Hawk's Property: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 1) Page 2

  “Not tonight, thanks,” she said.

  “Why the fuck not? I bet you have some real good pussy.” He leaned in again. Cara tried pushing away, but his damn arm was like a rope around her. He leaned in closer as his hand moved down.

  “I can fuck you good.” Rot nibbled her ear.

  “Back off. Now!” Cara yelled.

  Taken aback for a moment, Rot stared at her. Leaning close to her face, he snarled, “Listen, bitch. You don’t tell me shit. You’re not being too nice, considering I bought you a drink.”

  “I didn’t tell you to buy me anything. I told you to back off, and I meant it.” She tried pushing him away.

  “You heard the lady. Back the fuck off,” Hawk growled.

  Rot turned around. “Butt out. You may be VP of the Insurgents, but to me, you’re nothing.”

  The tension in the bar was suffocating. Several people moved to the back of the room as the anger between Rot and Hawk escalated.

  “I’m not asking you again. Leave the lady alone and get the fuck outta here.” Hawk’s eyes darkened dangerously.

  Rot, sizing up Hawk’s six-foot-three stature, sneered, “This bitch ain’t worth shit. Fuck you, Hawk.” Rot placed his hand on Cara’s thigh and squeezed it. Outraged, Cara shoved it away.

  “You fuckin’ slut!” he yelled as he grabbed her arm.

  The moment his hand reached her, Hawk jerked Rot away from Cara in a single movement.

  “I said to fuckin’ leave her alone.”

  “You sonofabitch!” Rot threw a punch. With an ease which caught Cara’s breath, Hawk grabbed the biker’s fist and bent Rot’s wrist back until he yelled out in pain.

  “Back off, asshole, or I’ll break it.”

  Rot threw a vicious look at Hawk, but retreated. “You better watch your motherfuckin’ ass, ’cause I’m not forgetting this shit.”

  Hawk sneered. “That better be a promise. Now, get the fuck outta here if you wanna keep breathing.”

  Rot yanked a befuddled Beaver off his bar stool and stormed out. Cara noticed the back of their leather jackets read Deadly Demons on the top and Nomads on the bottom. She shuddered. I never want to bump into them again.

  “You okay?” a low, smooth voice asked.

  She turned and looked into the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen. It took her breath away for a moment. “Yeah, thanks. Those guys were creeps.”

  He smiled and took a deep drink from his beer bottle. “Most of the guys in here are creeps.”

  “Are you?” The words tumbled out before she could stop them. Known to speak her mind, she chided herself for her lack of sense. Even though this biker was damn handsome, he dripped badass, and Cara didn’t know him, or how he would react to her sharp tongue. She held her breath, her muscles tightening, but her facial expression remained defiant.

  Hawk’s eyes caught and held hers. “That’s something you’re gonna have to find out, babe.”

  His voice was like dark, melted chocolate, and the scent of beer, leather, and cloves emanated from him. The buttery softness of his black leather jacket rubbed against Cara’s arms, and an uneasy desire to snuggle against it coursed through her, making her stomach somersault. Grabbing a cocktail napkin on the bar, she tore at it, willing herself to stop acting as if she were in junior high and meeting a boy for the first time. What the hell is the matter with me?

  “What’s your name?”

  “Cara.”

  “I’m Hawk.”

  “That’s unusual.”

  “So I’ve been told. Damn, woman, you’re so outta place here. Did you stumble into this bar thinking it was a neighborhood pub?” He was talking in her ear, his warm breath tickling with each word. She almost felt his tongue on her earlobe.

  “My friend likes the bartender. She talked me into coming with her.”

  “Remind me to buy your friend a drink to thank her.” As he leaned into her, Hawk’s hard dick pressed against her thigh, causing her heart to beat erratically. He was so close to her ear that his skin grazed against her jaw.

  “Is this a biker bar?” I can’t believe I just asked that stupid question. I mean, duh, that’s what it is. And I’m talking to a sexy biker. Cara shifted in her seat, realizing how turned on she was, but also how angry she was at her body for acting out.

  “What gave it away—the leather, or the motorcycles parked out front?”

