Sawyer (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club, #5)

SAWYER

By

Jayne Blue

Text copyright ©2016

Jayne Blue
All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law or for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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B
ess

It was on his desk. I think it was his desk. He smelled of open air, leather, and beer. Well, I probably smelled the beer on me. I didn’t care.

He had his mouth on mine and I wanted it everywhere else.

It had been so long.

I had my legs around him and felt his hard length. I was out of my mind. I reached up to his hair. It was long, thick, and had gray streaks in spots. I loved that.

His body was hard everywhere, hell his clothes were hard, leather, denim, metal, I was lucky he slid my blouse back because somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that the fabric would be shredded against all that roughness.

Even his face was rough, stubble raked against the top of my breasts and I felt his teeth on my nipple. I cried out.

His hands were lifting the fabric of my skirt away from my thighs, his fingers sliding the silk of my panties aside. I had worn stockings, and I didn’t always do that. Who was I kidding? I had been doing that secretly since I first saw him. I had been sending a message.

Today he received it.

“Oh my god. I love these.” He had almost growled it.

This was not a timid man, this was not a weak man, this was a man who took what he wanted, but who also gave to everyone around him.

Everything about him was wrong when you looked at who I should be with. A biker? An outsider? Hell, I didn’t even know where he was from.

I knew I had to have him.

I had come to this place with my friend. This was a celebration for her; a party in a bar I had never been.

As the party wore on, I got braver. The one-beer limit I had kept myself turned into two, and when I found myself wandering in the hall trying to find the way back from the ladies’ room, he was there.

I think he owned the place. I didn’t know how biker bars or clubs worked.

It was the Great Wolves Motorcycle Club bar and they called it
The Wolf Den
. That I did know. His leather had a patch that read Prez. So, I guess he was in charge, but he didn’t need that patch for anyone to see that. The man was confident and dominant. He gave orders quietly, once, and moved on. Something about him reminded me of a tiger. The way he moved?

I thought about brushing by him, going back out, joining my friend Cassidy at the bar for her celebration, and staying out of this kind of trouble. The problem was I wanted him. I had from the moment I first saw him. Each brief time we had crossed paths, those fantasies got more intense.

I froze. His wide frame blocked my progress down the tiny hall. The sounds of music and laughter coming from the bar faded as every sense I had tuned to him. I followed his eyes as he took me in from my ankles up to my lips.

“Kiss me Bess. Let me see if you taste as good as I think you do.”

I had no quip, no funny reply; I had dropped my normal defensive position. I arched my calves in my stilettos, another secret message to him, and lifted my lips to his.

Lip to lip. Breath to breath. For one charged second. Then, our hands were all over each other. He backed us into his office, and onto the desk.

I wanted him to fuck me. Plain and simple. Right then, on the desk, raw, no consequence, no reservations, and no strings attached.

We were almost there. Almost.

Then the text. My ex.

Dammit. I had to take it. I had to. When you are a mother, there are strings attached. I put a hand up and the gentleman biker held off. He understood.

You need to get Henry. I have an unexpected meeting. Pick him up in an hour
.

The usual terse missive from Chris Geary. It was his weekend, and he used me as a backup when it was not convenient to be a full-time father.

I assessed my situation. I was inches away from having sex on the desk with a biker I barely knew.

It was going to be great sex, of that I had no doubt.

But I had to go. I had to stop.

“I, I’m sorry. I have to get Henry.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Fine, just custody fun.” There was no graceful way to separate my body from his though I felt an ache at the thought.

“Can I drive you somewhere?”

“It’s okay, I’m okay.” He helped me upright but he did not stop staring as I smoothed over the rumpled state of everything.

I could only imagine what the top knot I had going looked like now. I could feel the unruly tendrils violently trying to break loose. As my hair went wild, my personality went mild. My brave lusty plans were evaporating as my real world returned.

But the biker was not done with me.

I was preparing to say an embarrassed goodbye. I struggled to pull together the pieces of Bess Geary, responsible adult. I stood and tried to separate myself from my moment of lust.

He locked a muscled arm around my waist and put a strong hand behind my neck.

“Those garters and heels are for me aren’t they Bess?” I swallowed hard.

I could have lied. What did he know? Except I wanted him to know they were for him. I wanted to walk on the edge once in my life.

“Yes Sawyer, I wanted you to see them.” I had never been that bold, sexually speaking. I never flirted or talked dirty, or if I was being honest, had sex anymore, with anyone.

What had gotten into me? Short answer, he had almost gotten into me.

“I saw them and I’ll never forget them,” he said and his low voice vibrated deep within me.

He slid a hand down my pencil skirt and lingered at the top of my thigh. Then he loosened his grip. I had to go.

This was not going to happen. This was never going to happen.

