The One I Need (Snakes Henchmen MC Book 1) Read online

  Copyright © 2018 ALIVIA GRAYSON

  Published in the United Kingdom.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For my Family—My beautiful boys, and the

  man who never gave up on me.

  I love you all.

  There aren’t many ways to describe a man like me. Not many that actually ring true, at least. If you ask the people of this town to describe me, they'd tell you I was a monster, a criminal, a murderer, an outlaw. And they'd be right, I am all of those things. But what they don't see is the good man inside of me.

  You can laugh, it's all right.

  Men like me aren't all good men. Bikers, I mean. Some of us are awful. We have to be, weakness gets you killed. There's good inside me, even if I do hide it.

  I'm a biker born and raised. My old man was a biker, my mother a biker’s old lady. My older brother is a biker, my father’s best friend's, their kids. All bikers. The MC life is all I've ever known. I eat, breathe, sleep, shit, fuck, and bleed my MC.

  I've bled, killed, and almost died for the men of my club. Ain't no adrenaline rush in the world could compare to fighting for these motherfuckers. We're brothers through and through.

  We run this town, hell, we run Tennessee. Well, as long as we keep out of the local Mafia's way, they stay out of ours. Ain't no need to cause trouble when trouble ain't caused for you. Says our Prez, anyway.

  Pussy is what I live for. Ain't it what all badass men live for? Hell, every straight man on earth. Take the pussy I've got two thick fingers inside of right now. Nice and tight, soaking wet. Don't think it's been touched all that much in her short life. Ain't got a fuckin' clue how old she actually is, just know she's over twenty-one. Wouldn't be in this clubhouse if she wasn't. Shepard is adamant that no girl under that age gets to work the bar or the brothers if she ain't.

  Slut riding my hand, blonde, slim, small tits, is practically screaming as I finger fuck her. Damn has this girl ever been with a real man?

  I might be wrong, which I never am, but when a woman gushes as she comes all over the damn place, there ain't no better sense of pride. Yeah, any woman can squirt, but you gotta know exactly how to touch 'em to make it count. This bitch is squirting like she's pissing!

  “On your knees.” I push her down onto her knees, her little hands are already tearing at my belt, ripping at my zipper. My cock is rock hard, thick and throbbing for her. “Taste it, suck it hard, little girl.”

  Alright, this chick is hot and then some, but I seriously can't fuckin' stand it when bitches act all shy and giggly like they ain't never sucked a dick before. It's damn obvious from the way she's attacking my cock that she's sucked plenty in her time.

  Can't deny that it feels good, though. She's got a gift.

  I grab her head and push her down further, bitch don't even gag. Proves my point much? Most women her size and age would gag on a dick as long and thick as mine. I love making 'em gag. Trust me to pick one who ain't got a damn gag reflex.

  Fuck this shit.

  I pull her up on her feet by her hair, spin her around, and bend her the fuck over my bed. I slap her ass hard. She screams and winds her hips. Yeah, this bitch has been begging for this since the second she saw me.

  I wrap my dick in latex... Never fuck a slut without wrapping it up. My daddy taught me that early on in life. Might be a biker but I ain't stupid.

  I slam into her. She's even tighter than I first thought. Might be a slut but definitely ain't taken many dicks. Or they've been damn small. Most are compared to me.

  “Oh, god...!”

  That's right, slut, call for the almighty. Ain't gonna help ya here, though.

  I don't know what it is about me, but I never seem to have a connection to any of the women I fuck. That's why I fuck 'em from behind. I make them cum, I shoot my load. I'm a man it's what we do. But just for once in my life, I'd like to find a woman that gets me. A woman that turns me inside fuckin' out with her body, her mouth, her mind. Her everything.

  Does any such woman exist?

  I want to be able to make love to a woman. I want to look into her eyes when I thrust my hungry cock deep inside of her. I want her to call my name as she cums. Call it because it's the only thing she can think as her body shatters in ecstasy.