  “I know that sounded stupid, but I meant do only bikers hang here?”

  “You a biker?” He traced her jaw with his finger—so gently, so seductively.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “For the most part. The guys are bikers, and a lot of the women are here looking for guys to have a good time with. We’re known to be good at partying… and other things.”

  Swallowing hard, Cara diverted her attention to her drink, moving the ice cubes around with her straw. Shivers pricked her skin as the softness of Hawk’s t-shirt rubbed against her bare arms. She tried to avoid Hawk’s closeness to her, his intense stare. This good-looking biker, who exuded danger and sex, unnerved her.

  Someone had selected AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” on the jukebox. The hard rock beats filled the bar, and patrons began swaying and singing along to the song.

  Hawk pulled Cara off the bar stool. “Let’s dance.”

  He twirled her around and she broke free, a smile lighting up her face. Cara loved to dance. AC/DC was one of her favorite bands, and their hard-hitting rhythms made her sway and shake her hips and shoulders. Dancing released all the tension she had been feeling since she’d first entered the bar. Glancing at Hawk, his burning gaze made her move faster to the music; she wanted to avoid it and the pull he had on her. As she banged her head to each beat, her long hair flew around her.

  At the end of the song, sweat glistened upon Cara’s body and her black knit top clung to her large breasts. Gathering her hair on top of her head, she let the air cool her damp neck. After that dance, her body tingled with energy. It was what she needed to get rid of some of her pent-up tension. She was back in control. She liked being in control. She started to go back to her seat when Hawk grabbed her hand and pressed her into him. “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” was playing.

  At the contact, Cara tensed all over again. Her mouth turned dry and a subtle shakiness invaded her limbs.

  “I don’t bite. Well, I do, but I promise I won’t this time.” Hawk dropped her hand, put both of his arms around her waist, and pulled her tightly into him. She tentatively circled her arms around his neck. Hawk cupped the back of her head and laid her cheek against him. She wasn’t sure if she liked dancing so close to him, considering what she’d overheard him say to the bartender earlier. Deciding he was just engaging in “man talk,” she thought she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, he did come to her rescue, and so far, he had been behaving himself. Maybe she’d misjudged him, and maybe he wasn’t such a jerk. Tentatively, she let herself breathe in his maleness.

  Cara’s head rose and fell with Hawk’s breathing as he held her. Quivers ran up her spine as his hands moved up and down her back. It had been a long time since her body had reacted to a man’s touch. Since her ex-fiancé had betrayed her a few weeks before their wedding, Cara had built a stone wall around her emotions where men were concerned. It had been four years since she had felt anything toward a man. But in this biker’s arms, with her head against his beating heart, her body let her down. Her stomach was queasy, her nerves on edge, and a sweet sensation was forming between her legs. After all this time, why did her body choose this man and this place to try to break through the wall she’d erected?

  Hawk was not the type of guy Cara was normally attracted to. She liked the preppy, debonair type, not tattooed, pierced men in leather. However, she was drawn to this biker. His incredible blue eyes and his rough edges pulled her in like a moth to a flame. His scent, cloves laced with motor oil, caressed her; warmness spread from her legs to her head. The earlier tension dissipated, and she found herself relaxin
g and losing herself in the music, in the moment. She looped her arms around his neck as she brought herself closer to his body.

  Hawk held her, swaying from side to side. Bending down, he peppered kisses along her neck, taking her earlobe into his mouth and licking it while moving his teeth against its softness. She tried stifling her gasp; the last thing she wanted was for this stranger to know the effect he was having on her. She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. A sheen of lust met her startled gaze. Once more, Hawk lowered his head and brought his mouth toward hers. Turning her head, Cara stiffened in his arms. He tried to kiss her again, but she resisted, murmuring her protests into his chest.

  “What’s wrong, baby? A mouth as luscious as yours needs to be kissed,” he whispered in her ear.

  His words shimmied down her neck and landed right in the pit of her fluttering stomach. Looking at him, she answered honestly, “I don’t know you.”

  “Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? To get to know each other better? You’re one hot babe, and you have the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen.” He brushed his lips against her cheek. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” His mouth was dangerously close.

