Luck of the Devil Page 2

  “Don’t go in there? Don’t let him fuck me? Don’t give him what belongs to you?”

  His eyes squeeze tight, and I miss the piercing blue stare immediately.

  “Don’t what?” I hiss with anger this time.

  “Just don’t.” His voice is low, full of something I can’t decipher, something he’s not willing to vocalize.

  “Briar.” I cup his cheek, not missing the half a second he relents and tilts his head to increase the contact before stiffening again.

  “Don’t do that either,” he snaps, pulling his face from my touch.

  His glacial eyes meet mine in challenge. I told myself when I woke up this morning that I wouldn’t close my eyes tonight without putting all of my cards on the table. We’ve been dancing around each other for years, more so these last couple of months. I’m resolved to find out exactly what’s going on, even if it leaves me devastated.

  “Briar,” I say again.

  His chest is heaving against mine. I can’t ever remember a time when we’ve been so close. My fingers itch to touch him again. My tongue tingles to lick the rough scruff on his strong, stubborn jaw.

  Without thinking of the repercussions, I jump, knowing he’ll catch me. I may not be sure of his feelings, but I know instinctively that he’s aware of my movements, predicting what I’m going to do seconds before they become actual actions on my part.

  Just as I’d hoped, he catches me under my thighs. I don’t give him a second to question it or enough time to set me back down. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, digging my nails into his hair until they scrape his scalp, a little payback for the pain he’s caused me.

  I press my mouth to his, obsessing over the sound of his breath hitching, knowing I’ll masturbate to the very memory of that sharp intake of breath for years and years to come.

  I anticipate being shoved away when I sweep my tongue over the seam of his lips, but I’m ecstatic when his mouth opens. Now, this is what I’ve fantasized about. The brush of my tongue against his for the first time is nothing short of euphoric. I know for a fact that just this kiss, just the taste of beer on his pink tongue, would be better than anything the guy in the room down the hall has to offer.

  We groan in unison, but the bliss only lasts for a flash.

  “We can’t,” he pants against my lips.

  “We are,” I assure him and dive back in.

  Only this time, he’s unresponsive. His lips are no longer moving against mine. His tongue isn’t brushing mine. It’s locked behind the damn stubborn clench of his perfect jaw. Even knowing this, even rationalizing that our moment is over, I keep my mouth on his, praying for another weak second, another slip in his morals because opening my eyes and facing his rejection will be soul-crushing. It’s something I want to postpone for as long as I possibly can.

  My world comes crashing down the second I hear my best friend say, “Oh shit.”

  I don’t know how bad things are going to be until I pull my lips from Briar’s and turn my head. My brother is walking toward us while Zoe is trying to wiggle out of his hands. He releases her immediately, presumably, so his hands are free to pummel his best friend. I should let go of Briar, but I hold him tighter. If I’m not mistaken, his fingers clench the back of my thighs. Only then does it register why he’s clinging to me.

  I was so wrapped up in the brush of his tongue on mine, I didn’t register the rest of our bodies. The ridge of his erection is situated right between my legs, the heat of it pressed against the thin, lacy material of my thong. From the feel of things, he wouldn’t be able to put me down without it being very fucking clear just how he feels about what’s going on.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you,” Lynch threatens as he storms toward us. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Nothing is going on,” Briar assures him.

  “Says the dead guy that just had his lips on my baby sister.” The familiar vein in Lynch’s head is throbbing. It’s a testament to his anger level if I can see it in the dim light of the hallway.

  Briar, as if realizing he’s still holding me, releases his grip on my thighs. I slide down his body, reluctant to step away even though I sway a little on my feet. The alcohol I drank earlier is choosing now to affect my ability to stand up straight and confident. As mad as he is, I don’t think my brother would hurt me. Keeping myself between the two men is my only focus.

