Outlaw's Vow: Grizzlies MC Romance (Outlaw Love) Read online

  Familiar electricity raced through my veins. My blood turned thick and hot like candle wax, and my sick brain imagined everything else he could do with that grip.

  What the hell would it feel like to have those fingers between my legs?

  “Come on. Follow me up to the altar. Can't leave you standing in the way where you could get hurt.” Asphalt pulled.

  I started to walk, letting him guide me like the numb, awestruck zombie I'd become.

  “Gil, listen to me very closely,” Blackjack growled. “On my count, you're going to put your popgun down and pop a tranquilizer before you get two charters killed, plus your little girl. We're going to get on with this wedding, exactly like we said. Deal's a deal. It'll be smooth as good whiskey and you'll have some fun, once the shock isn't frying your balls anymore. Don't be a goddamned fool.”

  “Fuckin' two faced prick,” daddy growled, pressing his handgun into the older man's chest. “You knew. So did he. This is a humiliation!”

  He pivoted to face us, aiming his gun right at Asphalt. Daddy only let up when I threw my arms around my surprise groom, savoring his heat for the first time in four years.

  “Daddy, don't. You're going to get everybody killed.”

  “God damn it, Elle Jo. You remember what this prick did, right? It's a sick fuckin' joke that my baby, my girl, is being forced to marry this savage little turd. I should've aimed my gun higher that night. Fuck, he wouldn't be standing here today, grinning like he just ate a fuckin' pile. I should've –“

  A gunshot barked, interrupting his seething anger. Asphalt threw me down. We hit the ground, and he covered me with his huge muscles, protecting me from the imminent shootout.

  It never came.

  When I looked up, forcing my head up between his big hands, I saw daddy's gun on the floor. He kneeled on the floor, cradling his hand.

  Several men looked toward the rafters. I followed their eyes and saw a massive man poised on a beam, a long sniper rifle in his hands.

  “Great shot, Roman. Knocked the toy clean out of his hands.” Blackjack stepped up, leaning over my father, his face lined like an old tree that had seen too many storms. “Let's try this one more time, Gil.”

  My father snarled as the old man's hand reached for his collar and pulled him up, back on his feet. “Fuck you, Blackjack. Fuck you.”

  “Don't ruin your girl's special day. This is all about peace between clubs, brotherly love. We still have a chance to make it that way. You can scream all you want, go out back after the ceremony and punch holes in the walls, suck down Jack 'til you black out. None of my concern. But if you point a gun at one of my men again, I will have my boy blow your brains all over this holy ground. A deal's a deal, and I never take shit from a man who goes back on his word.”

  I struggled out of Asphalt's grip and stood. He wrapped his hands around me, cradling me close, and we watched the two biker chiefs face off. I struggled harder when my back leaned against his torso, catching something hard, eager, alive in his pants with my butt.

  Oh, shit. I blushed like I was about to burst into flames.

  We'd barely been reunited for five minutes, and he already wanted to fuck me, finish what we'd started four years ago on a cold, awkward night.

  I wiggled away, shaking my veil to try to cover the wild, shameful red blooming on my cheeks. Asphalt grabbed my wrists and clenched tight, that hold a man has that says you're not going anywhere, babe.

  He said more, too. Every single part of him. I heard that rough, eager bulge between his legs talking to me loud and clear when it pressed against me again.

  Stay close. Stay horny. I'm not letting you up 'til you feel every fucking inch of this, babe. Everything I should've made you feel years ago.

  We took a long delay, and we lost time to kill. I'm gonna fuck your damned brains out.

  “You keep your damned distance,” daddy spat. “We're brothers by patch, but no man in your club's any kind of blood brother of mine. Stay on your fucking side of the church, and we'll get through this freak show.”

  Satisfied, Blackjack nodded, turning his attention back to the altar. The older brother who'd flattened himself against the nearby wooden column approached, clearing his throat.

  “You two ready to get hitched, or what?”

  I looked at Asphalt. Without smiling, he nodded, leading me up the four steps with him.

