Outlaw (Satan's Saints MC)

  Outlaw

  Satan’s Saints Motorcycle Club, Book 1

  Bella Love-Wins

  Contents

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  Prologue - Silas

  1. Silas

  2. Silas

  3. Sabrina

  4. Silas

  5. Sabrina

  6. Silas

  7. Sabrina

  8. Sabrina

  9. Silas

  10. Silas

  11. Silas

  12. Sabrina

  13. Sabrina

  14. Sabrina

  15. Silas

  16. Silas

  17. Silas

  18. Sabrina

  19. Sabrina

  20. Silas

  21. Silas

  22. Sabrina

  23. Sabrina

  24. Silas

  25. Silas

  26. Silas

  27. Sabrina

  28. Sabrina

  29. Silas

  30. Sabrina

  31. Silas

  32. Epilogue - Sabrina

  Would You Like More of These MC Couples?

  Let’s Stay Connected!

  Author’s Notes

  COPYRIGHT

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  OUTLAW - Satan’s Saints Motorcycle Club Book 1

  Copyright © 2017 Bella Love-Wins.

  Written by Bella Love-Wins.

  All Rights Reserved.

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  Prologue - Silas

  I head inside the guest bedroom, closing the door behind me.

  “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” she shouts, getting up from her seat at the edge of the bed.

  Sabrina balls her hands into fists at her side as she charges toward me, but when she crosses the room to where I’m leaning against the door, her right hand flies up, palm open, and lands hard on my cheek. I don’t react. I deserve it anyway. But as she rears back the same hand to do it again, I stop the incoming hit by gripping her wrist. Then she tries with her other hand, which I also block. She writhes and twists her arms, trying to free herself from my grasp, but I don’t let her go as I lower her hands to her sides. As usual, she’s persistent, struggling against my hold.

  Something comes over me, and I let her go. I can tell she wasn’t expecting that. Instead of resuming her slaps to my face, she just stands there with intense, sad eyes and wild locks falling around her shoulders. My hand lifts to her face, tucking some hair behind her ear without thinking, and I’m at that point where I need to have her all over again.

  I turn her around, pushing her back against the bedroom door. She doesn’t fight me. Reaching for the waistband of her tights, I roll them down past her hips to her ankles, taking her panties with them. I drag off her shoes next. In one swooping motion, I straighten up and pick her up at the waist, tugging each ankle behind me. My cock is fucking hard for her. It may be the last chance I get to touch her, but I resist the overpowering urge to take my time.

  She opens her mouth to say something but I smother each word with a kiss, pinning her back to the door as I taste her one last time. The kiss is as hard and demanding as the situation we’re in because of who we are. If nothing else, I want her to remember it wasn’t easy to let her in, and letting her go will be the same.

  I reach a hand to the back of her head, gripping a fistful of hair. I don’t stop kissing her as I undo my zipper and press my hips into her inner thighs. She wraps her arms around my neck and grinds her pussy against my cock.

  She wants me.

  I want her.

  But we both need to accept that it’s is our last time together.

  Getting into position, I slide the tip of my erection past her folds, grab her ass, and slam into her core with a force that makes her breathe my name into our kiss. Every thrust is more forceful than the last as my nails dig into the flesh of her ass cheeks and drag her harder down my length, impaling her as far as I can go and further still. She slides her hands across the tops of my shoulders, clutching on tight as though there’s hope for us when we don’t stand a chance.

  I fuck her for longer than I should. Our fates are on the other side of this door, knocking as hard as the sound it makes each time her back slams against it. Her body lets me know when she’s close, and as she reaches her climax, I let each pulsation of her tight cunt take me closer until I release every drop of cum inside her.

  Locking her ankles around my waist, I carry her across the room and lower her to the bed. I stare down at her for a long moment before pulling one side of the sheets over her. It’s the last time I’ll see her pale, creamy skin and perfect curves.

  Chapter 1

  Silas

  “Are you sure, Si? Just because it’s what the club’s always done, doesn’t mean we can’t switch it up…or shouldn’t. Our old men had their backs in a corner. We have a lot more options.”

  “Just trust me.” I slap my Sergeant at Arms and best friend, Axe Voltaire, on the back through his leather cut. “I haven’t fucked up our money stream yet, right?”

  Axe groans as he pours us another shot of Jack Daniels. He takes a swift swig straight from the bottle, slamming it back down on the clubhouse bar. “Doesn’t mean you can’t still fuck it up.”

  “Cynical prick.”

  “Arrogant fuck.”

  A curvy blonde leans against the long mahogany bar between us and runs a painted fingernail down my forearm. She smiles seductively, with a sultry look in her eye. It’s as subtle as being hit in the face by a Mack truck. No doubts on where she’ll be tonight. I warm up real quick to the idea of her jammed between my thighs. I give her a smirk, leaning forward to enjoy the view of her cleavage in that silky halter-top.

  “Watch your language, boys,” she admonishes with a giggle. “I love a dirty mouth.”

