Freebirds, Book 1




Freebirds, Book 1


I wanted to have a pity party of one when I went for that beer. I never imagined I would meet a dark and dangerous man. That man took me on the wildest ride of my life. Literally and Figuratively. He quickly became my entire world.


I didn’t know I was looking for her. I saw her warming that bar stool and knew she would be mine. A man like me doesn’t deserve the likes of her. But damned if I didn’t take it.


When we met for the first time we didn’t know that we already had a connection. A cruel game was being played, and we didn’t know the rules. Sam would save us, but at what cost? Sam was one of my main reasons for living. If he wasn’t in this world anymore, would I still want to be a part of it?

Other books in this series

Highway Don't Care

Book 2

Another One Bites The Dust

Book 3

Last Day of My Life

Book 4

Texas Tornado

Book 5

I Don't Dance

Book 6

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One


God. Could my week get any worse? I just turned twenty fucking five and I’m still a virgin. No celebration for my birthday. No one here to unwind with. No freaking career. Just a shit job with even shittier pay.

I was really getting into my pity party; I almost turned on the water works. I turned twenty-five today, and everyone was gone. My brother was in Iraq, my mom was in Kentucky doing the last day of her three-month long travel-nursing contract, and my best friend in the whole wide world was at a conference in Chicago. Deciding enough was enough; I made a split second decision and decided to celebrate by myself.

Time to go to Deacon’s.

I put on my best jeans; the ones that make my ass look a lot smaller than it really is. Then, a push up bra that makes me look like I have a solid B cup when, in actuality, I’m barely an A. Throwing on a black ribbed tank with a skull and cross bones, I dug into the closet for my better pair of cowboy boots and shoved my feet into them.

I gooed up my hair and dried it with the diffuser, adding a few stray bobby pins to keep it out of my face. I swiped on some mascara, a layer of lip-gloss and headed out.

I jumped in my 1987 single cab long bed Chevy Silverado and drove to Deacon’s.

Deacon’s isn’t my usual hangout. Really, I don’t go out at all. I don’t have time.

I parked my truck and headed into the building. I walked straight to the bar and ordered a Corona. Taking a seat, I contemplated my life. I ignored everyone and everything and sat on my stool nursing my beer.

* * * * *


I needed a break from reality today. I needed to get away from the shop. I needed to get away from the reminder that I was a failure. We lost one today. She was on her way to Free, possibly only minutes away, but her father caught and killed her before she could get to us. The team was as disappointed as I was; we all dealt with it in a different way. Tonight was a whiskey kind of night.

I was on my second glass when she walked in. She had on jeans that hugged her ass, thighs, and legs perfectly. They were the kind that looked like they had been worn a million times before. She wore a tank top that had a skull and crossbones across her breasts that drew eyes to them. They were on the smaller side for my usual tastes, but they would fit into my hands perfectly. She had long curly blonde hair that just brushed the top of her ass. It would be perfect to sink my hands into and hold while I pounded her from behind. I had only seen her for all of thirty seconds, but I knew she would be mine. She walked into the bar like she owned the place, sat down on one of the stools toward the end, and nursed the beer without acknowledging anyone.

I don’t pick women up in bars, but she seemed different. Possibly because she didn’t seem like the type of woman to even be in a bar. That, or because she ignored every man except the bartender. She seemed to put off a vibe that said ‘hands off’ and it kept all the men at a distance.

The bartender placed her beer in front of her, and she chugged it better than any man could. She placed the bottle down on the bar top and stared at the label, picking at it with blunt fingernails.

The women I’m normally attracted to have perfect nails, perfect hair, and wear dresses. Their bodies are tight, with little fat to be seen on them. This woman had on nice clothes, but it didn’t look like she dressed to impress. It looked like she dressed for comfort, and I liked that. She also didn’t look like she got expensive manicures every day. Her body looked soft, like she ate what she wanted and didn’t give a shit what other people thought.

I got up, walked across the bar, and took a seat next to her. She never even looked up. It made my lips twitch as I glanced at the bartender, gave him a nod in her direction, and raised my finger for one more. He gave me a nod and placed the beer in front of her.

* * * * *


I saw someone take a seat next to me in my peripheral vision, but made no move to acknowledge whoever it was.

Another beer was given to me from the bartender. I looked up and raised my brow at him questioningly. I hadn’t ordered a second beer. He tilted his head to the side. I glanced to my left and saw a massive shoulder trump the majority of my view. It was covered in a skintight black cotton t-shirt that looked like it had been washed quite a bit, but still held its black color without being faded. I followed the shoulder down to his forearms, which were very tanned, and studied a Rangers tattoo that dominated most of the inside of his forearm.

