Friday, 12 January 2018

#Firstchapterfriday #Downanddirty #MCromance Hawk is so hot, so, raw, so... dirty! One-click this bad boy biker today.



Down & Dirty: Hawk
Dirty Angels MC, Book 3

By Jeanne St. James

Buy Links:
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2ydYAui (FREE on Kindle Unlimited)



Blurb:

Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rules. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this is Hawk’s story...

When strong statements must be made, Hawk, as the MC’s VP, must be the one to make them. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences, like him landing in jail. Though the club keeps an attorney on retainer, the one who shows up isn’t quite who he’s expecting. Not even close.
Feisty, classy, and curvy, this attorney pushes his buttons in all the right ways. And Hawk can’t ignore a challenge. However, she’s so out of his league, he can’t hope for anything more than a few chances to scratch all her itches.
When Kiki’s boss hands over the club’s account, she doesn’t know what to expect and her meeting with the overbearing, bad boy biker goes anything but smoothly. Like Hawk, Kiki loves a challenge, too. But getting involved in the club and its VP may not be what she bargained for. Especially when it comes to several run-ins with a rival MC, including one which may very well affect the rest of her life.
Kiki needs to decide if becoming involved with Hawk is worth not only the judgment from her peers but, even worse, the violent mayhem the club becomes entangled in.

Trigger warning: This story includes a violent situation that includes kidnapping, physical and sexual assault. Note: This book can be read as a standalone. It includes lots of steamy scenes, biker slang, cursing, some violence and, of course, an HEA. If you like alpha males who take charge, this book is for you.


