Forever - Book 3 (Star Crossed MC Lovers) (3 page)

Chapter 2

Selene

September 18, 2015

Stone Wolves Motor Cycle Club

Pleasant Valley, Pennsylvania

My knuckles blanched as I gripped the handles of Lucky Morrison’s vintage Harley. The chrome of his bike shone brilliantly against the rays of the rising sun in the parking lot of the Stone Wolves Motorcycle Club. I was prepared to dart like a bat out of hell from the snarling members of the MC. Revving the engine loudly, I straddled the bike in wait. Giving an expectant glance over my left shoulder, a devilish smile creased my face, and my eyes burned a path to the front door of the Stone Wolves Motor Lodge – headquarters of the Stone Wolves Motorcycle Club.

I eyed the doors closely, just waiting for the moment when the bikers would rampage through. As the doors of the club crashed open, twenty armed men, clad in the black leather Stone Wolves cut, rushed out of the building. I released a sharp laugh as I revved the motor one last time for good measure. As Rusty Grier's reddened face, and Robert “Knife” Patton, President of the Stone Wolves Motorcycle Club came barging through the doors, I winked slyly. There was nothing better than teasing the old farts. Without a second thought, I ripped out of the parking lot on Lucky’s bike. The engine roared like a lion as the burning tires sent up a cloud of smoke in its wake.

“Fucking Delgado!” Knife screamed above the roar of the engine, giving me a delight that I could barely explain.

***

      I was quite aware it looked bad, but before someone could judge my actions, they would have to hear me out. I tried to think through what I was going to tell my father, or Lucky, for that matter. The joke was on the handsome boy that had stolen my heart, but I had no doubt  I would feel the heat of his retribution in ways that I didn’t exactly enjoy. A little pain in the pleasure, if you will.

My name is Selene Delgado and I am the daughter of the king. I suppose that makes me a princess, but let me assure you, I am anything but.

My father is Rafael “King Pin” Delgado, President of the Black Heart MC. That’s motorcycle club for those not in the know. My father is the king of a hundred-man crew – and they all wear the Black Heart cut. They are not the only MC club in our tiny town, though.

Welcome to Pleasant Valley, Pennsylvania, the last place on earth you’d think would have a motorcycle turf war on their hands. The name is idyllic, and the setting is, too, upon first glance. Set in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania, you’d think our town would be tranquil. Pleasant Valley was set in the midst of forest. We have serene lakes and valleys, plenty of wildlife and we host plenty of hunters during open season. What many people didn’t realize was that after hunting season was over, the shooting continued – and while the wildlife was spared, our town’s MC clubs had a target on each other’s members and their families.

Pleasant Valley, Pennsylvania is a tiny blip on the radar. It is a small town about an hour north of the Delaware Water Gap, set deep in the backwoods of the Pocono Mountains. Around here, bloodlines run deep. Most of the families here have been here since the early 1900’s. My great-grandfather Antonio, settled in Pleasant Valley in 1922, after leaving Mexico. It was after the end of the Mexican Revolution, and he and his brother Marco decided they needed a change. After so much bloodshed and travesty, the Delgado brothers wanted to get as far away from Mexico City as they could. They picked a spot on the map, deep in the mountains and far from the big cities. Making the trek on a pair of twin 1916 Harley Davidson J’s, they drove from Mexico City to Pleasant Valley, Pennsylvania. The journey took them six days and when they finally arrived in Pleasant Valley, the brothers decided that they were home.

They found work at a logging yard and saved as much money as they could. Both brothers were motorcycle enthusiasts. When they had finally saved up enough, they reduced their hours at the logging yard, and opened up their own garage. They called it Delgado Motors and it still stands at the center of town today. A few months later, the Black Heart motorcycle club was born. Shortly after they arrived in town, an Irish family moved in – The Brennan’s. Mac Brennan and his wife, Clara arrived in town with their adult daughter, Nessa.

