Dirty Aces MC: Box Set #1 Read online

  “I’m sorry,” he says, looking pretty pitiful and sincere thanks to the darkening bruise around his eye. “From your point of view, I guess what I did looks bad, but there was never a chance I wouldn’t win. I knew that, or I wouldn’t have challenged him in the first fucking place. And just so you know, the alternative to fighting him was to have him bring a vote to the table that they should all get to have a turn with you since you stole from the entire club. That wasn’t going to fucking happen, so I had to give him something to shut him up.”

  “You could’ve at least talked to me about it first!” Since there’s enough room between us for me to roll over again, I do it so that I don’t have to look at the swelling in his face or his piercing green eyes that always seem to make my heart race and my body melt, even when I’m pissed at him.

  “So that’s how it’s going to be? You’re not going to talk to me or let me fuck you?” he asks. I don’t respond since the answer should be pretty damn clear. “That’s too bad. I bought you a little something before my fight. Don’t you want to see it?”

  “No.”

  The mattress shifts, and then I hear Malcolm rustling around me, the jingling sound making me think he’s digging through his jeans. A moment later, the mattress dips again from his added weight and he dangles something in front of my face – a silver necklace that he then fastens at the back.

  Curious to see what small token he thinks is actually going to soothe my anger, I reach down to pick up whatever is weighing the chain down in the front. It’s a clear floating locket full of charms surrounded by black and yellow gemstones, the same colors as his bike. Well, I assume they’re fake gemstones and not actually diamonds because that would be ridiculous. There’s also a tiny boat charm, an ace of spades playing card, and a skull head like the one on Malcolm’s jacket.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say aloud because I love it, not for whatever its monetary value may be, but because of the thought he put into it – giving me little pieces of himself.

  While I’m still admiring his peace offering, Malcolm starts placing open-mouthed kisses on my hip bone, his facial hair coarse as it brushes against my skin, contrasting with his smooth, damp lips and tongue.

  When he finally presses on my hips to flatten them on the bed, I don’t resist. Crawling over between my thighs, he spreads them wide enough for his broad shoulders to wedge underneath. With a single finger, he tugs the crotch of my panties to the side, and then his mouth…god, his filthy, filthy mouth, gently kisses and licks along the seam of my pussy lips.

  Teasing me, that’s what he’s doing.

  His fingertip slides through my slit before the tip of his tongue follows the same path. His long hair is still damp from his recent shower that he must have taken at the clubhouse. The strands graze lightly over my skin with every little move he makes.

  “Malcolm,” I moan as he keeps up the tickling sensation, up and down, up and down until I’m panting and grabbing two handfuls of his wet hair to pull his mouth closer to where I need it. Eventually, on his own schedule, his tongue moves up and licks rapid little circles right over my swollen bundle of nerves.

  “Uh! Uh! Uh god!” I cry out. My hips rock forward and back toward his mouth. The pleasurable warmth builds in my lower belly until I feel like I’m going to burst wide open. “Malcolm!” I scream as the dam inside of me splinters apart into a million pieces, unable to hold back the waves of ecstasy. I ride each and every one of them with my hips bucking and my back arching up off the mattress. At one point, Malcolm even has to slap his arm over my lower belly to hold me down so he can keep tormenting me in the best way possible with his tongue. The sight of the dark tattoos along his forearm and his muscular bicep that’s flexing while his bearded face is pressed between my legs is so damn hot. A girl could get used to this sort of treatment, even if he sometimes acts like a dick.

  Only after the waves of pleasure crest and crash a second time does Malcolm’s mouth finally relent.

  His long, hard shaft slams inside of me before I know he’s even moved up the bed. Then, his mouth is crashing down on my panting one, shoving his tongue inside, making me taste myself.

  “Oh fuck, Naomi,” Malcolm pulls back suddenly to groan against my lips. Grabbing my thighs, he says, “Knees up to your chest, honey. I need to be deeper.”

