Burn Up (Steel Veins Book 2)

  Burn Up

  Steel Veins MC Romance 2

  Jackson Kane

  Burn Up © 2019 by Jackson Kane

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Burn Up is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.

  www.hottreepublishing.com

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Designer: BookSmith Design

  Formatting: Justine Littleton

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-925853-79-7

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-925853-81-0

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Prologue

  The best thing about being the baddest motherfuckers on the block is knowing that no one has the balls to say otherwise. We could walk around like king shit because people did what we told them to do. Yeah, we were still relatively new as a club, but we took this town over like a tornado.

  A club like ours was still small fish in the scheme of things, but without any nearby competition and nobody to fuck with us, we seemed all that much bigger in this tiny-ass pond.

  I wasn’t a greedy man, but standing on a bed lined with cash and two girls on my nuts, I knew what I liked.

  I was a king, and this was my throne.

  “Hendrix, baby. Let me play too. Please?” I didn’t know the raven-haired beauty’s name. I’d paid her to strip dance for me across the room. She was just the background noise—a sexy TV show to steal glances at occasionally while the redhead and I set up different positions. I ignored her until I was ready to change the channel.

  A stack of twenties tumbled from the bed as I flipped the redhead onto her back. She giggled and flailed, knocking over a half-full bottle of the most expensive tequila I’d ever seen. I didn’t care as I had a case of that shit next to the bed, and we were both already pretty fucked up.

  It was good to be the king.

  Life was short, but I lived it to the fullest. Tonight, that meant having the craziest sex I could ever imagine in my room of our clubhouse. Tonight I was a rock star. A fucking rich-ass rock star!

  “I don’t mind, baby. She can play with us,” the redhead invited.

  “I don’t care what you mind.” Flexing hard and jerking abruptly, I pulled the fabric of her blouse apart, popping the buttons off one by one like buckshot. At each snap, I watched her chest sharply rise and her sullen face light up with excitement.

  I snatched another bottle of tequila, twisted off the lid with my mouth, and drizzled the golden liquid over her contorting torso. I let it glisten in my room’s harsh neon-sign lights while I dragged down her tight denim jeans. She giggled and wiggled for me, kicking them off toward the edge. The softly humming, black light bar above my door caught her parting lips and made her teeth glow with brilliantly white excitement.

  The girl was ready and hungry. So hungry....

  She’d wanted this for a while, but I hadn’t noticed her until tonight when she was all over me at the party. I think her name was Nancy or Nicole... or Tess. She looked like a Tess.

  “Hehehe... tickles!” the redhead gasped as I tongued the tequila out of her belly button.

  “Let me get the rest of that for you.” My tongue did laps over her hip bones and across her ribs.

  “More, baby, more!” she cooed, trailing off in a haze. With the alcohol cleaned up, I dragged my lower teeth and bottom lip over the silky skin of her hard stomach. The slight, darkened lines and light pressure marks on her skin were faintly picked up in the hard lights. This girl liked it rough, and I liked it every way I could get it.

  I then realized I was still wearing way too much clothing. I kicked my thick boots across the room and stumbled over to the slow-dancing brunette. “Get this shit off me,” I growled at her, hanging my arms out to the side.

  Immediately, she worked my pants down and, with firm care, reached in and guided my cock and balls out with her other hand. The thin cotton blend of my boxer briefs, the only barrier between us, tightened around my bulge in her grip. Between her massaging fingers, my cock had eagerly begun to harden. She dragged her long nails between the waistband and my coarse pubic hair before fisting my long, fleshy shaft. The brunette was all clenched, glowing teeth, parted glossy lips, pulse racing, heavy breathing…. Fuck me! She ate me up with lusty, yearning eyes. My cock was hard enough for her to swing on!

  I’d seen this brunette a few times here and there but never gave her any play. She was expensive, and I never paid for sex.

  The booze always slowed the process, but I never minded. I wasn’t a selfish man in regard to sex. It just gave me more time to explore and play. I got off on orgasms—mine, hers… it was all the same. I just loved pleasure. That itch wouldn’t stop until it was scratched. I was never in a rush, and I’ve never heard any complaints. Only begging.

  I peeled the brunette’s fingers off my throbbing cock. Instead, my eyes were fixated on the redhead lying on my bed. Her dark form was drowned in a sea of green paper—my cut from the weapons deal. The glowing islands of her painted lips, white cotton bra, and panties were all I could make out of her features under the black and neon light. The latter was broken by a banded stack of cash that she slowly ground into her pussy.

  What a sight to behold.

  I smiled, riding the hot shiver that rattled my bones. I shrugged my vest to the floor and let the brunette pull my shirt off. “Stay,” I commanded, so she plunked herself in the chair, pouting and looking dejected. Obviously, this was not how she thought this party would go. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t like any of her other boys or girls. I would be making her work for it.

