Loaded (Reckless MC Opey Texas Chapter Book 4) Read online

  He chuckled and grabbed my wrist again. “Annabelle.” His voice held a warning but I couldn’t hear it, not with the way my name rolled off his tongue. It only made me want him more.

  “Wheeler,” I said, just as determined as he was to have my way. I wrapped a hand around his cock, thick and long, maybe a full eight inches. Or maybe wishful thinking, either way, I wanted his cock. I wanted him.

  Now.

  My hand went to his chest and I pushed him against the other wall in my front hall, not caring at all when the photos fell to the floor. “No. More. Talking.” I was done talking, my body was wound up too tight thanks to his thick, talented fingers and now all I wanted was that long, thick cock pounding into me.

  I let my right hand slide down to cup his balls, and Wheeler rewarded me with a low, guttural groan.

  “Fuck, Annabelle.”

  “Now you’re getting it,” I told him, and because I couldn’t resist any longer, I dropped to my knees, getting a semi-good glance at his cock in the dim light of the front hall. It was long and thick, hard and throbbing, my mouth watering as I whispered, “Damn, Wheeler.”

  “You’re good for my ego…Doc.” The last word came out strained as I wrapped my lips around his cock, tasting every inch of him before I took him deep. “Oh fuck, Anna…shit.”

  I smiled around him and closed my eyes for several seconds, letting his grunts and moans act as the soundtrack to this encounter. He was longer than I thought, thicker too, and it turned me on even more, so I took him deeper and deeper still. He tasted good, like man and musk and sweat.

  His hand reached out and sifted through my hair before he got a good handful of it, grabbing it just hard enough to send another wave of wetness between my thighs.

  “Annabelle.”

  “Hmm?”

  Those piercing blue eyes darkened at the vibrations and his lips twitched at the corners. “Enough.”

  “You sure? You seem…close.”

  “Too close,” he bit out and helped me to my feet, walking down the hall as if he’d been here a thousand times before. “Perfect,” he said when he spotted the dark green sofa. “That’s where I wanna fuck you.”

  Yes, please. Maybe the devil took hold of me, or maybe it was just the innate masculinity oozing from Wheeler’s pores calling out to me, but I stared at him for a minute and then the high arms of the sofa, then I looked back at him with a smile.

  “Fuck, yeah.” I leaned over the arm, legs wide and back arched to give him an excellent view of how soaked my panties were.

  “Doc, you’re fucking perfect.” His pants were already halfway around his ankles so all I heard was the crinkle of a condom wrapper as he slid my panties to the side, and then a primal growl as his cock slowly entered me from behind.

  “Oh fuck. Hot. Tight. Wet.” He sank to the hilt and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as my hands white-knuckled the sofa.

  “Yes, Wheeler.” Something happened to my brain when he pulled out and pushed into me over and over again. The only two words I could seem to remember were his name and the word ‘yes’, moaning them over and over as he pounded into me, making me feel better than I had in a very long time.

  Something felt like it snapped or changed in him, his strokes became less graceful, more frantic as if he was just as on edge as I was, clutching it tight to prolong the feeling. He stayed silent, focused on nothing but giving himself to me, giving me absolute pleasure from head to toe. Then his hips moved faster and faster, his legs trembled and his grip on my hips tightened, and a loud smack on my ass filled the air.

  “Annabelle, fuck!”

  The word came out on a roar as he pounded hard and fast into me, his own pleasure pouring out and igniting a fire that practically melted my veins. It was a combination of fire and an explosion, something I couldn’t explain, only to say that it was powerful.

  And dangerous.

  Pleasure coursed through my veins and then my body went limp against the sofa. Wheeler’s found his orgasm and it stole his legs, adding more weight to my burden and something else.

  Something cold. Hard. Something cold, hard and metal, attached to Wheeler’s leg. Instantly I knew what it was. I could wonder how it happened. What the fuck it was, but in the moment, it didn’t matter. What did matter was the aftershocks that tore through both of us. “That was…worth the trip to The Barn Door,” I said on a breathless laugh.

