Taken by the MC Read online

  “You think about it tonight, rest up. If you decide to keep this going, you'll be ours, Penetrator property. We'll finalize the boundaries, coordinate your real-life shit.”

  “So I'd come and go?”

  “You won't be our prisoner, Harmony, but when it comes to your sexy body, we will do what we wish. We will exert as much control over you as we feel you want. I'm thinking you want more than us taking control in the bedroom. You aren't just a submissive, that's why we took it a hell of a lot further already.”

  “So this is like the BDSM scene?”

  “We play in the scene. Fuck, we own the only dungeon in the area,” Ray replied. “But our definitions of safe, sane and consensual push a fuck of a lot of boundaries when it comes to you. We're bikers. We get off on bullshit most men avoid. So if the regular scene is what you want, we aren't for you. But you know that already.”

  I did. I so, so did.

  “Only the officers would own me?”

  “At first, yes.” Max crossed his arms. “We'll be more than you can handle as it is.”

  “W-would y'all still be fucking other women?”

  The two men eyed one another. Ray sighed. “This shit's complicated, Harm. You've seen the life we lead. We play in hard, dark circles and get off on even darker shit than you realize. You're the only pussy we'll take ungloved, mainly because you get off on that almost more than we do.”

  “We aren't saints. Dawg's got an old lady. Aside from him, we're not chained down. We aren't gonna go out looking for pussy, but shit happens,” Max explained.

  Shit happens. The responses were what I expected. Bikers like the Penetrators didn't cage their cocks for anyone, at least not that fast. I wasn't old lady material. I didn't want hearts and flowers and the commitment bullshit that went along with it. I was okay with what they offered—no promises except that they'd glove up if something did go down. Good enough for me.

  For now.

  Was I seriously standing outside my front door thinking of giving myself over to a biker gang? My pulse quickened. Ray pinned me against my door, his bulky frame rubbing against me.

  “If you're ready to be our slave, go inside and get your other journals. Hand them over and we'll walk away. We'll come for you after you've rested, then we'll break you into your new life.”

  “Once we all work out what that will entail,” Max added.

  Impulsiveness was my critical weakness, or so Jolie always said. Yet, I couldn't imagine myself coming to any other decision. I wanted them in my life, commanding me. Owning me.

  I'd lived my entire life terrified of the dark desires lurking in my mind. The Penetrators MC not only shined a spotlight on those carnal cravings, they fucking obliterated my doubts. When I was with them I accepted who I was deep down, what I wanted.

  Needed.

  My hand shook as I unlocked and opened the door. I'd made a lot of stupid decisions in my life, regretted even more. Yet, I couldn't help but think what I was about to do wasn't one of them.

  “Last night you started off saying it'd be a weekend, then changed it to only through tonight.”

  “Because we knew you'd get used hard,” Ray replied.

  “Things were supposed to go down that didn't,” I whispered.

  Max threaded his fingers through my hair. “You want me to nail your ass?”

  I nodded.

  “Can we extend it another night? Give me more to base my decision on?” I held my breath, terrified they'd refuse.

  “Some shit we said earlier today was just a mind fuck. You get that, right?” Ray crossed his arms and studied me. “Dawg isn't ever telling his old lady about you.”

  Thank fuck.

  My relief must've been evident. A sexy grin spread on his face. My belly fluttered.

  “We'll make arrangements, get a couple scenes lined up for you tomorrow night at The Dungeon. You can work off some more of your momma's debt under me and another Penetrator while half the horny assholes in The Grove watch.” Max feathered his lips across mine.

  “Is that what you want?” Ray asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Rest up. We'll send someone over with suitable clothes. Be ready at nine tomorrow night.”

  I bit my lip to suppress the argument lodged in my throat. I wanted them back sooner than that, but the extra time gave me breathing room to think, make sure I was really on board with something this intense in my life on a regular basis. My impulsive nature meant I often made decisions while on an adrenaline rush, or some other foolish temporary high. This was too important to screw up.

