Zeppelin (Hellfire Daredevils MC #1)

Chapter One

Zeppelin

“Do you really have to leave?” I ask, my voice a bit of a whine as I reach out to the only woman I’ve ever loved. The one who’s had my heart since we were fourteen.

Zipping up her dress, Chanel Monroe gives me a knowing look. The one that says I know better than to ask her to stay. The one I get every time she graces me with her presence after darkness falls only to leave me before the sun comes up the next morning.

“You know I can’t stay, Zep.”

I’d just gotten home from dropping off Johnny’s ashes with his horrible wife in Seattle last night, and Chanel surprised me. She was waiting on my front porch when I pulled into the driveway.

I grab her arm and yank her back onto the bed.

She kneels and looks annoyed but still kisses me.

My lips stay closed until she runs her tongue along the seam, coaxing me to part them to grant her access while I slide my hand up her thigh.

My fingers touch bare pussy, and I rub until her moan vibrates on my mouth.

She’s not wet enough yet, but I can fix that. It never takes long when we get together. Being together off and on for over ten years means we’ve gotten practice making the other ache. In her case, drenched with desire.

Sex has never really been a problem for us. We were each other’s firsts, and we learned about ourselves as much as each other during the explorative years. My thumb rubs her clit while I slide two fingers into her opening just like she taught me all those years ago.

And she’s ready. Soaking. Waiting for my cock.

As I build her up to her orgasm, she gasps and yanks her face away from mine. For a moment, I think she’s about to pull away—something she’s never done before. But then she rips back the sheet and grabs my hard cock, stroking in time with my fingers fucking her.

“Damn it, Zep,” she says between pants.

I chuckle when she pushes my hand away and grabs a condom from the nightstand. She flings it at me, and I waste no time putting it on as she hikes her dress up. Her leg swings over, and she sinks her body down onto mine, her warm heat surrounding me.

I lean up to kiss her, but she presses her palms flat on my pecs and rides me like a damned bull. After the past two weeks, I wanted slow. Intimate. Something to get me through until she comes back around.

Everything since she showed up has been frenzied. And this is no exception.

Chanel wants to get off. Get off in a way she can’t outside of my bed. It’s the only reason she keeps coming back, but it’s not enough to make her want to stay.

“Zep, fuck,” she moans, tipping her head back to expose her throat.

If we were in a different position, I’d kiss the spot right along her pulse point. The spot that drives her insane.

Driving her crazy gets my motor running like nothing else ever has, and seeing her ache for me sets me on fucking fire. I’ll do anything it takes to keep her in my bed for as long as possible.

I’m not sure how it’s physically possible, but her hips move even faster, and I know she’s close.

I’m not, but I smile when she shakes and gasps, her nails clawing into my chest as she comes.

I feel the small trickles of blood as they dig in, to draw blood, but I don’t mind.

She could claw the skin off my chest, and I’d be just fine as long as she got off.

She stills and looks down at me with a beaming smile. “Thanks.”

My jaw drops when she climbs off, leaving me achingly hard and very cold. “Um, we’re not finished here,” I say, motioning to my cock.

“You have hands.”

I think she’s joking. She has to be… right? “Chanel—”

“I’m already running late.”

Holy fuck, she’s serious.

She sighs and finger combs her hair. “Can you finish in record speed if I bend over?”

Her least favorite position but the one she knows I don’t last long in. “Yeah.”

She makes her way back onto the bed, pulls her dress back up over her hips and spreads her legs as she holds onto the footboard. I stay where I am, enjoying the view.

“Come on,” she groans. “Chop chop.”

Talk about taking the romance out of it. If I’m going to make it fast like she wants, then I’m going to fucking do this the way that I want.

I get onto my knees, and I slam into her, gripping her hip with my left hand while wrapping her hair around my right fist. My thrusts are harder than usual, but she said record speed. She’s going to fucking get record speed.

“Fuck, Zep, you’re going to bruise my hip,” she mutters and tries to steady herself.

Good. If I leave bruises from our good time—literally—it’ll be marking her. In an unmistakable way. Letting everyone know she was with someone. Someone who loved her so hard he left a reminder of it while making her scream out his name.

“You want me to slow down?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I’m about to nut, but I can drag this out if you want.”

“Just fucking finish,” she mutters. Even as annoyed as she sounds, I feel it. Her muscles clenching around me as her second orgasm builds. “Fuck!”

“Chanel!” I choke out as I thrust a few more times, filling the condom.

The fifth one since she showed up on my front porch.

I barely have time to register the pleasure before she’s off my dick and fixing her clothes again. She smooths her dress angrily and glares as she slips on her shoes. “You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie and pull the latex off.

“You want to make it known we were together. You purposefully tried to make me bruise.”

