Devil's Kiss (Hellhounds Motorcycle Club Book 1)

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

Devil’s Kiss copyright @ 2015 by Kathryn Thomas. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

Book 1 of the
Hellhounds Motorcycle Club
trilogy

Prologue

Bathed in sweat, Cain Rodgers wiped at his face as he stopped thrusting and tried to catch his breath. He was balls deep inside the bartender that he had picked up, and she was wearing him out. He had already come twice, but she wasn’t finished with him yet and hadn’t let him stop the marathon fuck.

He was in New Orleans on business and had stopped by
The Cat’s Claw
for a little liquid refreshment and some company.
The Claw
wasn’t a brothel, but it was well known that the wait staff could be
very
accommodating for the right amount of green. He had wanted to enjoy the rewards for another shipment successfully received and sent on its way to Dallas.

Cain was the broker for the Hellhounds Motorcycle Club. He put together their deals and made sure everything ran smoothly. He was good at his job… very good. Since he had taken over, their sales were up over three-hundred percent and the club was making
good
money, and his slice of the pie allowed him to indulge in certain… pleasures.

“Don’t stop!” the bitch murmured as she rocked on her hands and knees, working her ass in a way that made him gasp and twist with pleasure.

She wasn’t a loud fuck, a soft moan was about the most he was able to get out of her, but she was insatiable. She had caught his eye as she worked behind the bar, doing all the fancy flips and tricks that a good flair-tender could do. But she didn’t look like most flair-tenders he had seen, with her porn star body and the face of an angel framed by a mass of dark curls. There was something about her that had captivated him and he had spent most of the night sitting at the bar, watching her run through her routines while he downed shots and slipped her twenties to keep her attention.

He rolled to his back, pulling her over with him, his cock never leaving the warm confines of her pussy. After nearly two hours of hard fucking, he was winded and ready to let her do the work for a while. Almost as soon as they were still, she began to bounce on him, the muscles in her strong shapely legs flexing and straining with effort. Her back was to him, but he had seen her all-natural tits swinging and bouncing from a similar position before, and thinking about how they sloshed and jiggled along with her breathy pants was heating him up again. As she panted, squirmed, and bounced, he pushed his hair out of his eyes and wiped the sweat on her back. She was already so wet with sweat that she wouldn’t notice a little more.

“I’m going to come again,” she whispered as she leaned forward and increased the speed and power of her thrusts, bending his cock down toward his knees.

“Fuck,” he hissed as she began to clamp down on him, the tightness of her pussy causing his orgasm to begin to swell. Even though he was drunk off his ass, she was working him up to another ball-draining climax.

“Fuck me. Fuck me!” he growled, holding her ass, straining for his release as she slammed her hips into his.

Just as he felt his essence flow, he heard her gasp and she began to grind herself hard down onto him. The feel of her pressing herself down onto him, driving him as deep as possible into her, felt so good he that he arched his back, pushing up against her as he plumbed her depths with his cock.

“Fuck,” she sighed as she tumbled off of him and then turned and crawled up the bed to collapse in a heap against him. “I can’t remember the last time I came so many times. You were… wonderful.” She dragged herself up onto his chest and kissed him on the lips, a long wet kiss that would have made him steel hard in moments if he weren’t already completely drained.

“So were you…” he mumbled as he struggled to remember her name. All he could remember was that she said she was related to some old French actress he had never heard of, Sarah Bernhardt, but he couldn’t recall her first name.

Before the situation could become awkward, she drifted into sleep and he racked his brain for a few minutes and decided
fuck it!
He would never see her again anyway. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t remember her name. As shit-faced as he was, he felt lucky to remember her last name.

He wiped at his face again and sighed. He slapped around on the side table until he found his phone and then groaned when he saw the time — 4:13.
Fuck…
It had been worth it, but he had to be up and ready to ride in less than two hours.

Cain stumbled out of bed as he silenced the alarm on the phone. He had called on one of the tricks of the trade and stuck the phone under his pillow so it wouldn’t wake up the chick when it went off. With a near silent groan he staggered into the bathroom and quietly splashed water on his face.
Even my fucking hair hurts
he moaned to himself
…
and the sound of the water splashing in the sink felt like gnomes were driving spikes into his skull.

He dressed slowly, grimacing in pain from his throbbing head when he bent over to put on his boots. He slipped out of the room, shutting the door behind him with barely a click. Not only did he not want to wake the woman he was leaving alone in the bed, he was also afraid his brains would dribble out of his ears if he were to bang the door closed.

He stood in the elevator, the little ding as the door closed making him want to punch something, and the sudden dropping motion made his stomach try to escape through his mouth. As the doors opened with another cheery ding that made him wince, her name came to him —
Ally! No, that wasn’t it. Alice? No, that wasn’t it either. It was something like that, but what the fuck was it?

