Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance Carter Steele (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

any of these people again. That’s how it worked in a nomad club.

For once I was going to shut the fuck up and keep my head down.

Sarah walked over wearing jeans, a blouse and a thick jacket to ward off the chill in the air. I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that she was gorgeous. She wore a different scarf this time but it was the same shade of purple.

What was the deal with that scarf?

With a slight smile that crept only one side of her face and a mousy demeanor she waved at me.

“Hi,” I replied, then cocked my head toward my motel room.

Placing an arm around her shoulders I led her away from the van, and away from Patrick. I glanced back at him as we walked. He’d watched us go, but immediately broke off his gaze when he saw me looking back at him.

Creepy fuck.

“My room’s right over here,” I told Sarah, pulling out the silly oversized room key they gave us. “It’s a little bigger than yours, but I share it with our VP…”

When I opened the door we saw Dreamer with his pants already mostly off sitting on the edge of his bead. One of the blond girls that came over was on her knees in front of him, her head bobbing up and down over his cock.

“Damn, man. You don’t waste any fucking time,” I said with a half chuckle.

“Get busy livin’, bro. Or get busy dyin’” Dreamer laughed and tossed me a beer.

I only laughed, popping open the can and draining half of it.

We all lived on the road and in tight quarters most of the time. Seeing one of our brothers get down with some whore wasn’t uncommon. You couldn’t be embarrassed or squeamish living this lifestyle. Guys gotta fuck.

I offered some beer to Sarah, but she just shook her head.

“Don’t worry about Jezzy,” the blond said after smacking her lips off Dreamers cock, and sucking in a deep breath. “She hasn’t done any gangbangs or orgies but she’ll get used to it.”

I looked down at Sarah who looked down at the floor, obviously uncomfortable with this but resigned to accept whatever happened to her. She had this way about her of looking smaller than she actually was. Must be some kind of defense mechanism. So our girl doesn’t drink or do group jobs, huh?

Whoever named her Jezebel either didn’t know her at all or…knew her perfectly well and was just a cruel bastard.

“We’re going to grab another room.” I announced, grabbing another beer and heading back for the door. “Dreamer makes the stupidest fucking faces when he’s about to come.”

“You’re just jealous because my cock’s bigger than yours!” he yelled at me on our way out. By the time the door closed behind us Dreamer’s attention was fully back to his whore.

“I got you for at least a few hours right?” I asked when we had a little privacy outside the room. I’d made sure to check for Patrick, but he and his van had already left.

Sarah nodded, but gave me a skeptical curious look.

She had no idea what I had in store for her.

4

Jezebel

When he asked how long he had me I had a good idea what that meant.

I followed Wreck down the outside corridor of the motel in our search for a private room to fuck in, and with each step I took an all-too-familiar numbness seeped into my gait and I became more and more disappointed.

One way or another this was always how it went.

As far as clients went Wreck was hot as hell and the more time I spent thinking about him these last few days the more my skin itself seemed to warm up to him. When I got really horny or embarrassed the skin on my chest and cheeks got redder than a sunburn. That was because of my pasty Irish heritage betraying me. It was only when touching myself last night while thinking of Wreck that I remembered my skin even did that.

It’d been years since I got excited like that. Since before I started working for Patrick.

Since before I became a whore.

That’s why I was disappointed. I had been with countless men who never saw me at all and here was a man who’d admired my art and by extension the soul and passion in me that drew it, not to mention discovering my real name. That all ended when we had sex now. Regardless of how handsome and sexy he was I was still his whore, bought and paid for. Nothing more.

Fucking me now would make him just another client and when the sex was through and he was satisfied he’d forget about me like everyone else had.

“We’re here,” Wreck said, stopping abruptly beside a row of motorcycles.

When I saw that he’d led me not to another room but into the parking lot, the haze around my mind and heart lifted and was quickly replaced by curiosity and a little concern.

“What is this?” I wrote in my pad and showed it to him, then abruptly pulled it back when I realized the question was too vague. “I can't go anywhere. Patrick doesn't let me travel.”

“He traveled you here didn't he?” Wreck replied. “Besides I'm not taking you to Europe.”

“I really can't,” I wrote and underlined it. He didn't know what a control freak Patrick was.

“Don’t worry I’ll have you back before Patrick gets here,” Wreck replied reading my facial expression. He pulled a helmet off the back of his bike and handed it to me. “I'm the client aren't I? The client always gets what he wants.”

I thought about it for a moment, biting my lip. Patrick wouldn't be happy if he found out, but something in Wreck's smile made me want to trust him.

“I promise you you’re going to want this.” His mahogany eyes seemed to steal the sunlight in the air and draw it into him.

The thrill of potentially riding on the back of a