LOSER: AVENGING ANGELS MC BOOK 3
by Nia Farrell
Length 44,170 words. Release date May 8, 2018.
Amazon e-book (FREE on KU) Goodreads reviews
They’ve both lost something…
For kindergarten teacher and kidnapping victim Sara Davies, it was a baby. For tattoo artist and Avenging Angels MC member Flynn McGee, it was his belief in a happily ever after. Bullied as a dyslexic teen, the product of a broken home, he struggles daily with self-worth. Sara battles PTSD, anxiety, insomnia, and night terrors that require medication if she has any hope of getting some sleep.
Flynn believes that BDSM would help Sara in her healing process but she’s only done vanilla. She thinks that Flynn needs to share his original artwork with the world. Each of them pushes the other, but the conflict that comes from being outside their comfort zones only fuels their passion.
Their fledgling relationship is put to the test when Sara becomes the target of a dangerous stalker. Can Flynn and the Avenging Angels keep her safe, or will Sara become Reaper’s next victim?
This book has adult content and may contain triggers. Written for ages 18+.
“What do we do?”
They’d come to another crossroads in their conversation. He could either hedge or go for broke. If he didn’t scare her off, things could get interesting.
“Kink,” Flynn said simply. “BDSM.” He watched her face as she took it in. She didn’t look shocked like he was expecting. Either she’d talked to Isabella or had heard enough that it didn’t surprise her. Sara schooled her features, but her eyes revealed curiosity and maybe something more. Was it possible that the idea of kink turned her on? If she had PTSD, giving up control was a huge step in learning to trust again.
“Every member of the Avenging Angels is a Dominant.”
She looked at his cut. “Then you’re a Dominant, too.” She sounded like she didn’t know what to do with that.
“Yes,” he said. “And unless I’m really reading you wrong, I’d say that you’re a natural submissive. The idea of putting yourself in someone’s hands, surrendering control to someone you can trust to meet your needs, appeals to you on some level. You know, the women at the clubhouse are submissives. The clubhouse lounge is essentially a playroom. A dungeon, if you will. Play goes on every night of the week, not just party nights.”
“So if I take you there,” she said slowly, “and go inside, I can expect to see something?”
“I can’t imagine you not getting an eyeful with as many members, prospects, old ladies, mamas, and sweetbutts as we have. I can see those questions swirling in your eyes. You’re curious. Maybe more than curious. Say the word, and I’ll see that you get a first-hand look. It’s the least I can do.”
Their waitress chose that moment to slip the guest check on the table. Flynn snagged it before Sara had a chance to. “I got this,” he told her. “You’re driving. I’m buying. Energy exchange.”
He’d rather be making a power exchange with her, but that would have to wait. He wanted to see how she reacted to the clubhouse lounge. What caught her attention. What made her cringe. What made her breath catch and her panties get wet.
“I don’t think that skirt meets the school dress code, Sara.”
She felt her cheeks grow flush. “No, I wore this for you. It shows my thigh.”
He arched a brow. “It shows a helluva lot more than that. Did you wear those red panties for me, too? Don’t bother tugging on the skirt, Sara. It’s too late for that.”
She froze with her fingers on the hem.
“Well?” he said. “Did you?”
She snapped her spine straight, and looked past his shoulder, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “No. I wore them for me.”
“Liar.” He pinned her with his gaze. “Look me in the eye and tell me again. Did you wear those panties for me?”
His hazel eyes were this beautiful mix of colors that seemed to shift with his emotions. Right now, they were as dark as she’d ever seen them.
“Maybe,” she hedged.
He crossed his tattooed arms and gave her a look that demanded the truth.
“Yes,” she admitted, feeling the blush that colored her cheeks and spilled down to her chest.
“That’s what I thought. And why would you do that, Sara? Wear red panties and flash me? Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
“Did you want me to notice?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
“You know, some men would think that you were asking for something you might not be willing to give. What were you hoping for, Sara? What did you see happening here tonight?”
“I don’t know,” she keened, at once ashamed and aroused. “After I got out of the hospital, I created this image that people wanted to see. Someone who has it together. Someone who’s happy. But no one bothers to look past the mask. No one wants to see the darkness or the grief, the guilt or the regrets. They want to see the old Sara, and she’s not there anymore.”
Flynn listened. Nodded. “You’re trying to find yourself. Redefine yourself. I get that. I’ve had to do it, too. More than once. It just takes time.”
“Time?” She shook her head. “It’s been three years since I’ve felt anything and now I don’t know what to do. How to act. What to think when you get flirty with me. I don’t know. Maybe you’re that way with everyone. I mean, look at me. I’m nothing like those girls in your club.”
“No,” he said. “You’re not. And thank fuck for it. Sweetbutts are a dime a dozen. Sleeping with them is meaningless sex. Scratching an itch, nothing more. A woman like you…you have no idea how rare you are. I look at you, and I see someone who’s stronger than she thinks, wiser than she knows, and better than I deserve. There’s a kindness in you that’s survived despite everything that you’ve been through. The way you stayed with me, I have to wonder if you’d have done it for anyone else. Would you have been brave enough to go to the clubhouse, say, with Iceman if you’d seen him go down? What I’m saying is, I know it took guts to go in there with me and you didn’t really know me from shit. Hell, you took a bigger chance going to my room. If you had any idea what was going through my mind, you’d have dropped me at the door and gone straight home.”
