Read BLAMELESS: MC Biker Romance (Black Thorns, #3) Online
Authors: Franca Storm
BLAMELESS: MC Biker Romance (Black Thorns, #3)
BLAMELESS
a BLACK THORNS novel
FRANCA STORM
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
BLAMELESS. A Black Thorns Novel.
Copyright © Francesca Julia Gale (2015). All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover Design by Francesca Julia Gale
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The sale of this book without its cover is unauthorized. If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that it was reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed”. Neither the author nor the publisher has received payment for the sale of this “stripped book”.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My husband - Thanks for standing by me through the struggle and for putting up with me talking incessantly about Runner and Sarah for the last little while.
Christine and The Hype PR - Thank you so much for everything and all of your hard work, Lady Loves.
Give Me Books - Another amazing release blitz! Love you, Kylie and Caroline!
IndieSage - Thank you for an awesome release blitz!
Bloggers and FB Book Pages/Groups - I appreciate all that you do. Thank you for sharing my books, teasers, posts.
My fans and supporters - Thank you to all of you who’ve stood by me and supported my work. It means everything to me.
Chapter 1
~Runner~
“Runner!” that uptight bitch, Halle, yells at me again.
My hands still, each just an inch from touching the sexy ass grinding on my lap that’s been working my cock over pretty good.
Pretty
good. Takes a hell of a lot more than a bit of rubbing to get me off, though. Getting that job done ain’t becoming no easier neither. Dunno what the hell’s up with that. Is the way it is now. That’s all I know.
The redhead on my lap stops doing her business, cuz of Halle yelling and now glaring our way. Halle’s the owner of
Temptress
and the boss of all the girls, so ain’t much I can do if she’s just given the girl an order.
I eye Smiter who’s sitting to my left in a red leather armchair like mine, sipping a bottle of cheap beer and watching the show up on the stage.
“She serious?” I ask him.
He turns to me and sees the redhead on my lap, my hands held out to the sides now and Halle standing over at the bar in a skin-tight black dress with a hand on her hip, looking pissed at me.
He puts it all together real quick, cuz that’s the way he rolls. “This ain’t like some of those other strip joints you’re used to. Told you that so many times, brother.”
Fuck this shit. I grab the girl’s hips, ready to get this lap action back on.
“That’s it!” Halle cries, storming over now. It’s a goddamn miracle she can walk that fucking fast in those hooker heels of hers. “Celia. Off. He’s done,” she says to the girl.
As the girl climbs off me I snort out a laugh of disbelief. “Seriously?”
Halle steps in front of me, blocking my view of
Celia
who’s walking away and shaking her ass, drawing my gaze right to that hot gold thong peeking out beneath the tiny white mini-skirt she’s rocking.
“Yeah, seriously,” Halle tells me, both her hands on her hips now. “I’ve told you before. How many different ways do you need to hear it?”
“This is bullshit. Some bitch is giving me a lap dance and I can’t even touch her fucking ass, huh? It ain’t like I had my fingers in her pussy.”
“What?” she shrieks at me. “Did those degrading words just come out of your mouth?”
Degrading? What the hell’s she talking ‘bout?
Next thing I know, Smiter’s on his feet and telling Halle, “Chill, sweetheart. I got this.”
“Got this?” I snap. “Got what? It were a lap dance and she’s telling me guys can’t touch? At all?”
“
Guys
can,” she says. “
You
can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because, you horny asshole, you always take it too far. There’s no line for you.”
“Line?” I scoff. “We’re in a strip joint.”
“Right. A strip joint.
Not
a whore house!”
I look to Smiter for some brotherly support. But he must already be whipped by the bitch, even though he’s only fucked her once, cuz he just shakes his damn head at me.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, getting to my feet and making a show of adjusting my dick in my jeans in front of Halle just to make the uptight bitch uncomfortable.
Smiter rolls his eyes and his fuck buddy just glares at me.
I kick back the armchair and storm past the two of ‘em.
“Where you going?” Smiter calls out.
“Some place where I can touch the piece of ass grinding on my fucking dick!”
“Runner! Come on, brother! Let’s just ride back to the clubhouse, yeah? You can take care of it there!”
I grit my teeth. Don’t wanna get into all that shit with nobody. Don’t want none of the brothers knowing the club whores ain’t working for me no more. Can’t get what I need from none of ‘em no more. Dunno why. Just know it’s going down that way. And it’s making me crazy. I ain’t acting like the easygoing fucker everyone’s used to right now. Guess that’s all coming out tonight. At least it’s only Smiter seeing it and not all the boys. I’d never hear the end of it otherwise.
