Farrah — I’ve spent my entire life at the Dixie Reapers MC compound — one of the perks of being the VP’s daughter. Except it’s suffocating. Leaving to start a life of my own was the only solution. I knew what it would mean if I went to the Devil’s Fury MC compound, even more so to flirt with their Sergeant-at-Arms. Getting involved would ruin the little bit of freedom I’ve found. Then I ended up in the man’s bed. Leave it to me to find trouble around every corner. My daddy is going to be so pissed, especially when I run from Demon, get snatched off the streets, and shoved into a trunk. I’m not winning at the adulting thing.
Demon — She was a one-night stand. Until the condom broke. Then I found out she’d lied to me. The hot little number in my bed wasn’t just any woman, she was the daughter of a Dixie Reaper. Maybe I shouldn’t have barked orders at her, or spanked her. Feisty little Farrah ran, pissing me off even more. When she disappeared and I realized trouble had found her, I knew I’d do whatever it took to make sure she was safe. Only after I had her back did I realize she was f**king perfect for me. Watching her handle the club wh*res was hot as hell, and she didn’t take sh*t off anyone.
I’ll make her mine — permanently.
WARNING: Demon’s book contains graphic violence and sex, bondage, spanking, bad language, and scenes that may be difficult for some readers. But it also has a heroic dog and a man who will move heaven and earth to protect the feisty, smart-mouthed woman he loves. There’s no cliffhanger and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.
Preorder for September 11th at…
available September 4th at Changeling Press
All rights reserved.Copyright ©2020 Harley Wylde
The music blasting from the speakers in the ceiling pounded against my skull like a sledgehammer. Maybe I was getting too old for this shit. Forty-three didn’t sound ancient until I got around the younger generation at the clubhouse. Partying had lost its appeal over the last few years. Watching my brothers settle down had caused a strange twinge in my chest, an ache I absently rubbed. I hadn’t been serious about a woman in a while. I’d thought one of the little señoritas staying at the compound could be something special, but it hadn’t worked out. She’d since moved on, along with the others. Except the younger ones.
Glancing around the room, it seemed far emptier than before. Even the Pres wasn’t here tonight. Now he had three little chicks under his roof and had turned into a ferocious papa bear. I hadn’t seen him walk off with any of the club whores, ever, but at least he’d come to drink and hang with the brothers. Since those girls came to stay here, we’d seen less and less of him on nights like this. Couldn’t blame him.
Starla, one of the newer club whores, sashayed over. Her red lips were slicked to a high shine and her eyes had been rimmed in black. There’d been a time I might have been tempted by the sway of her hips, the come-hither look on her face. Now she just came across as desperate. She moved closer, her perfume nearly suffocating me, as she trailed her nails up my arm and across my shoulder.
“Looks like you could use some company,” she said, settling on my lap.
Part of me wanted to shove her off, but all she’d done was make my headache worse. No harm in letting her sit for a minute. Her hand grazed my chest and headed for my zipper. I closed my fingers around her wrist, halting her progress.
“Not tonight,” I said. Or any night.
Her lip stuck out in what she probably thought was a sexy pout. It didn’t do a damn thing for me. When I released her, I gave her a nudge off my lap until she stood next to me. As the Sergeant-at-Arms, and single, the club whores tended to flock my way, in hopes I’d claim them as my old lady. Never would happen, but it didn’t stop them from trying.
The doors to the clubhouse swung open and a curvy blonde stepped through. No, not stepped. She sauntered into the room, head high, shoulders back, and gazed at her surroundings as if she owned the place. Her tongue flicked out to wet her lower lip and my cock hardened behind my zipper. A quick sweep of the room told me I wasn’t the only one checking her out, but I’d damn sure be the one balls-deep in her later.
I stood and made my way across the room, my prey in my sights. Stopping close enough I could feel the heat of her body, I waited for her to acknowledge me. When she ignored me, it only made me want her more. Reaching out, I tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze.
“You lost, little girl?” I asked, realizing she was far younger than I’d thought. No way she’d gotten past the Prospect at the gate if she wasn’t at least eighteen, but she was still young enough to be my daughter. No fucking way she was a day over twenty-five, if that.
“No, I’m not lost. You’re in my way.”
Oh, I liked the sass on this one. I smiled and placed my hand at her waist, tugging her closer. “Your way? Did you get a good look when you came in? Pretty little things like you only have one place in this clubhouse. On your knees or bent over a table.”
A flush worked its way up her neck and settled in her cheeks. Her eyes darkened and her pulse fluttered. Seemed she liked the idea. The way her dress hugged her body, it left little to the imagination, but I still would prefer to have her naked and spread out so I could feast on her. Only one problem. I didn’t have a room at the clubhouse anymore and I didn’t take random women back to my house.
“Maybe this isn’t my first time seeing this sort of thing,” she said. “You may not have seen me here before, but it doesn’t mean I’m stupid when it comes to bikers. I know more than you think.”
I stepped back and scanned her. “No property cut. No ink claiming you as an old lady. You making the rounds? Whatever club you came from, I promise to treat you better.”
“Full of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, but I noticed she leaned a little closer.
“Oh, sweetheart. You’re the one who’s gonna be full of me.”
About Harley Wylde
Harley Wylde is the International Bestselling Author of the Dixie Reapers MC, Devil’s Boneyard MC, and Hades Abyss MC series.
When Harley’s writing, her motto is the hotter the better — off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place. She doesn’t shy away from the dangers and nastiness in the world, bringing those realities to the pages of her books, but always gives her characters a happily-ever-after and makes sure the bad guys get what they deserve.
The times Harley isn’t writing, she’s thinking up naughty things to do to her husband, drinking copious amounts of Starbucks, and reading. She loves to read and devours a book a day, sometimes more. She’s also fond of TV shows and movies from the 1980’s, as well as paranormal shows from the 1990’s to today, even though she’d much rather be reading or writing.