Chapter 1

“Alex! Good to see you! How are you doing, girl?”

“Hey, Mel,” I said quietly, cringing that I would bump into a neighbor now. I was in no mood for chitchat.

“You feeling okay?”

“Sure. Why?”

Mel grinned. “Well, you’re walking into a drugstore for one thing, and you don’t look like your normal perky self for the other.”

I smiled at the man. He was married, and old enough to be my father, but he was always willing to come fix a leaky faucet or kill a big ugly spider. I liked him. “Just feeling a bit under the weather,” I lied.

“That’s too bad. Let us know if you need any help. I’ll have Kim rustle up some chicken soup if you want.”

Mel and Kim were good people. “No, no. That’s okay. I’m not that kind of sick.”
I grinned as he flushed.

“Oh. Yes, well…” he muttered as he tried to extract himself from his predicament.

I giggled at his discomfort. “Anything else you want to know?” I teased.

“No!” he barked then smiled. ”I think I know more than I want to already. I have to go. Hope you get to feeling better.”

“Thanks, Mel,” I said as we began to part. “I’ll be fine in a few days.”

I wandered about the store a moment, looking to see if I knew anyone else. There were a few other patrons in the store with me but none that I recognized. I finally coasted to a stop in the pregnancy test aisle. I shouldn’t have to be here, looking at the pink and blue boxes. I can’t take the pill – it makes me crazy – but I have been careful. Cain was one hell of a lay, but no amount of sex was worth this, and I made sure he was protected. I even socked his willie myself as part of the warm up and to make
sure
it was done. It should be impossible that I’m pregnant, but I’m over a week late, and Union Pacific could run their railroad on the timing of my period.

I stood for a long time reading boxes. There were too many choices! I finally picked the one with the most interesting box that claimed to be the most accurate test available, just like all the others.

“You want a bag?” the woman ringing me out asked.

“Please,” I said, unable to meet her eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was to bump into someone else I knew with that box in my hand.

I took my purchase and scurried out to my little red convertible and tossed the bag into the passenger seat before I even opened the door. I flopped into the car, started it, and quickly backed out before I zipped through the parking lot and out onto the road. Now that I had the test, I was anxious to get home, find out I’m
not
pregnant, and stop worrying.

***

“Damnit,” I muttered as I sat on my bed and read the instructions from the kit. Why can’t anything be easy? Not only did I have to pee on the strip, it was strongly suggested that I wait until morning. Something to do with my hCG levels, whatever the hell that was. I read the instructions again, then a third time. I was new to this and I wanted to do it right the first time.

After the third reading I flopped backwards onto my bed, arms spread out at my sides as if I was on a crucifix. I
couldn’t
be pregnant! Cain and I had burned through three condoms. Twice I had put them on him myself and once I had watched him do it.
I… could… not… be… pregnant!
There was no way! But then I had a rush of fear. Yes, I had seen him sheath his snake, but I hadn’t seen him remove them. Could there have been an… equipment failure?

I thought it over. We had gotten pretty wild there for a while. Despite my concerns, I couldn’t help but smile. He had fucked me in every position imaginable, save swinging from the chandeliers. It had pissed me off that he left me alone in the bed without so much as a ‘by your leave’ after I went to sleep, but at least he had the decency to not stick me with the hotel bill. But I was over being mad. I’m a big girl, and it didn’t hurt that all the girls at
The Cat’s Claw
were jealous. Not only had I scored the smoking hot, bad boy, biker, but he had positively fucked me silly, as well.

My smile faded. The sex had been good. No—not good—it had been
fantastic
, but no amount of getting my toes curled was worth this. That was three weeks ago, and it had been fun for a while, doling out little tidbits of information about our night together to the rapt attention of my coworkers. But not now, and not for the past week.

***

I stared at the little blue plus on the test strip. I turned it over and looked at the backside, hoping beyond hope that I was reading it wrong. I compared it to the instruction sheet, the paper going blurry as I did. I gasped as shock set in.
“How?”
I cried to the empty bathroom.

I carefully placed the test strip on the counter and walked into my bedroom where I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at my feet. “This is impossible,” I whispered. I got up and went back to the test strip. I needed to see the results again, just to be sure. The blue plus mocked me.
“Oh no…” I fought the tears with everything I had, but it wasn’t enough. I returned to my bed, sick with fear and dread. I lay down and pulled the covers around me, staring at nothing as my life unrolled behind my eyes.

I’m only twenty-six, and unmarried. I had a good job, tending bar at
The Claw,
and a degree in biology that I got when I thought I was going to be a vet. But this changed everything.
The Claw
couldn’t have pregnant women working there; it was bad for business. My bottom lip quivered as tears streamed down my cheeks while I thought about what had happened. I’m going to lose my job. How would I keep my house? What would my friends say? This wasn’t the 1950s anymore, but I’m still going to be an unwed mother – an unwed mother in the South. An unwed, unemployed, mother in the South. The very thing my Grandfather railed about.