  Our makeshift minister waited a few more minutes while the commotion died down, and men on both sides returned to their seats. When the music cranked up again, the rest of the music poured out, finishing in a booming bass crescendo about how it's better for a man to live on the road than die on his knees.

  A couple men behind us coughed. The tall, thin biker with the long mustache marrying us looked through us, his eyes scanning the sizable crowd. I looked at his name patch, ANGUS.

  “Everybody gathered here knows this ain't a real wedding, so I'll keep this shit quick.” His eyes flicked to the beautiful bastard next to me. “Asphalt, brother, you're claiming this girl and marrying her on the same day. Only God knows how long you'll keep her, but every second you do, your duties are the same. Love her. Honor her. Protect her. Treat her as sacred as your patch. She's one with this club, and one with you. Get it?”

  “Yeah, I do. Me and this girl, we go way back. It's been a few years and we've got a lot of catching up to do. We'll be solid, come hell or death. I promise.” He thumped the name patch on his chest the same way he did when he put my rude prom date in his place.

  Four years ago. Up here, it felt like four minutes.

  Asphalt's fingers pushed through mine and squeezed. Such an innocent gesture, surprisingly sweet, but damn if it didn't turn my blood to magma. I melted in the messy, confusing attraction I thought I'd lost years ago, resisting his eyes.

  “Elle Jo Mathers,” Angus said, fixing his dark eyes on me. “Peace brings love. And so it will with you, when you're on the back of his bike, wearing his brand. You're Tacoma's daughter. He's Redding's son. Both Grizzlies blood forever. Keep him true. Serve him. Love him.”

  I bristled at the serve him part. I caught Asphalt – Austin – wearing the same cocky glint in his eye that I'd seen a dozen times when we were kids, teasing and flirting our way against an uncertain future that was never meant for us.

  Well, except now, it was. But I didn't feel it when the biker-priest nodded, and Asphalt grabbed the heavy ring off the altar, sliding it onto my finger.

  “Fuck, that thing looks good where it belongs.”

  “The brother's right,” Angus said. “Asphalt, whenever you're ready, you can go ahead and –“

  Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

  His green eyes swallowed me up before his lips crashed on mine. Asphalt kissed me with a feral, starving passion I hadn't expected.

  He kissed me like he wanted to destroy my whole world, and replace it with his. His lips moved like they wanted me, deserved me, owned me. This kiss left me a nervous, shaking wreck, too scared to admit how incredible it felt, but too horny to resist it.

  So many years gone, stamped out in his fiery lips. This kiss took me back to our only other kiss, four years ago on daddy's doorstep, before we'd caught hell for it. Our lips moved, divine and right, replacing all that hell with heaven instead.

  I hadn't given up the fight yet. Hell, I was still so numb from what was happening it was a miracle I could stand in these stupid heels.

  For a single second, though, I surrendered. I moaned into his mouth, just like I did the very first time. His strong arms swept me up, pushed me even deeper into his tongue, into the embrace with every molecule letting me know how bad he wanted to fuck me.

  And I wanted it too.

  I wanted everything I couldn't have tonight. I wanted it more than the urge to slap him across the face for hiding the fact that he was my groom, for this insane arranged marriage, for never reaching out to me all these years, even if it would've ignited another war with my very pissed off father.

  The men in the audi
ence were roaring and laughing by the time it was over. Angus grinned behind the altar, slapped Asphalt on the back, and murmured something about hitting the road before he stripped me down right here.

  “I still fucking want you,” he growled into my ear. “Never stopped all these years, Elle Jo. We don't have to waste more time. We can pick up right where we left off, with my cock going between your legs, taking everything it should've had years ago.”

  Holy shit.

  As if I'd let him. No, no, this isn't happening.

  I can't give in. Not like this. Not ever.

  I leaned in close, his green eyes shimmering with happy mischief, and whispered in his ear. “If you think you can walk back into my life and sweep me off my feet with one great kiss, think again. I'm your bride, Austin, but I am not your woman. I don't love you.”

  He pulled away and his eyes darkened to an angry jungle green before he answered. He didn't say anything. Just picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, carrying me down the aisle like his latest conquest.