  “I’m way more interested in what your sweet mouth can do besides talking,” I tell her, throwing back my shot. I slide the shot glass over to Axe and don’t have to look over to know I’m getting a refill.

  “Why don’t you come with me and find out?” she teased.

  I give Axe a head nod and get off my bar stool. “Give me a second, brother.” I follow the blonde across the clubhouse common room and down a quieter hallway, stopping halfway down the corridor. “Show me what you got.”

  This vixen is definitely not shy. She drops to her knees, and begins tugging feverishly at my belt and zipper, eyes seductive, bright red lips parted and ready. I’m hard just looking down at her. Which is good, because not two seconds later, her hand reaches into my pants and frees my dick. She runs her hot, slick tongue up and down my shaft, and as those sexy lips wrap around my head, suctioning so hard… I have to grip her hair to stop myself from coming.

  Such a sweet, talented mouth. I admire her effort as she moves up and down my dick, and a second later she reaches one hand around my balls, kneading them with the same rhythm as her mouth. She’s sucking, then rolling her tongue around the head, then the hand massaging my balls, and repeating it like a well-calibrated machine. Gripping her hair tight into my fi
st, I pump faster as her bright hazel eyes flutter closed as though giving me head is getting her closer to her climax. She lets out a deep moan from the back of her throat, and the vibration travels from the tip of my dick all the way up my shaft. Not long after, I cum hard in her cute mouth. I’m short on time, so for now, I wrap it up after letting her swallow my cum and lick off the excess. From the look on her face, she really enjoys that part.

  Pulling her to her feet, I give her a wink and button my fly. “Nice work, doll. Let’s do that again sometime.”

  She giggles, then saunters off to the back of the clubhouse. I return to my drink at the bar. “Where was I?”

  “So… this meeting you insist on going to on your own.”

  “Right. What do you think is gonna happen tonight? I have it in hand. Just follow my lead.”

  My gaze drifts toward the blonde groupie who just got back to her spot at the other end of the bar, standing with one of the other chicks. Around here, we call them ‘sack demons’.

  “How was she?”

  “Not bad. She can stay.”

  “Cool. So, on this new deal, you’re asking for a lot on blind faith, Si.”

  “Day in and day out, brother.”

  We carelessly clink glasses, splashing small amounts of booze on the counter, then knocking it back. Seconds later, the bar-tending sack demon grabs the glasses and wipes the spill without missing a beat. Whether it was sucking our dicks or serving us liquor, they all knew what to do - what was expected of them. If not, they were gone. The rush of liquor burns the lining of my stomach, adding to my buzz, which can’t hurt, considering what’s on the schedule tonight. I’ll be wrapping up a simple arms deal. It’s for a new client associated with the Italian mafia. Usually it’s no big deal, but this client was referred by our top associate. And as it’s my first meeting, everything needs to go smoothly. The only thing variable I need to have better control over is Los Diablos MC. Lately, they’re more like rivals than neutrals. I don’t need those loose cannon fuckers to stir up shit while I’m working.

  “Silas?” The blonde purrs out my name while her palms creep up my bicep and graze underneath my cut. And as she starts massaging my shoulders, goddammit, I’m near close to letting her continue the game she began, but as much as I would like an instant replay of those hands wandering down inside my pants again, I was never one to put pussy before club business.

  “Listen, sweetheart. I got some stuff to take care of, but you look like a nice tight ride, perfect for bending over and slapping from behind… maybe when I get back.” I skim my fingers along her soft cheek down to her chin. “Raincheck until then?”

  She objects with a pout on those perfect lips and her nose crinkles. “Okay,” she whined.

  I slide my next shot her way. “Have a drink. It’ll keep you warm until then.” I hop off the bar stool and pivot away from her as the palms of her hands slip down the front of my cut.

  A few more sack demon bombshells navigate toward my orbit, scantily dressed and flirty; I remind myself to give props to whoever has the task of recruiting pussy in the place. Tonight is already planned out though, and I have a schedule to stick to. Raising a hand to ward off the sweet pieces of ass on the approach, I pass through the crowd of people that Satan's Saints Motorcycle Club calls its extended family. Without looking around, I know that Axe is following my lead. Our business is too sensitive to be addressed in the open area of the clubhouse. We can never be too careful in the business we’re in. No one needs our secrets shared with the wrong guy with a bike, half-decent ink and an open wallet.

  The second I close the door to the meeting room, Axe starts laughing way too hard. I look my best friend up and down, leaning against the club table. He’s still at it and I don’t know why. As I wait, I light up a cigarette, cross my arms, and crack my neck to relax.

  “Dude.”

  “Did I miss hell freezing over or did you just turn down tail?” Axe coughs into his fist, trying to control his laughter. “You joining the monastery or something?”

  “The fuck, man? We’re working.” I throw a lazy punch out toward Axe’s jaw, he has no time to dodge out of the way.

  “Shit!” Too busy clutching his stomach from cracking up, he jerks back and grabs the side of a meeting room chair to avoid falling to the ground.

