Loving the Biker Read online

  Loving The Biker

  Glenna Maynard

  Copyright © 2022 by Glenna Maynard

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Contents

  Reading Order

  ROYAL BASTARDS CODE

  Introduction

  Loving The Biker

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About Glenna

  Available Now

  Royal Bastards MC: Charleston, WV

  Series Reading Order

  The Biker’s Kiss

  Lady & The Biker

  Tempting The Biker

  Keeping The Biker

  The Biker’s Lucky Charm

  Taken by The Biker

  Bewitching The Biker

  The Biker’s Cherry

  Claiming the Biker

  The Biker’s Baby

  Loving The Biker

  The Biker’s Bunny

  Taming The Biker

  Trusting The Biker

  ROYAL BASTARDS CODE

  PROTECT: The club and your brothers come before anything else and must be protected at all costs. CLUB is FAMILY.

  RESPECT: Earn it & Give it. Respect club law. Respect the patch. Respect your brothers. Disrespect a member and there will be hell to pay.

  HONOR: Being patched in is an honor, not a right. Your colors are sacred, not to be left alone, and NEVER let them touch the ground.

  OL’ LADIES: Never disrespect a member’s or brother’s Ol’Lady. PERIOD.

  CHURCH is MANDATORY.

  LOYALTY: Takes precedence over all, including well-being.

  HONESTY: Never LIE, CHEAT, or STEAL from another member or the club.

  Dear Reader,

  Please note that this book starts one year after where Bewitching The Biker left off.

  This series should be read in order and if you’ve skipped books, there may be key information you may have missed that will only be glossed over in this story in an effort not to revisit the same scenes and move the series forward for upcoming books.

  Happy reading,

  Glenna

  Loving The Biker

  Save the date.

  Bianca put Sandman under her spell. This December will they say I do?

  Sandman knows she’s the one, so why is making a commitment so hard?

  Given an ultimatum to pop the question or let her go, he has a choice to make.

  This Christmas, will this royal bastard will go the distance to give Bianca the wedding of her dreams or will his efforts prove too little too late?

  Chapter one

  November

  I’ve never dated a biker as in he belongs to a real one percent club who lives and rides by their own code until the past year. A man who is a fully patched member of the Royal Bastards MC. They’re outlaws. Criminals. It’s exciting and scary as hell. I still have no clue what I’m doing. Sandman (legal name Bo) and I are taking things one day at a time, but our days seem to be fifteen packed into one. Not that I’m complaining.

  On our first kind of date, we witnessed a murder. It’s been a year and I’m still struggling with the death of Mariah, knowing that I did nothing to stop her brutal end. I know the RBMC handed out their own form of justice and my man has warned me to stay out of it. What I saw and heard that night at the cemetery was as involved as I wanted to get. He doesn’t need to worry about me. I’ve had my fill of danger to last a lifetime. I’m mostly content, but with the anniversary of her death having just passed, her family is still demanding answers.

  They’ve been doing interviews with the local news stations, begging for anyone with information to come forward. The fact I could give them closure but am unable to eats away at me.

  I know who murdered her and what his fate was. I know he can’t hurt anyone else ever again. I take comfort in that knowledge. Especially after the terrible things the man responsible did to my friend Andi.

  I stare at the ceiling of my bathroom and count to ten while trying to imagine a tranquil waterfall washing all my worries away. Smelly good candles have been lit and the lights are turned on low with the dimmer setting. If only those old commercials held true, and Calgon truly could take me away.

  Sandman moved in with me sooner than he would have under normal circumstances, but when we were in the early stages of dating, Karma and Hound got back together. Hound was his roomie and Karma is his Ol’ Lady. The two of them had some history, and she had some troubles that brought them back together, leaving my man in need of a new place to live.

  Sandman might as well have been living with me, anyway. He said he was over so much to give them privacy, but I like to pretend that his reasoning ran deeper than that. He couldn’t stay away, and I didn’t want him to. Things between us moved fast. Maybe a little too quickly for both of us. He’s never had a serious girlfriend until me and to be fair, I don’t have an impressive track record myself. I mean, I gave him my virginity, so I don’t have a lot of experience for comparison.

  Gram would have jerked a knot in my head if she knew that he technically was living with me within the first few weeks of us dating, but we were sneaky about the whole thing.

  Calling the woman a prude wouldn’t be a far stretch, but she is old-fashioned and doesn’t think a girl should give the milk away for free before a man buys the cow. Sometimes he’d park a block over, but the woman isn’t dumb. She’d drop not-so-subtle hints, saying things like, “You need to try a little Preparation H under your eyes. It’ll do just the trick for them bags. Though if you got a proper night’s sleep…”

  “That boy might as well pay rent. He stays here so much.”

  Which I think part of that came from Gram being stressed because the store hasn’t been doing so hot for a while. Gram and I have a store where we sell a bit of an eclectic mixture of wares. Antique furniture, crystals, spiritual books, and soon my new items.