  I quietly fumed, hating the fact that his kiss left me soaking wet underneath the wedding dress. My body could mutiny, maybe, but my heart wouldn't.

  I just wouldn't let it. This was all business, all for my father, and nothing else.

  “Be careful!” I yelped, just as he narrowly avoided tripping over an empty bottle that had fallen and rolled out into our path. He steadied us, put his hand on my ass, and I pursed my lips. “Austin, don't you dare get any screwed up ideas. I told you where we stand, and that isn't changing. Let's just get out –“

  “Ell-bell, kindly shut the fuck up. If you don't start calling me by my proper name, I will bend you over and slap your ass red like I should've years ago. We're having a honeymoon, one way or another, and you're gonna enjoy it.”

  Great.

  So, he'd really bought into this whole outlaw bride and groom thing. I rolled my eyes, just barely faster than my heart began to beat.

  Then his hands clenched my long skirt and ripped it clean off, leaving me with nothing but the thin, short lily white one underneath, all I'd be left with when we climbed on his bike.

  IV: Tamer (Asphalt)

  “Asphalt, look. What happened at the altar this morning was all for show. So is this honeymoon. I know what's up, my father explained everything. We're not really married. It's all club politics.” She stopped, smiled nervously, batting her eyes. “And...you know, I really shouldn't have to say this, but...we can't have sex.”

  Bullshit. She hadn't held me like she was playing games when we rode into town, straight to the place where I'd get her branded as mine.

  I wanted to throw her over the leather chair in the tattoo parlor and fuck the ever living hell out of her on the spot. But only after I'd spanked her raw first.

  Her hands moved across my abs like she wanted it on my bike. So did her lips at the altar. What the fuck were we doing, pretending otherwise?

  My cock hammered in my pants the whole way through that damned ceremony, and it hadn't eased up a beat since we rode into town, my bike decked out in its colors, her losing that long ass wedding skirt before we hit the pavement.

  'Course, the girl was completely right. This shit was all a political stunt, and Gil must've done a pretty good job of convincing her. Didn't change the fact that my body knew what it wanted.

  Hers did, too. Fuck, she touched me like she was starving, and I wanted to make every inch of her a feast.

  I looked her up and down, not even trying to hide the lust in my eyes. Couldn't stop picturing those high, white bitch heels she had on digging into my ass, her long legs wrapped around me, spurring me on like a bull 'til I broke the fucking bed and left her sore for days.

  Shit. My gaze crawled up her body, only stopping when I caught her bright blue eyes, watching as she tucked a stray blonde lock behind her ear.

  “We'll see what happens, babe. Keep your panties on. It won't be tonight unless you want it to be.”

  “It won't be any night, Asphalt.” She sniffed, shook her head, taking on a tone like she needed to convince herself. “I just needed to get that out there, given our history. You wanted me. There was a time when I wanted you. And I'm only wearing this because we've both been roped into it with a shotgun to our backs.”

  “Shotgun wedding? I thought they only did that shit if I knocked you up. This isn't half as much fun.” I grinned.

  Elle stopped and scowled.

  She'd been fidgeting with the new gold ring since we sat down. It already looked like it belonged on her, from the moment I'd slipped it on her hand. Something about that slow up-down-up-down fidgeting motion as she pushed it along her finger made my balls taste fire, tempted me to grab her damned hand right here and shove it on my cock.

  Then she'd understand. She'd get that we were gonna share a bed one way or another, no more avoidable than giving her my vows earlier today.

  I watched her while we waited, wondering how many bastards had gotten to that body before me. I wanted to handcuff her to the nearest bed and find out, then start over with my face between her legs. The caveman urge to fuck away every last trace of everyone she'd ever had grabbed me by the throat and whispered in my ear, what the hell are you waiting for, boy?

  “Missus Graham?” She looked up and twisted her head around, then did a double take. Took her a couple seconds to remember she'd taken my name, plus the missus part.

  A tall man covered in ink and piercings appeared from around the corner, and he did a double take when he saw us sitting together. “Oh, shit! I'm sorry for keeping you guys on hold. Didn't know another one of Blackjack's boys was getting married.”