  “Tomorrow night. Nine. Got it.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Morning brought aches in muscles I hadn't realized existed. By the time I showered and was semi-caffeinated, I felt human (enough) for humanity to survive my exhibition out into the world. I needed groceries. Since Mom cleared out the bank account, I hadn't stocked up in a while. The past week's tip money paid for enough utilities to keep the lights on. The landlord would wait. He was a grumpy old codger, but knew I was trying.

  I opted to walk across the street to the ATM rather than drive. Walking would hopefully ease some of my weary muscles. Or not. I shoved my card into the machine and silently begged my direct deposit was enough to get more than ramen noodles. If I ate another beef or oriental flavored package of carbs and salt, I'd puke. Surely, life was more than a three-and-a-half-inch square of questionable noodles and a small package of who-knows-what's-in-there spices?

  Exhaustion must've muddled my vision. Since I waitressed at Tops, most of my pay was of the cash variety—just the way I liked. Uncle Sam didn't need any more of my ass than he already got.

  It's not technically your ass anymore. It's Penetrator property.

  Ugh. I required more coffee than the measly one cup of Folgers my budget allowed. I stared at the screen, not believing what I saw. Nine hundred bucks.

  Fucking Manny.

  I yanked my cell out of my pocket and punched a few numbers.

  “Y'allo.”

  “Manny. It's Harmony.” I tapped on the ATM again, as if expecting it to change the info to suit my expectations. “You fucked up the direct deposits. Again.”

  “I heard you were at Tops last night. I didn't see you.”

  “Yeah, well. I'm calling about my deposit. Did you double check the sheets before you sent them to the payroll service?”

  “Course I did. I always do after you chewed my ass out the last time.”

  “Yeah, well, we've got a problem. My deposit was about six hundred more than it should've been.”

  “No, no. I did exactly what Dawg told me, moved you from waitress to entertainer.” Silence blinked a moment as my stunned mind processed what he'd said. “Are you dancing for us now? We don't usually front dancers, but I don't fuck with the Penetrators, and Dawg was pretty clear.”

  Of course. They were siphoning the funds through like regular income, which would suck ass for me at year-end, but it made everything pretty legit. Or about as legit as paying off my mom's theft via BDSM scenes in an illegal dungeon could get. I sighed my weariness and tuned back into Manny.

  “We'll talk when I get into work, okay? Listen, I've gotta go.”

  I extracted the illicit money from my account, leaving the standard fifty bucks for incidental bank bullshit. I set the six hundred extra aside, along with another fifty. Anything more and I couldn't afford the ramen. I trudged back across the street and dialed Jolie. Her voicemail picked up.

  “Hey, bitch. Where are you? Call me back. I need food.”

  Jolie was my source for all things edible. She kept me about as balanced as possible. I snagged my purse from the table and piled into my car. Waiting until tonight to turn over the money wasn't an option. The longer it burned a hole in my otherwise empty pocket, the bigger the chance it would vanish.

  For some reason I didn't exactly fathom, The Last Drip was a frequent Penetrator hangout. If they weren'
t doing whatever they did at the compound, they were typically at Tops or at the diner chowing down. Since the time approached lunch, I took a chance I'd find someone.

  I wasn't disappointed.

  Five tables were scrunched together along the far back wall in the smaller dining nook. Laughter and boisterous conversation echoed from their area as I passed other diners and steeled my resolve. They'd given me time to think things over. What if it'd been an excuse to cut me loose?

  I hovered a few feet from their table for all of the two-point-five seconds Clutch allowed. A grin spread on his face as he winked at me. Warmth settled in my belly as he nudged Max.

  “Come over here, pet,” he ordered.

  Pet. I liked it. A lot. My pulse rattled to life, as though I'd been placed in stasis until I was with them again. I smiled at the men I didn't recognize. Heat crept up my cheeks when Fist grinned and licked his fingers—the same ones that'd been inside me last night.

  Oh geez.

  “Everything okay?” Ray asked as I stood between him and Max.

