Winston: Savage Kings MC - South Carolina Read online

  “What does it matter how little I’m wearing. You’ve had your hands or mouth on every inch before, right?”

  The reminder sends a jolt of desire right down to my cock, causing it to swell.

  “The list of who hasn’t seen me naked is probably shorter than the one of those who have,” she adds.

  As soon as she says it, I can’t stop myself from throwing down my ratchet and marching right up to her. Zoe’s eyes widen at my sudden approach and then she takes a step back toward the closed door, like she’s reconsidering her comment.

  Before I even know what the fuck I’m doing, or why, I reach for her waist and spin her around. One hand grabs the back of her neck while the other reels back and then connects with her ass, making her gasp and shout, “Hey! What the hell!”

  The second and third hit land on her backside, leaving my palm stinging and her ass cheek red with a few dark smears of grease.

  “A-aren’t you…afraid of getting me dirty?” she stammers, trying to look at me over her shoulder. My fingers squeeze her neck to keep her facing the door. Years ago, I hated the sight of dirt on her beautiful, flawless skin, especially when it came from me. Now, not so much.

  “Not anymore. You’re already so fucking filthy, a little grease won’t hurt you,” I lean forward to growl into her ear while keeping my hips back far enough that my erection doesn’t poke her. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” I add, completely aware of the hypocrisy in my words.

  I’m ashamed of my own horny and violent reaction to seeing her again, but I’m completely unable to contain it. Here we are, right back where we left off ten years ago, in a garage with me touching my stepsister in ways I have no right.

  When she doesn’t respond to my harsh insult, more of my word vomit spews all over her.

  “How dare you send me nudes of yourself like I want a subscription to Sluts R Us.” I’m even more of a fucking hypocrite now, because I’m staring at her round, perfect ass in her pink thong while calling her out.

  “So, you’ve never gotten yourself off to any of the photos?” she asks, trying to twist her neck again while I hold her in place tighter. “Right, Winston?”

  Instead of lying or admitting the truth, I spank her even harder three more times, my dick throbbing behind the fly of my zipper with every delicious jiggle of her ass.

  “Jesus! Why do you keep hitting me?” Zoe exclaims when the final echo of flesh meeting flesh quiets down.

  “Because somebody needs to fucking punish you for the shit you’ve been doing, and since your father won’t, I will.”

  “You don’t get to decide what I do with my life, Winston! In fact, I honestly don’t know why you even care what I do with my body.”

  “You were too damn young. Martin shouldn’t have ever let you leave!”

  “What? When?” she asks.

  “You know when,” I grumble.

  “The night you took my virginity and then said you didn’t give a shit about me?”

  My hand drops from the back of her neck like she burned me as the V-word bounces around in my thick skull. “You weren’t… You didn’t…”

  “Yes, I was,” Zoe reiterates when she turns around, hitting me in the gut with the corner of her big purse. Her face is bright red and angry, clearly from me spanking her and calling her a liar. “I may not have bled, but you were the first person I was ever with.”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I yell at her.

  “Because you wouldn’t have done it if I had!”

  That’s fucking true. The only reason I let things go that far that night was because I was certain Zoe had been with other guys at school. The way she flirted with me and other men, I thought for sure she had experience. That night, she said she had done it before.

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t have. Which is why you should’ve told me!”

  “It was a mistake to sleep with you,” she says, making me wince because I never wanted to be a mistake, a regret. Lifting her chin, she adds, “One I won’t ever make again.”

  The confidence in that assertion stings more than my hand after slapping her ass, which is ridiculous because I don’t want to sleep with Zoe again.

  No, that’s not entirely true. I do want her, and hell, I probably always will, but I don’t want to want her. So, it’s the same thing, basically.

  “Did you just want to hit me or was there some other reason you told the surfer guy you wanted to see me?” Zoe asks.

  “How long are you here for?”

  “I don’t know yet,” she replies.

  “Why are you here?”

  “For work, and it coincided with my dad and Deb’s anniversary…”

  “Shit, they left this morning for Cabo,” I mutter.

  “Yes, I know,” she says with a sigh. “I got to see them before they left.”

  “Why didn’t they cancel?” I ask in surprise.

  “Because I told them not to. I should’ve called and given them a heads-up I was coming, but I wanted to surprise them.”

  Of course she told them to go on their trip. She loves them and wants them to be happy. I know the sentiment of sending someone away, even when it sucks for you…

  “So, where are you staying while you’re here?” I ask.

  “At their house. They told me I could stay however long I wanted.”

  “By yourself or, ah, did someone come with you?” I inquire, wanting to know if she’s seeing one of the pretty boys she posts photos with on Instagram.

  “Just me,” she answers, which allows my lungs to finally expand all the way for the first time since I laid eyes on her.

  “No. You’re not staying alone.”

  “Why not? I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself.” Opening the top of her purse for me to peek inside, I see the overhead lights reflect off something metal.

  “What the fuck are you doing with a gun?” I ask as my heart accelerates into high gear.

  “It’s for protection and I have a permit. New York is a dangerous city.”

