiful. But I’m done now. I think we both are.
“Come here,” he drawls.
I stand up and go over to him, and he circles my waist and pulls me close, kissing my slightly open mouth. He tastes of cigarettes and whiskey, but that’s him. It’s him.
“I love you, Piper. You got that?”
“I got it.” I cock my head slightly, taking a minute to just look at him. Sometimes I like just looking at him, wondering if he’s always been this man. I don’t ask too many questions, I gathered that was never my place almost immediately. But he hasn’t asked me all that many, either, so I’m guessing he’s as much of a fan of a need to know basis as I am. “You know I love you, too. Right?”
His face breaks into a slow grin and I can’t help smiling. “Yeah. I know you do.” He reaches round and smacks my ass, kissing me hard. “Go get dressed, baby. We gotta go show our faces outside.”
I pull away from him and head into the bathroom to clean up.
Vanni Colletti found me at a time when I needed him most.
He found me, and he made me. And tomorrow I marry one of the most powerful outlaw bikers in the country. I got lucky. Yeah. I got lucky…
Vanni
She’s got an ass to end all asses. She’s got the kind of body I could live inside all fucking day, if I didn’t have shit to sort out. Shit that meant I had to bring this wedding forward, to avoid having to call all my American brothers here a second time. I’m killing two birds with one stone, I marry my girl, I sort out shit, all on the same weekend. Makes perfect sense to me.
I wait until she’s in the bathroom before I look outside, at everyone enjoying themselves, at my expense, but it’s worth it. I want Piper to have the day she deserves; the best I can give her because she is my fucking world. That woman is the single most important thing to me, after the club. I found her, alone and lost, and she came to me willingly. She’s the other half of me, and I know those doubters who see her as an intruder, almost, they don’t think she had any right going straight to the top. But all those mamas who’d throw themselves at me, leave their dignity at the door the second they dropped their panties, do anything I wanted them to in the hope that they’d be the ones to stand by my side and take that all important role of my biker queen – they were only ever whores to kill time with, until I found my real queen. And now I’m about to make her my property, even though she’s been that since the day I brought her back here, to this house. My home. The home my great-granddaddy built with his own hands. It’s a special place, and I never was gonna bring just anyone back to it. The woman who got to live here, with me, she had to be something special.
“You OK?”
I turn around and smile at my shit-hot bride-to-be. Piper Sloane. At twenty-six she’s fifteen years younger than me but she has an older head on those beautiful shoulders. She’s come from some place dark and cold, I know she has. Maybe that’s why she fits in here like she’s been around forever. “I’m just fine, baby girl.” She’s dressed in skin-tight jeans and a tiny Iron Maiden T-shirt, her dark-blonde hair piled high on top of her head, and I want her all over again. But we got a wedding party to go to; shit to sort out.
I jerk my head back toward myself and she steps into my arms, as she always does, when I need her to. And when she needs me I’m there, it’s a pact we made to each other. But she’s the only person who’ll ever get me to be that submissive, no other fucker will ever see that side of me. That’d be freakin’ suicide!
“You know everyone thinks you’re a crazy-assed son-of-a-bitch, right?” She smiles, and I laugh as she presses her firm young tits against my chest.
“D’you think I’m a crazy-assed son-of-a-bitch?”
“I know you are.” She rests her mouth against mine as she speaks, her voice low and sexy, man, she’s gonna be the freakin’ death of me! “But I like it that way. Nice guys don’t give twisted sex. And I like twisted sex.”
Fuck’s sake! We’re never gonna get downstairs, but who gives a shit? I lift her up and she wraps her endless legs around me as I carry her over to the bed, tossing her down like the whore she’s about to become; ripping her jeans off of her, slamming my aching cock back into her as I take her roughly, fuck her hard, so hard she cries out in pain, but I know she’s only feeling pleasure. She’s as twisted as I am, that’s why we work. It’s why I’m marrying her. I need her shit, and I know she needs mine. I tried that other path, it didn’t work out so great. I need this. I need her. And tomorrow she becomes mine. I’ll own her. Any other fucker so much as breathes in her direction once that ring’s on her finger and I’ll end their days in a fucking heartbeat. I’ll end them. Yeah, I’m a crazy-assed son-of-a-bitch. And everyone better believe it.