  I do as he asks, my hands gripping my knees that are near my shoulders. When he rams into me hard and fast on the next thrust, I scream in part pleasure and part pain, worried he might tear me in half.

  Somehow, despite the position of my raised knees, our mouths meet again, frantic for each other as he fervently moves in and out of me. Malcolm is eventually the first one who pulls away again, both of us panting.

  “I wish I could stay buried…right fucking here…forever,” he grunts as he stares down into my eyes, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering. “But fuck, if I’m not already close after needing you all day long.”

  “Stay,” I tell him, meaning he doesn’t have to pull out. Letting go of my knees, I reach around to dig my fingers into his tight, flexing ass cheeks, keeping him deep.

  He closes his eyes and groans before looking back down at my face. “You on the pill?”

  “Uh-huh,” I tell him with a nod and bite down on my bottom lip to try and hold off on coming until he’s ready.

  “You sure?” he asks again, jaw clenched tight.

  “Yes.”

  I see the second his control snaps. Malcolm’s face goes slack as his entire body sags above me, like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. His hips slam inside me one last time, and then his hot release coats my walls, filling me up with rapid bursts that send me crashing over the edge again.

  Malcolm

  * * *

  I honestly don’t know what the fuck just happened, why I decided to trust Naomi, a woman who I know for a fact is a thief and a liar.

  It sounds stupid even in my head, but there was just this moment when we were looking into each other’s eyes and I saw her, really saw her, Naomi. All the little things that make her who she is on the inside was in them. It felt like I knew her, and she knew me like no one else before.

  Tomorrow, I’ll blame it on the endorphins and testosterone all mixing together from the fight, and then the fucking after Naomi finally forgave me for being a dick.

  I shouldn’t give a shit that she was pissed off, but I did; I have all fucking day. That’s why I went and picked out the necklace for her, spending even more money than I should since I’m already down twenty thousand because of her.

  As soon as I roll off of Naomi and flop onto the bed, she turns her face to look at me. Her fingertips brush lightly over the swelling and bruises that are probably more visible now than an hour ago. “Serves you right,” she tells me.

  “I haven’t handled all this as well as I could have,” I agree. “I told my boys tonight I made some mistakes, but I’m going to get it all straightened out. They’re just going to have to understand that you and I are…well, we’re something. I guess we don’t have to figure out everything tonight. The important thing is that business with Fiasco is settled.

  “Fiasco was never an important thing,” Naomi mumbles as she snuggles down onto me. “Good night, Malcolm. Stop overthinking everything and just relax.”

  I lie there, stroking her hair, trying to do just that; and at some point, sleep sneaks up on me and puts me under the same way I did Fiasco a few hours ago.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Naomi

  * * *

  “Time to get up and get ready to leave,” Malcolm tells me with a slap to my bare bottom that’s hanging out of the covers before my eyes are even fully opened. Last night I slept like a dead woman in the deepest, best sleep of my life. What woman wouldn’t have been comatose after so many amazing orgasms? Not to mention the relief that Malcolm won the fight. If he had lost, I wouldn’t have gone along and been with Fiasco just because the two men agreed to the arrangement for me.

&n
bsp; “Where are we going?” I ask, sitting up to stretch my arms over my head and work the kinks out of my neck.

  “To settle up with Harry,” Malcolm answers as he walks over to a dresser wearing nothing but a blue towel around his hips. Thanks to his dripping wet hair, his back is covered in water droplets from his shower. Guess he’s been up for a while, but I can’t believe I didn’t notice him rattling around the small house. I’m still half-asleep and so distracted by the sight of him mostly naked that it takes a few seconds for his words to sink in.

  “Harry? We’re going to see him right now?”

  “Yeah. You owe him money, right? It’s time to pay up.”

  “And you’re just going to walk up to him and hand him a stack of cash?” I ask.

  “I said I would take care of him, and I will,” he mutters. Dropping the towel, he steps into a pair of jeans and pulls them up sans underwear.

  “Okay. Thanks,” I tell him.