It was very good work, and looked a lot like one that my brother had. I glanced at his hands and wondered if the saying was true, ‘big hands, big feet…’ Eyes trailing to his thigh where his hand rested, I had a stray thought that his thighs could probably be described as tree trunk like. They were massive. I wondered how much he could squat — by the looks of it, probably a small car.

Looking up, my eyes roamed over a very well defined tummy and chest, which probably sported a six-pack, if not an eight. He had a massive chest, and his shoulders were very broad. His neck was corded and thick, which made me want to lick from his collarbone to his jaw, and I hadn’t even seen his face yet.

Finally, allowing my eyes to connect to his face, I noticed he could be described as beautiful, except for a jagged scar that ran under his right eye, where the football players wear that black stripe of paint under their eyes. That had to hurt like a mother. His nose was straight, lips were full, and his eyes were beautiful, the color of a new shiny penny. Those copper colored eyes were pinning mine to his, refusing to release them.

My breath hitched and I quietly said, “Thank you.”

He nodded and smiled, then turned back towards the bar and didn’t say a thing. Deciding not to be a total boob, I turned also and started sipping on my second beer. Thank You, Mr. Humongo.

A while later, I heard his empty hit the counter which caused me to look up at him in time to see and hear him say, “Let’s go.”

Damned if my ass didn’t slip off the barstool and follow him out of the bar. What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t do this. I didn’t do this. I am not a whore. Okay, I’m not in the habit of lying to myself. I’d be a whore for him.

He led me to a pure midnight black Harley. It was massive. I couldn’t really tell you anymore about it. My expertise was limited to Harley and black. And I knew that part because Harley was written on the side, and the black part, because I’ve known my colors since I was two.

Now, if he’d taken me out to a truck, I could tell you the year, make, model and tire size. If you started it up I could tell you what kind of motor was in it, as well as if there were any adjustments that were made to it aftermarket. I could be sitting outside, and a car would pass by and I could tell you exactly what type of engine that was in it without even seeing the type of car it was.

It drove my best friend, Ember, crazy listening to me talk about cars. My brother, James, taught me everything he knew from working at Bob’s Auto. He worked there for four years before he went to basic training, and each day he would come home and show me everything he learned, or had done that day. We worked on his Charger; then, later, when I turned sixteen, we started on my Chevy.

The man straddled the bike and held his hand out for me. I held my breath and grabbed his hand. His grip was strong and steady as I lifted my leg and slid into place behind him. My breath whooshed out as our bodies came into contact. Groin to chest.

Oh my god.

He handed me a helmet and I put it on. He started the bike with a quick flick of his leg and revved it up. The noise startled me at first; I wasn’t ready for the deafening sound. It was so loud that my body seemed to vibrate. I felt the vibrations from deep in my lower abdomen all the way up to my hair. He reached around my back, grabbed my ass and scooted me closer, so that I was plastered to his body. My groin was smack up against his ass.The vibration unintentionally rubbed my lady bits against his rough denim covered, lickable behind. My chest and belly were as close as I could get to his back.

He grabbed my arms and wrapped them around his lower stomach so that I had my left hand grabbing onto my right wrist, just above his belt. If I thought about it, all I had to do was move my hand slightly and I would be palming him through his jeans.

He throttled up and we were off, out of the parking lot like lightening in a storm. I happened to look to my left and noticed a man smoking, leaning against his car, tracking us with his head. I locked eyes with him when we passed and a shiver ran through me when I saw the coldness in his eyes. I didn’t worry about this for long though, because the bike took a corner and my mind reminded me, at that moment, that I had to hang on and pay attention or my body would be visiting the pavement.

The ride itself was pure torture. All I could think about was him pulling over and whipping me around to straddle his thighs, ripping a hole in my jeans and thrusting into me until we both came. After I had this thought, I let my hands unlock and lay flat on his rock hard stomach. His abs tensed underneath my hands and relaxed just as suddenly.

As he drove downtown and pulled onto Second St., he turned into a driveway that led us up to some place that looked almost like a compound, with a fence surrounding it. This looked somewhat familiar but my brain was stuck in overdrive; I’d been paying more attention to how his body felt against mine rather than where we’d driven.

He punched in a code on the gate, and it slid open with a rattle. Bypassing the front of the building, he accelerated around the garage, and parked outside another part of the building you couldn’t see from the road.