  “No shit,” I grumble. “But this city hasn’t been safe lately either. There was a string of kidnappings a few months ago. We still haven’t found the fuckers responsible.”

  “Why would you be looking for them? Are you a cop in your free time when you’re not fixing bikes and hanging out with the rest of your thug buddies?”

  “No, I’m not a cop,” I tell her. “And what the hell kind of thug buddies are you talking about?”

  Reaching up, she runs her manicured fingers over the patch on the front of my cut. “The Savage Kings?”

  “We’re not a gang. We’re a motorcycle club.”

  “Same fucking thing,” Zoe mutters with a roll of her stunning emerald eyes.

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Whatever,” she says. “I’m leaving before you start slapping me again.”

  “You better put some fucking clothes on before you walk out that door!” I exclaim.

  While I desperately want to keep her here until she answers all my questions, I let her walk away from me and out of the garage, but this conversation is not even close to being over.

  Chapter Seven

  Zoe

  Seeing Winston again for the first time after all these years didn’t go as I expected.

  I figured things would be back to the good old days where he pretended like he didn’t have time to glance in my direction. Instead, he grabbed me and spanked me.

  And it took a ton of willpower for me to not tell him to fuck me afterwards.

  Nope. Not going to happen, no matter how hot he is with his black beard grown in and swollen muscles he didn’t have at twenty-one. I don’t know the man he’s become, nor do I want to get to know him. Winston was an asshole at twenty-one and now that he’s part of a motorcycle gang, I’m guessing he’s the furthest thing you can get from a nice guy.

  But I have a feeling he’s not going to make it easy to keep distance between us, especially after I hear the rumbling o
f a motorcycle coming down the road when I climb out of my dad’s BMW back at the house.

  I’m halfway up the wooden stairs, ready to get out of my bathing suit and cover-up dress, and into some comfy clothes, when the engine cuts off and I hear his deep, rumbly voice shout, “We weren’t finished talking!”

  “I was!”

  “Well, I wasn’t!” he responds and then his heavy boots are stomping up the steps behind me before I even get the keys into the lock. I could try to slam the door in his face and then lock it again, but it would be pointless since he probably has a set of keys too.

  “What took you so fucking long to come home?” Winston asks me when we both step inside the house.

  “I’ve been busy,” I say. Dropping my purse on the coffee table, I step underneath one of the vents in the living room to try and cool off. The air conditioning is a relief after being outside in the heat, not to mention my body warming up, thanks to a certain hand smacking my ass.

  “Yeah, I’m aware of how ‘busy’ you’ve been,” Winston mutters. “But you still should’ve made time to visit your dad.”

  “He and Deb came to visit me in New York,” I remark, holding my hair up off my neck.

  “Twice in ten years. That’s not enough,” Winston argues before he collapses onto the sofa. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not getting any younger.”

  “Seemed like he was in pretty good health today.”

  “He is, but you never know what can happen in a few months or years.”

  “How about you worry about your mother and I’ll worry about my father?”

  “Whatever,” he huffs. “I’m staying here with you this week.”

  “No, you’re not.” Is he insane? I’m trying to get rid of him, not have him move in!

  “Yes, I am, whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m not going to sleep with you,” I warn him, assuming he thinks I’ll be easy to get under him like before.

  His frown lines deepen. “That’s not why I’m staying.”

  “So then, why are you?” I ask in confusion.

  “Because I worry about you all the goddamn time!” he exclaims. “At least now that you’re here in the same city, I can do something about it.”

  “You didn’t worry about me when I was a teenager, so why now? Back then, I couldn’t get you to spend ten minutes alone with me in the same room!”

  “If I had spent more than ten minutes alone with you back then, we would’ve slept together more than just that one night.”

  That’s…surprising. In fact, I’m so shocked by his admission I finally lower myself into the closest chair to process it. “Seriously? You think we would have…”

  “Yes,” he answers simply, swiping his palm down his face.

  “Most of the time, you wouldn’t even look at me,” I remark. Is he just saying a bunch of crap to change my mind about screwing him this week? If so, it’s completely pointless. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

  “Same reason,” he mutters. “I had to move out of this house as soon as I turned nineteen because of you. I didn’t trust myself to keep my hands off of you after your sixteenth birthday when you were finally legal.”

  Holy shit! He wanted me when I was sixteen? No, he’s lying, telling me what he thinks I want to hear. Besides, I remember exactly why he told our parents he wanted his own place. “I thought you moved out because you wanted your own place to hook up with all the tourists.”

  “That too,” Winston replies with a half-grin that only lasts a few seconds before it disappears and his face returns to resting grump. “Anyway,” he says as he gets to his feet, “I’m going to grab a few things from my place and come back. Want me to bring dinner?”

  Have dinner alone with the stepbrother I’ve screwed before he insists on staying here all night? What could go wrong?

  No, I’m stronger than that. I’m no longer the naïve teenager with hearts in my eyes. I won’t give in to him, no matter how hot he is now or how hard he tries.

  “Sure, if you want to eat.”

