Ridin' Her Rough

Ridin’ Her Rough

Jenika Snow

He kept his distance… She saved her virginity…

Torque Morrison is a biker without roots, and he likes it that way. The pierced and tattooed member of the Phoenix MC Nomads is a bad boy who’s lived hard and struggled with addiction—of the curvy variety. Torque knows he should stay away from Rush Falls, but that’s easier said than done. The town is home to the one woman he can’t have.

Delilah Stringer is a voluptuous brunette half Torque’s age. As the daughter of the president of the Rush Falls Chapter, she’s no shrinking violet. The outlaws she grew up around may be crude and nasty, but they’re also protective—they’d never approve of her being with a player like Torque. She may want him, but he’s never shown interest in her. That is, not until one drunken night when she gives him her virginity.

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RIDIN’ HER ROUGH

Bad Boys Series

Copyright © 2014 JENIKA SNOW

Cover art by Amanda Kelsey

Edited by Trinity Scott

ISBN: 978-1-936387-73-1

All Romance eBooks, LLC Palm Harbor, Florida 34684 www.allromanceebooks.com

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever with out written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First All Romance eBooks publication: May 2014

Chapter One

Delilah could already tell there was a party going on inside the clubhouse for the Phoenix MC. The music was loud enough to have her ears ringing, and anytime the front doors were pushed open smoke billowed out from the inside. She had no business being here. After the shitty day she’d had dealing with customers, co-workers who were backstabbing bitches, and getting bailed on by her date only hours before he was supposed to pick her up, all she wanted was someone to talk to. But she wasn’t surprised Robbie hadn’t wanted to see her when he realized she was the daughter of Carson “Brack” Stringer, the president of the Phoenix MC. The only thing she wanted to do right now was talk about her “girl problems” with Dixon—the woman who was like a mother to everyone at the club. Dixon was old enough to be her mom, and in fact that’s pretty much how Delilah saw her. Dixon had been around for the last few years and was the most caring and compassionate person in the club. Those things were something that was lacking in a motorcycle club full of gritty bikers. But now here she was, sitting in the clubhouse parking lot and regretting coming here without calling first.

The door opened again and she saw Ace stumble out. The Phoenix VP was gorgeous in that raw and rough kind of way, and a total man-whore, like the rest the guys. He had a Cherry wrapped around his body. The women who hung around the club were called Cherries, for whatever reason, but one thing Delilah knew is that they would do anything a member asked. Anything. They were sluts, and although Delilah couldn’t stand any of them, there were a few with tolerable personalities. She wasn’t even going to mention the fact some were only eighteen, and given the fact that was how old Delilah was, it had the ick factor growing in full force. She grabbed her phone out of her purse and dialed the clubhouse number. Hopefully Dixon would answer or no one would pick up, but knowing her luck a drunk member would decide he wanted to get up and actually answer a phone.

“Yeah?” With the music so loud, and the background noise earsplitting, Delilah had a hard time making out who was speaking. It didn’t sound like any of the regular members, but as she scanned her eyes over the Harleys lined up in front of the clubhouse, everything inside of her stilled. She would know Torque Morrison’s bike anywhere. The black, gleaming Harley had the most elaborate phoenix painted on the side. Flames branched out from its open wings, and the fierce look in the bird’s eyes was just the tip of how fearsome the club really was.

“Uh, hey, it’s Delilah.” She swallowed her nerves and closed her eyes. For the past year Torque had been to the club when he passed through their town of Rush Falls. He was a Nomad, a biker affiliated with the Phoenix MC, but he wasn’t locked down with any particular chapter. He was big and hard looking, and so very sexy that just thinking about him had her panties soaked.

“Hello?”

“Sorry. Is Dixon there?” The sound of several women giggling was her response.

“What?” Torque sounded drunker than hell, and like he was starting to get annoyed with the fact he couldn’t hear her. Well, that made both of them.

“Is Dixon there?” she said louder. The sound of glass breaking came through and she leaned her head back on the seat.

“Tell whoever it is to go the fuck away.”

Delilah gritted her teeth when she heard Pinkie’s voice. Pinkie was one of the newest Cherries, and a slut to the nth degree. She also thought her shit didn’t stink. There was some shuffling and then Pinkie’s voice was screeching through the phone.

“Get a fucking life, cocksucker. Some of us are trying to get laid here.” A second later the phone went dead.

Delilah pulled it away from her ear and narrowed her eyes at the damn thing. That bitch. Pinkie slept with everyone at the club, and was clearly about to go after Torque as well. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know Delilah had been the one on the other end, because the bitch would have acted the same way. She was older, probably in her late twenties if she were to guess, but the bitch thought she was above everyone else when it came to being with the members. And she really looked down on Delilah, for reasons unknown. But she had a feeling it was because of Delilah’s connection with the club. Well fuck her.

She climbed out of her car and decided she’d hunt down Dixon and maybe the two of them could go into the office and talk. Torque and Pinkie could go fuck themselves, or each other since that’s where it was headed. It wouldn’t only do Delilah good, but she knew it would be good for Dixon too. Aside from the few Old Ladies who occasionally came by the clubhouse, and the club whores, it was just the two of them, and Dixon kept to herself when it came to the other women. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she looked at the ground so she didn’t inadvertently see something she didn’t want to because of the people currently fucking against the side of the building. She gripped the door handle and pulled it open. “Free Bird” blasted from inside and she blinked a few times to focus. There were a shitload of bodies scattered around, the majority of them naked and in the process of some pretty nasty shit. She didn’t see Dixon manning the bar or in the kitchenette making any food, so she assumed the woman was hiding out with Ringo. Most likely doing something equally as nasty with the old ass biker.