“If you want bruises, baby, I can make it so damn pleasurable that you’re begging for more,” I joke and grab my boxers. “I want you to stay, babe. Please?”

This woman has owned me for years, and she once again came to love me and leave me. Just like every time we’ve spent together for the past five years.

“You know I can’t,” she whispers. “Dorian’s waiting for me.”

Fuck Dorian. If he did his job as a man, she wouldn’t be knocking down my door every few weeks. “Where does he think you are?”

“I said I had to come back to handle some of the legal shit for Johnny.”

And the anger that simmered just below the surface she helped stave off comes rolling to a boil. Johnny. The man I knew as a father. The man our fucking rivals took from me.

Chanel sees this change in me, and she walks over to gently cup my face. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay, Zeppelin.”

“He’s fucking dead, Chanel,” I say, tearing my face from her hands. “What’s okay about that?”

“Zep—”

“They killed him and staged it to look like an accident. But I know the Venom killed him. They fucking did it, and when I find the proof I need, I’ll kill every last fucking one of them.”

Her hand takes mine, and she tugs until I look into her eyes. “I do not want to have to come home for your funeral, Zeppelin Molloy. You hear me? Don’t go doing anything stupid.”

Stupid. Avenging the death of the man I knew as a father and a mentor is stupid? Fuck off.

“I’m surprised Dorian let you off your leash. He really should’ve come with you if he’s so worried about you spending time with me. To get what you can’t get at home.”

It’s harsher than I intend, but I’m pissed. Beyond pissed.

She drops my hand and steps back. She looks genuinely offended. But between the grief of losing Johnny and her coming to fuck me and leave like normal, she has to understand that I’m not in any position to be jovial.

“I talked him out of it. If he came with me, this couldn’t happen,” Chanel says as she motions between us before pulling her purse over her shoulder.

Her panties are still on the floor. Where they’ll stay. Like always.

This time, the words stab at me. It’s what it’s always been, isn’t it? I’m good enough to fuck, but that’s it. I’m the one she calls when she’s in trouble and needs help, but I’m not the person she sees herself spending her life with.

I can’t tear my eyes away as she slips her engagement ring back on her finger. She probably thinks it’s respectful to take it off before riding me. So damn considerate, right?

No, it’s to make herself feel less guilty. When I’m buried deep inside her, the last person she’s thinking about is Dorian, and the ring would bring her back to him. Make her think about her fiancé as I make her scream in pleasure.

“You know, you could invite him with you sometime. Let him watch and learn to give you what only I seem to be able to,” I say. “We already know he’s a cuck.”

“Stop it.”

“Maybe it’s time to make a decision,” I say and pull a T-shirt over my head before grabbing my leather.

My finger rubs along the VICE PRESIDENT patch as it slides on like a familiar second skin. God, I am not looking forward to today. Now that I’m back, we have to meet to discuss business. And part of that business is deciding who takes Johnny’s seat at the head of the table.

There have been a few rumblings about me taking over his seat. Which was always the plan when Johnny stepped down. He groomed me to take over the club one day, but it wasn’t supposed to be this soon. He should have had so much more fucking time.

“About what?” Chanel asks, leaning against the doorframe.

My stomach knots as I look into the eyes of the love of my life. The one I’ve never gotten over and who’s made me her side piece for years now.

“A decision about whether you like my cock more than whatever it is Dorian offers you.”

She freezes, her eyes locked on me. Clearly, she didn’t expect me to say it. “Don’t, Zeppelin.”

“Don’t what?”

“Do not make me choose.”

“Why not?”

Sadness takes over her eyes, and she tilts her head. “Because I can’t have you hating me when I… choose him.”

“Pretty sure you just made your choice, baby,” I say, pulling up my jeans and avoiding her gaze.

I’m focusing far too much on the button and zipper, but it gives me something else to look at. All I see when I look at her right now is a neon sign flashing that I’m not enough.

It’s kind of the theme of my life. Never quite enough.

I slip on my boots and lace them before standing. Chanel just stares at me. Neither of us expected this when she showed up at my house last night, but it’s something we should have both anticipated. It’s an inevitable conversation.

“Here,” I say, bending down to pick up her panties. “Don’t forget these.”

“Zep—”

“Actually, hold that thought.”

Grabbing a canvas bag Ma gave me for groceries I never buy, I open the second drawer of my dresser. Three handfuls of panties fill the bag, which goes to show how often she shows up to get pounded.

“You have a lot of money into these. Might as well take them back.”

Her eyes search mine as she frowns. “I know you’re hurting—”

“And you’re only adding to it by swinging around here to fuck and leave. I don’t need a drawer full of reminders that I can get you off but can’t seem to give you what it is you need.”

“Zep—”

“I got Church. I’ll walk you out.”