Excerpt:
Chapter One

Hawk grunted.
About fucking time.
As the annoying high-pitched buzz sounded, the magnetic door lock released and the reinforced steel door clanged open, he glanced up and saw a guard pushing through the door.
He’d been sitting here long enough, waiting in this sparse room that only housed a bolted-down, dented and scratched metal table and two chairs that sat unevenly on the concrete floor.
Not that he had anywhere else to go. He was stuck here until the club’s attorney showed up and did his legal hocus-pocus to get him the fuck out of county jail.
All he knew was that he did not look good in an orange poly-cotton blend. He preferred denim and leather. He’d rather not be wearing a one-size-does-not-fit-all jumpsuit at all. It wouldn’t take much flexing for him to split the seams with the one he currently wore.
Like the Hulk.
He grinned.
But that grin was quickly lost as the person following the guard into the room did not look anything like his lawyer.
Not unless the Dirty Angels MC’s attorney had a sex change operation, lost at least fifty pounds—which included a gut—and slapped in colored contacts. Not to mention, found some sense of style.
Hawk closed his dropped jaw before he started to drool like a fool. Because, for fuck’s sake, slobbering all over himself wouldn’t be very badass biker. Not. At. All.
He drew himself up straighter in the uncomfortable metal chair and puffed out his chest until the top snap of the jumpsuit popped open.
Then he let his gaze slowly run down that fine piece of ass from top to toe.
Oh, fuck me, he thought as he took in the woman’s long, wavy dark brown hair, her plump suck-my-cock lips, her bouncing tits that wanted to bust out of the blood-red blouse that fit her like an if-you-can’t-acquit glove, her narrow waist, her not-so-narrow hips, which were encased in a black skirt that only came down mid-thigh—thighs that would fit perfectly around his ears—those long-ass, lickable calves, slim ankles, and... fuck... higher-than-hell heels.
She could walk all over him as long as she wore those fucking shoes.
He heard the clearing of a throat and reluctantly lifted his gaze to flashing, but amused, deep blue eyes.
He hadn’t even realized the guard was gone and the door had been closed. They were alone.
With a hard-on that wouldn’t quit, he now couldn’t wait to get back to his cramped cell to rub one out. He didn’t even care if his cellmate watched. Fuck that strung-out weasel dick.
“Where’s Pudwhacker?”
And when that vision opened her mouth to speak... Yeah, he just about creamed in his county-issued tighty whities. “I was assigned to your club by Mr. Pannebaker.”
“Why?” came out sounding more like a grunt than a question.
“Because I’m good—”
In bed? I’ll be the judge of that.
“And he’s busy,” she finished.
The woman yanked the chair away from the table and the metal legs screeched along the filthy, pitted concrete floor. She smiled when he winced at the sound.
“You gonna be able to sit down in that skirt?”
She proved it when she slid that ass, which he had yet to get an eyeful of, onto the seat.
He was jealous of that scrap of metal. No doubt. She should be sitting on his face instead.
“Sure thing, Mr...” She flipped open his file, ran a long blood-red fingernail—one that matched her blouse—along a document inside and then tapped it. “Mr. Dougherty.”
“You wear that for all your clients? Or am I special?”
She plastered on an I’m-only-here-because-I-have-to-be smile. “All my clients are special, Mr. Dougherty.”
“I’m sure,” he muttered. “Bet everyone who pays those fuckin’ high hourly fees feels special.” He reached around and rubbed his ass. “Feelin’ real special right ‘bout now.”
She tilted her head and considered him. “You wouldn’t have to pay anything if you hadn’t been arrested.”
Well, that was true. But sometimes statements had to be made and he, as well as his club brothers, had to be the ones to make them.
“Shit happens.”
“That it does. So here we are. Can we get started, Mr. Dougherty?”
“Hawk.”
She pursed her lips for a moment. And in that moment his balls tightened painfully. Damn, didn’t he want to shoot his load all over her face.
Suddenly, she dropped her torso beneath the table and then popped back up. Hawk watched as her tits also bounced back, testing the top button of her deep V-neck blouse.
He blinked. Since when were threads so damn strong?
Then his breath rushed out of him loudly when she slipped on a pair of glasses.
Holy fuck. She just became every man’s sexy librarian wet dream.
I’ve been a naughty boy, Ms. Librarian.
She placed some sort of flat computer that didn’t have a keyboard on the table. What Ivy would call a tablet or some such shit. Not that he cared. He didn’t fuck with those types of things. He barely knew the basics when he used the computer at his bar and even then, he let his computer whiz of a cousin do the rest.
He didn’t have time for that shit.
She dropped her gaze to the folder. “So, I went over your charges—”
“Read my last name without your glasses.”
Her head rose and those deep blue eyes blinked at him. “What?”
“Read my name without your glasses, now you need ‘em?”
She stared at him. “I forget to put them on sometimes since they’re just for reading. Your name was a bit blurry, but I could make it out. Does it matter if I’m wearing my glasses or not?”
Fuck yeah it does. Especially if you’re naked.
And in my bed.
“Gotta name?”
Her mouth opened and closed once before she said, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Kiki Clark.”
His brows shot up his forehead. “Kiki?”
“Yes, sir,” she said on a dramatic sigh.
Hawk muttered, “What the fuck.”
