Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

“Too much,” she whimpered, only to have him give it to her harder. Listening to the roar of the gargoyles next door, he came, jacking into her and filling the end of his condom. Still joined, he rolled them to their sides and tortured her nipples, pinching and twisting them hard enough to make tears spring in her eyes.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his breathing still labored. “I don’t know that the VIP treatment was worth it, but you’re the best fuck I’ve had in a while. Give me a minute, and I’ll be ready for Round Two.”

Rory stopped breathing. He’d paid for two hours. Had paid to use every orifice. He might not have gargoyle stamina but he certainly had more than her other human clients. Most johns stopped at one trip around the world. This guy sounded like a seasoned traveler.

Quake and Mason were long gone before the senator decided he’d gotten his money’s worth.

She still hadn’t gotten off.

Franklin didn’t say a word when he got dressed and slipped out, leaving her on the bed. Rory didn’t move until he was gone. She was going to need a long shower after that to wash away his touch.

Putting on her bra, panties, and sheer robe, she slipped from the room. Needing to clear her head, she padded to the rear door and stepped into the night air. Music was playing from inside, drifting from the front of the building. Out here in the back, things were quieter, steeped in darkness and starlight. Pressing her spine to the wall, Rory dragged in a breath, filling her lungs full of cool night air.

She couldn’t wait for the day she wouldn’t have to deal with assholes like that. She’d finally be free of men just wanting to fuck her.

A noise to her left made her turn her head in surprise. Someone was out here and she hadn’t sensed it. Not many supernaturals could do that. Straightening warily, Rory tightened the belt of her robe around her waist.

Spreading up into the dark, a white puff of pungent smoke swirled into the air. From the smell and orange glow, she knew it belonged to a joint.

Maybe they’d share . . .

“Hey, can I get a hit?” she called out softly.

A form emerged from the shadows.

Quake.

Gaze slowly stroking down the length of her, he held out the blunt. “Sure.”

Rory accepted it, her pussy gushing when she remembered hearing him with Candy in the next room. Bringing it to her mouth, she took a puff, aware his lips had been wrapped around it only moments ago.

Nostrils flaring, the big biker stepped closer. He didn’t say a word but watched her with hooded eyes.

Taking another hit, Rory held it out. “Thanks.”

Moving in, Quake rested his palm against the wall beside her head, deliberately caging her in. Rather than feel threatened, Rory felt her body respond to his nearness. A raw animal magnetism radiated from him. He was a real Alpha male. Not like the piece of trash she’d ended up with tonight. Quake didn’t need to fake it and neither did Candy when they were together.

Rory felt a jab of jealousy.

Relieving her of the joint, Quake brought the end of it to his lips and inhaled. Transferring it to his hand resting against the wall, he reached his free hand between them. When his finger found her clit, Rory gasped.

She should say no. Should push him away. Instead, her pelvis tilted forward. Her feet shuffled wider.

Mouth tugging up in a ghost of a smile, he slid his thumb up and down, working the sensitive bundle of nerves. Using the wall for support, Rory moaned. The friction of his practiced touch through the thin material of her panties only heightened her excitement. Quake teased and stroked, watching her expression until everything inside her tightened and she fell apart. Lifting her face to the sky, Rory gave a little cry, coming hard and fast.

Dazed, her body still pulsing with pleasure, she met the biker’s eyes. He didn’t say a word, just stared back for a moment before giving her a wink and slinking off into the darkness.

The back door opened. Madam Belle stepped outside, oblivious to what had just happened.

“There you are,” she sang. “Your next client’s waiting.”

Magenta returned to work, but no one else that night touched her like Quake had.

3

Quake barely heard the roar of the crowd around him. His mind was still on the night before and the beautiful maned wolf stripper. Getting Magenta off with his hand had been the highlight of his whole fucking day. The way her face had flushed, with eyes wide and lips parted, was etched into his brain. He’d jerked off to the image in bed that night, wishing she was seeing to his cock rather than his hand.

It had been obvious she needed release. After listening to her fake orgasms with that rich bastard, Quake was more than happy to oblige. All he’d wanted to do was give her the pleasure she’d been denied.

He had licked his finger clean. He knew how her pussy tasted. Knew her most intimate smell. None of the girls were allowed to kiss, but the taste of her lips on his joint had left him craving more. It was a poor substitute, but it was as close to a kiss as he’d ever get with her as long as she worked at The Pole Barn.

Rock nudged him. “Stop daydreaming. Eyes on the blonde.”

Blinking, Quake surveyed the spectators here for the illegal shifter fights. He was supposed to be watching for trouble. Across the room, their President, Stone, was closest to the undercover ATF agent their club had been keeping tabs on for their brothers in New York. A tall, sexy blonde with cool blue eyes, Casey Andersson was posing as an armpiece for her Hispanic partner, both of them focused on playing their parts.

The fights tonight were in a converted warehouse owned by the Death’s