Thrust_Throb (Lost Devils MC #2) - Madison Faye Page 0,2

Barnes almost whispers. The gun hammer cocks with a hard, metal click.

“Time to die, Oliver.”

So, now you know how this ends. How about we go back to the beginning?

Chapter One

Oliver

Earlier:

She purrs beneath me. There’s a throb that pulses between my legs, rumbling through my cock as she opens up for me. My hands tighten, and she groans before she screams into the night. My pulse pounds, my fucking skin burns with heat, and the world blurs around me until it’s just me and her, rushing into oblivion.

She’s so fucking wet, too. Fuck, it’s soaking my jeans through, and running down my fingers. It’s running down my face, too, actually—the both of us totally fucking soaked.

And we’re close—so fucking close I can taste it, and I urge her on. My grip tightens, my jaw clenches, and my eyes harden as they pierce the night in front of me. I can see the flicker of neon up ahead, and the adrenaline rush—the drug of all drugs—blazes through my veins like fuel, making me wild, and free, and fucking hard.

So close. So fucking close. She screams, the tires bite as I take the last turn, and then I crank it, pushing the throttle to its fucking limit until my girl roars like a bloody demon down the dark road. She’s sex on two wheels, and I ride her like bat out of hell—hard, wet, and with no brakes.

But as the neon approaches, I do brake. I don’t have a fucking death wish, after all, I just want to get the bloody hell out of the driving rain that’s brought visibility down to damn near zero. I can ride, and have ridden, through pretty much anything. Just like I can fix anything with a motor and spinning wheels. But this is pushing it.

I’m far enough from Blackthorn that I’m not making it back to the clubhouse in this shit. And I’m not close enough to the race to get there. Shit, I don’t even know if there will be a race tonight. Either way, I’m going to go off the road or into a bloody tree if I keep at it, so when I see the neon, I slow. I pull into the diner parking lot and turn off the purring and throbbing matte black and chrome Harley Fatboy between my legs.

“Good girl, Lucile,” I grunt as I swing a leg over and off.

What? I named my bike. Get over it.

The diner parking lot is empty except for an old dinged up teal blue F150 pickup truck. I could run, but it doesn’t matter, I’m already drenched through. I mutter to myself and storm up the two steps to the diner’s door. It’s a retro looking spot, doing its best to look welcoming, which isn’t easy this close to a shitty town like Dark Water Falls. The rain isn’t doing it any favors, but neither is the fact that it’s fucking empty inside. Whatever though, it’s dry, I’m assuming.

Thunder booms and lightning crashes as I yank the door open and trudge inside. The door clanks shut behind me, hitting a little bell above it.

“Hello?”

The voice is soft and musical. A second later, the saloon doors to the kitchen swing open, and she walks out.

Well, fuck me.

Her blonde hair is piled high on her head, with a few little tendrils floating down to curl around the edges of her face. But blimey, it’s that face that has me frozen. She’s beautiful. I don’t even just mean she’s hot, or sexy, but she damn well is. I mean she’s gorgeous in this classic Hollywood sense of it. She’s beautiful like the girls from the American flicks we used to sneak into the Royale Cinemas in Shoreditch to go see when we were kids.

She freezes when she sees me too, and those sharp, piercing green eyes flick to mine. She’s got a pen tucked behind one ear, ketchup stains down one side of her not-flattering yellow and white waitress outfit, she’s wearing scuffed plain white sneakers, and she’s carrying a stack of laminated menus in her arms against her chest.

And she’s still the most gorgeous bird I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Um, hi,” she says. Her eyes hold mine, and she sucks her bottom pouty pink lip between her teeth. Her dark lashes blink, and she swallows thickly.

I realize I probably look like a maniac from a slasher film, standing here in soaked jeans, leather jacket, hoodie, and boots, with my beanie pulled low and my beard dripping.