Me please, p.1
Me, please, p.1Bella Jewel
Iron Fury MC
Published by Bella Jewel, 2018.
Table of Contents
ME PLEASE | Copyright © 2018 Bella Jewel
PROLOGUE | BOSTON
~1~ | EARLIER – CHANTELLE
~2~ | EARLIER – PENELOPE
~3~ | EARLIER – CHANTELLE
~4~ | EARLIER – PENELOPE
~5~ | EARLIER – CHANTELLE
~6~ | EARLIER – PENELOPE
~7~ | NOW – BOSTON
~8~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
~9~ | NOW – PENELOPE
NOW – PENELOPE
~10~ | NOW – BOSTON
~11~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
~12~ | NOW – BOSTON
~13~ | NOW – PENELOPE
NOW – PENELOPE
~14~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
~15~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
~16~ | NOW – PENELOPE
NOW – PENELOPE
~17~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
~18~ | NOW – BOSTON
~19~ | NOW – PENELOPE
~20~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
CHANTELLE – TWO DAYS LATER
~21~ | NOW – BOSTON
~22~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
NOW – CHANTELLE
~23~ | NOW – BOSTON
NOW – BOSTON
~24~ | NOW – CHANTELLE
NOW – CHANTELLE
~25~ | NOW – PENELOPE
NOW – BOSTON
THE END | Slater’s story will be released in August/Sept 2018!! Our Final Tale will be in your hot little hands before you know it! Keep your eyes peeled.
BELLA JEWEL 2018
For believing in me and kicking my ass to keep writing even when I didn’t want to.
For this awesome title. I suppose it’s pretty good ☺
For always making me laugh, even if I occasionally snort.
For loving me harder than I’ve ever been loved.
For being the best damn thing to ever happen to me.
This is for you.
It’s always for you.
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Copyright © 2018 Bella Jewel
ME PLEASE is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
As always, my heartfelt thanks to every single blogger, reader and author that has supported my journey. From reading my books, to sharing them, to raving about them, to being there for me. Thank you. My career would be nothing without any of you.
A huge thanks to Kylie from Give Me Books for organizing my reveals and blitzes. You do such an amazing job. No matter how many times I use you, I am always blown away by how efficient you are. Nothing is ever a drama. Thank you for giving me so much support.
A massive thanks to Ben Ellis from BE Designs for this gorgeous cover. Not only did you come in at the last minute, you did an absolutely incredible job. I honestly have no words to explain how grateful I am to you for all the help you put in. I’m forever in your debt.
A big, heartfelt thanks to Ready, Set, Edit for doing this book for me at the last moment. I really appreciate the time you took to help me out, and how patient you were when my kids weren’t well!! Thank you so much, lovely.
And of course, to my admin, MJ, for ALWAYS keeping my page running beautifully. I couldn’t do it without you, girly. I love your teasers and your passion; thank you for taking the time out of your life to help this poor girl keep everything running.
To Lee Anna Dunk for coming up with this super incredible MC name. You’re amazing, thank you so much!! I hope you enjoy this book, lovely.
And, last but certainly not least, to my loyal readers. To each and every one of you that picks up my books and give me a chance. To the reviews you write, good or bad. To the time you take to make me a better person. You make this real for me.
Life can be a bitch.
Ruthless, cold, and cruel.
I know that better than anyone.
I’ve lived it.
The problem with that is the bitterness it brings into your heart.
You try and avoid it. You try as best you can to get past it. You fight and claw your way back up to the surface to no avail. It sinks into your very soul, curling its ugly hands around your heart and keeping it held tight, keeping you in a state of feeling like you can never breathe, like it’s always going to hurt.
Before the accident, I was happy enough.
I had the club. The support. Friends. Family.
Then, with one pathetic fucking mistake, everything changed.
The woman of a man I considered a close friend was killed under my watch.
And nothing, for either of us, was ever the same.
Now, it seems like darkness surrounds me constantly. Like no matter where I fucking go, I can’t escape it. It’s always there, watching me with that big filthy grin on its face, making me wish with everything inside that it would just take me instead of tormenting me daily.
And then, I met them.
I don’t do women. Fuck knows I don’t have the time or the patience. I fuck, I leave, and that’s the end of it. Emotions mean nothing to me; I blocked that off a long time ago. But those two women, the way they get under my skin, drives me fucking crazy.
The problem is, there are two of them.
And only one of me.
