Hellraiser (The Devil's Own #2) (3 page)

Melissa

The bonfire that’s sitting outside of the Sinful Souls clubhouse is in full blaze and my drinks couldn’t go down fast enough. My best friend Phoebe flops down onto the stump next to me, her drink clutched in her hand. “You okay?” she questions softly.

I nod with a smile. “Yeah, much better now.”

“How’s the bakery going?”

“It’s finally picking up momentum now that Sally’s shut down across the street.”

My boutique bakery “Eat Me” is situated in the heart of Westbeach, right across the beach. Since college, I’ve been trying to find my place where I belong in the world. I had plans in college. I was supposed to be a doctor. It’s why my mom poured so much money into my college fund; she relied on me. Mother dearest is still in Saugatuck, Michigan, but fortunately, she’s no longer tending to the horny men of the country. She’s now the wife of a rich high-flyer from NYC. Bob is great. He treats her well and loves me and my sister like we’re his own. My sister Millie is now a sister in the local Catholic church in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I haven’t visited her in years and don’t plan to. Her judgments keep me away and I haven’t seen or heard from Eddy since I left college to help my mom when she was first diagnosed with stage two ovarian cancer. Thinking about what happened all those years ago resurfaces too many memories and old feelings, so I tend to keep them locked in a box inside my head, silently hoping that that box remains locked and no one discovers the key. So that brings me to why I’m a bakery owner and not some hot shot doctor, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. Being able to help my mom when she needed it meant more to me than my dreams or my demons.

“So,” Phoebe begins, taking a sip of her drink. “These parties never get old, huh?”

I laugh, bringing my hazy eyes back to my best friend. I met her in high school before moving to Detroit during much easier times in my life. Frat parties were drag strip races and Phoebe was—still is—the best woman driver in the state. We separated while I was at college, but I always knew I’d be coming back to Westbeach. My mom? Not so much. Since my dad disappeared, she had never been able to face this town again. No matter how much of a drunk my dad was, she still loved him. That’s why I told myself I’d never fall in love young; you’re too blinded by your hormones, and then before you know it, you’re stuck at home with a couple of kids buying cases of beer for your husband every night. No thanks, not for me.

“Nope, not one bit. So much of our childhood is within these gates,” I say to Phoebe behind a laugh. Phoebe was raised within the MC. Her father was a founding member and her brother is currently a member. She’s Sinful Soul blood and the princess around here.

“Oh, I know. Until you left for college!” She attempts to evil-eye me.

“Hey! That was not my fault.” I take another long pull of my vodka, the hot flames from the bonfire cascading off my skin and sending warm zips of electricity gushing through me.

“I know, I’m sorry. How is your mom anyway?”

“Meh, she’s…mom,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “She’s much better, though. The cancer has been staying away.”

“And Millie?”

I raise the rim of the bottle back to my mouth, swallowing the clear liquid and literally swallowing past the burning sensation it had set alight in my throat. “She’s Millie, playing the good sister in the local
Catholic church
.” I say the last bit with a posh accent.

“Fucking Millie,” Phoebe and I mutter together and we both laugh.

Nette, Phoebe’s other friend, takes a seat down beside us with her drink just as a loud roar of bikes vibrate through the music that was playing.

“Beast is here,” Phoebe adds casually. 

I smile, tilting my head, the name piquing my interest. “Beast?” I ask. “I like the sound of that.”

“Melissa, no. Put your lady bits away.” I pout, taking another sip of my drink. Meadow walks towards us and takes a seat opposite me. She’s another one of Phoebe’s friends; nothing has changed since high school where that’s concerned. Phoebe was the girl every guy loved and every girl envied but secretly wanted to be friends with. I had Phoebe’s chin in my hand, whispering sweet nothings to her, when her eyes darted over my shoulder. “Hey,” she calls, her eyes twinkling with recognition.

I look over my shoulder, my brain buzzing with the alcohol, and when my eyes clear into focus, my mouth damn near drops to the ground. Two big, burly bikers stand there watching us. The bigger one nudges his head. “Hey, Phoebs.”

A loud gasp escapes Meadow. I whip my head around to her. “You okay?” I ask just as her head falls, hitting the picnic table, and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

Did she just faint? Holy shit.

Before I could get to my feet, Meadow comes back to consciousness, rubbing her forehead. When recognition of what happened comes back to her, her rubbing pauses, eyes going wide. Meadow gets up quickly, so Nettie and I begin to escort her inside the bar. Something had obviously freaked her out. Meadow is quiet, reserved, and holds many secrets deep inside. Phoebe has never told me much about Meadow’s past, but she did say one day:
“Think of the worst possible thing you could ever think of, multiply that, and then you’ll get Meadow’s past.”

Pushing open the door, she shuffles out of our arms, placing her hand on her forehead. “It’s okay, I’m alright. Shit.
Shit
,” she whispers, her eyes darting around the room with her eyebrows drawn together.

“Are you okay? What was that about?” I ask, pulling out a stool for her at the bar.

“That was a
huge
throwback right there, in my face,” Meadow answers, rubbing her temples. She takes a seat on the stool.

“
Huge
he is. My God, he’s beautiful and large. So was the guy next to him… I wonder if he’s that big every—”

“—Melissa!” Meadow snorts, reaching for a bottle of vodka from behind the bar. The sound of the front bar door slamming shut vibrates the glasses. I look to Meadow for silent approval. She nods her head. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

“Are you sure?” Nettie asks, her light turquoise hair falling over her shoulders.