  Make her cry and scream for it!

  I grabbed the brunette’s hand as her legs parted and her fingertips disappeared behind the crushed elastic-band of her satin panties. That wasn’t what I was paying her for. I shook my head, making a tsk-tsk sound as I watched her expression shift from longing into despair. Leaning in, I lightly bit her ear and warned, “Touch that gorgeous pussy again, and you’ll be getting your rocks off at home.”

  I sauntered back over to my bed, throwing my vest back on. It was all I wore... well, that and a smile. “Come here,” I beckoned the redhead. This lovely girl propped herself up and above thousands of dollars, empty or spilling glass bottles of booze, a handful of assorted pills, and a few ounces of weed and crawled over to me. My smutty little angel.

  When she was close enough, I worked my fingers through her hairspray-coiffed hair then down the back of her neck. I squeezed and scooted her closer, spearing her gaping mouth with my thick cock. I was gentle at first, s
lowly gliding the entirety of my length past two rows of teeth and over her depressed tongue. I filled her mouth then pushed further. My mushroom tip slid down the back of her experienced throat until my balls rested on her chin.

  I let her pull her head away only to drive back in again, this time faster. With her limits tested, and any sense of gentleness in her thoroughly abandoned, I let her consume every inch of me. Fast. Hot. Wet. Whole. The redhead moaned and murmured through a full mouth. My cock, rocking back and forth, robbed her of everything but the basest of primal instincts.

  She jerked me out urgently, a long trail of saliva arcing off my tip, and gasped for air but only for a moment. She reached for it again like a starving baby bird, so I prodded her onto her back and ripped off those glowing white panties instead.

  I needed to feel her sweet, sticky wetness on my skin. Needed to drink her all up. Her knees spread, parting that perfect pussy slightly. She either knew I needed it, or maybe she just hoped I did. Either way, she was soaked enough for a fifty-dollar bill to be plastered to her inner thigh.

  This couldn’t have been more perfect, I smirked. At the end of it all, I’d take their clothes but let them leave with any bills that were stuck to their bodies. It was horrible, I know, but they loved the game too. It was why they kept coming back. I practically had a goddamn waiting list!

  Two of my fingers slid easily between those soft, wet lips and plunged into the pulsating pussy of the redhead. I curled them rhythmically while she tried to suck my soul out through the head of my cock. I thought it was working too. This girl could put a vacuum to shame.

  “Take off your clothes and stand on the other side of the bed,” I ordered the brunette.

  She eagerly stripped off the last few bits of cloth that covered her finely curved body. “Whatever yo—”

  “I didn’t tell you to talk,” I interrupted her, pulling my fingers from the redhead’s hot, little pussy and licking them. Gods, I loved the way they tasted inside and out. “You’re just here to watch. What part of that don’t you understand?”

  She was stunned into silence. Insulted but turned on, she complied. I could get high off her frustration. That was the trick. It was how I always got the best tail.

  I never let them fuck me the first time. I never paid for sex. I paid her to watch.

  The brunette wanted me now, and every time she came around after this, it’d be free pussy. Hey! A man’s gotta have hobbies. These girls were just that, a hobby. Getting shot at was no fun, but hell, it was part of the job. So it took a little more for me to unplug and unwind compared to the average Joe.

  I flipped the redhead onto her stomach across from the brunette so I could look directly at her while I fucked the other girl. The brunette just slowly shook her head, glowering in feigned outrage.

  “Girl, you’re gonna catch my dick on fire with a pussy that hot. Let me cool it down.” I nibbled at the redhead’s lower lips and blew some air over them.

  She swooned, her whole body shivering. After slipping on a condom, I lined my cock up and slid in. A little looser than I’d have liked, but once I got going, it didn’t matter. She moaned and quivered with each thrust. I speared her good, her ribbed walls contracting involuntarily around my swollen cock.

  Still, it was the brunette that I was really having sex with. My eyes were locked onto only hers and hers on mine. In the shadowy light, I could see her naked tits rapidly rising and falling. She licked her bottom lip and dragged her teeth down it, the corners of her mouth straining to keep from speaking against my orders or openly panting her arousal.

  I could see it in her. She wanted to speak. Wanted to plead. When she opened her mouth to do just that, I shook my head and slapped the redhead’s ass.

  Her back arched, her ass rising even higher. Beginning at her curled toes, I felt her whole body tense up around me. Her thighs became steel cables, her ass polished stone, her soaked pussy a vice clamping down around my insatiable shaft.

  She squeezed me out like a bottle of hand lotion left out in the sun on a hot day. I leaned back but fiercely ground her hard, tight ass into me. I let my head loll from the totality of my release. If I didn’t balloon my condom, I’d have liberally painted her pussy walls. Then I collapsed on the bed, my dick whipping out of her. Sweaty and satisfied, we lay on the bed. I motioned for the brunette to lay with us. To revel with a filthy, naked mass of sated, carnal flesh atop a mountain of blood money soaked through with alcohol and sweat and sex.