For Marco, it was love at first sight. But Antonio was the first to make his move. Both brothers loved Nessa tremendously and a rivalry was born. In the end, Antonio may have won his bride, but he lost a brother. Showing how serious the chasm was, Marco distanced himself from the Black Hearts and founded the Stone Wolf MC. That was way back in 1927. Now, in 2015, the two clubs were still at odds.

Growing up, my father had a rule. I could date anyone I wanted, as long as it wasn’t a Stone Wolf. My father and his club didn’t make it easy, either. Each and every one of his brothers in arms watched  me like I was their own daughter. Then, when their own sons became men, they watched me like I was their own beloved little sister. Except one. Dante Iglesias wanted more. After sucking up to my father for the better part of five years, he thinks he’s a shoe-in for the king’s chair. In order for that to happen, in order for my father to give up his seat as President, I would have to accept Dante’s marriage proposal.

Groan.

How many ways can you tell a man, no?

At the end of the day, my heart is not my father’s to give. Dante has asked for my hand in marriage ten times and ten times over I have refused him. It’s not that Dante is a bad-looking guy. He’s not. The fact of the matter is, my heart is just not up for sale.

It was stolen a long time ago, and claimed three years back by a rival boy with a wicked hot smile and greedy hands.

Chapter 3

Lucky

September 18, 2015

Stone Wolves Motorcycle Club

Pleasant Valley, Pennsylvania

"Lucky! Aye, Lucky!" a raspy voice called from outside the bedroom door. A man was banging on my bedroom door as if his life depended on it, and it was way the fuck too early for it.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I groaned and stirred in my bed, rudely awoken by the pounding at the door. What sounded like a heavy fist splintering the wood of the door, made sleep damn-near impossible.

“
Fuck,” I growled and realized that it wasn’t going to stop until I got up.

Rubbing my face, I reached across the bed to find Selene, but as per usual, her side of the bed was empty. Nothing but warm sheets lay where she had slept the night before.

Must have left in a hurry.

But how did she get home? Her bike wasn’t here. She rode with me. I told her I’d give her a ride home. But she probably didn’t want to wake me up.

"Dammit, man..." I griped as I turned over. “I’m fucking coming. Keep your dick in your pants, shit.”

My eyes scanned the room, looking for my bedside table where an assortment of condom wrappers, a pack of cigarettes and an alarm clock sat. I glared at the alarm clock as anger burned through me.

9:37 A.M.

"Might as well be dawn. What the fuck is going on before noon?" I rubbed the stubble on my chin and breathed in deeply. The smell of my girl’s last orgasm was still on my fingers. Damn, if I didn’t want to lick at it, but I forced myself to behave. Walking to the door with a raging hard-on wasn’t unheard of, but no reason to scare the guys with my size. I smirked at the thought. I was totally the mother fucker they believed me to be.

Rising to my feet, my six foot 4 inch frame unfolded as the bed sheets slid from my naked body, caressing me as they went. My broad-shouldered frame was properly jacked , which I was more than proud of. Many hours in the gym gave Selene the proper playground to have her fun on.  If nothing else, when she got pissed I usually just pulled off my shirt and beckoned the wicked little thing to come and lick my tattoos for me. She had something about wanting to trace them with her tongue. No complaints here. I had plenty of ink to lick.

The whole of my back bore the Stone Wolves insignia tattooed in bold black ink that took a multitude of return visits to the ink-slinger to get. It was part of the ritual of becoming a proud member of the Stone Wolves, and I couldn’t be more thrilled that I belonged, and had for the last three years.

I knew that if I wanted to rise in the ranks of the club, I had to stay strong no matter what, and I was incredibly strong. I had the brute strength of a bear, excellent defensive skills and the smarts to keep myself and my girl safe when in the line of danger. There was a reason that I was VP of the Stone Wolves Motorcycle Club. Lots of them, actually.