  Flashing me a crooked grin, he says, “I know a better way for your mouth to thank me.”

  “Oh, so you’re finally going to let me blow you?” I ask while my fingers play with the floating charm on my necklace, moving it back and forth on the chain.

  “I have a mind to make you get on your knees and suck me off right the fuck in front of Harry,” Malcolm tells me. “But we should probably wait until we get home before you pull my dick out, so he doesn’t feel the need to put a bullet in me. At least no more so than usual.”

  “You scared of him?” I ask curiously.

  “Fuck no,” he mutters. “But I’m not stupid. My whole crew is going with us, and I won’t turn my back on that snake for a second.”

  “Good,” I reply. “He’s an asshole who can’t be trusted.”

  “Like father, like daughter?” he remarks.

  “He’s the one who put me up to stealing from you!” I remind him.

  “After you stole from him. What did you use the money for?” he asks.

  “What does it matter?” I ask.

  “Just curious to know what you would risk your life for. If you weren’t his kid, I have no doubt your body would be bloated and floating in the middle of the ocean somewhere.”

  “Thank you for that lovely image,” I scoff.

  “The truth is usually ugly, honey. You’re old enough to have figured that out by now.”

  “Oh, I have,” I assure him.

  “Right, well get your ass up and get dressed. We’re meeting the guys in half an hour.”

  “Okay. Good thing I grabbed a change of clothes from my place before work yesterday.” I sigh heavily as I force myself out of the warm, comfy bed and make my way to the bathroom. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that Malcolm’s eyes are on my naked ass, watching it like it’s a big ole jar of honey and he’s a ravenous bear.

  “Like what you see?” I tease him.

  “I’d like it even better if it was doing what I fucking said,” Malcolm remarks. “Get some clothes on before I have to fuck you over the sink, and you make us late.”

  “You’re the president, remember?” I remind him while turning my back to the doorframe and cupping my breasts to fondle them suggestively. “You can be late if you want, and nobody could do a damn thing about it.”

  “I hate being late,” he growls. “But I fucking hate walking around with a hard dick even more.” Stomping over to me while jerking the zipper of his jeans down, he says, “Bend over the counter and spread your legs. I’ll rub my cock on your clit until you get wet enough to take it.”

  “Yes, sir,” I easily agree when he grabs me by the elbow and ushers me into the bathroom.

  Malcolm

  * * *

  I woke up this morning with my face and my dick throbbing so hard I gave up on sleep and took a hot shower to try and relieve both aches. Turns out that getting off inside Naomi is one helluva pain reliever, making me so relaxed that I don’t think anything can get to me today, not even Harry fucking Cox. Silas was right — I did need a little stress relief in my life.

  My new state of pussy-induced zen is the reason I decide to squash shit with Fiasco as soon as Naomi and I get to the clubhouse. The rest of the guys are standing around with their bikes in the parking lot, waiting for us.

  “About fucking time,” Fiasco mutters when my bike cuts off. He’s standing the furthest away, his thick arms crossed over his chest, a pouty scowl on his face that’s more notable thanks to his busted lip. He’d gotten hold of a tongue depressor and some duct tape to hold his busted finger in position. I rethink my decision to make amends with him when his eyes eat up Naomi in her tight, yellow cotton halter top and frayed denim shorts, which are so tiny that I’ve seen panties with more fabric. She’s hot as hell, I know, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy having a man she’s been with before eye-fucking her like he’s remembering every second of what she did with him.

  But for now, she’s mine, not Fiasco’s or anyone else’s. I made sure that argument, at least, is settled.

  “Stay here,” I tell Naomi, reaching back to give her a very intentional stroke of my palm up her bare, tan thigh before I climb off my bike and march up to him, my helmet still on in case he decides he didn’t get to throw enough punches last night. I need to keep some of my brains unscrambled if I plan to stay in charge of the MC.

  “We cool?” I ask Fiasco, holding out my palm to him. He stares down at it for several silent seconds, refusing to uncross his arms.