  Que more stress. Currently, there are totes full of new containers and boxes, plus marketing material for the new skincare and tea line I’m about to launch in hopes of saving the business lining my living room and the spare bedroom. I had planned on making the spare room my personal library. Wall to wall shelves and one of those big comfy chairs that kind of look like an over-sized ottoman, but my plans changed.

  Sandman said he’d get some of the guys to help him create an office for me so that I have my own quiet space to work in and they’d get the other apartment renovated to where Gram can rent it. The only problem is Gram is proud and doesn’t like handouts or asking for help.

  “You still in the tub?” My man yells from somewhere in the apartment.

  My bathwater has grown too cold for me to sit here any longer. I drain the water from the claw-foot tub (my favorite thing about this apartment) and slip on my fluffy black robe with silver crescent moons patterned on the back.

  Barefoot, I trudge to the living room to find my slippers. I sniff the air. Why does it smell like there’s been a skunk in here? Glancing across the sea of boxes and plastic totes, I spy the culprit. My sexy biker. Sandman is kicked back on my couch, petting Boo, my Persian cat, smoking a fat joint. His dark, unruly hair is sticking up in a million different directions.

  “Don’t be getting Boo high,” I grumble, not paying attention to where I’m walking. “Ahhh,” I cry out as I stub my pinky toe on the corner of one of my stupid boxes. “Fuck a duck.” I bite my knuckle as my tears make an appearance.

  “Kitten, consent is important. Did you ask the duck if it wants to be fucked?” I roll my eyes at his stupid and lame attempt to be funny. “C’mere.” He stops petting the cat and motions me over, waving his joint around. “Few hits and you’ll forget about your toe.”

  I stomp toward him. Boo looks up at me with her flat face like a traitor, giving me this look that says she’s not moving. “Move, Boo.” She curls deeper into my boyfriend’s side and proceeds to lick her ass in a fuck you act of defiance. “Jerk.” Putting a knee to the cushion, I pick her up and place her on the ledge of the window where she loves to catch sun and people watch.

  Sandman slides a palm up my thigh. “You naked under here?”

  I slap his hand away.

  “You mad at me?” he takes another toke off his joint, stinking up my apartment.

  I wave my hand around at the smoke and the massive amount of crap that’s piled up that he swore would be moved today. His lips stretch wide, though his mouth is still closed, holding in the smoke. Leaning forward, his lips meet mine and he shotguns the smoke into my mouth. I inhale and manage not to bust a lung before he kisses me. I sink down onto the couch with him and indulge in his Maryjane. It’s not long before I relax and forget all about my toe.

  I lay with my ass curved into his crotch as we make out, getting stoned in the process. His smoke tainted breath mingles with mine and I no longer care that he’s stinking up my apartment with his pot or that he didn’t make good on his word. He puts the joint out and moves in, opening my robe,
exposing my breasts and the rest of me.

  He gazes at me, hypnotizing me with his glossy, green orbs.

  “Your eyes are so green. Like the needles of a Christmas tree.”

  “How high are you?” He laughs and I pout.

  “Don’t make fun of me.” I try to twist out of his hold, but he drags his lips down the column of my throat in a savory trail that has my nether regions warming. A wicked pulsing sensation throbs at my clit as I squeeze my thighs together, not wanting him to know the effect his touch has on me in this moment.

  “I’m laughing with you, not at you,” he murmurs, pressing his palm between my legs.

  I shake my head, but my thighs fall open on their own.

  Sandman slides his finger through my slick heat. “Fuck, you feel so good. All wet and ready for my touch.”

  I lean back on the couch as he shifts to loom over me. All rugged and sexy, with his dark facial stubble and menacing tattoos. A cemetery on his left bicep. I have the haunting image memorized.

  “Tell me what you want?” his tongue swirls over my nipple and a delicious ache pulses between my legs.

  My belly growls, embarrassingly loud. I throw an arm over my face.

  His body shakes with silent laughter and I push him away. I snatch my robe shut and shove up to get off the couch. You’d think after a year of living together I’d be over all the awkward things you don’t want your boyfriend to know about you.

  The first time I farted in his presence, I nearly died.

  “Stop.” He laughs again, grabbing my arm. “You hungry?”

  “I’m not talking to you.” I go to get up and he snakes an arm around my waist.

  Chin pressed to my shoulder, he drops his voice to a hoarse whisper, “Then don’t talk, but I’m still gonna make you come on my cock.” Rough fingers trail down my belly and lower to my happy place. Then he curls two fingers inside me. “Let’s try this again. See if I can make my baby’s pretty little kitty purr.”

  My body betrays me. My nails scratch over the tops of my thighs and I flex back against him. Whimpering, I teeter on the edge with my teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I come undone. I can’t resist him and deep down, I know I don’t want to. Ever since I became involved with him, he’s turned me into a total sex fiend. I never knew what I was missing and now I can’t go without him. I’m addicted and frightened of how attached I’ve grown in such a brief span of time.