  “Yeah, I just...” I reached into my left pocket and snagged the pile of money. “I just wanted to drop this off before I got busy or forgot about it.”

  Like I could forget the fact mom stole a hundred grand from them.

  “What the fuck?” Max’s voice came out in a thunderous whisper. He settled a hand on my forearm and squeezed hard enough to draw my attention.

  “I-I found the extra in my account and wanted to bring it over before...” I grunted as I landed in Ray's lap.

  He held my head firmly. His growly voice boomed in my ear. “You finish that sentence and I'm yanking those sexy shorts down and spanking your ass.”

  “But...”

  “Did you stop and think what all those bored fuckers watching us figure you're giving us money for?” Ray turned my head so I saw the curious stares cast in my direction. “Now, let's break down what's going through that sexy head of yours, Harm.”

  I'd fucked up. Huge. I squeezed my hand around the money and settled it in my lap as Ray settled his arms around me. “I should've waited.”

  “First off, you said extra money. From what?”

  “Her paycheck hit this morning. I did a last minute change to payroll, had the company do an emergency adjustment to the direct deposit.” Dawg leaned forward in his chair. His voice lowered. “That's yours, girl.”

  “You cut her in,” Max stated.

  “I didn't figure we needed to wait for a church to talk it over,” the man replied. “Her mom screwed her over.”

  “Cut me in?”

  “Girl, this isn't the place to talk this out,” Fist said.

  Right. I nodded. Ray shoved the money into my pocket and turned me to face Max, who ran his hands up my thigh.

  “We do have more chairs, you know.” Fiona's shrill voice coiled tension along my spine. I stiffened.

  “She's good where she is.” Ray thrust his hard cock against my hip. “Real good.”

  “Bring her what I had with coffee and juice,” Max ordered. When Fiona stood there, coffee pot in hand, gawking like she'd just entered an alternate dimension and met her first alien, he added, “Now.”

  I shivered as the dominant tone slid through me. He winked, obviously enjoying my visceral reaction. By the time the coffee and food arrived, I'd calmed myself enough to eat. Fiona might be a bitch, but Hank's breakfast plates were the shit. I slathered syrup on the pancakes and hoovered through the massive stack. I looked up and noted everyone at the table watching me.

  I swallowed. “What?”

  “You always eat like that?” Fist asked.

  “Uhm, yeah.” When I hadn't eaten since I'd been here yesterday and my other meals consisted of ramen. “Why?”

  “Jesus. She eats like she fucks. All in,” Max ran his thumb against the side of my mouth, then brought it to his lips. “Not nearly as sweet as you.”

  Heaviness settled in my limbs. Belly flutters morphed into moisture pooling between my legs. Suddenly I wanted to steal a vat of Fiona's prized maple syrup, slather him down and lick every inch. Repeatedly. Hell, I wanted him to lick me all over.

  “Keep looking at me like that and you won't get to finish,” Max said. He motioned Fiona back over. “Another order of pancakes and bacon.”

  “Wow, someone's pigging out,” she muttered under her breath.

  My gut soured. I looked down at the empty plate. Whoops.

  “Get gone and do your job or you won't have it,” Ray growled.

  Huh. I sipped my refilled coffee. Mayhap the little Grade A bitch didn't own The Last Drip after all. I curled my toes in my flip flops and contemplated the long gossip session I'd be partaking in with Jolie. She'd lap that shit up like cream because she hated, hated, hated Fiona.

  Dawg and Max flew fingers across their phone keypads like hell was on fire. A few of the other Penetrators I didn't know spoke in low tones at the other end of the table. I rested my head against Ray's shoulder, feeling a little guilty I was squishing his lap like a bug. I probably should've moved to my own chair, but I liked pissing off Fiona.

  And sitting in his lap, pressed against all those muscles and all that heat felt real, real good. I powered my way through most of a second serving of pancakes and bacon. I shoved the leftovers away from me and leaned into Ray's body as I rubbed my belly.

  Fist and Dawg chuckled. Squirrel went and closed the double doors leading into the small room.