  Wheeler stood and pulled me up to my feet. “Damn. You gotta work on your compliments, Doc.”

  Ah, we were back to Doc again. I schooled my features and turned, keeping my eyes on his too good-looking face before letting them trail down his sweat-slicked body, hair mussed and his chest damp all the way down to his semi-hard cock. Still. And then I saw it, the prosthesis on his left leg, just below the knee. It was state of the art, black and chrome, probably lightweight considering I hadn’t noticed over the past few months when my gaze would inevitably turn to him. But the way he held himself so straight and stiff, like he expected a negative reaction, told me a lot.

  “Maybe I do,” I told him and kicked off my stilettos. “Or maybe you’ll earn a better compliment after round two.”

  His shoulders relaxed and he took a step forward, intent burning black in his eyes. “You know what, Annabelle?”

  “What’s that, Wheeler?”

  “I like the way you think.” And to prove it, he carried me to my bedroom and gave me round two, three and four before we both passed out in my king sized bed.

  I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find him gone when I woke the next morning.

  Chapter One

  Wheeler

  Damn, the fists kept coming. First one to my side, which I was pretty fucking sure cracked a rib. Then came another, snapping my head back and sending blood rushing out of my nose.

  “Motherfucker!” There was no way in hell I’d let it end like this, a bunch of anonymous, faceless pieces of shit who thought they could step up to me. That they could challenge me and live to talk about it. “I don’t fucking think so.”

  The fucker’s face was perfectly non-descript, exactly the way I tried to look whenever I was out in the field, trying to blend into whatever corner of the earth I’d been dropped in with my team. He had dark hair and dark eyes, no defining facial features. Yet. “Bring it, pretty boy!”

  I couldn’t wait to wipe that fucking smile off his face. I took a step forward with my left leg, digging it in as hard as I could and using that force to send my right fist slamming into the center of his face.

  “Yeah, let’s go motherfucker.” That felt good. I hadn’t been in a fist fight in a long time, not even with my family, the Reckless Bastards, and this felt good. Real fucking good.

  The crack of my knuckles against the bone in that fucker’s nose felt good and it felt even better when he cried out in pain and fell to his knees.

  “You broke my nose,” he said. His words were at odds with the smile on his face, which should’ve alarmed me, and it did.

  Too fucking late. I felt the sharp, cool metal slide between a few ribs on my left side but I couldn’t see the asshole behind me.

  “You’re dead, motherfucker!” I said.

  I looked around and everything was dark. No, not just dark, pitch-fucking-black. I didn’t know where I was or who the fuck I’d been fighting, and most of all, I had no fucking clue where my guys were.

  “Yet, you’re the one bleeding out,” he whispered and stuck the knife in again, ducking when I turned with a spinning elbow. “Already too slow.”

  That was exactly what I hoped to hear from this dumb shit. “Maybe if I’d sucker stabbed you, we might be even.” But I would delight in killing this asshole, whoever he was.

  “Come on, GQ.”

  I didn’t even bother responding or rolling my eyes. I’d heard it all before from pretty boy and GQ to Zach Morris and everything in between. “Aw, you think I’m hot? Thanks.”

  He frowned and came in for a jab that I easily dodged. A shot
from his other hand grazed my shoulder, but it didn’t affect me at all. Now he swung wildly, desperate to land something. Anything. I continued to dodge him, waiting for my moment, even as blood wet my shirt left and right. “You motherfucker, you’re dead.”

  I smiled again and leaned back at another wild uppercut that nearly knocked him off balance.

  “Bring it, you ugly piece of shit,” I taunted. When he tried to correct his stance, he overcorrected and fell against me so all I had to do was wrap an arm around his neck.

  “You done?”

  “Fuck you,” he spat and squirmed, but it was useless. The more he moved, the tighter my grip wrapped around him.

  “I guess not,” I laughed and pressed into this dipshit, making him even more uncomfortable, squirming even more.

  “Let him go,” his friend said, finally getting to his feet with a black gun aimed at my head.

  “Fuck that.” I wasn’t afraid of a fucking gun, especially being held by a wannabe gangster.

