The Death Lords, Volumes 1-3: His Wild Desire, Her Secret Pleasure, Their Private Need by Ella Goode Page A
Authors: Ella Goode
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memory, by my words, by the decadent scene in front of us. I slip my hand under her panties and pet her softness. “I couldn’t wait to touch you. I couldn’t wait to get my hard-as-fuck dick inside your hot little cunt. You liked teasing me, didn’t you.”
“You deserved it. I’d been waiting for you.” She pants.
I slide two fingers inside her and she hitches up a bit to allow me better access.
“First time I laid my mouth on you I knew I’d never be able to taste another. You were made for me. I love everything about you. Your shape, your smell, your taste. The fucking feel of your tight pussy squeezing me like you can’t get enough.” I pump my fingers in and out, curling them forward to find that spongy bit of flesh that sets her off like a rocket. When she jumps in my lap, I know I’ve found it.
“I want you too much,” she moans. Her hands bite into my thighs as she uses me as leverage to grind down on my hand.
“No such thing, sweetness. No such thing.” I bite her neck and she goes off. My hand covers her scream, protecting her from unwanted attention. She pulses against me and coats my hand with her orgasm. I hold her as she comes down from her high.
When she’s done shuddering and shaking I pull my fingers out and lift her in my arms.
“Where we going?”
“Do you care?” I grin.
“Not as long as we’re together.” She wraps her arms around me and ignores the hoots of encouragement that follow us up to the second floor of the granary. Down the corridor I walk until I find an empty room. And then I lay her down and begin our own private party.
HER SECRET PLEASURE
Pippa
I love two things–books and bad boys. I’m trying to kick the bad boy habit and hold on to the loving books one. When I take the new librarian position in Fortune, I immediately say yes when the Chief of Police asks me out and deliberately turn my back on the bad motorcycle riding boys that litter the Fortune landscape. After all, my bad boy yen was kick started by the frequent absences of my nomad father. But no one turns down a man like Judge, the president of the Death Lords MC, not even a girl trying to be good.
Judge
When Pippa Lang breezes into town in her little red convertible, the wind blowing out her big red hair, there is no way the dirty Chief of Police is going to keep her. That red hair belongs on my pillow and her hot body between my sheets. And no one, not the Chief, not the town, and not even Pippa, is going to stop that from happening.
Chapter One
Judge
“See Schmidthead has a new sweet butt?” Jay Handfield says in a half whisper, half shout. The kid is a new prospect but the likelihood of him patching in seems dimmer by the day. Handfield is playing blackjack with the Death Lords’ other new prospect, Abel Drake. The stakes were who would have door duty at the monthly mash and by the look of the pile of peanuts in front of Drake it would be Handfield. Again.
“What makes you say that?” Drake asks, not looking up from his cards.
“If she was anywhere near me I'd be boning her. He had her in the front of his cruiser last week. And someone saw them together at Hilltop Cafe. Eating dinner.”
“Sounds suspicious. Eating at a diner,” Drake replies drolly. Drake is an eight-year Marine vet with a low tolerance for bullshit and an easy way with the wrench.
I share a rueful glance with my companion, Chuck Lang. Lang is a nomad, a biker with no club allegiance. He’s a restless soul a few years older than me. I first met him at a one percenter biker meet up down in Missouri. I went there to get away from the responsibilities of being the president of the Death Lords. I usually left with more obligations than I arrived with. Like a daughter and now a favor for the nomad across from me.
“She’s got red hair,” Handfield continues, not realizing Drake’s uninterested. I don't require the members of Death Lords to be book smart but they’ve got to have some instinct or intuition.
“You deserved it. I’d been waiting for you.” She pants.
I slide two fingers inside her and she hitches up a bit to allow me better access.
“First time I laid my mouth on you I knew I’d never be able to taste another. You were made for me. I love everything about you. Your shape, your smell, your taste. The fucking feel of your tight pussy squeezing me like you can’t get enough.” I pump my fingers in and out, curling them forward to find that spongy bit of flesh that sets her off like a rocket. When she jumps in my lap, I know I’ve found it.
“I want you too much,” she moans. Her hands bite into my thighs as she uses me as leverage to grind down on my hand.
“No such thing, sweetness. No such thing.” I bite her neck and she goes off. My hand covers her scream, protecting her from unwanted attention. She pulses against me and coats my hand with her orgasm. I hold her as she comes down from her high.
When she’s done shuddering and shaking I pull my fingers out and lift her in my arms.
“Where we going?”
“Do you care?” I grin.
“Not as long as we’re together.” She wraps her arms around me and ignores the hoots of encouragement that follow us up to the second floor of the granary. Down the corridor I walk until I find an empty room. And then I lay her down and begin our own private party.
HER SECRET PLEASURE
Pippa
I love two things–books and bad boys. I’m trying to kick the bad boy habit and hold on to the loving books one. When I take the new librarian position in Fortune, I immediately say yes when the Chief of Police asks me out and deliberately turn my back on the bad motorcycle riding boys that litter the Fortune landscape. After all, my bad boy yen was kick started by the frequent absences of my nomad father. But no one turns down a man like Judge, the president of the Death Lords MC, not even a girl trying to be good.
Judge
When Pippa Lang breezes into town in her little red convertible, the wind blowing out her big red hair, there is no way the dirty Chief of Police is going to keep her. That red hair belongs on my pillow and her hot body between my sheets. And no one, not the Chief, not the town, and not even Pippa, is going to stop that from happening.
Chapter One
Judge
“See Schmidthead has a new sweet butt?” Jay Handfield says in a half whisper, half shout. The kid is a new prospect but the likelihood of him patching in seems dimmer by the day. Handfield is playing blackjack with the Death Lords’ other new prospect, Abel Drake. The stakes were who would have door duty at the monthly mash and by the look of the pile of peanuts in front of Drake it would be Handfield. Again.
“What makes you say that?” Drake asks, not looking up from his cards.
“If she was anywhere near me I'd be boning her. He had her in the front of his cruiser last week. And someone saw them together at Hilltop Cafe. Eating dinner.”
“Sounds suspicious. Eating at a diner,” Drake replies drolly. Drake is an eight-year Marine vet with a low tolerance for bullshit and an easy way with the wrench.
I share a rueful glance with my companion, Chuck Lang. Lang is a nomad, a biker with no club allegiance. He’s a restless soul a few years older than me. I first met him at a one percenter biker meet up down in Missouri. I went there to get away from the responsibilities of being the president of the Death Lords. I usually left with more obligations than I arrived with. Like a daughter and now a favor for the nomad across from me.
“She’s got red hair,” Handfield continues, not realizing Drake’s uninterested. I don't require the members of Death Lords to be book smart but they’ve got to have some instinct or intuition.
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