Meadow nods again with a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Nettie and I both walk back out of the bar, now with a fresh bottle of rum in my hand. I take a sip before offering Nettie some. She laughs, shaking her head. “No, thanks.”

“Oh, come on…” I tease.

“I’m at a biker party. There’s no way I’m getting shitfaced.”

“Hey, Judge Judy.” I tsk at her comment. “These bikers are a lot of things, but trust me when I say, you’re safe from rapists here.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that,” a low voice growls, walking past me. My eyes slant. He looks over his massive shoulder, smirking at me, displaying a dimple. I recognize him as the other guy who was standing beside Beast. He’s wearing a black and white NY flat baseball cap turned backwards, a white t-shirt underneath his cut that reads “The Devil’s Own” on the top and then “Nevada” curved on the bottom, and he’s deliciously wrapped up in big tight muscles and tattoos that should be on the cover of Skin Deep magazine. He walks back to the table where there are a few other guys from his crew sitting and laughing. His eyes find mine as he brings the rim of his bottle of whiskey to his lips, a smile curving around it.

“I want one,” I declare, dropping back onto the table where Phoebe is sitting all while keeping my eyes locked on the table of bikers.

“One what?” she asks, turning her head to follow my line of sight. She laughs, shaking her head. “Nope, definitely not, Melissa.”

“You don’t even know who I was referring to!” I semi-slur, taking another drink.

“I don’t have to!” she declares. “It won’t be Hannibal. You don’t do beards. It won’t be Ripper, since he looks too boyish for you—though I can assure you, there’s nothing
boyish
about him. There’s a reason he’s called Ripper, and it has a lot to do with his namesake, organ removal and all. Frost isn’t your type. You like men with at least a bit of hair, and Nyx is a little too friendly for you; you’d friend-zone him faster than I could count to three, so that leaves Hella.” She picks up her drink, taking a long pull and watching me closely. My mouth falls open before I snap it shut. She laughs, pointing to me. “Your face! I wish I had my phone.”

“We’ve been friends too long.”

A few hours later, I push off the table. The trees that were scattered around the property start spinning, and I hold down a laugh before making my way toward the garage where all the bikes go when they’re broken. I’m rounding the corner when I walk into a back of muscle.

“Shit, sorry,” I slur. He turns, zipping up his jeans. “Were you just taking a piss?”

He laughs before turning around to face me. Fuck all men who wear MC cuts and are covered in tattoos. This man was the delicious package that I should stay away from because, no doubt, it has a bomb wrapped up inside it. From a distance, he was hot, but up close, he looks lethal.

“Yeah, so?” he slurs, flipping his cap backwards again and taking a long pull of his whiskey. “What’s your name?” He nudges his head at me with a smirk.

I cock a brow. “Melissa. Should I ask what yours is?” Tattoos cover every inch of his body that I could see, his eyes are deviously dark, and he rocks a crooked grin that can bring the devil himself to his knees.

He walks toward me, the orange hues coming off the bonfire casting light over his chiseled jaw and plump lips. I take a step backwards until my back hits the hard concrete wall. Tilting my head, I bring my eyes to meet his. Strong arms come up to either side of my head, caging me in. I swallow loudly, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth. His mere presence causes a thin sheet of sweat to bead on my skin.

“Well, considering you’re going to be screaming it in a few seconds? Yeah, I’d say you should ask mine.”

My chest lifts and falls, the alcohol surging through my blood stream, heating me from the inside out.

“Cocky much?” I whisper, peering up at him with my shoulders squared.

He chuckles, both of his legs slipping in between mine. I open my legs wider, the bulge he’s sporting pressing into my stomach.

His mouth grazes over mine. “You have no idea.” His lips cover mine in a second before his tongue invades my mouth with dominance and self-assuredness. I bring my arms up to his neck, pulling his face down toward mine, a light moan escaping.

“Wait, wait, wait!” I throw my hands up, my eyes glossing over. My brain attempts to pull together a sober line of thought, but fails miserably. His eyes search mine, watching me closely. The corner of his lip tips up and I can’t help but wonder if this is a challenge.

“Oh fuck it.” I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, pulling his lips back down to mine.

His strong fingers grip around the back of my thighs, lifting me off the ground, and I wrap them around his waist. He flicks the top of my strapless dress, pulling it down, as my tits fall out everywhere. The cold night zips over my nipples briefly before his warm mouth covers one at a time. His pierced tongue glides over each, his teeth clamping down roughly as he pulls away. He catches my nipple in between his teeth, his eyes looking up to mine before he drags it out of his mouth, a hiss escaping him at the same time. Hooking his fingers under my panties, he sweeps between my folds and I moan, throwing my head back against the concrete wall just as he lowers me to my feet. My eyebrows draw together in confusion before he drops to his knees in front of me, hitching my leg over his shoulder and swiping my panties to the side.

“What—?” I whisper, about to ask what in god’s name he’s doing when his tongue dives inside of me, and I moan louder. A loud slap sounds around the place at the same time a stinging sensation begins on my right ass cheek.

“Shut the fuck up.” His growl vibrates against my clit before the tip of his tongue glides down my folds. A cold glass bottle presses against my pelvic bone and my eyes fly open. The lip of the bottle presses against my clit before alcohol pours over my folds, his tongue following the trail of the icy hot burn. I’m not entirely sure how I would handle it if he tries shoving that bottle inside me, but I would guess it would go something like…
my foot in his face
. My hips begin to rock against his mouth, the music dying out into the darkness. Just as his tongue presses against my clit and his finger slips inside me, explosions set off deep in my core with little colorful dots releasing behind my shut lids.