She shrugged. “Ask my parents.”
“So, you ain’t lyin’.”
“I never lie.”
His brows shot up once again. He had a hard time believing that coming from an attorney.
“Okay, maybe sometimes. But only when it’s important. Like when someone’s freedom hangs in the balance.”
Well, damn. “You lie to judges,” he stated.
Without even the slightest hesitation and a fleeting smile, she answered, “I plead the fifth.”
Hawk leaned back in his chair and barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re just like a real super hero rightin’ wrongs.” He shook his head. “Damn, wanna get in your skirt.”
“I’ll dry clean it for you first if you would like to wear it. Might be a bit tight on you, though.” She lifted a shoulder slightly. “No loss for me, since I’ve never been fond of it anyway.”
“Fuckin’ goddamn,” he whispered.
She arched a brow. “Does that mean good?”
“Fuck yes. For me, anyhow. But I’ll make sure it’s good for you, too.”
“I’m relieved,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I’ve already had too many selfish pricks in my bed.”
“I’m not a selfish prick.”
“So you say.”
He studied her, wondering how many notches she had on her bed post. “How many is ‘too many?’”
“You first, Mr. Dougherty. How many women have you had in your bed? I’ve heard rumors about those biker parties.”
“If you’re talkin’ about at the same time... then a few. Wanna be one?”
She adjusted herself in her chair, then pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “How about we just agree to keep our relationship on a professional level. Me as the lawyer and you as the defendant.”
Hawk gave her a half-assed grin. “Doubt that’s gonna happen.”
She made a noise. “It’ll happen.”
“You say so, babe.”
Now she gave him a Do-I-really-have-to-tolerate-this-asshole? smile. “I certainly do, pumpkin.”
Hawk snorted and his grin widened. He liked a challenge. And she was pushing all his buttons. In the right way.
She again arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Now, can we get down to business?”
He wasn’t ready to get down to business. Or at least the business she was here for. He liked playing with her. And she didn’t seem to mind it, either. He liked that. No, he fucking loved that. “Right here on the table?”
She shook her head and sighed, then ran her gaze over his head before switching gears without a warning. “Did it hurt to get your head tattooed?”
It hurt like a bitch. “Tickled.”
Now both of her brows rose. “You’re ticklish?”
“Wanna find out?”
“Another time, but thanks. The guards might frown upon it if we get into a tickle fight.”
Hawk’s grin widened. They’d probably be jealous, if anything. “Not scared of bikers, are you?”
“Should I be?”
“Depends how bad they wanna fuck you.”
“You want to fuck me...” She glanced down at her file. “Hawk? Is that your real name?”
“Yeah. On both accounts.”
Ah. Okay. I’ll take your uncontrollable desire into consideration before I step into a dark room alone with you.”
Once again, Hawk sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled. She was a feisty one. Classy. Curvy. A lot of hair to pull. Smart and a smart ass mouth, as well.
Right up his alley.
Yeah, he liked a good challenge.
He might have to taste her between her legs to see if she was sweet as well as spicy.
“Gotta get outta here. Got a bar to run.”
“Right.” She peeked back at her paperwork before meeting his gaze directly. Head on. Nope. No fear at all in those eyes. “The Iron Horse Roadhouse. Maybe you should have thought about that before you kicked that biker’s ass.”
“Just defendin’ myself.”
She leaned forward, giving Hawk a better view of her tits. “So, let me get this straight, the man that you knocked out and badly injured put his hands on you first?”
Shit.
“He put his paws on DAMC property.”
When she noticed where his eyes had focused, she sat back. “Him specifically? Or someone in his club?”
Hawk shrugged, then stretched his neck out toward the left and then toward the right, cracking his spine, before answering, “Don’t matter. All the same.”
“Not in the eyes of the law.”
“Justice is blind,” Hawk grumbled, thinking about the ten years the former club president, Zak, spent in prison for a crime the Shadow Warriors set him up for.
Fuckers. They deserved everything they got and then some.
“I can’t disagree with you on that. That’s why I got into criminal defense.”
Speaking of defense... “Where’s my brother?”
“The other Mr. Dougherty has been released.”
What the fuck? “How’d he get sprung an’ my ass is still sittin’ in here?”
Kiki lifted a shoulder, one he wanted to sink his teeth into as he was making her come. “He didn’t waste my time trying to get down my pants. Or up my skirt.”
Right. He was sure Diesel would take a shot at that if given half the chance. “Doubt that’s the reason.”
“And you would be correct. Though this can’t be proven, I have a feeling your brother’s size alone intimidated the witnesses. No one saw him do anything but hold the front door open to the pub to let the rest of your crew in.”
Lucky fucking bastard.
“What did these so-called witnesses see me do?”
“They saw enough that you would be held responsible for the damage.”
“So, has nothin’ to do with crackin’ some Shadow Warriors’ heads. Just the damage to that bar?”
“Sort of, but not exactly.”
“That’s clear as fuckin’ piss.”
“I agree.”
Hawk grunted. “Club’ll pay for the damage.”
“Already done.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So what’s the hold up?”
“I have to go before the District Justice and plea for leniency. He seems determined to make an example of at least one of you. You came into his jurisdiction and wreaked havoc, Mr... Hawk. Judges tend to frown upon that. They tend not to like motorcycle gangs—”