  “I said,” he lifted the piece higher because clearly he had no fucking idea how guns worked. “Let. Him. Go.”

  “You want him?”

  “You fuckin’ heard me, didn’t you?” the wannabe said.

  I smiled. “I did.” My smile slowly faded as the man barely squirmed, semi-conscious in my arms. With one hand on his cheek, I gave a quick jerk and he fell to the ground with a broken neck.

  “Now you have him, asshole.” I stepped over the limp body and stalked towards the other man who let off one shot, cracking me right in the kneecap, and I dropped to the concrete.

  He lowered the gun, adjusting his aim with a mildly shaking hand. “You’ll pay for that.”

  Somehow, I managed to stand and grab the gun from that asshole. “Maybe in another life.” I emptied the clip into his chest and let him fall, stepping over him and heading to the sounds of traffic on the other end of the alley.

  But another man appeared, charging at me. A quick throat punch sent him to the ground.

  Another man came, and then another and another. They wouldn’t stop, not even as hundreds of them bottle necked into the narrow alleyway.

  There was no way I could fight them all, and I knew it. My adrenaline spiked and my heart was racing so hard I knew I’d pass out any second if I didn’t get my shit under control. But the blows kept coming, hit after hit, and I felt my energy fading.

  “Fuck,” I panted and when I opened my eyes, they were gone.

  No, not gone. They were never fucking there because I was in the bunkhouse on Hardtail Ranch. It was pitch black; the only sounds came from the crickets.

  My heart was still racing, and my bed was soaked with sweat.

  “Another fucking nightmare,” I growled to the beams in the celling.

  At least I was in here alone. No one to witness another humiliating nightmare. Lately, they’d been coming with more frequency. I should fucking recognize them and just wake the fuck up. But I never did. Not until it was too late.

  Knowing I wouldn’t get any more sleep before the sun came up, I swung my leg over the edge of the bed and rubbed my stump. It ached like a motherfucker, which explained the bullet to the knee. Goddamn dreams, they couldn’t just be terrifying, could they? No, they also had to come with weird ass, hidden fucking messages that required a damn witch doctor to decipher. “Fuck!”

  I didn’t want to do it, didn’t want to take another one of those fucking pills, but I needed it. No, I didn’t need it, not if I wasn’t going back to sleep and after that dream, I sure as shit wasn’t.

  With that settled, I grabbed my crutch and made my way to the bathroom, hoping a hot shower might wash away the memories and the pain of that fucking dream. It didn’t work. Nothing ever fucking worked and despite what my brother Mitch thought, talking about it wouldn’t help either.

  I didn’t need to talk. I needed fresh air. Fresh air and black coffee would erase just enough that I could make it through breakfast at the big house without drawing concerned stares from Holden and Peaches, and then through morning chores with Holden.

  Cleaning up horse shit and wrangling cows wasn’t as exciting as my old life, not even the MC had quite reached those levels yet, but it was a damn sight better knowing who I could trust and who was the enemy.

  And so far, the Reckless Bastards hadn’t cost me any goddamn limbs.

  Chapter Two

  Annabelle

  Turning down the long winding dirt road that led to Hardtail Ranch, I let out a sigh and gripped the wheel just a little tighter than necessary. There was no reason to be nervous to go enjoy coffee and breakfast with one of the few friends I’d made outside of the hospital, yet here I was. Nervous.

  And I knew why. Just one second after the big, gleaming white house came into view, so did a tall, brooding figure in the distance. Wheeler. I shouldn’t be nervous or surprised to see him, but I was. I always was. And the worst of it was that even now, I couldn’t look away. Even from a million miles away he was gorgeous and tall with broad shoulders, a narrow waist and well-muscled thighs that did dangerous things to denim.

  He was the flame and I was the moth, doomed to burn my wings because I couldn’t resist him. Even knowing all that, I ignored logic and reason when I stepped from my car and headed in the direction of Wheeler instead of what Peaches lovingly referred to as ‘the big house.’ Every step brought another deep breath and a small wish into the world that today he might closely resemble a pleasant human being.