  I shake my head. “Get your head in the game. We’re taking the club in a damn good direction. Making big moves translates to bigger payouts. It’s a shorter route to the end game. Yes, I know it’s dangerous shit, but that’s the life we chose. Besides, doing this now gives us a chance to get out faster. Make sense? High risk, high reward.”

  My best friend since childhood sobers up. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he drags two fingers down his black goatee. I know that skeptical look.

  “It always sounds great in theory, man. I’m just…tired.” Axe lets out a sigh and rearranges himself in the large leather rolling chair. “I can’t do any more time after that last stint.”

  “Stop exaggerating. It was two fucking nights in county jail, you big pussy.”

  “Yeah and it fucking sucked.”

  I take another drag of the cigarette, flicking open the pack and offering one out. “You’re a goddamned lightweight.”

  Our gazes lock. Axe jerks a smoke out of the pack and lights up. I’m one of a handful of people who get away with talking to Axe like that. He has little to no patience, and would beat the shit out of any man just for looking at him the wrong way. It’s a wonder he hasn’t done time.

  “Something like that,” he mutters around the cancer stick. Thick smoke hits the air, and Axe looks down at the floor.

  “Look, there’s nothing wrong with that, brother. No one wants to be caged up like an animal, but you got to have my back. If I say I got this, then I mean I got this.” I finish the last of my cig, extinguishing the butt under the sole of my black leather shitkickers. “I. Got. This.”

  For a second, I’m sure Axe will keep arguing. Or maybe fight me. He cracks his knuckles, straightens his back and buffs up his chest. But after a bit, he relaxes into his chair, toying with the new cigarette between his teeth.

  “All right. I got your back. I won’t talk about jail time again. Just don’t say I never brought it up.”

  “Don’t worry about it, bro.” I put out my hand, and Axe slaps my palm. We get up from the chairs, ready to get to work. I give him a pat on the back. “We’re golden. Believe me, I get it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” I feel my phone buzz in my back pocket. Jamming my hand into my jeans, I shut off the meeting reminder and stretch. “I’m out.”

  “You sure you want to go there alone?”

  “Definitely. Tonight’s the easy part. You keep the pussy warmed up for me until I get back.”

  “I can’t promise there’ll be anything left, with the night I’m planning to have.”

  “Good luck with that.” I open up the door and glance back, lips pressed together in a thin line. “Make sure you wrap that thing up.”

  “What the fuck are you, my mother?”

  “Nah, but if you’re planning that kind of crazy night, I’ll pass on the second-hand pussy for now.”

  On my way outside, I dodge a couple more sack demons on the way to my bike. Shoving my hand into my back pocket again, I pull out the phone to double check the address and directions. My calm response to Axe about tonight’s meeting is an act. I can’t let on that this new client is a bit trickier than normal.

  “A run of the mill deal,” I mutter to myself. “In. Out. Done.”

  Even I know that’s bullshit.

  Chapter 2

  Silas

  “Fuck,” A black tinted van passes in front of me without making a damn turn signal. “Road hog cocksucker.”

  Somewhere between point A and point B, people become regular dicks here on the I-15 in Littlefield, Arizona. That’s probably because the place is the nowhere in the middle of two massive somewheres. With its population of fe
wer than a thousand people, Littlefield sits close to the Nevada-Arizona borders, between Las Vegas and Mesquite to the southwest, and St. George, Utah to the northwest. The area is informally called Biker Canyon amongst most motorcycle clubs in the area. It’s a bitch to get anywhere from here, but I prefer my tiny, isolated piece of desert paradise. Except for the fucking road hogs. I skim my eyes across the lines of the road before drifting to check my six.

  Another black van pulls out of nowhere behind me. The engine roars as the tires screech, and the van bucks forward, nearly clipping the back of my chopper.

  I tighten my fingers around the motorcycle handles, bracing myself.

  Something isn’t right. Two identical vans cluster-fucking my piece of the highway.

  Adrenaline shoots through my veins as I scan up ahead on the two-lane road for an exit if things get ugly. Right now, I’m starting to feel like the meat in a fucking black van sandwich. I’m not in the mood for this shit. The muscles on my forearms bunch up, tension building as I prepare myself for the worst. Despite the dryness in my throat, I swallow and clear my throat. The van ahead slows to a crawl and at the same time, the one behind starts riding my ass. I curse again. There’s a steep wall of red desert rock to my left, and a guardrail to my right to protect motorists from a sharp curve in the road. Nothing that leaves any leeway for a getaway.

  Can’t speed up.

  Can’t slow down.

  Can’t move out of the fucking way.

  I guess I’ll go with option D—ride these fuckers out.

  I focus on the road, concentrating on keeping my distance so I don’t wipe out and become biker roadkill. The van behind me lays on the horn for a solid minute. I throw up the finger. Whoever is screwing with me, it doesn’t look like they’ll stop anytime soon, not until I’m a blood-soaked skid mark on the pavement. What the hell do I care if they got a bit mad in the process? They’re the ones who fucked with me first. The van behind me leaps forward, nearly knocking into the back wheel of my bike. I speed up and keep to the left.