“Club,” he corrected her.
“What?”
“Club,” he barked. “DAMC’s a fuckin’ club, a brotherhood, not a gang.”
“Okay, well,” she pushed her glasses up her nose once more. “Club, then. Judges tend not to like clubs going to war in their area. Can you see where he’s coming from?”
“You know this DJ?”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes as he watched her face carefully. “Good?”
“Very well, yes.”
Hawk leaned forward over the table until they were almost face to face. “You fuck ‘im?”
He couldn’t miss the uncomfortable swallow and the flash of shock that crossed her expression. Finally, he got a reaction from her. But it quickly disappeared as a blank mask slipped over her face.
“I’m not going to answer that. That’s simply ridiculous.”
“You gonna wear a skirt like that when you plead my innocence?”
When she sighed with impatience, Hawk’s gaze became glued to the rise and fall of her chest.
“I’m not pleading your innocence. I’m shooting for a reduced sentence.”
“Then you plan on fucking me an’ not in a good way.”
“I’m going to do my best to get you out of here and back to your club and your brotherhood as an ‘upstanding business owner who made an unwise decision that won’t be repeated.’”
“An unwise decision.” Hawk snorted. “In self-defense.”
“No. I’m not going to insult the judge that way. You’ve learned from your time here and you’ve learned from your mistake. You’re taking this as a life lesson and will be a better citizen because of it.”
Damn, she was good. She almost convinced him with that bullshit. “Sure, babe. Sounds like a plan. Long as it works.”
“It’ll work if you keep your mouth shut in the courtroom and you don’t stare down the judge in defiance. You let me do all the talking, while you’re as quiet as a church mouse and looking as harmless as one, too.”
“Mice can do a lotta fuckin’ damage.”
Hawk bit back a laugh when she slapped a hand to her forehead and her eyes bugged out behind those sexy little glasses. “Fuck my life,” she said under her breath.
Damn, that was hot. “Love a classy lady with a dirty fuckin’ mouth. Wanna wrap my fist in all that hair when you’re suckin’ my cock with it.”
She opened her mouth, blinked, sucked in a deep breath and then sighed loudly before saying, “You really know how to sweet talk a lady.”
“Don’t want you to be a lady. Want you to be a hellcat. Not prissy. Sweatin’, screamin’, bitin’, scratchin’, fuckin’. Comin’ so hard you see spots.”
“Well, all righty then. Let me pull up my calendar so we can schedule that.” She held up a finger as she tapped an app on her computer/tablet/electronic thingy. “Date?”
“First night I’m outta this joint.”
“Location?”
“On the floor, against the wall, on a table, in my bed.”
“Well, that’s a lot of typing.” Tap, tap, tap. “Okay, let me make sure I got this down correctly... Suckin’, scratchin’, bitin’, sweatin’, fuckin’, and...” She glanced up from her tablet.
“Screamin’. Forgot screamin’.”
“Ah.” She nodded, tapping the screen. “Screamin’.” She lifted a brow his direction. “Anything in particular?”
“My name.”
“Got it. Screaming H-A-W-K. All that against the wall, on the bed, the floor and hanging from a ceiling fan. Right?”
He smirked. “That’ll do for starters.”
“Right. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” She might be taking all of this like a big joke, but she was going to find out just how serious he was.
She focused her pretty blues on him. “Can you promise me one thing?”
“What’s that, babe?”
“It’s going to be the best fuck I’ve ever had?”
Fucking goddamn. “Have a feelin’ it’s gonna be the best fuck I ever had.”
She tapped her finger against her bottom lip—which he had the urge to bite—then tilted her head. “Okay, I lied. I need another promise.”
His lips twitched. “Shoot.”
“If I get you out of here, you’re not going to punch anyone else.”
He studied her a couple beats. “Can’t promise that, babe.”
“Why?”
“Got enemies.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who?”
He zipped his lips shut.
“Who?” she prodded. “Those bikers you beat up in that bar?”
Hawk leaned forward, no longer amused at the direction the conversation was going. “Know you’re new to this. Know you’re here to help me, help all the brothers when we’re in a jam. Know it. Appreciate it. But you’ll learn... Club business, babe, ain’t a woman’s business. When you’re needed, you’ll get the info we can give you an’ no more. Got me?”
Kiki abruptly shoved her chair back with a squeal and stood. “Sorry, but no, I don’t got you. You want me to stick my neck out for you and your boys—”
“Brothers,” he cut in.
She ignored him and continued, “Then you need to be open and honest with me or you can hang out to dry for all I care. Got me?”
Hawk smiled, leaned back in his chair and ran his gaze over her once more. Yep, he was going to get a piece of that hellcat. “Damn, woman, can’t wait for that appointment.”
“We have to get you out of here first.”
“You do that.”
She stepped closer to the table to look down at him. “Are you going to be checking out my ass when I leave?”
“Fuck yeah.”
With a nod, she spun around, strutted her way to the door and pressed the buzzer.
Hawk didn’t miss the guard checking out her ass, either.
-->
Son of a bitch.


 About the Author:

JEANNE ST. JAMES is a USA Today bestselling erotic romance author who loves an alpha male (or two). She was only thirteen when she started writing. Her first paid published piece was an erotic story in Playgirl magazine. Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK

To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup


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