Biker's Bride (Demons MC)

She came to a halt right in front of me.

“Enough,” I said to her. “Get on.”

“No,” she said. “I’m done with this. No way.”

I grunted and killed the engine, climbing off the bike. Some pedestrians were still milling about, but I scared them off with a look. You didn’t wander around our neighborhood without knowing what the cut on my jacket meant.

It meant you minded your own fucking business around us.

“You think I want this?” I asked her.

“I don’t know what you want.”

I grabbed her shoulders and pressed her up against the wall. I felt a thrill run through my body at the defiant, strong look she gave me.

“I don’t want to marry you, Caralee,” I spat. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good. Then let me go.”

“No,” I said. “I also don’t want to see your throat cut because you’re too stupid to do what’s right.”

“How is marrying you the right thing?”

“You got yourself into this,” I said, “not me. You went with some dumb fuckwad to a drug deal and ended up getting dragged into a club war.”

“I don’t want any of this,” she said, pushing my chest. I didn’t budge an inch.

“I know you don’t. You think I want to be married to you?”

“So then don’t. Un-claim me. Whatever you need to do.”

“No,” I growled at her. “Larkin says we marry, so we marry. We make this claim thing legit so that the other boys won’t fucking rebel.”

“I don’t care if the boys rebel,” she said, pushing harder. I growled at her and she backed off. “I don’t know how I ended up here,” she said more softly.

“You’re here now,” I said, backing off slightly. She was slumped against the wall, head hanging down. “Face it, Caralee. This shit is happening. You can run away, maybe skip town, maybe get to the cops.” I paused so that this part sank in. “But if you do that, you’re dead. This isn’t a fucking game. If there were some other way, you better fucking believe I wouldn’t be marrying you.”

She looked back up at me, that defiant look again, and I felt my cock stir, excitement flowing through me. We were so close, standing there on the sidewalk. She looked so sad, confused, angry, but most of all, fucking gorgeous. It was all so damn messed up, but all I wanted to do was bend her the fuck over against that wall and make her come with my thick cock.

“Fine,” she said finally. “I’ll go along with this for now. But as soon as I say I’m done, then I’m done.”

I grunted again. “Whatever you say.”

“Promise me. If I say it’s done, it’s done. We divorce, whatever, and I’m gone.”

“If that’s what you need, fine. You say so and I’ll divorce your ass. You’ll be free.”

She glared at me. “Good.”

“Come on,” I said, climbing back onto my bike. She got onto the back, clinging to my body, and I drove us back to the clubhouse.

The whole damn thing was crazy. I didn’t know what Larkin was up to, but he seemed to be on my side. I was surprised that he was interested in protecting the girl when it could potentially mean a serious war.

And I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing, either. Did I really think marrying her was the best thing? Maybe, maybe not. It would make my claim real, put her under my protection seriously. But I didn’t want a wife, didn’t want a ball and chain dragging me down. I needed freedom, the road stretched out ahead of me, violence and pussy.

Still, there was something about her. Maybe it was our past, or maybe I just wanted to finally fuck her. Maybe if I got into that sweet pussy of hers, I’d get over whatever was driving me to want to be around her, to keep her safe.

The whole damn situation was fucked. I could handle some pissed-off bikers, drug deals, whatever. I could smash skulls and ride with the best of them. But when it came to Caralee, I was like a fucking idiot.

We went back into the club and I sat her ass down at an empty table.

“Stay here,” I said. “Don’t make any fucking trouble.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

I shrugged. “Drink. Look at your phone. I don’t care.”

“What about you?”

“I got some business to attend to.”

She shrugged, looking away. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But stop treating me like some dog. I don’t just come on command.”

I grinned at her. “I think I could make you come on command, girl.”

She gaped at me. “That’s never going to happen.”

“Please,” I said. “I can practically smell how fucking wet you are whenever I’m around.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Pretend all you want, but I know you want me to take you back to my cabin and lick that tight cunt until you scream my name.”