  “Taking advantage of a drunk girl really isn’t your style, Brother.” Lynch is pissed. I can tell by the calm in his voice. Yelling to get his point across has never been his style. He’s menacing enough without having to use a raised voice.

  “Exactly,” Briar agrees. “That’s why you know nothing is going on.”

  “Get her out of here,” Lynch spits at Zoe without even taking his eyes off Briar.

  Zoe reaches for me, but before I take her hand, I step closer to my brother.

  “I kissed him,” I vow. “If you hurt him, I’ll never forgive you.”

  Lynch grunts in my direction as Zoe drags me down the hallway and out of the clubhouse, but I realize as the cool night air hits my face that he never actually promised me Briar was safe from his wrath.

  Chapter 2

  Briar

  “You want my sister?” Lynch, the President of the Ravens Ruin MC and my best friend for the last ten years, is livid, understandably so.

  It takes a lot for him to get this upset, but I always knew Molly was going to be a source of contention between the two of us eventually. I’ve pictured how this conversation was going to go more times than I can count. Each and every scenario has ended with me hanging from the end of his rope.

  “Answer me,” he spits.

  “No.” I’m sick to my stomach the second the lie spills from my lips.

  I’ve never been forced to lie to him before. There were a couple of times Molly and I were caught talking, gravitating a little too close for his liking, but never have I opened my mouth and purposely lied to him.

  “You’re hard,” he hisses. “I thought you didn’t get turned on.”

  I almost laugh. Man does he have things completely wrong.

  “I’m celibate,” I remind him. “Not dead.”

  I’m not going to go into detail how a hot chick rubbing on any celibate man’s cock has the potential to make him pop wood.

  “She’s been drinking,” I explain. “I caught her coming down the hallway with some hangaround asshole. I put a stop to that shit real fast. She was mad.”

  I shake my head. I don’t want things worse for her, but at the same time, I’m saving my own ass here.

  “She jumped up and kissed me. You guys turned the corner like a split second after she did it.”

  Another lie.

  Her lips were on mine for eleven seconds the first time she pressed her mouth against me, four with them just pressed to mine as if she was debating taking things further. Four fucking seconds. That’s how long I was able to resist the brush of her tongue until I opened my mouth for her. I spent the remaining seven seconds experiencing the most erotic kiss of my life. The brush of her tongue, that mutual groan.

  Jesus, if I keep thinking about it, my cock will never soften.

  “She probably won’t even remember she did it tomorrow,” I tack on.

  I release a breath I don’t even realize I’m holding when the tension in his arms relaxes marginally.

  “Where is the motherfucker?” he seethes. “I’ll make sure that motherfucker never thinks about touching her again.”

  “I’ll take care of him,” I offer. “You need to get back to your girl. No telling how long this next trip is going to last.”

  His eyes dart from mine and back down the hallway before they settle on mine again.

  “You know she’s going to start dating eventually.” Just saying the words makes stomach acid rise up in my throat.

  “Not anytime soon. She’s too young.”

  “She’s the same age as Zoe,” I remind him. “Keep that in mind whe
n you have your woman spread out for the world to see while you fuck her.”

  Zoe and Lynch were seconds away from fucking in the living room just moments ago. It was the only thing that gave me assurance that I wouldn’t be caught creeping after his little sister. Just last week he had one of the new members and one of the clubwhores with them behind closed doors. I don’t know the exact details, but from the whispers I’ve heard, I don’t think it was a riveting game of fucking Uno.

  “You want to die, motherfucker?”

  “I want to pack my shit for Florida,” I say dryly.

  His eyes narrow. “I think a little distance between you and Massachusetts is a good thing.”

  “I’ve been telling you that for weeks, Brother.”

  I turn and walk away, surprised when he doesn’t follow me or wrap his belt around my neck. When I look back down the hallway before pushing open the door to room three, he’s gone. I don’t know what tomorrow will look like after my friend has had all night to stew on what he witnessed, but right now I have something else to take care of.