The club, which once belonged to a group of black sheep Delgados, the men who had parted ways with Raphael's ancestors, had long since passed. Now the club was comprised of a rag-tag bunch of bikers. Our demographics  were broad, with the majority of the club polling as Irish-American, seven percent claiming to be Italian-American, a two percent African-American population and a measly one percent belonged to the only Native American Stone Wolf, Eddie La Pointe. It was a mixed population, but for the Stone Wolves, it worked. We were a tightly knit clan, even when things went wrong, like the fire. I was glad when club fire repairs were all wrapped up and everyone wasn’t so grumpy. But together, we stuck through the good and the bad.

My bare feet slapped against the planks of the hardwood floor as I darted to the bedroom door to see what the problem was. Not even bothering to put on a pair of boxers, though I shouldn’t have been so cocky, I swung open the door, with all of my glory on full display.

Rusty Grier's eyes bolted wide as he stared back at me in shock. The old man rubbed his large right hand over his face and quickly averted his eyes to his feet.

Blade, a lifetime member of the club, who was nearly as old as Rusty, laughed loudly. From across the room, standing at the bar, Knife Patton howled with laughter.

I snickered, unable to help myself. At least the club President thought the shit was funny.

“Fuckin’ Lucky! No shame!” Blade said with a hearty laugh. Blade was more like a father figure to me than my own damn dad had been. I couldn’t count the number of times the old bastard had shown up to save me from my drunken old man’s beatings. I owed him a lot. Almost too much.

“Please, Blade. What do I have to be embarrassed about?” I gave him a cocky look and tilted my head to the side, as if I were somehow innocent. I asked the question as if there was nothing at all wrong with standing in the middle of a crowded clubhouse with nothing more than the Emperor's Robes on, which there wasn’t. Many a man had done it.

Rusty Grier eyed Blade then returned his gaze to me as he shook his head. He was the eldest biker, and stood irritated in the doorway, glaring at me and my lack of clothes.

"This better be good..." I warned as I returned the stink eye I was getting. There were at least a dozen men outside my door... and that wasn't all. A few sweet butts -- bar flies that called the Stone Wolves Lodge home-- spotted me and stared as they chatted loudly. Half of them had raised me on their own tits and ass, but we were a family and they knew I’d taken to a girl in town. No one knew that it was Selene, and if it was up to me, they never would. I was damn proud to have her as my girl, but nothing good could come of sharing the information with everyone.

“Damn! Hey Lucky boy!” Kellie yelled from the bar.

“Figures the hottest guy in the bar is taken…” Megan complained.

I met Kellie's eyes and winked. I loved entertaining their flirtatious advances, but I would never in a million years act on any of it. While the girls in the club were nice to look at, but I was a taken, well-kept and often-fucked man.

The women cackled loudly as they laughed, earning a vicious glare from several of the bikers. I couldn’t help but blush, though it wasn’t because of their sweet faces. My cock had started to harden just thinking about how often my sexy little dark-skinned nymph wanted time in the sheets with me. She was a tiger in the bed and waking up alone was going to have to stop. I wanted her first thing in the morning and as the last thing on my body at night.

“Don’t you two got shit to do?!” Viper howled as he walked past, shaking his head in annoyance.

"What the fuck, Luck? Don't you own a robe?" Rusty asked, as a few of the other men snickered. “And why the fuck are you getting turned on? Damn, boy. We’re all staring at you.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Maybe I was a stripper in a previous life.”

Viper gave me a once-over and laughed hard into his hand as he strolled by.

I gave the old man in front of me a look of defiance and shrugged. Glancing down at my chest, my eyes grazed over the tribal tattoo that covered my pec, my rippling abs with the loving ‘ominous’ that Selene loved stamped on it, and last, but not least… my stiff member. I honestly had no idea what Rusty's problem was. Had to be jealousy.

"Well old man... If ya got it, flaunt it, right?" I glanced back up and chuckled.

"Damn, Grier... Act like you've seen a dick before!" Larry “The Animal” Bambetti called out with a cheeky smirk on his face. Larry and I had pledged into the Stone Wolves together, but I pushed a little ahead of him during the process, which I figured would hurt our budding brotherhood, but it didn’t. The guy was wild as fuck, but I loved him the same.