  “Little early for a fuck ain’t it, Doc?”

  So much for that hope. My shoulders fell in disappointment, and I cursed myself for even bothering to make the long walk over here. Wheeler was never happy to see me, which I didn’t take too personally since he was never happy to see anyone. Still, it stung that he was happy to drop into my life and fuck me but couldn’t be bothered to extend a little common courtesy.

  But I always let him drop in and fuck me because he was hot and sexy and a damn good lay, but the way I felt about myself afterward was the exact opposite.

  “I just came over to see how you were doing.” It sounded pathetic even to my ears and his snort only confirmed it.

  Wheeler turned to me, disdain written clearly in his beautiful sapphire eyes, darker and more intense in these early morning hours and even his dickish words hadn’t diminished his effect on me.

  “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be just fine.” His words were confident and harsh, cold, intended to put more distance between us.

  I should have just followed suit the first time he’d spoken to me like this and proved that I didn’t mean anything to him, but I didn’t. Instead I compounded the mistake I made three months ago when I invited him up for a drink and let him fuck me six ways from Sunday. I let my sympathy for him and his situation get in the way. Well, no more, dammit.

  “So rude and cocky and arrogant,” I huffed. “Especially for a man who can’t get through the night without help from narcotics.”

  He sucked in a breath and glared at me hard, eyes saying so much while his mouth said nothing at all. He turned on his black leather-booted feet and walked away. I watched him until he faded from view and not once did he look back.

  Not. Fucking. Once.

  With a shrug, I turned in the direction of the big house and put Wheeler out of my mind. He was another in a long list of mistakes I’d made. Judging by the heat coursing through me, a mistake I’d probably make a few more times. By the time I reached the front steps, I’d pushed all thoughts of Wheeler into the deep recesses of my mind, slapped a small smile on my face and knocked as I pulled open the screen door. “Knock, knock! Anybody awake in here?”

  “Back here, Belle.” Peaches’ nickname for me had my skin turning pink and my eyes rolling skyward. I had a love-hate relationship with the nickname because on the one hand it was pretty and delicate—which I wasn’t—but on the other hand she said I reminded her of a very famous Belle which I did not. At all.

  The kitchen was a bustl
e of activity, as it always was with Martha shuffling about making sure everyone had what they needed, putting buttery biscuits on the table and a plate stacked high with bacon. Maisie saw me first and slid off the wooden bench seat with a wide, toothless grin.

  “Doctor Anna, hi!” She ran across the kitchen as fast as her little legs would carry her and slammed right into me. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  I knelt down and scooped her up. “Forever huh? You haven’t aged all that much in forever, honey.”

  That little gap between her front teeth melted my heart along with those big blue eyes and lopsided raven pigtails. “Not forever then,” she rolled her eyes. “A really long time.”

  She was right, I hadn’t been around much, only stopping in when someone needed stitching up, or when I was sure I wouldn’t run into Wheeler. “Too many people have been getting scrapes and scars. It’s kept me busy. How are you?” I squeezed her little body tight, loving the way she hugged back with her whole heart, so full of trust.

  “Good. I can count money now, and Peaches and me are reading Harry Potter. You know it?”

  “Do I know it? I have all the movies, kid. When you’re done with the books, I’ll let you borrow them, okay?”

  She nodded and wiggled down to the floor as soon as Martha put the cinnamon rolls on the table. “Okay. Let’s eat!”

  Peaches laughed and helped the little girl back onto the bench, smiling at me as she nodded for me to sit. “Sugar beats everything, especially those buns.”

  “That’s okay, I feel the same way about bacon cheeseburgers.” I took the seat across from Peaches, trying to ignore the tension that between the two women. Martha had, inexplicably decided to continue working for Gunnar after her daughter was killed.

  “Everything smells delicious, Miss Martha.”

  She beamed a rare smile at the compliment and set a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Dr. Keyes.”

  “Annabelle, please.” It was too late for her daughter, Adrian, by the time I’d arrived at the shootout, and all of my focus had been on Holden. I didn’t understand why Martha decided to stay on the ranch.