(Grim Road MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Age Gap
Date Published: December 27, 2024
I’m sergeant at arms of Grim Road MC. When I decide a woman is mine? She’s mine.
Annie -- I’m seriously starting to question my life choices. The truth is, even though I was practically homeless and living on a meal a day most of the time, I’m vastly better off now than I had been. Unfortunately, stubbornness doesn’t pay for shelter. Or even food, if you can believe it. I have a job at a local diner, but it’s still hard to survive. Which is how I find myself in a bikini contest. If I make it out of this situation, I’m never doing this again. Yet somehow I end up in bed with the most wicked, dangerous man I’ve ever met. And why does he call to me like nothing else ever has in my life?
Dominic -- The things I let my vice president push me into… I’m not a people person on the best of days, but somehow Lemon talked me into being a judge at a the local bikini contest. She says it’s to give the club some positive community exposure, but I’m pretty sure she’s just trying to get me laid. Too bad every woman here’s young enough to be my daughter. I’m a protective guy by nature and have a bit of a soft spot for vulnerable women. It’s one of many reasons Rocket made me sergeant at arms for Grim Road MC. Unfortunately, my protective instincts kick in when my co-judge gropes one of the contestants. The shock on the young woman’s face and the panicked way she flees the stage prompts me to act without considering the consequences… and that’s how the fight starts…
EXCERPT
“I’m too old for this fuckin’ shit.” It was true, too. At forty-eight years old I was definitely too old to be judging a bikini contest. Especially not after as much beer as I’d consumed. Though I knew better than to touch without invitation, I was just as likely to say something equally offensive. But at least, maybe I wouldn’t get myself arrested.
“Me too.” The guy beside me was every bit my age and then some. He looked like the standard West Palm Beach retiree. Too much on the spray tan, too much on the hair transplants, and a little soft around the middle. He was also probably wealthy enough not to care about the going to jail part when he groped a young woman. Guy likely had a couple of the city’s finest in his pocket in the case of something so trivial as touching a woman inappropriately without permission. Like in the middle of a bikini contest. Fucking bastard. “Don’t mean I’m not enjoying every fucking second.”
A huge smile on his face, the guy reached out -- just as I knew he would the second he’d sat down next to me at the judges’ table -- and ran his hand up the inner thigh of one of the contestants. The girl sidestepped her way deftly out of reach and gave the guy a mock reproving look. Like it was all a big joke when I knew she’d reacted the way she had by pretending it hadn’t bothered her that a strange man had been headed to the promised land without her permission. I’d always thought it was disgusting what women put up with sometimes. This was a prime example.
“No touching,” I snapped at the guy. I was only here because I’d let Lemon bully me into participating. Something about acting as security near the stage and looking good for the club in the community… Oh. And about me needing to get laid. Which, while I didn’t disagree with her, I didn’t want a child in my bed. These girls were all supposed to be at least eighteen but were young enough to be my daughters. I thought back to Tina and my own daughter, Calista. Calista was married to my enforcer and was probably only a couple of years older than some of these girls. So, yeah. I knew grandparents who were my age. Tina was probably laughing at this whole situation from heaven. If she thought about me at all. I thought she might and I was determined to not do anything to make her ashamed of me. Which made this a colossal waste of time if Lemon was trying to get me hooked up. But I’d be Goddamned if I wouldn’t put this guy in his place.
“Fuck you, man.” The guy didn’t even look at me. Instead, he reached for another woman walking past our table. This one obviously wasn’t used to being in these sorts of things because she started when his hand slid up the back of her thigh to squeeze her ass before she could get out of his grip. She whipped around with a startled cry and the guy just laughed. “That’s right, baby girl!” he yelled up at the young woman to be heard over the whoops and hollers. “Come to papa!”
The look on her face said she hadn’t expected anything like this when she entered this contest and had no idea how to handle the situation. Which meant she’d probably either been tricked into entering, or she was desperate. I wasn’t sure which to hope for, and I wasn’t sure which made me more angry.
“Touch her again, I’ll rip your arms off. You damn sure won’t touch her after that.” I actually bared my teeth. Which wasn’t something I’d normally do. I prided myself on my cool head. I was methodical and planned each move as carefully as I could. I also listened to my instincts and factored them into my decisions. This time, however, I hadn’t even thought about my move; I’d just acted, practically snarling like a rabid wolf. Also, I meant every single word. If he touched that girl again, I’d follow through with my promise.
“What the fuck, man? Why else would I be here if not to enjoy the show?” He gave me a cocky -- if a bit nervous-looking -- grin. “They all like it or they wouldn’t put themselves in this kinda thing.”
It took all my restraint not to wait until he touched the girl again -- and I knew he’d at least try -- and just beat the fuck outta him right now. “I’m not repeating myself. You’ve been warned.”
“Fuck you.” The guy sneered at me before reaching out to run his hand up the same girl’s calf.
This time she jumped back, a panicked look on her face that sent a spike of fury through my chest. I reached out to the guy, fully intending to knock his hand off her. Instead, I grabbed the back of his head and shoved him face first into the edge of the stage. There was the crunch of bone, a spray of blood, and Mr. Handsy dropped to the ground and didn’t move.
The girl on the stage gasped, slapping both hands over her mouth in shock. She looked from me to him and back before turning and fleeing the stage.
“Fuck.” I hadn’t meant to scare the girl and, for some fucking reason, it made my chest ache worse than my anger at imagined reasons for her being in this contest in the first Goddamned place.
All around me, men were still cheering, either not noticing the interaction between two of the judges or not caring. I kept my eye on the fleeing girl so I could see exactly which way she went. I caught the number on her hip indicating her contestant number. I’d find out her name before I left this place, then I’d give that shit to Crush or Byte and they’d find her for me if needed. Oh, they’d moan and groan and tell me they needed more, then after a bunch of grumbling and even more pizza, chips, dip, chicken wings, and anything else they could get Evelyn and Gina to make them. Which meant, I’d be bribing the women to make everything all in one go so I got my information faster.
Making my way through the crowd of horny men in their twenties, I headed in the direction I’d watched her leave. Still, no one said anything about the guy I’d just dropped. Were these fuckers for real?
Wait. Of course they were for real. I’d just answered that question when I’d made the judgment they were horny men in their twenties. Every ounce of blood flow that should have gone to their brains had likely gone straight to their dicks. Given the link between sex and violence, those guys wouldn’t notice anything short of a bomb blast.
I hurried around the stage and saw her. Leaning against a concrete wall next to the women’s bathroom. She had her hand over her stomach, and then she leaned forward and vomited.
“Sweet God above.” Another woman emerged from the bathroom in a skimpy bikini like everyone else had on. She gave my girl a disgusted look, her tone of voice irritated in the extreme. “Girl, you’ve got to get a hold of yourself.” She snickered. “If I curled up in a pile of puke every time someone grabbed me on stage, I’d never get through even one contest.” She scrunched up her nose. “Not like you were ever going to win anyway.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, then twisted her ass toward the back of the stage. My girl sobbed as she finished vomiting.
I froze where I was as she fell back on her ass. She was half naked -- her bathing suit didn’t cover much -- huddling on the ground in a protective ball as she cried.
“Girl? He hurt you?” I knew he hadn’t, but I had no idea what her mindset was.
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
“Girl? Need a verbal answer.” I stepped closer to her, careful not to spook her. I wasn’t sure how long I had before someone realized Mr. Handsy at the judges’ table was unconscious, or worse, and came looking for me.
“No.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood to her feet. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to touch me.”
“He shouldn’t have.”
She looked up at me with large, hazel eyes. “You hurt him.”
About the Author
Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.
Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.
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