“Gonna stick ‘round Brockford tonight. Ride back without me, unless you’re staying ‘round to fuck that uptight bitch.”
I’m out the door and slamming the damn thing behind me before he can give me shit for talking ‘bout Halle like that.
Like I give a shit. Bitch were all over me tonight with those ridiculous rules of hers—rules just for
me
. She knows my rep from the boys’ big mouths and don’t trust me ‘round her girls. Fuck her. She don’t know me. I do got some decency, even with my bad rep with women. What’d she really think I were gonna do? Stick my dick in one of ‘em strippers right there like that? Hell, no.
I fire up a smoke and take a walk down the street.
Stomach’s growling like crazy. Need something to eat.
Temptress
ain’t got no real food on offer. Just nachos and crap. I need a real meal.
And I know just the place.
It’s just after 11pm, so it’s probably the only place open and still serving food ‘round this part of the city now anyway.
I butt my smoke out as I reach the end of the street. I eye the pink neon sign flashing brightly in the dark, dimly lit street:
Sarah’s Place.
I step inside and the little bell echoes all ‘round the empty space. Real empty. As in nobody. No customers. Good. Looking for quiet right ‘bout now.
I walk over to the booth in the far corner and slide in. I snatch up the menu and start looking it over. Okay. What to eat? What to eat? There’s too many choices.
“Zeb. It’s been a while,” a familiar voice says, cutting into my thoughts suddenly.
Guess I were so busy worrying ‘bout my stomach, I didn’t even hear her coming over. I pull the menu down and see the mousey, shy girl I first met up at Ax and Rox’s wedding, twirling a lock of blonde hair ‘round her finger anxiously and holding a notepad and pen in her free hand.
“Told you, woman. It’s
Runner
.”
She casts her big hazel eyes down and says so quietly, I hardly hear her, “I like
Zeb
better.”
She taps her left foot on the floor the same way I remember her doing up at the wedding a few months back when I made the mistake of hitting on her. Nervous reaction. Girl’s way too shy for me. As soon as I realized that, I backed the hell off. Not my type. I like my girls wild.
Need
my girls wild.
“Yeah, well. Don’t matter what you like better, darlin’. It’s
Runner
,” I snap, not in the mood for no bullshit. Just wanna eat. Didn’t ask for no goddamn conversation.
“I’m…sorry…I…I didn’t mean….”
Shit. I slap the menu down and lean back against the booth, blowing out a breath. “Nah,
I’m
sorry, darlin’. That were rude.” I look her over. She looks damn fine in some pink flowery top that’s doing her big tits a hell of a lot of justice. No cleavage on display, cuz the thing ain’t low-cut, but nice, all the same. She’s wearing a white, frilly apron ‘round her waist that’s covering the top of her gray jeans. She tucks a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear and clears her throat at me.
That’s when I realize I been staring at her way too long.
Creepy
long.
“So…uh…how you been, Sarah?” I ask, wondering why the fuck I sound like
I’m
outta my element here. I ain’t shy ‘round women. Jesus, what the hell?
“Oh…all right. I mean…good. I’ve been good.” She can hardly look at me as she says it.
“Don’t sound too convincing. You sure?”
She shrugs. “Yeah.”
Something ain’t right here.
Before I can ask what’s up, she shifts her weight uncomfortably and gets her pad and pen ready. “So, what do you want?”
Yeah, right. That’s why I’m here. To eat. Whatever that weird shit were from her, it ain’t my business. “Ain’t sure. Something…home cooked.”
Her eyes light up. “I know just the thing.”
“Yeah?”
She smiles. “Yep.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll see,” she says, making a secret note on her notepad and turning to go.
“Wait! Tell me! What if I don’t like it?”
“Oh, you will,” she says over her shoulder, now suddenly less shy. Guess, the whole food thing is her in her element.
“How you know?”
“I’ve seen you eat. I know what you like,” she says, running off behind the counter and into the kitchen at the back.
I know what you like
. Why’s that got my cock waking the fuck up? She were talking ‘bout food. I know that. Just…those words. I’m real hard up if I’m picking up non-existent innuendos here.
Pull it together, dumbass.
***
I’m shoveling down the best home cooked meal I’ve ever tasted in my life when the bell above the door sounds. It’s like a damn foghorn, cutting through the dead silence inside the place.