  “Whatever, man, you know the drill.” I stood, taking the opportunity to grab her hand and pull her up with me. “Just do your best work. Whatever she wants, wherever she wants it, as long as it says Property of Asphalt, Grizzlies MC. You make it damned near perfect, and we won't have a problem.”

  He swallowed nervously. The ink jockey in front of me had tatted up plenty of brothers and their girls since we took over this town, and I knew he knew his shit.

  For some reason, he never got over shitting his fucking pants whenever he saw any man with a bear patch walk in. Even worse when he needed his old lady inked, too.

  I walked her over to him 'til she gave me a sour look and snatched her hand away.

  “I can do this alone with the artist, Asphalt. I don't need you looking over my shoulder...”

  “Don't bullshit me, babe. I'm coming back there with you,” I growled, ripping open the curtain around the little workstation where he had his bench and his inks. “You're mine now. I protect you day and night, make sure you always get what you deserve. This marriage thing might have gone differently than I wanted, but as long as you're wearing my brand, you'd better believe I'm treating it like a man should. Deadly fucking serious.”

  She didn't say anything, just laid down and worked her small fingers down her zipper, exposing her back. When Ink Man stepped in to take it down, I beat him to the punch, giving him the dirtiest damned look in the world as my big hand peeled her dress open, exposing her tender back.

  Virgin flesh for my mark. My cock jerked, enjoying the fact that I'd get to claim her one way, even if it wasn't the one I wanted most.

  I'd missed my chance to take her cherry before she ran off to college, yeah, but I'd take over every single inch of her. It wasn't close to too late for that.

  Fuck, what the hell's happening to me? I watched my reflection in Ink Man's big mirror, listening to the hum of his tools while he worked.

  My brand slowly came into view. It had the same theme as lots of other brothers' old ladies. A halo of thorns and barbed wire around the letters, my name writ large on her flesh.

  Elle Jo laid completely limp for the next hour, barely murmuring or shrugging her shoulders when the artist asked her for input. I clenched my jaw, trying to keep myself from blowing the fuck up here.

  What's wrong with me? What the fuck's gotten into her?
Doesn't she realize this is the most important day of her goddamned life, sham marriage or not?

  “Easy, girl. Just gonna do the finishing touches.”

  “Not yet.” I stepped up, putting my hand on her free shoulder, giving it a possessive squeeze. “I want something more unique with this one. Put some lightning bolts around it. The same glorious shit I've got stamped here.”

  I tapped one temple with my free hand, making absolutely sure Ink Man understood. I wanted her to match what I had on my skull. He cleared his throat and looked at Elle.

  “That all right with you, ma'am?”

  Finally, she sat up, her face tortured. “No. I think we're done here. I've got his name on my skin, all the club legalese an old lady should wear. That's enough, right?”

  “Fuck no, baby. The brand's all up to your old man, and asking you for input is just a fucking courtesy. I told you exactly what I wanted. You wanna wear my name, be my property for real? You'll sport my symbol too. Nothing says Asphalt like these lightning bolts. I want my girl wearing 'em too.”

  We locked eyes, two wills warring. She pursed her lips before they parted slightly and she answered in a haughty, sharp tone.

  “You know that isn't what I am. Not really. Come on, Austin, can't we just –“

  I snapped. Seized both wrists and flipped her around, pinning her down on the bench, making her feel my weight on top of her. Ink Man jumped back like he'd just come face to face with a mad dog.

  Obviously, he had. And now I was laying down the law, telling her exactly what was happening here, leading the way an old man should.

  “No, goddamn it. We can't.” I shook her arms gently, but firmly, lowering my face 'til my hot breath caressed her throat. “I don't give a shit if your old man and my Prez put us both up to this. Don't give a microscopic fuck if you've got a boyfriend back home, holding his dick and getting the worst fucking case of blue balls in the last ten thousand years. Babe, I don't even care if you hate me now, if that sweet, lost little brat I remember in Tacoma's nothing more than ancient history.”