How do you choose between heaven and hell?
That’s how utterly different they are.
And yet I’m equally drawn to either side. My body gravitating toward them like a moth to a flame.
I can’t stay away.
And I really, really fucking should.
Because in the end, someone will get hurt.
And I don’t know if I can take any more pain.
EARLIER – CHANTELLE
Why the fuck is it so cold?
I rub my arms and wait for the cab, hoping like hell it arrives soon. My bosoms feel like they’re about to drop right off my chest. I shiver, and the cool night air tickles my skin. Teach me for wearing slutty clothes. Although, with all those bikers in there tonight, what is a girl to do? I have to make some sort of impression. Especially after Mason carried Saskia out over his shoulder like some sort of Viking.
My, oh my, yes, we all want that.
I hear the low, masculine voice and turn to see Boston, in all his manly glory, staring down at me. Hot. Totally hot. Different than the other men. Not as outgoing, far quieter, but with an equal amount of danger. He has the best eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. I noticed it the moment I saw him. They’re yellow with a tinge of brown. And with his dark, thick hair that curls at the base of his neck only makes him look even hotter.
“Hey there,” I say, blinking and then shivering.
“Cold?” he asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.
I want to be that cigarette, pressed between his lips, him sucking the life out of me.
Good lord, Chantelle. Calm down.
“Well, judging by my nipples, I’d go with a big fat yes. I could cut glass with them right now. They’re on high alert.”
A hint? Oh, absolutely. I’ve had my eye on Boston for a few weeks now. Of course, tonight I very nearly backed off when Saskia told me Penelope was interested, but she assured me to go for it.
I mean, she would have told me if she had feelings for him? Right?
Boston’s eyes drop to my nipples, and that gaze lingers long enough for my panties to become wet. Good god, I need to get laid. Preferably by the six-feet-tall he-devil standing right in front of me staring at my breasts like he wants to devour them.
It’s safe to say I’ve never been shy when it comes to my sexuality. Hell no. I embrace it. I’m a beautiful woman, and I know what I can and can’t have. I’d never be slutty, and I’d never take something that wasn’t mine, but I know what I want, and I’m incredibly sexual.
No shame in that.
And if anyone has something to say about it, they’re more than welcome to find my asshole and kiss it.
“You waitin’ for a cab?” he finally asks.
“Yeah and freezing my booty off. You waiting, too?”
He shakes his head and nods down the street a little. I glance over and see his bike parked up. Hot. So hot. Midnight blue, silver trimmings, big thick black seat. I’d love to know what that feels like between my legs.
“You want a ride?”
I swallow and my body buzzes. Do I want a ride? Of course I want a ride!
“Of you, or the bike?” I ask him, voice low and sultry, glancing up at him from beneath my lashes.
I told you, girl knows how to get what she wants.
He smirks, inhaling deep. “The bike, for now.”
I grin at him. “I’m not going to say no. This cab is taking forever.”
He turns and starts striding toward his bike. I’m guessing that’s an invitation to follow him; to hell if it isn’t, I’m following him anyway. Hell yes I am. I’d skip over if it didn’t seem like I was far too interested.
I stop at the bike and watch as he throws a leg over, flicking the cigarette and making my vagina tighten in a very uncomfortable way. Good lord, does it take effort to be that hot? Because it seems to me like he’s doing it without thought, and that makes it even better. He’s so dark, and edgy, and yet surprisingly easy to talk to. A rare mix in a man, if I do say so myself.
“You goin’ to get on, or am I goin’ to have to sit here all night starin’ at you and wonderin’ how fuckin’ good you taste?”
I guess that answers my question.
I slowly inch my dress up and then sidle over, loving how his eyes grow dark and hooded as he stares at me, that masculine jaw tight, that skin so olive it looks so smooth under the streetlight. He places a hand out, palm up, and I take it, loving how his fingers curl around mine as I throw my leg over the bike. He still has my hand and pulls me closer so my body is pressed into his, then he places my hand on his stomach. I let the other one follow.
He starts up the bike.
The rumble rips right through my body, starting at my toes and slowly crawling up until I’m shivering and trying very hard to hide how turned on I am. The vibrations move through my core, sending me over the edge, and I want more. Boston glances out at the road, and then he pulls the throttle and we take off. I let out a squeal, small and a little girly, and hang onto him tighter. He feels hard, and strong, and so big when I’m behind him, wrapped around him like this.
My panties are wet.
