Free Steel: Blackthorne MC #1 by Carrie Cox

1

    Nick
    The moment I saw her, I knew I needed to make her mine.  
    I’d noticed her as soon as she’d walked in. It was hard not to. A fresh-faced college kid with sinfully hot curves, she looked completely out of place in the biker bar, and I’d guessed she’d come down with some college friends to celebrate the end of the school year.  
    Las Vegas, party time.
    She had a cute heart-shaped face and a body to die for. The red dress she wore clung to her curves in all the right places. It was cut low enough at the front to give a hint of cleavage and made me imagine unzipping her from that dress and releasing her lush, hot curves.
    God, I wanted her, but I couldn’t have her, not tonight. I was supposed to be working. I tore my eyes away from the curvy temptress and scanned the rest of the bar. Other members of the Blackthorne Gang were set up in position, but we still had at least an hour until things were due to kick-off.
    An hour… I turned my attention back to the gorgeous chick, sipping her margarita. I could get a lot done in an hour.
    I was about to head over and make my move when I felt a hand on my arm. That showed exactly how distracted I was. Tonight was the one night I should be keeping my guard up and know exactly when anyone was approaching me.
    I turned sharply to see a slim brunette standing beside me. She flinched and took a step back at my angry glare. She swallowed hard, and then she seemed to recover herself, adjusting the straps on her dress and making sure I got an eyeful of her cleavage. She wasn’t my type, too toned and muscular for my liking. Her hair was carefully curled with not a lock out of place. Too high maintenance.
    She’d probably spent at least an hour on her make up tonight.
    “Hi, there,” she said. “My name is Clarissa and I wondered if you would like to buy me a drink.”
    I barely looked at her. “Sorry, I’m spoken for.”
    But when I turned back to claim my prize, my curvy Margarita girl had disappeared.
    I threw down some cash to tip the waiter who’d been serving me and scanned the bar. Where the hell had she gone?
    From across the room, I caught a glimpse of my cute temptress at the bar placing another order.
    Obviously waitress service was too slow for her. She was definitely in Vegas to party.
    I checked the time. Everything was still on schedule, so I drained the rest of my beer and headed towards her.
    As she picked up her drinks, she turned towards me, and as she looked up I felt my breath catch in my throat. She really was beautiful. At that moment she caught me looking at her, and her eyes widened before she quickly turned away. Her cheeks flushed.
    Damn. She was hot.
    Before I could get any closer, a heavily-muscled guy on her left staggered back, knocking the drinks and spilling the contents all over her.
    He was a biker. I could see that much from the branding on some of his tattoos. He turned to face her with a leer.
    “Here let me help you,” he said, and pretended to brush the drink from her dress, while really just taking the opportunity to cop a feel.
    “Hey,” she said, trying to push him away, but her hands were full as she was still holding the half-empty glasses. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to step out of his reach. But the biker had clearly enjoyed his first touch and was determined to get more.

2

    Ella
    I was sure the asshole was enjoying it. As he pretended to dab at my dress with a napkin, his fingers skimmed over my nipples.
    “Cut it out,” I said, slamming the glasses back on the bar and pulling away from him.
    People were staring at us now, and the leer on the guy’s face had changed into a nasty smirk.
    Coming to this bar had been a bad idea. I’d come with my friend Claire. It was just the two of us now at the end of a week of Las Vegas partying. Tonight was our last blowout night and Claire had wanted to do something outrageous, something different.  
    So we’d left the hotel and headed to this bar,