He would star in my fantasies, this moment burned into my memory, but this was not my life.

I turned and walked out of the office. My heels hitting the floor, each step more Bess, more in control, more focused on getting Henry from my dick of an ex-husband. That was all that mattered. Not fucking around with a biker, no matter how hot he was.

My almost hot sex encounter was six months ago.

Still, late at night, when I am restless, when dreams remind me that of what I really need, when need awakens me, there is one word on my lips.

Sawyer.

Sawyer

“Behind you!” Larry yelled at me just in time so I turned and swung. It was dark but my fist landed on solid jawbone. It slowed the asshole down but it did not stop him.

The thug shook his head and pointed his gun at my head.

“Well, shit - you’re hard to knock down.” Just as I made that pronouncement, he collapsed in front of me.

“His head’s soft in the back.” Larry had smashed the back of his piece on the thug’s skull.

“Good night,” I looked down. I had broken into the office of the storage unit complex to grab what information I could on the owners. There was not much to find. It had been cleaned out, more or less, since the last time I had been here.

“Where are the rest of the guys?” I had brought a small army of Grand City Great Wolves M.C. members. We were here to make a statement and clean up whatever we found.

“They’re at the end row of units.” Larry was the secretary of the M.C. He had a little belly these days, and refused to quit smoking, but he was gnarly biker from long hair to black boots. We just never found a name tough enough for him. So, Larry stayed Larry, and he stayed on my right hand wherever club business sent me.

“This office has been scrubbed.” I was hoping to find something to help root out a new bad element in my town. No luck.

“What about this guy,” Larry gave him a kick to the ribs.

“Leave him.” I did not want to kill anyone if we didn’t have to today. That was coming I feared.

Larry and I followed the sounds of the rest of the dozen or so of our crew. We busted into a storage unit facility near the docks of Grand City. It looked like any other storage unit business.

Except I knew The Russian Mob had been creeping into my town and they owned the place. I wanted to make things very uncomfortable for them to expand here.

All my officers had come on this run.

Hagen was my second in command, my VP.

He took a bullet to save my predecessor. It was a wasted bullet. The last Prez died anyway. Hagen and I were not very close, but I keep him in the job because I needed legacy members. I needed insight into this charter. He was the lone no vote when we had put this operation to a vote.

Sometimes I think he would vote against me no matter what I proposed. He didn’t like change and I was all about change.

“You were right,” was what he said to me as I approached. This was big and surprising. The longhaired hard ass didn’t like to admit I was right about anything.

“What did the boys find?”

“Better see for yourself.”

The rest of the GWMC officers were quietly standing in an open storage unit. The rest of the crew were busting the locks on every storage unit in the place. It was going to take some time.

I walked into the open unit processes what I was seeing. Six cots were lined up. Each cot had a chain attached. This storage unit was for people. That was easy to see.

“This is some sick shit.” Ridge was my severe and suspicious treasurer.

“Very.” It was also what I was worried about. The Russian Mob had decided Grand City was a great place to set up shop.

“So they run drugs? They fix fights? And what is this, whores?” Steel, the sergeant at arms for GWMC ran his fingers up and down his beard.

“Not whores,” I answered. My suspicions were much worse than a little prostitution.

“Prez! Come over here!” Ryder and Stone, two of the younger members of the M.C., were a few units down.

I left Steel and Hagen with the chains and cots only to find something more sickening.

“I found this.” He held out something pink in his hand. I took it.

It was a doll. A toy.

“And this,” Stone was dark and menacing to Ryder’s almost surfer good humor, lifted up a stuffed kitten.

“Jesus Christ.”

“What the hell’s going on here?” Ryder in some ways reminded me of me. He got into the M.C. because he wanted freedom, but he was learning with brotherhood comes responsibility. It was no surf party USA.

Whether I wanted the responsibility or not my club was going to have to do something about the shit we just found. Eventually, this was going to cause us, and our town, major trouble. Hell, the Russians already had caused trouble at the MMA gym the MC ran.

“What do you want us to do?” Larry had found me again. He never was too far away. A good trait in a brother.

“We’re opening every storage unit. We make sure there’s no one trapped here. If you find any dolls or personal items, round ‘em up. We’ll keep ‘em.”

“Then what?”

“Burn it down.” 

I didn’t leave room for argument if that was the best course of action.

These shit boxes were coming down and the evil assholes that were using them would get the message.

Get out of Grand City or the Great Wolves will throw you out.

Hours later, the crew and I were back at
The Wolf Den
.

It was the GWMC clubhouse but also a working bar. One of our profitable legitimate ventures. Along with the Great Wolves Gym, and Great Wolves Security.

We no longer ran guns, drugs, or prostitution. The businesses were how we made bank these days.

We were about as clean as you could get for a crew who had just set fire to five buildings.