  I want to feel her nails piercing my skin, her legs tight around my waist to the point my kidney's ache with the effort. I want my mouth all over her. I want to make her squirt to the point her whole body is locked and shaking.

  I want so much more than I'll ever have.

  Right now is all I'm good for.

  My balls draw up, I'm about ready to get this over with, I'm already bored. Another problem for me. Takes at least three at one time to keep me interested these days. I slap blonde slut’s ass again. I can't even remember her name. “Fuckin' ride me, bitch. I wanna feel you cummin' on my cock.”

  “God, yes!” Her ass slams against me as she fucks me for all she's worth. She's a trier, there's no doubt about that. “Fuck, Tank, I'm cumming!”

  Fuck yeah, she is!

  “Come on, slut,” Her hair in my hand, I ride her to fuckin' ecstasy. “Let me feel that fuckin' pussy squeeze my dick dry!”

  Most women will scream through their orgasm if you fuck them just right. Ain't never met a woman who didn't scream for me yet. Always my name on their lips when they do. Makes a man feel good. Helps him cum.

  I fuck her through both our orgasms. Soon as mine’s over, I pull out and drop her to the bed. Once I cum, I'm gone.

  “That was...”

  “Yeah,” I zip myself back up. I never get naked unless I know it's gonna be an all-nighter. This was just half an hour where I needed to blow off steam before meeting Jett at the bar. “Get dressed and get out.”

  She looks at me with confused, angry tears in her eyes as she lies there on my bed naked as the day she was born. “Ah, don't look at me like that.” I grab her clothes from the floor and throw them at her. “I'm a fuck 'em and leave 'em type of guy. Most of us are. Somebody ought to've told you that before you came into my clubhouse looking for trouble.”

  “You're a jerk.”

  I laugh loudly and nod in agreement. But that ain't me, I'm not this bastard. Not deep down. But I have to be just to get these women off of me. Believe me, you fuck some and they think you wanna marry 'em. I've been in this life the whole of mine. I know how the women who hang around the club work. They get you into bed and think they're made in the club. No one wants to claim a whore. Not when every one of your brothers has stuck his dick in it.

  If I ever find a woman I want to claim, trust me, she won't have been with every man this side of the U.S. If she's mine, she's mine alone.

  I need a fuckin' drink!

  “Have fun?” I flip Ghost the bird. Motherfucker gets on my damned nerves.

  I slip onto the barstool next to Jett. My brother in every sense other than actual blood. We've been friends our whole lives. Our parents were best friends right up until mine were killed when I was sixteen. Jett's parents helped my brother raise me after the fact. If it wasn't for them only god knows who I'd be now.

  Jett's VP here, She
pard, his father, President. I'm sometimes Enforcer. Enforcer ain't my title but I do it anyway. Cueball's getting old. Think he's starting to forget shit. But he's been with this club longer than most of us have been alive, ain't nobody gonna force him into retirement.

  “What's up, brother?” I shrug at Jett while nodding to Tammy to hand me a cold beer, which she does with a smile. Tammy's one of us, Red's old lady, a good girl who we all love. “You look like you lost a million dollars, not just fucked the hottest piece of ass in the place.”

  “She was all right.”

  “Just all right?” He laughs. Jett's a big guy, fucks more women than I do, but he's a fuckin' good guy. All the damn women want him. He's a good-looking guy, why wouldn't they? He ain't the restless kind. Loves his bike, loves this club, his family, fighting, killing, and fuckin'. Not necessarily in that order.

  But I gotta believe there's more to life than just fuckin' whichever slut is on hand at the time. There's gotta be a woman out there just for me. One I can feel something for when I'm with her.

  I probably sound pathetic. An outlaw biker who wants to find the woman for him, the one he can claim, the one to bear his children. But I ain't getting no younger. I'm pushing thirty and I have fuck all to show for my life. I'm proud of my club, we're the damn mother charter. I ain't never gonna be no one without them. But I'm ready, you know? I'm ready to find that girl and settle down... sort of.