Grabbing my hand to help me off, he led me inside what looked like a small duplex. He dropped the keys in a glass on the entryway table, and had me pinned against the door before I could take my next breath.

His mouth was on mine in the next instant. It was like sticking my tongue to a live wire. He dominated my mouth, devoured it like I was the last piece of cake left in a room full of starving hormonal pregnant women.

I’ve kissed a few guys, but nothing I’ve ever experienced could even compare to this. Pushing on his chest a little, he separated from me long enough that I could grab ahold of the bottom of my tank and yank it up and over my head.

Tossing it to the floor, I launched myself back at him, fusing my mouth back to his.

His shirt was ripped from between us, and I moved back long enough for him to pull the fabric over his head. I heard a clinking noise, and noticed that he had dog tags that had been hidden beneath his shirt.

Was he in the Ranger’s still?

That thought didn’t last long because he picked me up by my ass and wrapped my legs around his waist. His left arm went around my lower back as his right slid down the back of my jeans to brush against my core. His indrawn breath stole the oxygen from my lungs when his fingers found my wetness.

It was then I started to get nervous; from what I could feel, he was massive. Even thinking this, my body couldn’t stop itself from rocking against his erection. He pulled his hand out of my pants and slowly brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, maintaining eye contact with me the entire time.

Oh my GOD.

His arm returned around my back, while the other wound around my butt, and he headed into the direction of what I was assuming was the bedroom. While doing this, he rid me of my bra. I rubbed my distended nipples against his lightly haired chest. The abrasion of his chest hair on my nipples sent another shock through my core and made me gasp into his mouth.

He laid me down on the bed and followed me down. His head descended and latched onto my nipple, devouring it like he was licking every last drop of brownie batter off a spatula, only to repeat it on the opposite side.

By the time he was through, he had me squirming and begging for him with unintelligible sounds. He sat up and I found myself without pants or panties in point-five seconds. Damn, he was fast. Before I could blink again, he divested himself of his own pants.

He wore no underwear, which meant he’d gone commando.

His penis. There’re no words. Before I could get my mind under control, he was on me. He settled himself between my thighs, which I opened for him without thought.

He slowly rocked his hips and covered himself in the wetness that leaked from my core. He ran his hands lightly up my sides towards my arms, to grab my hands and pin them above my head, transferring them to one of his. He lifted his head and looked into my eyes when he lined his shaft up with my slick heat using his free hand.

Holding eye contact, he slowly pushed in. My eyes widened when he started filling me up, and I realized he really was massive. My eyes started to water when the stretch became a burn. He suddenly stopped and his eyes bore into mine. Questions loomed there that I did not want to answer right now. I knew he was going to stop, and I took matters into my own hands, or legs, if you wanted to be technical, by wrapping them around him and yanking him forward so he pushed past my hymen.

I didn’t experience the knife slice of pain like they always describe in my romance novels. Yes, it was uncomfortable, but it was nothing that I couldn’t handle.

Eyes widening slightly, I saw his lips part, but he didn’t stop me. Once I became accustomed to his size, he slowly started to forge the rest of the way inside.

His eyes never left mine as he slowly rocked his hips back and forth. He bottomed out and bumped my cervix with the crown of his cock, igniting a slow burn inside of me.

“Harder!” I whispered, and his control seemed to snap.

Leaning up, he pulled me to the edge of the bed, my butt teetering on the edge of the mattress, maneuvering my body so he could enter me while he was standing. With each of my legs settled into the crook of his elbows, he started pounding into me with brutal plunges.

My breasts bounced up and down with each lunge. I craved each rough thrust he gave me. His eyes were pinned to where our bodies connected. His breathing seemed to start coming in hard pants, but I lost sight of him when a sensation started building in my core, slowly building higher and higher until it finally burst.

Each of his strokes prolonged my orgasm until I could no longer draw breath; my whole body locked, back bowed. Distantly, I was aware of Mr. Humongo thrusting forward and holding himself as deep as he could get inside of me while he growled out his release.

I felt hot spurts of his come hit the entrance to my womb and it seemed to gulp it up with greedy pulls. Collapsing on top of me, both of us lay panting, exhausted.

Finally coming back to myself I let all my limbs fall to the bed and took a deep contented breath. Mr. Humongo pulled out slowly and I felt a wetness trickle out of me and onto the bed. He grabbed me under the arms and positioned my back to his front, and did a little hop to get the comforter out from under us and covered us both.

“Cheyenne.” I whispered to him and closed my eyes.

I felt him smile against my hair, as he said in a gruff voice, “Sam.”

That was the last thing we said to each other before we both drifted off to sleep.

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