  “How about seafood?” Winston asks. “I’m guessing it’s not the same up north as it is on the coast.”

  “Yeah, seafood would be good,” I agree because he’s right. I have missed the fresh shrimp from the local restaurants.

  “I’ll be back in half an hour,” he tells me before he walks out the house. I hear the sound of the lock turning before his boots stomp down the wooden steps.

  And like an idiot girl with a crush, I find myself already missing him. I was just planning on spending the week catching up with my dad and Deb, not sitting alone in their silent house. So, I guess I’ll let Winston stay if he insists, but it doesn’t change anything between the two of us.

  * * *

  Winston

  No matter how many times I tell my goddamn eyes to stop looking at her, they won’t obey me.

  Zoe is just…god, she’s so fucking beautiful it hurts, even with her hair pulled up in a ponytail while wearing cotton shorts and an oversized tee shirt. Hell, especially when she’s in casual clothes, looking like she’s ready to roll around in bed. She’s always been gorgeous but now, there’s something about her that makes her irresistible.

  I can’t exactly put my finger on it. Before, when she was younger, Zoe was classically pretty yet innocent. Now? She looks like a naughty girl who loves rough and dirty sex. And finding out that I had her first? Well, it makes me feel ten feet tall and bulletproof, even though I want to slaughter all the men who came after me. In ten years, I’m guessing there have been a lot.

  Fuck. Spending the week looking at her but not getting to touch her is going to kill me. At least she finally dropped the argument about me staying because I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I come over here and stay with my mom whenever Martin has to travel for work. There are a ton of shady people who come and go in this town so it’s never completely safe, even in the offseason.

  “So how long have you been in the motorcycle club?” Zoe asks from across the dining table before popping a hushpuppy into her mouth. And goddamn, she even makes eating sexy. No wonder she gets paid to model. I may be an expert at repairing vehicles, but I couldn’t tell you any of the types of cars or motorcycles she’s posed naked or topless on because her body is too distracting.

  “Winston?” Zoe says to get my attention when my gaze lowers to her nipples I can see clearly through the thin cotton of her shirt. Of course, around the house, she wouldn’t wear a bra.

  “What?” All the blood has rushed south to fill my dick so even a simple conversation is hard to follow.

  “How long have you been part of the Savage Kings?”

  “About five years,” I answer, noticing she’s eyeing the patch on my chest warily yet again, like she disapproves.

  Her lips wrap around her straw to drink her tea and I come close to making a mess in my jeans. “What do you all do exactly?” she asks.

  “This and that,” I answer vaguely. “We own the Harley dealership, a club on the strip, a bar, and a few rental properties.”

  “Do you charge rent from businesses for protection too?” she asks with another roll of her eyes.

  “No, we’re not the mafia,” I respond.

  “So, no drugs?”

  “No hard drugs. We like weed as much as anyone, and maybe make a little money on it. We might get some ’shrooms on special occasions,” I answer honestly.

  She nods. “I’m guessing you have more than a few biker groupies.”

  “Maybe, yeah,” I answer since there are local girls who hang around the clubhouse and at the dance club, Fluid, eager and willing to go home with any of the guys who want to take them up on their offer. I steer clear of them, preferring the girls who are just passing through on vacation to avoid drama.

  “Do you all…share them?” Zoe asks as she pops a shrimp into her mouth.

  “What do you mean, share them?” I ask in confusion.

  “Like, pass them around, take turns f
ucking them in the same night or whatever.”

  “Nah, we’re not into gang bangs, if that’s what you’re referring to. Some of the guys might spend different nights with a girl but not at the same time, unless she asks for a threesome,” I answer. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just curious, I guess.” She shrugs her shoulders, but I don’t buy it. That was an oddly specific question. Before I can prod further, though, Zoe’s phone rings. “I need to take this,” she tells me when she gets up and steps into the hallway to answer.

  Of course, I eavesdrop, but it’s impossible to figure out who or what she’s talking about since she only occasionally says a word or two. What I do catch is that she’s free after tomorrow before she thanks them and hangs up.

  When she returns to the table, I can’t help but ask, “Who was that?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” is her instant response before she tosses another shrimp into her mouth, “but if you must know, it was about a job up in Bolivia I’m interviewing for this week.”

  “Bolivia, North Carolina?”

  “Yes.”

  “A long-term job or just a one-time shoot?” I ask her.

  Lowering her gaze, she quietly says, “It could maybe be permanent. That’s why I came home…”

  “So, you might move back here?” I say, shocked, not sure if I’m happy about that or not. Trying not to jump her for a few days will be tough. For months, or longer? Impossible. And if I have to see her with another man, I’ll lose my shit.

  “I don’t know yet,” Zoe replies. “First, I need to get hired and make sure it’s a steady income, hence the interview the day after tomorrow.”

  “I’m going with you,” I assert.

  “What? Why? I don’t need a babysitter, Winston,” Zoe huffs, picking up her fork to poke around in her coleslaw.

  “Just let me drive you! It’s an hour away with kidnappers on the loose, remember?”

  “Fine,” she agrees with a sigh. “But you’re waiting in the car.”