Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)
By Nicole Snow
Description
I'M FALLING FOR AN OUTLAW I HATE...
MEGAN
I wasn't supposed to end up in an outlaw biker's bed. I wasn't supposed to love it. I definitely wasn't supposed to crave his fiery kisses, beg for his touch, or ache to know the man behind the evil looking ink and scarred smirk.
I was the good girl. He was the monster. Then everything changed.
I became a prisoner. I prayed for Skin to save me. He did – and he kept me for himself.
He's no saint, and I'm no angel. They've already taken so much from me. I'm scared he'll take what's left.
Never love an outlaw, they said. I believed it. So why can't I stop myself from falling for this bad boy so hard I break?
SKIN
I went psycho when I saw her in that dirty whorehouse. She's everything I never wanted, a spitfire with a body meant for claiming.
Then she told me her secret, and I almost needed a straitjacket. I saved her life instead. I gave her a second chance.
I know she's a marked woman, caught between my club and the b*stards I killed. Damn if I won't make her wear my name, even if she's trouble on two long legs I can't stop picturing wrapped around me.
I'll brand her, bed her, own her, no matter how much hell I'll pay. Outlaws love like ticking time bombs, and I'm gonna blow Meg's world apart 'til she's begging for more...
The Outlaw Love books are stand alone romance novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers! This is Skin and Megan's story in the Deadly Pistols MC series.
I: Smothered in Shadows (Megan)
I couldn't remember my own name sometimes.
When you're so shocked, so broken, so completely sick at heart, the ego dies in every breath, and mine died fast.
My pimp kept me chained up like a dog when I wasn't being used. Fresh, he called me, the only name I responded to because Megan was so far away.
Megan was my name in another life. Megan was what they called me when I smiled and laughed, before I spent every waking minute in a nightmare.
“Fresh, baby, wake the f*ck up.” Ricky grabbed me by the hair and pulled me off my cot, breaking a beautiful sleep where I almost believed I wasn't trapped in this hellhole. “You've got business.”
He grinned, showing his dirty teeth. Maybe I couldn't settle on a name or identity anymore, but I knew his.
Ricky the bastard was my judge, jury, and executioner for every day I managed to stay alive in this place.
“Okay, Ricky. Just give me a minute.”
He nodded, satisfied, and then pulled the tarnished key out of his jeans. His coarse hands grazed my throat as he unlocked my collar. It was always too tight. I reached up and rubbed the tender, raw impression left by that damned collar like I always did.
Another day. Another John. Another chapter as Fresh, rather than Megan.
“The crew coming in means business for you and Bell,” he growled, shoving a small plastic bin of soap, shampoo, and a towel in my face. “Get cleaned up. We're a little light today. Cherry Anne says she's sick, and I'm looking for you and Bell to pick up the slack. These guys aren't our regular big rig cocks. They're tough, mean, and they like to f*ck hard. You'd better be ready to work for every red cent.”
“Always, Ricky. Always.”
I flashed him that soft, dead look that always seemed to make him shut up. I learned a long time ago not to negotiate, not to even speak to this man in anything resembling complete sentences. Saying more than I needed to got me into trouble, and sometimes planted nasty ideas in his brain, too.
He'd used me before, and it was always worse than the other Johns. The faceless men who came and went, paying for sex, rarely put any emotion into it. But when Ricky pushed my mouth over his cock, the pimp reminded me who held all the power here, and that I'd be his slave until the day he decided to sell me off to someone else.
Holding my breath, I squeezed the towel, almost ready to turn and head for the small bathroom attached to my room. I winced when I felt his fingers on my skin.
The pimp chuckled, running a fat hand all the way down my back, stopping in my inner thigh. He liked to pinch, and this time, he did it hard. I closed my eyes and let out a whimper.
“Fucking whore. You're the best one here, and you know it, don't you?” His dark eyes beamed down on mine, proud, sick, and demanding. “You're goddamned lucky I only let these boys have one hole. You'd think I was giving them the moon when they throw money at me for your hot little mouth. I can't wait to see what the rest of you earns someday soon. We're close to a buyer, baby. I just know it. I've got a couple bites.”
His hand slid around my legs. Cupping my mound through my panties, he squeezed. My fingers twitched. I hadn't had to fight the urge to slap him, bite him, gouge his f*cking eyes out for a long time.
But I did just then, praying he'd be done soon. I suppressed a shudder, holding in everything until he finally pulled his hand away.
“Go shower now, girl. These guys aren't the real patient type. I'll be watching today, keeping you safe, so no worries. You never know what these biker *s can do.”
Keeping me safe? It was so sick I wanted to laugh.