  “You've got that look in your eyes again, Tank. The one that screams this ain't enough for you.”

  “This club’s always been enough for me, brother. Just think it's time I found the right girl, you know?”

  “Only you,” He laughs while shaking his head. Running joke between us. He thinks it's fuckin' suicide to wanna give up all those women before you're forty. He doesn't want to settle down, says there's too many beautiful women out there to please him. Whatever floats his boat.

  I guess since my mother passed away I've always wanted to find the girl of my dreams and make her mine. There has to be more to life than fuckin', fighting, making money. I know, laughable, right? Call me whatever you want, but it's true.

  Who knows, maybe she'll walk through that door one day and I'll just know.

  And pigs might actually fly!

  Hands hold me down, lips touch my naked skin, it should feel good, right? But it doesn't. The more they touch me, the more I die inside. So many mouths, so many hands, so many cocks. Literally. Everywhere. Inside me, all around me.

  “You love this, don't ya, bitch?” Of all the men to have touched me, to have said vile things to me, he's the one who makes me shiver. His words turn my stomach.

  All my life I have been strong. I have fought for what's right. How did I let myself get in this situation? How did I fall into this trap? A trap where all of these men could do this to me?

  I'm strong, I can fight with the best of them. But even the strongest person will fail when surrounded by fifteen men.

  How the hell was I supposed to fight off that many men, I'm just one woman?

  The vile motherfucker grabs my face. I cringe. “Look at me, whore. Look at my face when I fuck you!” I don't want to look at him, I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the life die in my eyes, but I have no choice but to look at him.

  I hold his gaze, unable to look away. I am strong. Stronger than he thinks I am, I will not let this beat me. I will not scream. I won't give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream. But all I can think is, why did you leave me all alone, Mom?

  “Mom...!” Fucking shit! I spring upright in bed, sweat pouring from me, heart pounding, head throbbing.

  It takes me a moment to come out of my nightmarish, sleepy state. I groan while scrubbing my hands over my face in frustration. I shouldn't be having this damn dream again! I've pushed it out of my head as much as I can, but it has a way of sneaking up on me when I least expect it.

  I growl at myself.

  God, I'm a stupid bitch sometimes. I'm fucking stronger than this shit!

  Throwing back the covers, I climb out of bed and make my way to my closet. Pulling on my running gear, I watch myself in the mirror. I need to clear my head. It's just after 6 AM and I have so much on my mind. I have a big decision to make and I can't put it off any longer. I'm not this woman, I don't let anything get to me like this. I lost her somewhere along the way, but I won't give up on her, she's still inside me. It's high time I pulled myself together.

  iPod clipped to my running pants, rock music blasting in my ears, I make my way out for a run. Three hours later and I'm cooling down. Leaning my foot against the post at the bottom of my garden, my hands on my toes, my back bent as I stretch it out.

  My fucking head is spinning with everything I have to deal with right now. It's taken me years, but I've finally found my father... Where he is, at least, where he's been all this damn time. So close to me yet so far away. I want nothing more than to drive the four hours it will take me to get to him. I want to walk into his silly little clubhouse and shout, “I found you, Daddy!”

  It's taken me years to find out the truth, to get my so-called mother to talk, to tell me that my father isn't dead like she told me he was when I was a little girl. After she ripped me away from him, away from my big brother, the boy I idolized. She destroyed my world when I was just seven years old. Dead. She told me. They're dead, she said. Never coming back. Get over it.

  She's not the woman she once was, just a shell living in a nursing home where she'll stay until the end of her days, but she finally gave up my father’s name, his age, the town he lives in, his silly biker club name. I had a guy I know find out if what Celia, my mother, had told me was true. I can find out anything if I put my mind to it. Three days ago, he called me up to tell me just that, that it was true. I had finally located my father.

