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Filthy Bastard – Royal Bastards MC
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Stealing her was never part of the plan.
There’s no reason our worlds should have ever mixed. She’s an angel, I’m a f-ing beast—a rebel, an outlaw, a Bastard. I was born on the blood-soaked streets of Belfast, and reborn again on equally bloody ones of Boston.
But Nicole’s my addiction, my everything—my red-haired, blue-eyed, freckled skin, killer-curved obsession. And I’ve been watching her for months—hungry, hard, and aching for her.
It’s her father I’m supposed to take. The crooked, mob-bought Boston District Attorney has been pinning the crimes of his masters on my brothers. I was supposed to take him, to teach him a lesson. Except, he’s not there when I come calling.
The mob wants to kill us both. There’s betrayal in my own ranks. It’s us against the world.
From captive to my Queen. Nicole’s mine, and I’ll never let her go.
This is a standalone book in the Royal Bastards MC universe. As with all my books, this one is safe, with no cheating, and a HEA guaranteed. Happy reading!
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My hand tightens, and my cock throbs. The lacy material of the tiny pink thong rubs up and down my length, and I growl like a fuckin’ animal. My balls ache for release and my teeth grind as I stroke my thickness with her panties.
Yeah, I’m a filthy bastard. Sue me.
To be fair, it’s not like this is an everyday thing for me. I’m not running around town stealing panties to jerk off with uncontrollably like a fuckin’ degenerate. I mean, yeah, you could make a strong case that I am a bit of a degenerate, but not typically this way, at least.
No, I’m just a filthy bastard.
The filthy part is my nickname with some of my brothers—again, not for my current situation of jerking my fat cock into a college girl’s pink thong. But because I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. I’m the one you call when the shit has officially hit the fan—the guy that makes the mess go away when that mess is gonna land one of our own in jail.
The bastard part? Well, that’s ‘cause I am one—a Bastard, that is. Not in like in some stupid medieval way where my dad fucked a barmaid while his queen was away or some shit. I mean I’m a Bastard as in it’s the patch I wear.
I’m a Royal Bastard, Boston, Massachusetts chapter. But at the current moment? Well at the current moment, maybe I’m just a degenerate. But that ain’t my fault.
I growl, picturing the sweet little body these panties were pulled tight against not ten minutes ago. Fuck, it’s almost like they’re still warm with the heat of her little pussy. I grunt, my cock throbbing at the thought, and when I hear the soft humming sound of a song from behind the closed bathroom door, my pulse quickens.
It’s almost time.
This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. No, I don’t mean the fuckin’ panties. I mean her. She’s not who I’ve come for tonight. In fact, she’s not even supposed to be here.
And yet, here we are.
Her name is Nicole Keen. She’s twenty-two, and a senior at Columbia University, majoring in pre-law and looking at Ivy League law schools for next fall. But more than that, she’s tall and lithe, with red hair that gets my blood roaring, blue eyes that make me lose my fucking mind, fair skin and freckles that make my balls swell with cum, and a body that sends me fucking reeling.
I’ve spent a month researching every fucking facet of my target—my real, planned target, that is. But the best damn part of that research was her—a long fucking month of biding my time, and watching, and learning, until I know her inside and out. A month of slowly becoming obsessed with her. And “obsessed” is what I am. Addicted, like a fuckin’ junky.
And there’s no cure for this.
Her name is Nicole Keen, and she’s pure, off limits temptation. And tonight, she’s all fucking mine.
She’s an innocent in all of this, but circumstances have made her front and center in this whole fucking thing. In another timeline, in a parallel universe, she stays an innocent bystander in this mess. In another version of this life, Nicole is just another—albeit gorgeous and impossibly sexy—college girl. She does her thing, goes to class, probably dates a shithead, and goes right on living without me or my ilk entering her world.
But this ain’t that version. This is the here and now, and here, tonight, the sins of the father land at her feet.
Like I said, it’s Leonard we’re really after. That’s her father, as in “Boston District Attorney Leonard Keen”—a weaselly little shit-stain of a man, if you can even call him that much. And I don’t.
Now, to be clear, me and mine aren’t exactly angels. The Royal Bastards are as rough, wild, and untamed as they come. Men with chips on their shoulders, a gun at their hip, and a fierce loyalty to patch, club, and brotherhood. We’re not into the shit some clubs are into—there’s no girls, for instance. None of that fucked up sexual slavery shit, or hookers, or any of that. Fuck that shit.
But like I said, we’re no saints. But the shit that Leonard’s putting on us after he decided to go to war with the Royal Bastards a year ago is bullshit. No, my brothers who are rotting in Walpole Correctional Facility or languishing in county waiting for bullshit trials are being fucked. Five members in the last year alone brought in on fucking lies has all but decimated our chapter, too. But that ends tonight.
See, Leo’s in the very, very deep pockets of the Boston Italian mob. Compared to those fuckers, we’re a blip on the damn radar. But we’ve been expanding business and enterprises, and it’s starting to rub those wannabe Goodfellas the wrong damn way. Problem is, when you rub some everyday shithead the wrong way, push comes to shove, you just need to beat him down. But this time, the Bastards have pissed off the wrong people, and now they’re coming for us, piece by piece, using a crooked county DA to lock us up for their own crimes.