HARD: MC Romance (FF MC Romance Book 1) Read Free

my inner thigh for what seemed like a lifetime. He must have perceived the lack of objection on my part as an invitation to continue.
    Still focused on his hypnotic eyes, I tried to refrain from showing any emotion. With him teasing me while a dozen of his brethren watched, it didn’t come easily. His hand came to rest at the frayed opening of my shorts.
    His mouth twisted into a smirk.
    I tried to swallow, but didn’t quite succeed.
    I felt his finger slide beneath the leg of my shorts.
    You’re not going to…
    As he circled my clit with his tattooed digit, I considered objecting to his little game, but the words never came. Had I protested, it would have been a lie. My boss was right, I was a thrill-seeking weirdo, and having an outlaw biker come close to fingering me at noon in a remote bar in Escondido, California stood as all the proof that was needed.
    Without warning, he pushed his finger inside of me.
    Completely.
    I gulped a breath.
    So much for remaining professional.
    He stared into my eyes and grinned. “You like that, do you?”
    I wasn’t a whore. Hell, I wasn’t even what a person that anyone in their right mind could describe as promiscuous. But, for whatever reason, I was allowing Nick Navarro to finger fuck me while the beer guzzling members of his club eagerly watched. Be it because I desperately wanted to write the piece, or because I found tattooed bikers insanely attractive was irrelevant.
    The fact remained that the president of the Filthy Fuckers MC had his middle finger shoved so deep inside of me that I could feel the palm of his hand against my clit.
    And, I liked it.
    A lot.
    He curled the tip of his finger against my g-spot a few more times, bringing me to a shallow climax. Guilt washed over me. I made a feeble effort to writhe away from him, but failed miserably.
    He gripped my neck with his free hand. “Going somewhere?”
    An inaudible no puffed from my lips.
    He pushed his finger deep and held his hand still.
    I exhaled against his tattooed neck.
    “Be at our clubhouse tomorrow at six o’clock,” he growled. “If you’re worth a fuck as a reporter, you’ll find it. Between now and then, I’ll decide if I’ll talk to you.”
    As he pulled his finger from inside of me, I considered the possibility of him not wanting to talk to me after I showed up at his clubhouse.
    I tugged against the legs of my shorts in an effort to situate myself. It provided no comfort whatsoever. I was way past horny and my pussy was a sopping wet mess.
    I had no intention of sticking around while the other members of the club ogled me or expressed how they thought less of me for allowing their president to finger me senseless in their presence. I decided to wear the finger-fucking experience as a badge of honor. “Thanks for the talent-fingers,” I chimed. “I’ll see you at the clubhouse tomorrow at six.”
    He grinned.
    I grinned in return, turned away, and took a few steps toward the door. “For what it’s worth,” I said over my shoulder. “You’ve got a magnificent cock.”
    And your finger’s not bad, either.

 
     
     
     
    TWO
    Nick
    Pee Bee was the club’s Sergeant-At-Arms. The enforcer. The position didn’t require him to be organized, and maybe that was a good thing, because it seemed he often fell short in that respect. Based on his lack of planning alone, I often wondered why both of us weren’t doing time in prison.
    Serious time.
    “What do you mean, you hope he’s not home?”
    It was midnight, and being dressed in black helped conceal us from the view of potential late night onlookers, but at six foot eight and 260 pounds, hiding Pee Bee entirely was like trying to cover up a circus elephant with a fucking cocktail napkin.
    He turned to face me and shot me a confused stare. “It means I hope he’s not home, Crip.”
    Positioned fifty feet behind the home we were planning on breaking into, I glared back at him. “After we crawled through a dozen back yards, waded through