She moved farther inside and let the door close behind her. She spotted Vain, Malice, Lance, and Mace, and of course all of them were in the middle of some kind of sexual act with a Cherry. “Dammit.” Okay, Dixon was obviously not here, and she was clearly not about to stand here watching as everyone got off.

“Fuck, is that you, Delilah?” The sound of Lance’s voice was loud enough over the music that she spotted him right away. He was sitting on the couch with a blonde who clearly wasn’t a natural one between his legs. Her head was bobbing away but Lance didn’t push her away and instead grinned. “Whatchu doing here, girl?” Lance was a prospect, and a dirty old man if she were being honest.

“She’s leaving.” Vain’s voice was right by her ear and she jumped.

She turned and craned her neck back to look at her father’s Sergeant of Arms.

“You were just leaving, Delilah. You know damn well this ain’t the place for you, and your fucking dad will have all of our balls if he found out his little girl was here.” Vain gently took her upper arm.

“Yeah, I was just looking for Dixon, but I’m leaving.”

“She should stay. Maybe she could learn something.”

Delilah snapped her head in the direction of Pinkie and narrowed her eyes. But her anger toward the woman faded when she saw that Pinkie was sitting naked on top of Torque. Swallowing hard, she couldn’t drag her eyes off the sight of him lifting a bottle of Crown to mouth and taking a long swig as he watched her over the rim. He was shirtless, and even with the nude club whore all over him, Delilah could see his tattooed, muscular chest. The dark lines of ink that curved from one shoulder to the next had her eyes riveted to the spot. It was a tattoo all members in the Phoenix MC got, but not the only. She let her eyes run along that menacing dark Old English script that was inked into his skin.

LIVE HARD. FUCK ROUGH. RIDE FREE.

Pinkie leaned forward and whispered something into Torque’s ear, at the same time reaching below to his crotch and rubbing him through his jeans.

“Come on, baby girl.” Vain’s voice was hard and rough, and she knew she wasn’t hiding her emotion well enough.

The flare of Torque’s nostrils and the way he stared at her as if he knew exactly what she was going through, and exactly how she felt, was crystal clear. She wanted him, had wanted him for the past year, and it only grew every time he passed through Rush Falls and hung out at the clubhouse. But seeing this club whore all over him was too much, and suddenly she felt pretty damn dirty. Before she could turn and leave Pinkie was sliding down Torque’s body, taking out his dick, and started deep-throating him. Vain had his arm around Delilah and was steering her outside before she could see any more.

She shrugged off Vain’s hold when they stepped outside and went straight for her car, but stopped, turned around, and stalked back to him. “I should have known this day was going to end shitty seeing that was how it started. And how great there was an audience.” Before he said anything she was heading back to her car, starting it, and peeling away from the clubhouse. She was acting stupid. Torque wasn’t hers, had showed no interest in her, and was as big a man-whore as the rest of the guys. He was also too old for her, and getting involved with a biker was not something she wanted. The best thing she could do was forget about Torque, forget about what she wanted him to do to her, and focus on getting her degree so she could start a future away from Rush Falls. But she knew that was going to be a hell of a lot easier said than done.

****

Four years later

“Fucking hell.” Torque slammed his cock back into the female he had picked up at the bar just an hour ago. Her pussy wasn’t tight, but she was wet, and easy, so he wasn’t going to bitch about some easy snatch. She was moaning like a damn banshee, but Torque had a thing for the noisy ones. He pulled out, looked down at his dick, and saw her fucking cream coating his shit. He thrust back into her hard enough that her whole body fell forward. She had been on her hands and knees, but his forceful actions had her falling into her elbows. With her ass really popped out, he gripped a cheek in his hand and spread that shit wide. Looking down at where his dick was shoved deep inside of her cunt, Torque knew if he wanted to get off any time soon he needed to speed his along. Lifting a hand and bringing it back down on the fleshy mound of her bottom, he spanked the shit out of her. Over and over he brought his hand down, feeling the sting on his palm, but needing more. He needed so much more.

He hadn’t bothered turning off any lights in this shitty little room, so he got a prime shot of her reddened cheeks and the nice handprints he left behind. Torque liked the rough kind of sex, the kind that left bruises and scratch marks but always ended in both of them coming harder than fucking hell. Of course, he wasn’t about the nonconsensual pain, and the females he bedded with always knew up front what they were getting into if they left with him.

“Harder. Fuck me harder, you bastard.” The chick squealed when he did just that, but he gave her a hell of a lot more. She came with a loud cry and he followed right behind, but it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as he would have liked.

When she fell forward and was breathing heavily in her exhaustion he got off the bed and went into the bathroom to clean up. Hopefully she’d be gone before he came out. Hell, he didn’t even know her name, but she didn’t know his either, and sure as fuck hadn’t asked. When he had told her leaving with him was only going to end up in an hour of hard fucking, she had been all for it. Just the type of chick he liked to take home with him. Once he was cleaned up he opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the room. Good, she was gone, just the way he liked them to be when he was done with them. Grabbing his jeans off the floor and shoving his legs through them, he grabbed his T-shirt, and then his cut that hung over the back of a chair and put them both on. Being a Nomad for the Phoenix MC meant he had connections, had a place to go if he needed it and brothers to back him up, but he had no roots. That was how Torque liked it. He didn’t want to lay down a home in one specific place. He liked the open road, liked taking his Harley wherever the hell he wanted, even if that meant he spent the night in a fucking field with the open sky as his roof.