  Before Cara could respond, Hawk’s mouth was on hers, gently sucking her lips. His tongue pushed against the seam, demanding it to open. She froze, her leg muscles tightened, and an overpowering urge to flee consumed her. Her clammy hands pushed against Hawk’s chest in a desperate attempt to put some distance between them. Things were moving too fast. Dancing and holding each other was okay—safe—but kissing? No, that was dangerous.

  Certain she would be nothing but a one-night stand, she couldn’t risk being hurt. Even though her body was betraying her, her mind was acutely aware of the danger the sexy biker posed for her. Hawk was bad news, and she couldn’t let herself falter. The earlier fluttering in her stomach turned to heaviness.

  “What’s going on, baby?” Hawk brought his lips to hers again.

  “I don’t want to. Please, I really don’t.” As Cara struggled, Hawk held her tighter.

  “Come on, baby, I know you want this. I sure do.” Running his nose against her jaw, his stubble scratched her face.

  “I don’t.” Panic seized her and her heart raced, nearly exploding. Twisting away, she gasped, “Please, stop. I don’t appreciate being mauled by you.”

  Anger shone in his eyes and he stiffened like a wooden board. It was as if she had thrown a bucket of ice water on him. “Baby, I don’t maul women. It’s usually the other way around.”

  “I only meant I don’t like pushy guys. We’re having a nice dance. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

  “Whatever….” He put his arms around her waist again, but rigidity replaced the ease with which he’d held her before. This time, Hawk didn’t place her head against his heart. She couldn’t wait until the song was over so she could get away from this brooding man who made her body respond to his touch.

  At last, the song ended and Cara quickly disengaged from Hawk. “Thanks, it was nice,” she mumbled as she made her way toward her seat. Hawk gripped her arm and swung her into his hard chest. His mouth crushed hers. As she opened her mouth to object, his tongue slipped in, getting lost in her heat. Her body naturally leaned into his. Crap! Why doesn’t my body stop acting like this? Willing herself to push him away, she broke free of him.

  “You taste good, baby.” Smiling, he licked his lips.

  Before she could answer, Sherrie slammed into Cara. “Sorry, Car. I don’t feel so good. I just puked. We gotta go.”

  Grateful for an excuse to get away from this mesmerizing man, Cara took Sherrie by the hand. “Sure, let’s go.” She glanced at Hawk.

  “Do you need any help? How are you girls gonna get home?”

  “I drove. We’re good, thanks.” Cara put her arm around her friend and walked toward the door. Sherrie leaned against her. Realizing it was impossible to help Sherrie and walk in four-inch heels, Cara glanced back at Hawk. Looking amused, a half-smile dancing on his lips, he came over and put his arm around Sherrie. Cara’s jaw stiffened; she hated having to rely on him for help.

  “Let me get your friend in your car.”

  With a pinched expression, she sighed. “Thanks.”

  Hawk, holding a not-so-steady Sherrie in his arms, followed Cara to her black Mercedes-Benz. He whistled. “Nice set of wheels. You got a sugar daddy?”

  Ignoring his remarks, Cara said, “You can put Sherrie over here.” She opened the passenger door.

  When Sherrie was safely in the car, Cara started to open the driver’s door, but Hawk tugged her around. She was shocked once again when Hawk took her mouth and kissed her deeply. Tremors shook her body when the kiss ended, and he brought a handful of her hair to his lips, kissed it, then rubbed its silkiness against his cheek. He leaned into her, his hardness pressing against her stomach.

  “I have to go. I don’t want Sherrie to puke all over my car,” Cara said with a laugh. She had to get away from him before she did something she’d regret.

  “Can you come back? I can follow you and help you with your friend, and then we can get to know each other even better.” He nuzzled into her hair.

  “No, no, that won’t work. I have to go.”

  “Fuck, baby, don’t leave me wanting you. Let’s have a little fun before you take off.”

  “I have to go. Thanks for helping me with Sherrie.”

  “If you have to go, then go.” Hawk’s jaw clenched.

  “I do have to go.”

