The Sergeant at Arms: Fire Breathers MC

"As ferocious a lover as he was, I knew he was ten times as ferocious a fighter. That scared me a little bit. Turned me on a little bit." 

Chelsea is no stranger to the world of outlaw motorcycle clubs. Her own father had at one time proudly worn one of the intimidating leather cuts himself. So, when she finds herself being drawn to Chip, the rough and tumble Sergeant at Arms of the notorious Fire Breathers MC, she knows exactly what she might be getting herself into. Still though, the grit, the violence, the raw sexual power of it all... it can be seductive, even to someone who knows better. 

Will she be able to withstand the heat of a Fire Breather? 

WARNING: This 7000+ word story includes plenty of racy outlaw motorcycle club intrigue & titilating graphic scenes. It is intended for mature audiences only! 

Excerpt: 
Within seconds we were back on his chopper growling through the streets. I was on back, arms wrapped around his leather clad torso, and occasionally pointing out where he should turn. Clinging to him as he wove through the streets, engine rumbling and chin held high as though he were a king, I felt as though I was leeching a little bit of that power just by being on the bike with him. And that was a good feeling. 
It took maybe fifteen or twenty minutes of me directing him through traffic to get to our destination. He didn’t know exactly where we were heading. I told him it was a surprise and that he would find out when we got there, but I think that he already had a sneaking suspicion of what it was to begin with. That roguish smirk of his was a giveaway. 
Finally, as we were roaring up the road near our final destination, I pinched his leather clad shoulder and jerked my thumb to the right when he glanced behind to see. He leaned the bike’s weight to the side with a practiced precision and whipped it into the driveway I had pointed out. 
He cut the engine and helped me slide down the side of the bike before coolly hopping off himself and taking off his shades to survey the building before him. 
“Didn’t your daddy ever warn you about bringing a man home after the first date?” 
“What first date?” 
He folded his shades up and slipped one of its long plastic arms into the front pocket of his leather cut where it rested near a patch that simply read 1%. 
“Good point.” 
I just grinned and shook my head as I stepped past him and fumbled for my keys in my purse. 
“No surprises in here, huh?” 
“What do you mean?” I said, turning as my fingers finally wrapped around the keys. 
“I already had to beat up one jealous boyfriend today. And that one wasn’t even my fault.” 
“Nope. No surprises. I’m a drama free girl, you know.” 
“I hear that.” 
I turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.