"Maybe that's the problem," Knox, a prospect, complained. "Old fuck's miserable ‘cause he hasn't seen his pecker in years!"

“Watch it, prospect!” Rusty glanced back and flipped everyone the bird. “I’ll whip out my dick and slap you bitches with it if you don’t hold your tongue.”

“Promises, promises,” several of the sweet-butts cooed before breaking up into giggles again.

“No, no, no... Prospect's right!” Razor griped. “Old bastard's a miserable cuss!”

"Fuck off, assholes!" Rusty yelled back as he lit up a cigarette. Puffing, a cloud of smoke rose into the air.

He obviously wasn’t  in a joking mood. Best time to fuck with the old man, but it was getting a little chilly, and my balls were already trying to crawl up into my body. Time to get the rendezvous over and get my pants on.

"So you got me out of bed before noon… What's the fucking problem?" I asked with a bite of attitude in my voice.

Rusty looked all too happy to tell me something. As if it might break my amusement.

"Selene Delgado just road off with your bike," Rusty said with a smirk.

Now I knew how she got home.

Oh, Selene. You sexy bitch.

She loved to put me into impossible predicaments, and had been outdoing herself over and over again for the last three years. I loved her all the same. I couldn’t help it.

I didn't know whether it was to keep me on my toes, inject a little excitement into our lives, or just play hard to get, but I had to admit... her little games set me on fire. I always figured it was because she didn’t have many friends in school and needed more than just a lover. I was willing to step up and be anything she wanted, anytime she wanted it. The girl had my number, and it was probably tattooed somewhere on her lovely flesh.

It was a game of give and take, push and pull, and every time she tested me, I came rushing back for more. I couldn’t help it. She was like a drug to me. So delicious and exciting. We’d been playing with each other since our senior year, which was three years past, though it seemed like only yesterday.

I had to be careful of my facial expressions, though. While I wanted to smirk, there was the expectation that I should be furious. There were very few people who knew of my relationship with Selene -- and those that knew were sworn to secrecy. The blood feud between the clubs put Selene at risk. It put me at risk, too, but that was the least of my concerns. If Selene was put in danger because of my actions, I would never be able to live with myself. Screwing up my face, I put on my best performance.

Twisting my face in anger, I turned on my heel and stormed to my closet while I peppered the empty room around me with curse words. Ripping out a pair of clean jeans, a black Saint Palmer t-shirt (my favorite metal band), a black grommet belt and my motorcycle boots, I quickly got dressed.

The conversation outside of the room escalated, from what I could hear. My guys were preparing to face the other club, seeing that Selene had poked the fire with a big-ass stick once again. She was getting a spanking this time. It was her favorite form of punishment, anyway.

Everyone knew that Selene wasn't some old lady, which made the prank even more exciting. She was the daughter of the President, making her something of royalty around Pleasant Valley. Those that knew Selene well though, knew that she was not a princess, but a patched member. The only female member in the club's long history, Selene was not someone that you wanted to cross. That made this slight much more personal for many of the bikers. Once you pledge your loyalty to a club, all bets are off and no one is exempt from retaliation.

“You look like heat’s rising off your shoulders boy. Time to go catch us a wayward Delgado and teach those fuckers a lesson or two?” Rusty stuck his head into my room as I finished lacing up my black motorcycle boots.

Rising from the bed with a look of pure vengeance on my face, I nodded, then led the path through the long hallway of the club, out into the great hall and out the front door of the club. Grabbing my black leather jacket off of a hook on the wall, I slipped it on, and then turned around to face the other club members. I held up my hand to my brothers in arms, and spat, "I got this. I don't need an army for one klepto."

"Not a chance, Luck..." Knife called out. "We're goin'. You know she ran right back to her daddy's club, and we're not letting you go back there to get ambushed.”

Shit. Selene, what did you do?

"C'mon, armor up!” Razor called out. “Let's go. Nobody fucks with a Stone Wolf's bike!"