  “Hey, baby.” The idiot man doesn’t even wait to see who’s intruding on his private moment before he speaks.

  Rookie fucking mistake, dude.

  “Where’s that chick?” he asks as he scrambles to cover his less than spectacular dick. I close the door. “I’m not into guys.”

  Piper will kill me if I gut this guy in here.

  “Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of this type of carpet? I wish you guys would keep that shit in the rooms with hardwood.”

  I’ve heard it all before.

  But, the more he talks, the more my hands itch to end him here and now. It was bad enough watching him stare at her tits for thirty minutes, but waiting in here with his cock out, like that’s how Molly deserves to be treated, is unbearable.

  “You were told to stay away from her,” I remind him.

  All of the new guys are told at the gate who’s off-limits. Pete remembers every single face that comes past him. I’ve never seen him before, so that means he was warned tonight to stay away from both Molly and Zoe.

  “She put her tits in my face, man.” The guy scrambles off the bed and starts pulling his clothes back on.

  This ignorant bastard was a pawn to her, part of her plan to get me alone, and man did it fucking work. I followed her like the lost fucking puppy that I am. I played right into her hand.

  Jesus, the warmth of her tongue on mine.

  Clearing my throat, I take a step closer. “I don’t care if she walked up to you naked and tried to pull your cock out, you were told not to touch her.”

  His eyes flash from my clenched fists to the Vice President patch on my cut.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I narrow my eyes at him. “My girlfriend is pregnant, man. I’m going to be a dad.”

  People want to turn their noses up at us, but I’d never be caught in a room stroking my cock while my pregnant woman was back home wondering where I was. People think bikers don’t have morals, but it’s the general population of fucking society that has no real code of ethics.

  “We don’t kill people,” I lie easily. “But if I ever see your face again, I can’t promise that we won’t start.”

  “I’ll never come back,” he vows as he tries to slide past me.

  “I said I wasn’t going to kill you,” I hiss as I grab him by the collar of his t-shirt and punch him in the nose. “I didn’t say you were getting out unscathed.”

  He doesn’t fight back, doesn’t raise his arms to retaliate, and I realize the guy is smarter than he acted tonight. The bloody nose works two-fold, a warning for what can happen, and a sign for Pete that the asshole has been eighty-sixed.

  He scampers away the second I release his shirt, throwing the door open so hard the doorknob bangs against the plaster.

  I’m antsy, itching to fight or kill or—

  “Fuck,” I hiss when my own nose explodes in pain.

  My arms reach out, gripping the man by his shoulders, shocked that the piss-ant guy has the balls to sucker punch me, but the familiar texture of a leather cut under my fingers doesn’t belong to that asshole. My hands are gripping my president.

  “Why the hell did you hit me?” I hiss, releasing him immediately after realizing who he is.

  “For reminding me that my little sister is growing up,” he snaps before taking a step back. “Keep your filthy fucking biker hands off of her, or a busted nose will be the least of your worries. The next time she tries to jump into your arms, you better just let her fall to the ground.”

  See the conundrum?

  The club is what we both live for. It’s what I know we will both eventually die for but being the vice president and his best friend still doesn’t make me good enough for his baby sister.

  I could confess my feelings right now. I could tell him even though I’m confused most days, Molly is the only girl I can ever imagine spending the rest of my life with. She’s the only light in my dark world, the only one who pushes the demons back into the shadows. But he doesn’t want to hear all of that. How do you tell someone that their little sister is the only girl you can imagine slipping your cock inside of after being celibate for the last damn decade?

  It’s simple, you can’t. Any of those things alone is enough for him to make sure I never lay a finger on his sister. The combination of all of them? Well, that’s enough for him to curse every member of my family for generations to come.

  “Something you want to say?” he pushes.

