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Jamie by Stacy Kristen

 

Overview: The best day of my life was when I patched into the Desert Aces MC. And that day is only rivaled by the day I fucked up and couldn’t stop a brother from betraying us all. Ever since that day, I’ve been trying like hell to prove myself to the MC. So when Prez asks me to protect his sister Kat from her crazy ex-boyfriend, I willingly agree. But little did I know, the attraction between Kat and I would be off the charts…

 

Jamie by Stacy Kristen Book Chapter One

 

The sun slants through the blinds, waking me up. I stretch, the sheet slipping down my toned and naked body, exposing my tattoos on my pecs, ribs, and along my hips. I feel the tension leave my body, save for one place: my cock. I’ve got a wicked case of morning wood. Getting up, I pad naked to the bathroom and get the hot water running. I will my dick to go down, but it doesn’t seem to get the memo. I sigh and step under the water, immediately lathering up, washing the stench of yesterday away. Including Tiffany.

Once I’ve got a good lather going, I stroke my cock, wrenching a moan from deep within me. I jack my cock, imagining it’s the hands of a beautiful woman. I pump a few more times and add some pressure, before I shoot my load, my release coming in short bursts. Now that’s taken care of, I finish my shower and get dressed for the day. I need to meet with Prez.

Prez requesting my presence for a job has me intrigued, not gonna lie. Making my way down the hall to Prez’s office, I slide my fingers over the stubble of my short hair. I’m always a little nervous any time Prez asks me to meet with him. And it’s hard not to be. Jax is one imposing bastard. He may look all pretty, but behind those grey-blue eyes of his, lies a man who’s seen a ton of shit and done a lot of shit. He’s wise beyond his years.

I knock and Prez commands me to enter.

“Take a seat, Bass.”

I sit. Don’t want to piss off Prez.

“I’ve got a job for you. And no one else can do it.”

I raise an eyebrow at him in question. When he says that, I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“My sister needs protection. She attends University and has a stalker ex-boyfriend. You’re young and can fit in, for the most part. And you’re perfect for the job. You up for it?”

A million things rush through my mind. What if I fail? What if something happens? What if I’m too late?

“I sense your hesitation. What happened to Normandy wasn’t your fault. No one blames you. No one saw one of our own betraying a brother like he did.”

I nod. I don’t know what to say. My palms are sweaty. Fuck me. Can I do this? I sure as fuck hope so, or else I’ll be relegated to bartending duty forever.

“Her name is Kathryn, goes by Kat. She’s a biology major and is a Senior at Uni. She lives off-campus with a friend. The friend’s name is Nikki. Here’s her address and info,” he says, handing me a file that includes a photo of her and her roommate Nikki.

“When do I need to report?”

“Immediately. And Bass? Kat is off-limits. If you so much as touch a hair on her head, you’ll deal with me. Got it?”

I nod. “Yes, sir.”

It’s time to prove, again, that I’m part of this club. And not just a bartender.

 
* * *

I desperately want to take my bike, but I decide to take a cage instead, which is the club’s cargo van. It’s not sexy, but it’ll help me keep a lower profile.

The drive to Kat’s place takes me through the city streets of Las Vegas, to a neighborhood near the University. I spot her address and park on the other side of the street, several car lengths down. Cutting the engine, I settle in and get comfortable. Or as comfortable as I can get in a van, sun beaming down, Vegas heat in full force.

As I sit there, I take note of the neighborhood: most of the houses on the block have multiple cars parked in the driveway or on the street, so I’m assuming most places are rentals that college students are living in, just like Kat and her roommate. The street has plenty of lighting, so that’s a plus. The thing I don’t like is that there are very little security measures around her place. There’s a fenced backyard, but the windows are all ground level and there isn’t any landscaping to fend off someone from breaking in through a window. I also notice Kat doesn’t have any security cameras, either. That’s something I’ll need to remedy.

Leaning back, I watch her house. It’s so damn boring, it’s like watching grass grow. But this is Vegas, so is there no grass. An hour passes, when I see the curtains move to the side, just barely, and one of the women peeks out. They’ve spotted me, but it’s not like I’m hiding. I’m just here to keep Kat safe. If she sees me, then so be it. I’m not trying to hide. If I were, she would never know I was even here. But that’s not how I roll. At least not on this job.

I watch the cars go by, keeping track of which ones are part of the neighborhood and which ones aren’t. I’ve gotta get this right. No fuckups this time.

Another hour passes and I’m fucking roasting from the heat and sweating like crazy. Leaning forward, I start the van and crank the A/C, suddenly thankful for having the foresight to bring the van instead of my bike. And just as I’m cranking up the A/C, there’s a knock on the window. I glance up and see its Kat. And she has a murderous look on her face.

Fuck! How did she get here without me seeing her?!

Rolling down the window, I’m about to speak when Kat interrupts me.

“What are you doing here?” she snaps at me.

“Just doing my job.”

She snorts. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“That’s not what your brother says,” I tell her.

“He’s overprotective. I don’t need a bodyguard,” she reiterates, walking to her car.

Well, fuck. Prez’s sister is a total spitfire. And knowing Prez, he’s having a good laugh right about now. Truthfully, I have no idea why I’d think she’d be anything else. Once again, I totally underestimated the situation. Damn it. But I can see why he’s protective. I would be too, if I were him.