  Silence followed. Cara opened her car door, but she paused when Hawk gripped her arm, saying, “What’s your number? Maybe we could hook up sometime.”

  Cara wanted to get far away from Hawk. Being with him was like riding on a runaway train. Not in the mood to argue, and certain that Hawk would not walk away empty-handed, she took out a tissue from her purse, scribbled a phone number, and put it in his hands. Closing her car door, Cara waved to him as she drove away.

  * * *

  The red tail lights disappeared into the night. Back in the bar once more, Hawk ordered another beer. A blonde with a tight t-shirt and denim Daisy Dukes came up to him. He recognized her as a hoodrat—the girls who came to the clubhouse to party with the brothers. He couldn’t remember her name, but he remembered she liked it rough.

  The bimbo placed her elbow on the bar. “Did you lose your girlfriend?”

  “What the fuck?”

  “I saw you and that stuck-up bitch. You were really into her. Where’d she go?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Hawk yanked her toward him. Cara had given him a major hard-on, and he had to fuck some pussy real bad. “What’s your name again?”

  “Hawk, I can’t believe you don’t remember my name. It’s Crystal.” She pushed out her lower lip.

  “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go to the back room.”

  Crystal put her arms around him and tugged his face toward hers. She tried to kiss him, but he pushed back. “No kissing, just fucking.”

  “What the fuck? You sure were kissing Miss Bitch.”

  Hawk glared at her. “Listen, slut. If you wanna fuck, let’s do it. If you don’t, then fuckin’ get away from me. I don’t give a shit.”

  Hawk started to leave when Crystal grabbed his arm. “Let’s go, handsome.”

  He walked with Crystal toward the back room, wishing she had long, chestnut hair, green eyes, and big, soft tits.

  Chapter Two

  Walking into the Insurgents’ clubhouse, it took Hawk a minute to adjust his eyes to the low light. The smell of whiskey, tobacco, pot, and pussy washed over him. He loved the feeling of belonging, which hit him every time he came back after being gone for a few days. He loved all his brothers—well, almost all of them. A few he could do without, but they were still family.

  “Hey, Hawk, where you been?” Jax patted him on the back.

  Jax was one of the younger members. He grew up with the club, since his dad was a die-hard brother. Hawk remembered when
Jax was a gangly teen who hung out at the club, asking him a ton of questions about Afghanistan, women, and guns. He smiled to himself. Jax had come a long way since then. Being a patched member and the Sergeant-At-Arms, he didn’t put up with bullshit. He was tough and never faltered, even when his dad was gunned down a few years before by a lone biker at Sturgis. Shit, Hawk couldn’t even imagine how hard that must’ve been for Jax. The guy had been attached at the hip to his dad, especially after Jax’s mother left him and his dad for another biker. Why are women such bitches? The title of Queen Bitch belonged to Hawk’s mother.

  “So, what have you been up to?” Jax invaded Hawk’s thoughts.

  “Not much, just working and customizing some bikes. How have things been around here?”

  “The same.”

  Hawk looked around and saw several of the members in various stages of fucking. A few mamas and club whores were sucking some members’ cocks, while a couple others were sucking dick while getting fucked at the same time. Yeah, everything was pretty much the same.

  The Insurgents MC had different types of women: the old ladies, the mamas, the club whores, and the hoodrats. The old ladies were the women who held the club’s respect; they belonged to the members who claimed them, and they proudly wore their man’s property patch. The old ladies were envied by the mamas and the club whores.

  The Insurgents had four old ladies. Banger’s old lady, Grace, had been the matriarch before she died. Now Doris, Ruben’s old lady, held the spot. Bernie was PJ’s old lady and Marlena was Billy’s, but she was usually pissed at him because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants around the club whores and mamas; and the newest was Sofia. She was twenty-three years old, quiet, and madly in love with Tigger. Tigger was doing a stint in state prison in Canyon City for beating a man nearly to death in a barroom fight. When the guy disrespected Sofia, Tigger charged into him like a bull and received a five-year sentence in the state pen. In eighteen months, he’d be up for parole and Sofia marked each day off on her calendar, holding her breath that Tigger’s temper wouldn’t screw things up.