  I’m torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. Loving this biker terrifies and thrills me. No one gets me better. His lips meet my neck, teeth skimming, nipping and sucking. He drives me crazy. Sandman continues to tease and please in the way only he can. Doing what he does best. Making me dizzy with the promise of what’s coming.

  I lose the robe. Naked. Exposed. Laid bare to him. There’s something huge happening between us. A shift in both our actions. The way he touches me not only with passion but tenderness. Sandman loves me. He may not say the words, but his actions show me.

  We come from different worlds, yet we work. We make absolutely no sense on paper. That doesn’t matter, though. What counts is the way we fit together like two pieces of one whole. He sets my soul on fire. All I know is I want more of this. More of him. I can’t get enough. He claims I put a curse on him, but I’m the one under his spell. Intoxicated by his every touch.

  “Fuck, kitten. So warm and wet for your man.” He pumps his fingers in and out of me like a piston as he continues to kiss down my neck and tweak one of my nipples. I ride his hand as the pressure created by the delicious friction of all the things he’s doing to me continues to build. I’m so close.

  I jerk him out of his sweatpants and start stroking him from base to tip.

  “Ah, I’m gonna…” I don’t get to finish my sentence.

  Sandman has me flipped around in a flash so that I’m straddling his lap and impaled on his glorious dick. “Told you I’d have you coming on my cock.” He grips my hips, then thrusts up. My eyes roll to the ceiling as I grip his shoulders, holding on for dear life while we fuck like animals, rutting and groaning as our bodies collide.

  My biker is a giver.

  I take back every bad thought I had about him.

  He makes me come again and again.

  “Love the way your pussy squeezes me.” His mouth claims mine, teeth clashing, tongues warring. Grabbing a handful of my ass, he shifts us. My back to the cushions, him pressing his weight down on me. Skin to skin, nothing separating us but our heartbeats.

  He continues to drive me insane.

  “Now it’s my turn.” His lips press to my neck and then he’s moving fast, going hard and deep, his cock reaching places I didn’t know existed.

  I watch him, fascinated by the low growls coming from the back of his throat and the way his veins pop out in his neck and arms the closer he comes to getting off. The legs of my couch scoot on the hardwood floor as Sandman continues to pump his hips. I don’t care if he’s making scratch marks. He can do anything he wants.

  Chapter two

  “Do I look okay?”

  I stare at my witchy woman as she does a little twirl in her brown sweater dress thing that hits mid-thigh in the front and teases at her sweet ass in the back. I roll my bottom lip inward. “Good enough to eat.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?” I grin and repeat the lip roll, knowing what the action implies. She’s addicted to the things I do to her. Can’t go a day without it. I’m a lucky bastard. Except today. I’m not looking forward to this dinner at her Gram’s house. The woman keeps dropping hints about marriage and making an honest woman of her granddaughter before she dies. I want that with Bianca, one day. Babies. Growing old with her. We’re still young and have time.

  “You know what.” She does a little shimmy and shake.

  Yeah, I know what. I grin and step closer, placing a hand on her ass and sliding the other up her thigh, close to her sweet pussy. “We could stay here. Put your legs over my shoulders while I devour that tasty cunt that’s dripping for me.” I lean in for a kiss and she moans into my mouth. I’m winning this battle. If I can get Bianca naked, we’ll miss this family get together.

  I don’t do serious relationship shit. Never have. I’m making an effort for my girl, but it’s hard. I weaseled out of it last year. This year, I don’t have much of a choice, unless I want to piss her off.

  Growing up for me, family holidays and all that didn’t produce wonderful memories. My folk’s idea of a home cooked meal was one of those low budget frozen turkey and gravy Tv dinners. If I was lucky, my Ma would throw it in the microwave before she got drunk, and the old man got too high to remember that I existed, and he hated the sight of me.

  If I wanted to eat, I had to work for it. I'd take out the neighbor’s trash. Mow their lawns. Whatever bullshit hustle I could find, I did it. That led me to the club. The only family I’ve ever had.

  “Fuck, kitten. I can’t get enough.” I nip her neck and tug on her panties, trying to forget about the past and focus on the now. A knock at the door stops me dead in my tracks. A muscle in my jaw ticks.

  “That must be Mr. Fred.” She pats me on the chest, adjusts her undies and moves toward the door.

  “Who the fuck is Mr. Fred?” I mutter.

  “Gram’s special friend. You met him once, I think. I told her we’d give him a ride.”

  “I was trying to give you one.” I scowl.

  “Be nice,” she mouths at me and opens the door. “Right on time. Do you want a drink or something?”

  “Need to use the gentleman’s room, if that’s okay.” The old dude pats her on the shoulder. He shuffles in at a snail’s pace, using a cane, dressed in a full three-piece tan suit complete with a turkey pinned to his lapel.

  Jesus.

  “You must be Bianca’s Lil’ Feller.” He winks at her, and I snort.

  There’s nothing little about me. My cock twitches in agreement. I bite my tongue and nod. Bad behavior won’t win me any points with Bianca. Won’t get my dick in her mouth at the end of the night if I piss her off.