I stay in the van and let my eyes wander over her slender curves, encased in a light blue sundress and strappy sandals, showing off legs for days. Her waist-length wavy, dark-blonde hair and doll-like features don’t hurt, either. Damn, Kat is fucking hot!

She gets in her car and takes off, and of course, I follow. I can tell she’s trying to lose me, but she’s not successful. I stick to her like white on rice; I won’t fail this time. I tail her to a Target parking lot. Getting out of her car, she glares at me as I pull into the stall beside hers.

“You need to go back to the compound or wherever you came from. Repeat: I don’t need a bodyguard,” Kat huffs, walking away.

I don’t respond; I just get out of the van and follow her inside. I get a few looks, but that’s to be expected. I’m 6’3” with a good amount of lean muscle, jet black hair, and striking blue eyes. I also have a fuck-ton of tattoos, not to mention I’m wearing my kutte. When people see me or one of my brothers, they tend to get out of our way. We’re mean bastards, if the occasion arises. We’re a respectable club, but we won’t hesitate to seek revenge or to help right a wrong. And we protect what’s ours, including our women.

Kat makes a beeline for the bras and panties. If she thinks she’s going to scare me away, she’s sorely mistaken. In fact, it’s quite the opposite: I happen to have a thing for lace. But she doesn’t know that. I smirk. This is going to be fucking hilarious.

She practically prances through the aisles, picking up several bras and matching lace thongs. Nice choice. She sees me watching her and stomps off towards the dressing rooms. I give her my best smile, showing off my pearly whites. It only seems to piss her off more.

She goes into the dressing room and I wait outside, in a hell of my own making. While she’s in there, all I can think about is Kat in said lingerie, her breasts practically spilling from the cups, her rose-colored nipples playing peekaboo through the lace. Just thinking about Kat, in my bed, my hands peeling the scraps of lace from her body has me fighting an erection. I swallow down a groan. Giving myself a mental slap to clear my thoughts, I focus on the task at hand: keeping Kat safe. Shifting on the bench, I find little relief for my aching cock.

Kat comes out of the dressing room and heads towards another section of the store and I trail her. She seems to be tolerating my presence, for the time being. Next, she shops for makeup, looking at lipstick and other items I know nothing about. After quite some time, she throws a couple items into her basket and walks out of the aisle, toward the checkout lanes. Glancing down at my watch, I see we’ve been in here for over an hour.

What is it with chicks and Target?

Kat checks out and this time, I walk beside her, not behind her. She needs to get used to me being by her side.

When she gets to her car, I stop her before she can open her door. “Kat.”

“What?” she grates out, clearly annoyed, not bothering to look at me.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I’m Jamie,” I tell her, extending my hand.

She just stares down at it, like she’s too good to shake my hand. “I thought your name was Bass.”

“It is. My road name is Bass. My birth name is Jamie.”

“Right. I’m leaving now, better follow,” she sing-songs.

I nod and get into the van. But before I can even close the door, she backs up and speeds out of the lot. It’s not a big deal, as I know I can find her no matter what because I slipped a tracker on her car. But she doesn’t know that.

Jamie: One. Kat: Zero.


I catch up to Kat just as she’s walking up the sidewalk to her front door. I pull to the curb and kill the engine.

“Kat!” I holler through the open window, trying to get her attention.

And, of course, she ignores me.

I jog up the sidewalk and catch her, just as she opens her front door. “Kat, wait.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “You need to leave. I’m not letting you in.”

Jamie: One. Kat: One.

I spend the rest of the day watching her house and it’s like watching paint dry. I’m so fucking bored, I make a mental note to pack my notebook and guitar. I stay right where I am until the middle of night, only leaving when I know she’s safely tucked into bed, not going anywhere for a few hours.

Pulling away, I drive back to the compound for some food, a shower, and some sleep. I’ll be back tomorrow bright and early to escort her to class, whether she likes it or not.

 
* * *

I drive back to Kat’s around 6:00 a.m. and I think it’s safe to say she hasn’t left yet, since her car is still in the driveway.

Reaching over to the passenger seat, I snag the Ned’s Bakery bag and pull out a pastry. It tastes divine. Taking a sip of my coffee, I feel the warmth all the way to my soul. And with this early of a morning, I fucking need it.

For the next two hours, I try to stay awake. And I do. Barely. But with patience comes reward. And I’m rewarded when Kat appears, backpack over her shoulders, wearing cutoff jean shorts and a vintage t-shirt. She looks fucking incredible. I crank the engine the same time she gets into her car. This time, I’m able to keep up with her, all the way to campus.

Kat slows and parks, and I drive on by. I find a spot a few stalls down and park, watching her as she walks to class. I’m lucky to have found a spot; parking is notoriously hard to come by on almost any college campus. And speaking of that, I need to get a parking permit. Why? Because that’s one thing I don’t need—to draw attention to myself. I need to blend-in in order to keep Kat safe. And not getting the police’s radar is the first step.

Now that I know Kat is relatively safe while on-campus, I back out and head to the nearest gas station. I need to piss like crazy.
 

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