Sara pressed her thighs together but it did nothing to ease the throbbing between her legs. “You said you were a Dominant. A true Dominant wouldn’t force himself on me. Nothing would have happened without my consent.”
“And it won’t tonight, either. But I’m too old for games, Sara. If you want something, tell me. Don’t play coy. You say that you want to discover who you are. Well, I want that, too. After we eat, I’ll show you something that may help. Doing it will be your choice. I’m hoping that you’ll trust me to guide you through it.”
“Those nipple clamps need to come off. When the blood rushes back in, it’s going to hurt. I can make it feel better if you trust me to do it.”
“Okay.” She didn’t sound sure but she was brave enough to take a chance.
He started with the clamp closest to him. “Here goes.” He took it off. She gasped at the pain. Seeking to ease it, he bent his head and fastened his mouth over her nipple, sucking on it until her gasp turned into a moan.
Flynn raised his gaze to meet hers. Sara was watching him with a lambency in her eyes that he couldn’t fail to recognize.
He could smell her arousal. If he slid his fingers between her legs, he was certain that he’d find her panties wet with her juices.
Lifting his head, he covered her breast with his hand and gave it a squeeze. “We good?” he asked. She nodded. “One more time, then.”
Leaning over her, he took off the second clamp and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking it to ease the hurt and making her moan with desire. She clasped his head and arched her back, pressing her breast more fully into his mouth. He caught the nipple between his teeth and teased it with his tongue, licking and flicking it while his fingers claimed her other breast.
“Flynn,” she breathed. “Fuck me.”
He knew what this was. She had just revisited the scene where she’d nearly died. She was seeking a life-affirming action, but what sex the best answer?
“Are you sure, babe?” As her Dominant, it was his responsibility to put her needs before his own, even though he was rock hard for her.
She covered his fly with her hand and squeezed his erection through his jeans. “Yes,” she breathed. “Please, Flynn. Don’t make me beg.”
Framing her face in his hands, he bent down and brushed her lips with his. She put her palms on his shoulders and spread her fingers wide, sweeping them over his chest, seeking and finding the barbells in his nipples. She teased them with her palms. He bit her lower lip. When she gasped, he slammed his mouth over hers and thrust his tongue inside to mate with hers, an erotic duel that left them both panting with need.
He shoved a hand down the front of her panties and fingered her clit. Coaxing it from its hood, he dove deeper, stroking her swollen folds. She thrust her hips against him, humping his hand. She was soaking wet. He traced her seam and parted it with his middle finger. Pushing up, he found her opening with practiced ease and worked his way into her tight, wet channel, feeling her walls resist, then yield to his invasion, not stopping until he was knuckle-deep. Curling his finger, he found her G-spot and brought her to a shattering climax.
Her pussy milked his finger, her walls spasming, rippling along its length. He wished it had been his dick, but this was about her, not him.
He fucked her with his finger, letting her ride his hand, adding a second finger once he’d stretched her out a bit. Pulling out, he grabbed the sides of her panties and yanked them down. He stood to finish pulling them off her feet and tossed them aside.
His boots went next. He felt her gaze when his fingers went to the waist of his jeans, found the button, and pushed it free. His erection strained the zipper. He opened it slowly, taking care to not catch anything on the way down. Hooking his fingers in his waistband, he shoved his jeans over his hips and down his legs, freeing one, then the other, until he was as naked as a Michael Stokes model.
The way she looked at him, he felt like one. The woman liked ink, no doubt about it. Her gaze drifted south to his cock. He stroked himself, working pre-cum from the tip.
“Bend your knees up,” he told her. “Put your heels by your ass and make room for me, sugar.” The chair wasn’t nearly as wide as a bed. You could fuck on it, but positions were limited.
Letting go of his dick, he crawled between her legs, not stopping until the head of his cock was nudging her crotch. Planting his palm by her head, he took hold of himself with the other hand and stroked her folds, wetting himself with her juices.
She palmed his pecs, spread her fingers, and squeezed, feeling the contours of his muscles. He flexed his hips, demanding entrance and achieving it in one, meaty thrust that took her breath away. She bucked and writhed beneath him, struggling to accommodate his length and girth. The truth was, he more than filled her. He had to work for every inch, but eventually, he was balls-deep in her sweet, welcoming warmth.
He started really fucking her, then, building in speed and intensity until he was pounding into her. She climaxed twice more while he was screwing her. Her juices coated his cock and gave the lubrication he needed to keep from fucking her raw.
When he felt himself nearing the end, he had three choices: finish in her mouth, mark her front, or finish in her ass. “I need to come,” he grated. His balls tightened, getting ready to unload.
“My mouth,” she panted. “I want you in my mouth.”