  “You shouldn’t have beat me. I had the upper hand the entire time,” he grumbles.

  “I know. I got lucky in the end,” I say to try and smooth things over with my brother rather than rub the truth in his face – I’m a smarter, faster fighter than he is which is how I was able to force him to tap out. If anything, that’s probably what pisses him off the most. He had no choice but to give up unless he wanted to be choked out. Men like us don’t enjoy quitting. We prefer to fight to the bitter end, no matter the cost. I embarrassed him by forcing the surrender, more so than if I had knocked his lights out with a hit.

  “Whatever,” Fiasco huffs. A moment later, he rolls his eyes, lowers his arms and shakes my hand.

  I squeeze the bones in his hand harder than necessary before I lower my voice to warn him, “Do yourself a favor and don’t forget our deal or try some bullshit with Naomi because your feelings got hurt. You don’t talk to her or touch her; and if you want to keep your eyeballs in your head, you’ll stop staring at her. Understand me?”

  “Yeah, prez,” he replies, sneaking only a brief glance over at Naomi, who has her head turned, looking over her shoulder at us. “I gotcha.”

  “Good,” I tell him as I let his hand go. Speaking up so the rest of the guys can hear me, I say, “Let me do the talking today with this prick. Your job is to keep your eyes open and be ready to fuck things up if shit goes sideways.”

  “You sure about this, prez, walking into this asshole’s palace?” Dev asks.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan, one that hopefully won’t lead to a single drop of blood,” I assure the guys. “Now let’s go and get this over with.”

  When I stroll over and prepare to throw my leg over my bike, Naomi says, “Fiasco barely has a scratch on him.”

  Grinning, I tell her, “Yeah, well, the worst of his scars are on the inside – I broke his pride, but it’ll heal eventually.” Once I’m in position, I warn Naomi over my shoulder, “Better hold on tight, honey. After all the fucking trouble you’ve caused me, it wouldn’t do to lose you on the side of the road somewhere.”

  Her arms wind around my waist and double up so that they’re locked so tightly I can barely breathe when she rests the chin of her helmet on my back. “Something tells me that you enjoy a little bit of trouble, Malcolm.”

  “Amen to that,” I chuckle before I crank the engine and take off.

  “Remember, let me do all the talking,” I whisper to Naomi as two of her dad’s goons lead us inside the front of his three-story mansion after we park our bikes and
remove our helmets. “You hear me, honey? This is a tricky situation, so I don’t need you going and making it any worse.”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” she sniffs indignantly, not liking the order, but hopefully knowing it’s best to let me handle her old man.

  “Who the…what the fuck is he doing here?” Harry demands from his throne, his round face turning blood red when my crew and I walk into his house like we own it with Naomi by my side. “What are you doing here, Malcolm?” he grits out, sitting up a little straighter. “And who kicked your ass? I’d like to send them a thank you card.”

  “Is that how you’re really going to play this?” I scoff, ignoring his attempt at a joke. “You know why I’m here. Did you think I wouldn’t figure out that you sent your goddamn daughter to fucking rob us?”

  Harry’s throat works as he swallows hard around that piece of information as his eyes narrow at Naomi, already thinking of ways to make her pay for screwing him over and putting him in this position. Fuck if I’ll let that happen.

  “Naomi’s a grown woman,” he says. “She goes and does whatever the hell she wants. I can’t and won’t take responsibility for her. Hell, did she tell you she stole from me too?”

  “Liar,” I retort. Normally I would’ve yelled and called him every name in the book by now, but again, I’m chill as fuck thanks to emptying my balls in his daughter.

  Still, despite my calm, my fists clench in anger by my sides when he says, “That’s a rich accusation coming from the son of a bitch who fucked my woman behind my back.”

  “Actually, I never touched Delilah. I just made her end things with you to prove a point – that she was a traitorous gold-digging bitch who would get on her knees for whoever she thought was her next big pay day.”

  “You should’ve minded your own goddamn business and stayed out of mine,” he grits out.