  “She’s like a little s—” I snap my jaw shut. There’s no way I can get that lie out. Little sister. There’s not one cell in my body that feels anything close to sisterly where Molly Jenkins is concerned. There hasn’t been since she came home last summer transformed from an awkward girl to the stunning woman that had her claws in my scalp earlier. “I know she’s off-limits, Prez.”

  I can’t read his face entirely, but if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

  He leaves me standing in the hallway without another word.

  Chapter 3

  Molly

  The throbbing headache is anticipated when I open my eyes to the sunlight streaming in. What’s shocking is the sight of Briar standing in my open doorway. Hands tucked in his jeans pockets and shoulder leaning against the jamb, he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  I don’t know whether I should be embarrassed by what I did last night, or excited that he’s here. I cried myself to sleep after I let Zoe drag me from the back hallway, afraid he’d head to Florida without telling me goodbye. Something is off about this trip, but none of the guys are talking. I don’t know everything about the inner workings of the club, but there are whispers of the tension between Ravens Ruin and the cartels in Florida, and knowing that my brothers and Briar are heading down there leaves my skin itchy and hypersensitive.

  “You’re brave being here.” I sit up on the bed.

  His eyes dart to my mouth and down the column of my neck before briefly pausing on my chest. My favorite sleep tank is thin, threadbare from being worn and washed so frequently. I know he can see the outline of my dark nipples. Any other day I’d lift my blanket to my chin. My shyness would be the winning emotion, but today I just can’t seem to be bothered with it. Not after that decadent brush of his tongue against mine. Whether he wants to admit it or not, things changed between us last night.

  “Can you,” he pauses, clearing his throat, “cover yourself?”

  “Why are you here, Briar? Lynch will lose his shit if he finds you hovering in my doorway while I’m so indecent.” I lean back against my headboard, chest jutting out another desperate inch or so. My nipples furl tighter, straining against the thin cotton.

  “If the noises coming from his room are any indication, he’ll be busy for a little while.”

  “Come here,” I plead, patting the bed beside me.

  “Not gonna happen, Mols.” His head is shaking violently, but it
’s his refusal to look at me that cuts like a knife.

  In a bid to get him to look back at me, I grasp the edge of my comforter and tuck it under my chin.

  “I’m sorry I kissed you last night,” I whisper.

  He huffs a humorless laugh. “No, you’re not.”

  “I went looking for someone like you,” I confess, finally drawing his eyes back to me. “That night. My last night at school.”

  His hands clench, turning white at his knuckles from the effort.

  “You thought you’d find someone like me in a shitty, rundown frat-house filled with popped-collar douchebags? We didn’t send you to Andover Academy for you to go slumming with low-life pieces of shit.” There’s bitterness in his voice, and I can’t tell if he’s angry at me, or if he’s pissed at the guys who almost took advantage of me.

  “He rode a bike,” I say with a shrug.

  We haven’t talked about that night, but I know Lynch told him. Briar and TJ took off a while back, and when Briar got home, the look in his eyes had changed. I know what happened. Three guys don’t get chopped up in a frat-house while a party rages downstairs without it making the evening news. The fourth guy claims he was knocked unconscious, and he later confessed to the arson of the first frat-house. That was a way to cover Zoe’s ass. She lit that place up like the 4th of July when she found me on that bed and realized what they were about to do to me.

  “If you want a man on a bike—” His jaw clenches shut.

  “Finish your fucking sentence,” I demand.

  “I can’t.” He looks resigned, his eyes searching mine for understanding, but I won’t let him off the hook so easily.

  “You won’t,” I correct.

  “I fucking can’t!”

  My eyes dart to my open bedroom door, afraid that Lynch will hear him. He paces at the end of my bed, his hands tugging at his gorgeous dark hair.

  “You can stand up to him,” I urge.

  “He’ll kill me.”

  “Am I not worth dying for?” It’s a low fucking blow, but he’s ripping my heart out right now.

  He freezes in the middle of my room and doesn’t pull his eyes from mine. The stare is soul deep.