  Could life get any better?

  As if to answer my rhetorical question, the door smashed open, wood chunks from the doorframe peppering the room like shrapnel. Blinding light flooded in—-or, more accurately, flashlights and screaming flooded in.

  The answer was, no, it couldn’t....

  The girls freaked and bolted from the bed. I knew what was about to go down, so I just lay there and enjoyed my throne for those last few moments.

  “Freeze! On the ground now!” shouted one of the three angry, armed men.

  “Evenin’, Officers. What seems to be the problem?” I wasn’t going anywhere under my own power as I was feeling a little drained.

  “It’s 10:00 a.m., asshole. What the fuck do you think the problem is? Hendrix ‘Junkyard’ Cedro, you’re under arrest.” One of the overzealous cops dragged me from the bed and kindly helped me into the standard facedown position with his knee planted painfully between my shoulder blades. They swiftly cuffed me and stood me up on my wobbly feet.

  10:00 a.m.? Damn, it had been a long night. I wasn’t even tired, but that was probably because of the drugs. “Restraints aren’t really my thing, Officer, but if you go a few doors down, Fast Eddie loves that—”

  “Shut up, shithead! We got you and your whole faggot bicycle club!”

  Wishful thinking, asshole....

  Yeah, they caught me with a shitload of money, but the club had tied up all the loose ends that would’ve really put us away. I had made sure of that. Leaking this little party to the cops was the only way to guarantee the club got away with the rest of the money.

  What a way to go out. I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I was acting under duress! I swear!” At this point, it was all by the numbers. Line dancing. I was going for a ride, so why not enjoy it, right?

  “Yeah? Tell that to the judge.”

  “I’m serious, man! It was the only way into your mom’s pants. She’s really kinky like that—” I got to find out what one foot of polished metal Maglite tasted like. The impact cracked at least one tooth and easily brought me to my knees. These cops had no sense of humor. I coughed, spitting out a chunk of inner cheek I’d just bitten off. “Thanks for that, but it was still worth it. There’s this thing she does with her tongue—”

  That was when the line dance turned into a mosh pit. Just boots and flashlights leading to that deep, comatose sleep after that. Man, this was such a great plan.

  As long as I survived it.

  Chapter One

  Maya

  “Happy sweet sixteen, baby sister.” I extracted the lavishly wrapped present from my bag.

  “Thanks a lot, Maya! So... what’d you get me, you old hag?” Anna playfully ribbed me.

  “Old hag?” I jerked the gift back away from her grasping hands. “I’m only ten years older than you, and it looks like...” I singsonged the words at her, “I just got myself a new Coach handbag.”

  “Really? Is it the tan and black Madison Carlyle?” Anna’s amber-brown eyes lit up in excitement. She took a swipe at it, and again I yanked it away. “Mayaaaa!” she whined then stared at me with large, puppy-dog eyes. “I’ll be your bestest friend forever…”

  “I’ll settle for you not being a bitch.” I squinted at her and finally let her wrench it from my hands.

  “It’s my birthday! I get to be as horrible as I want!” Anna then squealed in delight after ripping apart the packaging. The spacious, leather bag slid onto her shoulder with ease. Having received a new pair of pink sneakers and f
ashionable top that she changed into earlier, Anna took the opportunity to stand up and model everything for all of us.

  We hooted and cheered her on as she strutted the invisible catwalk that was the living room of our childhood home, her long, black hair swaying from her exaggerated sashay. Turning her back to us, Anna propped her hands on her curveless, beanpole hips and did her best sultry look-back stare. Her expression came across more like pouty and maybe a little constipated, but I didn’t care as long as she was having fun. We all laughed with my nerdy sister and whistled catcalls at her.

  At only just over five feet tall, her dreams of professional modeling had been dashed after hitting puberty. With her almost boyish physique, it was pretty easy to tell that she took more after our Korean mother than our American father.

  I was a little taller than Anna but only by a few inches, so I wouldn’t be seen walking any runways during Milan Fashion Week either. I was also a little fuller than Anna and didn’t have the one cute dimple she had on the right side of her face when she smiled, but aside from that, we shared many similar features. Where we differed was on our own personal styles. Being older and wiser, at least that’s how I always teased her, I had outgrown the teenage obsession for heavy eye shadow and flashy, edgy clothes. She always called me boring because I valued things like subtlety and professionalism. I tended to keep my hair cut slightly below my chin, wore pants suits and muted dresses, and generally assimilated into the law firm culture.

  “Thank you so much for all of this!” With a big smile, my sister skipped back across the room. She was referring more to the modest birthday party I threw together for her than just the present. She hugged me then quietly whispered, “And thank you for hosting the party. I know how tough it is for you to be here.”