Off Limits: A Bedlam Butchers MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs Book 2) by Ruby Dixon Page A
Authors: Ruby Dixon
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my moans as he manipulates my pussy and drinks his beer like no one’s around us. Solo’s totally casual. I can just imagine the conversation he’d have if someone decided to sit and chat. What’s up man, not much, just giving my girl a little pet and rub. Nice riding weather tomorrow, eh?
And then Solo’s fingers have found my slickness, and he’s pushing deeper to wet them in my moisture, and brings his fingers back to my clit and continues to work it. And I close my eyes, doing my best not to start moaning and coming in front of everyone.
A bell rings.
In a daze, I watch as the lights go down and a spotlight flicks onto the center of the boxing ring. Like he’s on TV or something, my brother swaggers into the center of the ring, looking lethal and dangerous.
“Welcome to Friday Night Fights,” he drawls. His eyes scan the dark room. I know he can’t see me or Solo because of the spotlight on him, but I’m a little humiliated that my lover has his hands down my pants in front of my brother. But Gem continues. “You guys know the rules. Shit’s settled in the ring, and only in the ring. The fighters set the rules. You want to fight to the death? That’s on your ass, not mine. Like every week, we take volunteers. You got beef with someone? Bring it here and let your boys bet on if you can hold your own. Here’s how this works. We let the volunteers go first. Anyone that just wants to fight goes into a pool, and we draw names for match-ups. Once the fights are established, we take time to let everyone place bets. Then, we start. Any questions?”
Cheers meet my brother’s stare. The crowd’s hungry for a fight.
“Gonna take that as a no,” Gem says. “All right, then. We got any volunteers tonight who need to settle a score?”
I tense in Solo’s lap, half expecting him to jump up and offer himself. But he only continues to pet my clit, his hand moving in a big, circular motion that’s going to get me off if he keeps doing that. I whimper quietly and clutch my beer as if it’s a lifeline. As if Eric realizes how close I am, he pushes against my clit harder, determined to make me come by sheer force of will if nothing else.
It’s someone else that enters the ring. A man hops up on the opposite side of the ring from us and enters the spot-lit area where my brother’s standing and waiting. It’s at that moment that my legs tremble and I can’t take the petting any longer. I give a little muffled cry as I come, my legs jerking against Solo’s as he presses a hot kiss to my neck and continues to rub the cascading pleasure through my body to extend my orgasm as long as possible.
The man in the ring, I see through a haze of pleasure, is Grass. He’s wearing the Eighty-Eight’s familiar cut, and I see swastikas on his bare shoulders. He’s handsome, so I guess I can see why I fell for his good looks—but there’s a menacing glare on his face that makes me cold. He approaches Gemini and grabs the microphone from my brother.
“I got beef,” he says with a growl. “Where’s that fucker Solo? He’s diddling what belongs to me.”
I groan with embarrassment. Looks like everyone did see what we were up to. I know it’s part of the plan, but I’m still mortified. Mostly because I just came, hard, and I’m soaked between my legs and probably all over Solo’s hand from being ‘diddled’.
Solo pats my ass. “Up, babe. Time to teach that shit a lesson.”
I get up, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone since I know they’re all staring. I adjust my shorts and tie them tight again, since Solo’s hand has loosened my laces.
Grass is glaring in our direction in the ring, so there’s no hiding. Solo gives me a hard, possessive kiss, then climbs into the ring to face off against Grass. He stares him up and down as if he’s a piece of shit, and I can practically feel the waves of distaste rolling off of Eric. Then, he deliberately licks his hand. “She tastes pretty damn good,
And then Solo’s fingers have found my slickness, and he’s pushing deeper to wet them in my moisture, and brings his fingers back to my clit and continues to work it. And I close my eyes, doing my best not to start moaning and coming in front of everyone.
A bell rings.
In a daze, I watch as the lights go down and a spotlight flicks onto the center of the boxing ring. Like he’s on TV or something, my brother swaggers into the center of the ring, looking lethal and dangerous.
“Welcome to Friday Night Fights,” he drawls. His eyes scan the dark room. I know he can’t see me or Solo because of the spotlight on him, but I’m a little humiliated that my lover has his hands down my pants in front of my brother. But Gem continues. “You guys know the rules. Shit’s settled in the ring, and only in the ring. The fighters set the rules. You want to fight to the death? That’s on your ass, not mine. Like every week, we take volunteers. You got beef with someone? Bring it here and let your boys bet on if you can hold your own. Here’s how this works. We let the volunteers go first. Anyone that just wants to fight goes into a pool, and we draw names for match-ups. Once the fights are established, we take time to let everyone place bets. Then, we start. Any questions?”
Cheers meet my brother’s stare. The crowd’s hungry for a fight.
“Gonna take that as a no,” Gem says. “All right, then. We got any volunteers tonight who need to settle a score?”
I tense in Solo’s lap, half expecting him to jump up and offer himself. But he only continues to pet my clit, his hand moving in a big, circular motion that’s going to get me off if he keeps doing that. I whimper quietly and clutch my beer as if it’s a lifeline. As if Eric realizes how close I am, he pushes against my clit harder, determined to make me come by sheer force of will if nothing else.
It’s someone else that enters the ring. A man hops up on the opposite side of the ring from us and enters the spot-lit area where my brother’s standing and waiting. It’s at that moment that my legs tremble and I can’t take the petting any longer. I give a little muffled cry as I come, my legs jerking against Solo’s as he presses a hot kiss to my neck and continues to rub the cascading pleasure through my body to extend my orgasm as long as possible.
The man in the ring, I see through a haze of pleasure, is Grass. He’s wearing the Eighty-Eight’s familiar cut, and I see swastikas on his bare shoulders. He’s handsome, so I guess I can see why I fell for his good looks—but there’s a menacing glare on his face that makes me cold. He approaches Gemini and grabs the microphone from my brother.
“I got beef,” he says with a growl. “Where’s that fucker Solo? He’s diddling what belongs to me.”
I groan with embarrassment. Looks like everyone did see what we were up to. I know it’s part of the plan, but I’m still mortified. Mostly because I just came, hard, and I’m soaked between my legs and probably all over Solo’s hand from being ‘diddled’.
Solo pats my ass. “Up, babe. Time to teach that shit a lesson.”
I get up, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone since I know they’re all staring. I adjust my shorts and tie them tight again, since Solo’s hand has loosened my laces.
Grass is glaring in our direction in the ring, so there’s no hiding. Solo gives me a hard, possessive kiss, then climbs into the ring to face off against Grass. He stares him up and down as if he’s a piece of shit, and I can practically feel the waves of distaste rolling off of Eric. Then, he deliberately licks his hand. “She tastes pretty damn good,
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