  But can I really just jump on my motorcycle – yeah, I'm a woman who rides like a male biker, even though I hate those pricks with a vengeance. Guess it's in my blood – and just go find him? I hate bikers yet the man I have been longing for since I was a child is the president of his own club?

  I have to. I have to confront him. I need to know if what I remember about him is true. And I remember a lot. He loved me. That much I will never doubt. I remember how he would sit me on his lap each morning and tell me how he wouldn't be home late. I always thought he'd never come back. I was just a little girl who loved her daddy and never wanted him to leave her.

  I remember how he'd play with my brother and me, any game we wanted to play. He'd read to me, sing to me, sit me on his motorcycle and let me pretend to ride. I remember how he'd tuck me into bed at night and tell me a thousand times that he loved me.

  The day I was ripped from him was the worst day of my life. I lost the father I loved, the brother I idolized, and I have never been the same.

  Will my father know who I am the moment his eyes meet mine?

  Did he believe I was dead the way I did him?

  Will he hold me close to him and tell me how much he loves me? Or is that a silly dream I should've let go of years ago?

  For all I know, he's a crazy son-of-a-bitch, a cold-blooded killer just like the last cunt my mother married. But that's another story.

  My eyes catch the woman who lives across from me. She's collecting her child from the car, the child with my eyes, the little girl I try so hard not to love. I turn away from the scene. I can't bear it. Why the hell do I torture myself like this?

  “Mamma!” My head shoots around. She's looking at me, clapping her little hands in excitement. She's calling me, her little hands out for me to take her from the woman who is now her mother.

  Mandy, the woman I gave my child to, looks at me with angry eyes. She had no idea that the arrangement we came to meant I would whisper in that little girl's ear every time I saw her that Mommy loves her. It was wrong and cruel of me, but that little girl will forget in time, I will not. So who have I hurt in the end?

  I can't do this anymore. I have to get out of here
for a while. Mandy will understand that I'll be back, our arrangement will still stand. If she wants it. But right now, I need to find my father.

  * * *

  There's a reason I like to ride. It's not just because it's in my blood, but because I lose myself to everything but the wind on my face and the open road. So much road to explore.

  My stepfather used to say that if I was a guy, I'd be a biker. Fucking idiot knew nothing. I might love riding but there is no way in this world if I was a guy would I stoop to that level. Bikers are dumb, evil bastards, who think they own the world.

  They do not own my world.

  God, what the hell am I doing? I swore I would never go near another biker in my life. I fought to fucking get the hell away from them, and now I'm about to walk right back into the middle of them?

  I have to tell myself this is different. I'm about to meet my father for the first time in fifteen years. I don't know if he's going to be the same man I remember, and I remember a lot about him from when I was a little girl. I dreamed about him every night for years, the big, strong, muscly, beyond handsome man, who read me stories before bed, taught me to ride a bicycle, to fight like a boy, to hold my head high when someone made me sad.

  I let the silly tear fall from my eye, but I won't cry. I breathe deep and turn my sadness into anger and gun my fucking bike. I've been riding for hours and I'm almost where I'm supposed to be. But I won't go straight to his clubhouse, I need to check in to a motel for the night. Tomorrow everything will look better... I hope.

  * * *

  So this is the place. Looks more like a large house where rich people live. I say rich but it's not a mansion or anything, it's a damn clubhouse. But it's not one I've seen before. Two stories high, a mix of stained wood and red brick. The building is wide and there are many windows throughout said building.

  There's still the huge US flag flying against the side of the building. There's still the massive sign plastered on the front of the building. Their patch. Two huge snakes entwined around two crossed pistols, smoke coming out of the snake's mouths as if they were the pistols themselves. Diamond eyes in the snake's heads. Pretty. In a weird way. The top of the patch in an arch reads Snakes Henchmen MC. In an arch around the bottom, it reads Tennessee Mother Charter.