  “Okay, let's sort some shit, then you can get on with your day.” Ray pressed me against him. “First off, women who work the backrooms make serious bank, especially the stages for The Dungeon. The performances draw the VIPs into the private dancing rooms, so a cut of those takes is also shared. Any extra you saw in your account was your haul from last night, or an estimate of it.”

  Wow. “But I owe you a hundred grand. So this goes against that.” I motioned toward the bills he'd shoved in my pocket.

  “Squirrel and Tank looked around your place,” Max commented. Fucking stool pigeon Squirrel again. Rat bastard. “You've got a pile of notices. No food in the house.”

  “I'm not a charity case,” I gritted through clenched teeth.

  “No, but you are our property if things go the way we want them to. That means you need to take care of yourself better. You can't fuck our brains out if you pass out because all you're eating is stale ramen you buy at the dollar store.”

  Erm. What the fuck? How did he know where I got my ramen?

  “When we head out Squirrel's going to take you to the grocery store, make sure you stock up. Call your girl if you want, make it a thing.”

  Yeah, I couldn't make buying food because the Penetrators ordered me to into a thing with my BFF. How would I ever explain why they gave a damn?

  “Your momma's debt isn't yours, Harm. No matter what you decide, or what goes down, that's not yours to pay back.”

  “But you said people are pissed, out for blood.”

  “It's not the first time people are out for Penetrator blood, and it won't be the last,” Fist replied. “For every drop of our blood spilled, we take a pint of theirs.”

  Yikes. Moving on.

  “But we agreed I'd dance at Tops, make the money back.”

  “Yeah.” Ray squeezed the back of my neck. “You don't have a clue how much those VIPs shell out to watch us in scenes, knowing we don't have the same boundaries the city clubs do. We made serious bank last night, babe. But that isn't your shit to sort, okay?”

  I wasn't sure how to respond. No one ever handled my shit. I always, always sorted everyone else's shit—especially Mom's. Ugh. The worry lodged in my gut dissipated, but it left me wondering what they were getting out of the arrangement, aside from the obvious (me naked).

  While not all Penetrators were shit hot, they were heads above the average Grove resident. They didn't need sordid arrangements in the dead of the night to get laid. Women flocked to their compound parties. I k
new. I'd been one of the flock, much to my mom's dismay.

  She'd met Ray when she chased me out to the compound one night. The rest was horrid history I suspected everyone wanted to forget. Ugh. I forced the worry aside and relaxed into the strong arms holding me, like I mattered. For now I'd enjoy whatever this was.

  * * *

  Shopping with Squirrel was an experience, one I didn't want to ever have again. I put three apples in the cart, he added six. I chose a pound of meat, he found two. By the time we hit the dairy my hair-trigger temper was in a full boil. I snagged some angel hair pasta and watched him grab two.

  “Is there something you aren't telling me, Skippy?”

  “Told you not to call me that,” he groused. Heat rose in his pale face as he set the two packages in the cart. “Pres and Max want you stocked up.”

  “Well that's very nice, but I'm one girl and all this will take me a damn year to eat.”

  “Not if you chow down like you did this morning.” Amusement flickered in his gaze. “I swear I thought you were gonna belch there at the end. You looked like my sister's kitten after she stuffs herself on her mom's milk.”

  “You've gotta work on your woman skills. Real men don't comment on a woman's eating habits.”

  “Fuck yeah they do. Too many scrawny bitches out there chewing on lettuce while we watch, then scarfing burgers down in the back room. Do you know how much puke I've scrubbed off the compound floor when some skank shoved fingers down her throat?” He shook his head. “You get mad props for being real.”

  “Well, this is still too much. Besides, I've got a budget.”

  “Penetrators are paying.”

  “No, you aren't.”

  Skippy Squirrel sighed and pocketed his phone. “For a sexy as fuck woman, you are dense sometimes. The guys are gonna be at your pad. You should be stocked up.”

  The guys would be at my pad. My belly fluttered, my heart thundered in my chest. Okay, then.