I cried for a while. I couldn’t help it. I had always been careful. Cain wasn’t my first lover, and I had always taken care to eliminate the risk of this happening. No pulling out, no timing my ovulation, no nothing. If you wanted your cock inside of me, you had to wear a condom. Period. I gasped and wiped at my eyes.
It wasn’t fair!

I worried what my grandparents would say when I finally had to tell them. They had raised me from a young child after my parents were killed. They were the only family I had, but they were old-time southern and they wouldn’t understand. They had, eventually, adjusted to the fact that their granddaughter was a bartender in a club known for… personal… service. But this? This would be too much. The more I thought about it, the more I thought I was going to throw up.

***

I woke with a start and stared at the bedside clock. I must have dropped back to sleep. As I watched the clock changed to 1:00 PM, I dragged myself out of the bed. I felt slightly better. The two-hour nap seemed to have taken the edge off my shock. I was still sick with dread, but I didn’t feel like my world was ending anymore.

I padded into the bath to relieve myself, stopping to stare at the test results again. I picked it up and tossed it into the trash. No matter how many times I looked at it, the plus sign refused to go away.

I started the shower and stepped inside, trying to decide what I was going to do. I decided what I
wasn’t
going to do: I wasn’t going to tell a soul until I had a doctor confirm the results. Maybe it was a false positive, though if I were honest with myself, I knew it wasn’t. Then, starting tomorrow, I would start trying to find another job. It would be a while before I began to show and I could use that time to do some job hunting while I still worked at
The Claw
. I had a Bachelor’s degree in biology, after all. Surely someone, somewhere, would hire me.

Maybe I could get a loan and go back to school to become a vet. Then I could work in a vet’s office for a while, then open my own practice. I had always wanted to be a vet, and the only reason I quit school was because the bartending gig was so lucrative. I had always thought I would do the bartending thing for a few years and then go back to school. Life was just forcing me to speed up my plans.

As I rinsed my hair, I knew I was also going to have to get my financial affairs in order. My car was almost paid for, so, except for my house, I didn’t owe anyone any money. But I was probably going to have to take a pretty steep cut in pay when I left
The Claw.
Bartending might not be the noblest profession in the world, but I could rake in a couple of grand on a good week.

I tried to remember how much money I had in savings, but couldn’t. It hadn’t been important before now. Also, starting today, no more eating out all the time. I could cook, and did, but I still ate out with friends at least three nights a week. One night a week, tops. And no more drinking. I wasn’t a lush by any stretch, but I had been known to allow a customer to buy me a drink now and then. No more of that; I had another life to think about now.

I stepped out of my bath. I had a plan, and I felt a little more in control. My life was about to change in the most radical way possible, but I would cope. I always had. If I were lucky, I might still even be able to make the regionals in the flair-tending competition. It would suck to have drop out now after getting within one step of competing in the nationals. And if I won… that twenty-grand would buy a lot of baby shoes.

***

I fixed myself some lunch then wandered around the house. I tried to surf the net, read a book, and watch television, but I couldn’t focus on anything. I may have a plan, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still in shock. I couldn’t focus on anything as my mind whirled in ever-tighter circles. I desperately wanted to talk to someone, but I didn’t know anyone that I could trust with my secret. Throwing shade was an art form in New Orleans, and I didn’t want to be the throwee.

Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I dressed in my best outfit, tight in all the right places but loose enough to allow me to move freely, and gathered my things. I was going to get to
The Claw
early so I could spend a few minutes with my practice bottle, warming up and getting into the groove. The key to flair-tending was focus and concentration, and I wasn’t having much luck with either of those things right now. I was hoping that when I got to
The Claw,
and the juices got flowing, I would be okay. I hoped. Otherwise it was going to be an expensive night and I wondered how many bottles I could break before they started coming out of my pay.

I threw the top back on my car and plopped into the seat. I was about to be a mommy, but for a while yet, I could still be the hot babe in the sports car. I planned to enjoy it while I could. As I drove across town, I flashed my best come-hither smile at all the admiring glances, the same smile I used at work to keep the tips coming.

Later, as I bounced around the break room, grooving to the music blasting away up front, I worked my bottle, practicing my flips, twirls, and stalls. I worked on my new signature move, the toe kick, where I dropped the bottle, caught it on my toe, and kicked it back up into my hand. It was a devastating move when I was behind the bar and the mark couldn’t see me catch it on my foot.

I found if I really focused I could force away the results of the test this morning—for a while anyway—and that would have to do.
I couldn’t spend the next nine months fretting over something I couldn’t change, and getting back into my routine would take my mind off my troubles… for a while.