Silver Saints MC Volume 2

I stepped up to the final door and tried the knob. Good girl. It was locked up tight. Not that it would keep me out, but I knew it wasn’t me she’d been worried about trying to get inside since she had no idea I was here.

My body froze at the thought. It took every fucking fiber of my being not to turn around and smash into the other bedroom where I’d strangle Chad until he was clinging to life before putting a bullet in his genitals, then between the eyes.

But Rylee was more important.

Inhaling deeply, I refocused before exhaling slow and steady. I released the catch on her door and silently padded inside.

Fucking hell.

Rylee was lying on her back, her head turned toward me, her gorgeous, fluffy hair curling around her angel face, and she had one hand under her cheek. The other was resting on the naked skin of her soft belly, her T-shirt having scrunched itself up just under her fat tits. Her nipples poked through the threadbare fabric, and my mouth filled with saliva while my dick hardened to steel.

Her legs were on complete display because the only other piece of clothing she was wearing was a pair of small, white panties.

My teeth ached to leave little bite marks on those thick thighs before licking her pussy from top to bottom. Somehow, I just knew she was a virgin, and the thought of that tight hole squeezing, first my tongue and then my cock, almost made me come in my pants.

A soft sigh escaped as her rosy lips parted, and my shaft throbbed with the desire to be wrapped up in them. She shifted on the bed, and the moonlight streaming in through her window illuminated her sexy-as-fuck body even more, making her creamy skin glow. The hand on her stomach glided up between the valley of her breasts, drawing the hem of her shirt all the way up as her arm rose above her head before she stretched like a cat.

Her tits popped free of the fabric, and I almost fell to my knees at the sight of her natural double Ds. The cool air made the large nipples distend and harden into taut peaks.

I wanted to fuck those tits, suck on those sweet nipples, and—suddenly, I pictured them beading with drops of milk and her belly even rounder; swollen with my baby inside it.

Holy shit.

I couldn’t fight it anymore.

There was no use in pretending.

This angel is mine.

4

Rylee

Waking up to find a man standing near the foot of my bed had been a recurring nightmare for me over the past year. So when my eyes drifted open while I was still half asleep, it took me a moment to realize I wasn’t dreaming. Someone really was in my room.

“What th—”

My gasp was cut off when a calloused palm pressed against my mouth, and a lean male body pinned me to the mattress. “Shh, it sounded to me like your stepdad is passed the fuck out, but you might wake your mom if you make too much noise.”

I started to heave a deep sigh of relief over the fact that Chad hadn’t taken his creepiness to the level of watching me sleep in the middle of the night. Then the reality of my situation hit me—there was a strange man in my room. My stepdad was the least of my concerns at the moment. At least with him, I knew I had a decent chance of fighting him off because he was a lazy slob. But if someone from the Ukrainian mob had grown tired of the endless negotiations and decided to just grab me, then I was in serious trouble.

I started to struggle, twisting my torso and trying to kick out with my legs. My hands gripped his forearm and pulled, but the guy was seriously strong. His lean frame was apparently all muscle, and I quickly regretted my lack of physical activity over the past year. If I’d still been in sports, maybe I would’ve been in better shape to escape his hold. But all I had managed to accomplish so far was for him to press me deeper into the mattress while I got distracted by the scrape of his jean-clad legs against my bare skin.

Holy crap. I went to bed last night in nothing but a T-shirt and panties.

“I need clothes,” I mumbled against his palm. The words came out garbled beyond recognition, but something in my tone caught his attention.

“I’m only gonna lift my hand if you promise to be good, angel. Can’t risk that drunk douchebag waking up and calling in the Ukrainians for reinforcement,” he warned in a barely-there thread of sound.

I stilled, the wheels in my brain starting to turn. The way this guy talked about my stepdad, it sounded as though he hated him almost as much as I did. And I could have sworn there was unbridled fury in his tone when he mentioned the mobsters Chad was trying to sell me to. I released his arm and felt for his chest. When my fingers encountered the unmistakable feel of a leather vest, a spark of hope started to grow in my chest. Arya had told me all about the cuts the guys in the motorcycle club wore when her now-husband gave my friend one of her own that announced to the world that she belonged to him.