Home>>read Captured(Devil's Blaze MC 1) free online

Captured(Devil's Blaze MC 1)

By:Jordan Marie

Captured(Devil's Blaze MC 1) -Jordan Marie

Three Years ago

Raven Hills, Georgia

I don’t know what it is about her. I fuck a lot of women. I’m serious, I fuck a lot of women. As president of the Devil’s Blaze MC, I have a stable of them. I don’t even have a type. Skinny, curvy, firm asses, asses with some cushion to slap, big tits, a handful, small… doesn’t matter. I fuck them all, and enjoy them all. Still, when I see her standing on the street in that summer-white sundress with her shoulders bare and that white-gold, blonde hair laying gently on her pale skin, I’m bowled over. It’s like something out of a damned movie. The wind blows just right, her hair dances across her face landing against those pale pink lips, and just like that I’m mesmerized.

I have shit I need to be doing. The club has a major arms deal that is trying to go south. I need to have my head in the game, but one fucking look and I have to have her. So, instead of working, I find myself following her into a small coffee shop on the corner of Main Street.

Raven Hills, Georgia is a small town, barely a blip on the radar, and that’s what makes it great for Devil’s Fire. Nothing comes in or out of this town that we don’t know about… with the small exception of this woman I’ve never seen before.

I stand by the door, ignoring the hush that comes over the room when I enter. I’m used to it. Every person here knows who I am, and they’re smart to fear me. I’m a twisted asshole. Empires are built on fear, and I revel in it.

She orders coffee and a cinnamon roll, takes her order, then sits in the back of the room. My eyes never leave her body. She fails to notice me. Then again, I don’t think she realizes the whole damn room is watching her. There are a few men here I may have to kill. I don’t care if I haven’t spoken one word to her yet. For now, she’s my property.

I let her get settled, watching as her eyes clench shut in response to that first luscious taste of coffee. I want to see that same look on her face when it’s my lips she’s tasting. I watch her take a bite of her hot cinnamon roll and can almost hear the small sigh of pleasure escape her lips. She’s found heaven in just one little taste.

I want that look on her face when it’s my dick she’s putting past her lips.

I cross the room because I can’t not do it. When I stand by the table, she looks up, giving me her eyes. Hot damn, I didn’t know they made eyes that color. Gray, but no gray I’ve seen before. Warm, crystal clear, breathtaking gray… and I want them to stay on me.

Her eyes move slowly up my body. I know what she sees. Scarred, inked, pierced… I have miles on me, miles that have hardened and jaded me. I’m a cold bastard who hides behind an easygoing persona. My men see the real me. Some respect me, but all fear me, and I’m good with that.

She’s a princess and I’m no one’s Prince Charming, so a part of me feels like I shouldn’t touch her. She’s pure, sweet, and innocent. I watch as she uses a finger to slide a small dollop of white icing that escaped to the corner of her lips. My dick throbs, imagining my cum on her lips instead. I reach down and adjust the raging hard-on I have while continuing to watch her.

She is not small. Her curves move in all the right places and her breasts are heavy. I have the urge to slide my dick into the valley that shows at the top of her dress.

Yeah, I’m not walking away from her.

“Hello,” she murmurs, her voice soft and nearly a whisper. My eyes are drawn to the icing that sits on the pad of her index finger.

“Querida,” I reply, sliding into the seat across from her.

She looks confused for a minute, then a small smile breaks on her lips.

“Have a seat,” she mocks, as I lean back and watch her. We’re quiet for a few minutes before she finally shakes her head and asks, “Can I help you?”

“Just taking in the view.”

“I see,” she says with a frown. I don’t like her looking unhappy, though I gotta admit, that little indentation she gets in her forehead is cute.

“Is something wrong?”

“I was enjoying my breakfast,” she tells me. “No offense, but I don’t really want company.”

“None taken,” I return as easily, sitting up a little straighter and putting my arms on the table. I lean in so our faces are close together. I smile as her eyes dilate.

“This means… you should leave…?” She says it like a question, and I grin.

“I’m not just company.”

“You’re not?” I watch as she takes a finger and twirls it in the glazed icing of her roll. Her forehead creases again, showing her irritation. I was right; it is cute.