MERCY’S ANGELS

By Barbi Barnard

First in the Mercy’s Angels Series.

This is also the story of three women who all have one thing in common: Angels Mercy MC.

Elizabeth forced to live the club life by threats and violence.

Jenni watched in disgust and confusion.
Tiffi heard the stories from her family.

Three women. Three tales of courage, determination... and a little humor. Find how "Momma" became the owner of a Motorcycle Club...

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B013OGE96M

PG-13 excerpt

The sound of the bikes coming in through the back has me rising out of my chair and throwing my e-reader to the floor. I can see four of them through the doorway, coming up from the path by the pond. I miss that sound, of multiple engines rumbling along.

Some would be afraid. Not me. It brings a sense of security to my heart. The memories of riding in a group of hundreds, going on a day trip to a park are fond. The charity rides and relays where we met lots of other charters and clubs were great. Too bad the memories of the people I was forced to live with aren’t.

Greg looks good. He has grown into a good-looking man. He doesn’t look old like some bikers do. His eyes are bright, his skin is smooth, and his clothes are clean and new. The exact opposite of what my mind remembers from my youth.

He sees me and his smile is big. He takes a step to walk to me and stops. Is he unsure of his welcome? I walk out the door toward him and see the smile on his mouth curl up to his eyes. He is now running to me. I am crushed to a broad chest and spun around.

“Oh, baby girl. You are beautiful. I’m so sorry I didn’t stay around for your transformation into a woman. Wayne is one lucky fucker,” he laughingly tells me.

I have to swat him for the fucker remark. “Your mouth hasn’t changed but the rest has. You look good.” I snort at him between laughs.

“Clean living, little sis. Clean and sober living.” He looks me into my eyes, so I know he means it.

I gasp. “Are you telling me the truth? How can you be clean and still wearing an Angel cut? Isn’t that an oxymoron?” I cry.

He laughs. “The club is all clean. Nothing dirty at all. We lost a lot of our members to other charters because of it. I think it was worth it and as it was my turn to hold the chair, I brought it to the table for a vote. Those that wanted to stay, did. And those that wanted to transfer out, left. It is that simple.”

My head is spinning and my knees are weak. I can’t picture a clean club. I was born into the drugs and guns. The sex and mistreatment of women. People naked on the bar. Men ripping clothes from the women and forcing them to take on two or three men at a time. It’s a wonder I didn’t turn into a nun from what I lived through.

“I’m so glad for you,” I tell him. “I worried you would walk the path Richard walked. I never want that for you.”

“Not to worry, baby, I have a legitimate job and I stay on the right side of the law and government. I’m a productive member of society with not even a pimple of a criminal record,” he boasts.

This makes me happy. I jump and crash myself into his chest. My hold on him would strangle a smaller man.

“Come meet the guys. I told them about you on the way here and I don’t think they believed me,” he tells me.

Sexcerpt:

He laughs at me. “I’ll pat you dry when you’re done.” I cannot believe he just said that. I know I’m blushing. His hand comes up to my shirt and strokes my neck. “How far does that blush go?” he growls. “I want to get to know you. You are cute and sassy. You remind me of someone and it’s bugging me that I can’t place who that is. I swear I’ve seen those dimples before.”

He watches me. I know he can tell I’m thinking it over. Before I can decide, he pushes me up against the wall and crashes his mouth to mine. This man knows how to use his mouth. His tongue explores every crevice and is giving me ideas that are just plain X-rated. I’ve been kissed before but this isn’t a kiss. This is being explored to the tenth degree. His hands are holding me to him and exploring my back and ass. He stands and I lift off the floor with him. He pulls my leg around his hip on first one side then the other. No one has ever held me up and inspected my tonsils like this before. My hands are snaking up and around his neck. My fingers are itching to touch the scruff on his face and tangle in his hair. His mouth moves across my jaw and into my neck. I moan and I know he heard it.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmurs into my neck. Oh, I want it all right. I don’t know what it is but I want it! “Well? Tell me this is okay or I have to stop. I really don’t want to stop, baby,” he whispers into my ear.

“Don’t stop, oh God, don’t stop,” is all I can get out.

His mouth is on mine again and all coherent thoughts are gone.

“Where’s your room?” he asks.

“Second door on the left,” I pant out from lack of breath.

We’re moving and every step he takes is letting my girly bits rub on his belt. I hear him kick the door shut with his boot. He moves his hand from my ass and I hear the lock click.

Oh Emm Gee! This man is heaven sent. He smells amazing and my body is thrumming with need. This might just turn out to be my favorite mistake. I feel him lowering me to the bed. His weight on me is intoxicating.

“Kick your shoes off. Let me help you with your clothes,” he growls. My shoes are toed off and I feel his hands sliding my shirt up. I look up at him with want and need in my eyes and I see desire in his. “You’re beautiful. I want you. I really want you,” he says to me.

His kisses have me drugged and I can only moan as the feel of his hands on my chest are driving me insane with feelings.

“You need to tell me if this is what you want. I have to hear the words,” he growls, while moving his hands and mouth down to my chest. His lips nip at my breast and tug my nipple into his warm mouth. I am screaming in my head for him to never stop. He has stopped and I want to complain. He grabs my face and I look at him. “Tell me now whether to stay or go. If I go, I won’t be back,” he whispers while looking into my eyes.

“Don’t go,” I beg.

That’s all I need to say. His hands are reaching for my skirt. I feel him tugging my panties and hear them rip. It feels like he has a dozen hands. My clothes are torn from me and I feel his skin on mine. I have no clue where his shirt and vest went. His body is hard as steel. Muscles float across his torso, and make me think of washboards. There are eight to ten. This man is an overachiever in the six pack department. I feel the hardness of his cock pressed into my leg. This man is ready to make fantasies come true.

About the Author

Barbi Barnard is a native of North Louisiana. Married with grown children. And a growing amount of Grandchildren (eleven at last count). Barbi went to college after the youngest started school and has a degree in Office Management and Accounting. Barbi loves to spend time with her family. With such a large family a revolving door would help as there are always people coming and going in the Barnard house. The need to read books was instilled at a young age as it was the preferred pastime of the adults that influenced her life.