I’m not going to even try and deny that fact.
I want him so bad it physically hurts.
I never told him where I live, but he rolls in without pause, stopping at my apartment. He shuts the bike off, and for a moment, I sit behind him, not really wanting to let go. Not really knowing what to say. Do I invite him in? Will he just come in anyway? Should I ask him about Penelope before any of this goes further? God. I don’t know.
“How did you know where I live?” I murmur into the quiet night.
“We know where everyone lives that has anything to do with people involved with the club.”
Of course they’ve probably looked me up. They probably know everything about me, too.
“That’s a little creepy,” I tell him.
“Can’t be too safe. You goin’ to climb off?”
I climb off the bike and straighten my dress, staring at him. “Do you want to come in for a drink?”
Straight forward. I don’t hesitate when I know what I want.
He studies me and then climbs off the bike, which is my answer. My heart leaps into my throat and my chest pounds. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’ve had men over before. I’m confident, most of the time. Not a lot bothers me. So why the mysterious biker has me weak at the knees is far beyond me.
I turn and walk toward the house, swaying my hips, knowing he’s watching. I’ve got a curvy body, the kind most men like. Big boobs, fake, of course, but I was stuck with a nearly flat chest, so what’s a girl to do? I have a great ass. Nice thick legs. I’ve never had a complaint. Hell, even if I did, it wouldn’t stop me. I love everything about who I am.
I unlock my apartment and open the door, stepping aside and letting Boston step in. As he walks past me, I can smell his musky cologne. Lord, it’s good. Whatever it is, it’s good. He glances around my apartment, eyes running over everything, before he finally looks to me. “You got beer?”
I walk into the kitchen, open the fridge, and pull out two beers, then I walk back over and hand one to him. He looks impressed. I guess it isn’t often a common thing to meet a girl who drinks beer. I know I haven’t met many, but I’m a beer drinker, I enjoy it. More than I probably should.
He opens the beer and sits down on my sofa like he’s been here a thousand times. Funnily enough, I feel comfortable around him. Not at all self-aware or awkward. It almost feels like we’ve known each other for a thousand years, even though we’ve yet to have a conversation. It’s strange—I’ve never felt that before, not right off the mark. It’s nice. I trust him, even though I don’t really know him. That’s also a nice feeling. I rarely trust anyone. With the kind of family I have, that’s not surprising.
“You lived here long?”
I sip my beer and sit down next to him, knees facing in his direction. “In this apartment, or the city?”
I shrug. “City all my life, apartment only a few years.”
“You break up with a man?”
I hold his eyes. “No, I moved to get away from my family. I was renting an apartment off my parents. It didn’t go well.”
“You ask a lot of questions...” I raise my brows.
He shrugs. “I want to know something, I ask it. Now, why not?”
Yeesh. Bossy. It’s kind of sexy.
Okay, it’s a lot sexy.
“My parents are assholes, to put it nicely. They have a shit load of money, and they weren’t the bes
Boston nods, seemingly impressed. “Guessin’ you left a high lifestyle behind, too.”
I nod. “Yeah, all my inheritance, my allowances, I gave it all up. I work for my living now, but everything I earn is mine, and mine alone. That feels nice.”
“I bet,” Boston murmurs. “Takes a lot to find that strength.”
Nobody has ever praised me for my choice, well, nobody except Saskia. She hates my family, she knows what they’re like so she was behind me a hundred percent. She’s the only family I have now, really.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You talk to your brothers?”
I shrug. “Here and there. They’re high and mighty, all older than me and working for my father in his business. They don’t agree with my actions, so I guess they don’t want a great deal to do with me.”
His eyes drop to my mouth, and he murmurs. “Enough chit chat. Time for me to fuck you.”
For a moment, I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do. Do I move forward, kiss him? Does he like being kissed? Seems a new trend that a lot of men don’t like it anymore. I guess they don’t have to put in a lot of effort; it’s so easy for them to get what they want. I might be very willing to give myself up to this hot biker, but I sure as hell know what I want.
Kissing is a must.
Like it, or not.
Boston’s hand moves up and he cups my cheek, surprising me. I don’t see him as the affectionate sort, hell, not even close. He seems like a hit it and leave kind of man, and why wouldn’t he be? He’s got the looks to do whatever the hell he wants. So, his thumb stroking over my skin and moving down the side of my face has most certainly thrown me off guard.
Me, please by Bella Jewel / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes