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8 pages, Audible Audio
First published June 28, 2014
They are tame. Oh so tame!
They have come here to play.
They will give you some fun
On this wet, wet, wet day.











My cock had zero problems with memory, though. Like a heat-seeking missile . . .
Conventional wisdom stated that the bottom was the one in control. Whoever made that shit up hadn’t been fucked by Ryker. Because I was on top, riding him, setting the pace and the only one orchestrating this thing? The dark-haired, dark-eyed man who undid me with a look, never mind his cock.
I didn’t need to be rational when a hot, tattooed biker was breaking in to my place and fucking me senseless.
Another vision flashed in front of me—that cherry-red Ferrari, me helpless and spread across the hood, and Ryker fucking the hell out of me. Holding my hips as he filled me. Like he was claiming me, punishing me . . . for stealing, for racing, for talking to the other guys while he was there.
Stealing was freedom. Being forced to steal, not so much.

“You werent ready. You were too wild.”
“I thought Havoc liked wild?”
“...That's taking care of you.” The shudder went from the bottom of my spine and spread everywhere. And he noticed. Nodded slowly. “Yeah, my baby liked that.”
“I'm going to lose my mind with you.”
“Gonna like it though.”
I had. I did. “What's in it for you?”
“You, Sean,” he said, and I got that tight feeling in my throat again, because fuck, he really meant that.
...‘Owned by Ryker. Like I was his...something, no, someone special to him. And hell, I really liked that feeling. “I'm not exacly the damsel-in-distress type, in case you didn't notice.”
“I notice everything about you, Sean.”
There was such a promice, a sweetness to that, despite the fact that it was growled.’
~ Havoc series by S.E. Jakes:




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I stopped reading m/f biker stories because apart from the over the top soap opera type drama I also go a lot of this:HAIR
and this
HEELS
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So when I encountered this, my first Jakes, I was curious, how was Ms Jakes, going to be able to write a decent biker story without hair and heels, this being an m/m. Was it even possible? ⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱*It wasn't all that bad*⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱
I’d been trying to tell myself that I wanted Ryker there because I’d started to feel slightly used when I woke up alone, but that wasn’t it at all. I didn’t feel used. I was lonely. And I’d been coming home earlier, staying in more, hoping for him to sneak in. This past week, he’d visited twice, and that had solidified my feelings.
But it’d also proven that the guy on other end of the roses only wanted sex. Because eight months of nothing else? How could I justify it otherwise? “Maybe I do feel something.” I picked up one of the roses out of the box, rolled the stem along the pads of my fingers, balancing the sharpness so it had just the right amount of sting. “But he doesn’t.”
And I was helpless against him, impaled on him, my ass filled and my gland singing every time he hit it. He held my hips still so the only motion was his, the only friction, my ass on the blanket, and I groaned when he sped up.
The guy strummed every fucking nerve of mine without trying, like he was a goddamned to-be-feared ’68 Dodge Charger R/T with its big engine rumbling through me, fucking me smoothly, the same way it would the streets. I was his gearshift, steering column, and he infused me with power I didn’t think I had.
There were no brakes. I didn’t fucking need them.
He was everything I could want. Hell, everything I didn’t know I’d wanted.
“Fine. Aren’t you afraid that if I let that go . . . if I let it all go, that I won’t need you as much?”
In case I wasn’t sure, in case Ryker hadn’t yet been convinced I was definitely in the running for the Most Fucked-up Guy Ever award, I’d just solidified my spot in the winner’s circle.
But Ryker’s expression softened. “No, baby. Whatever happens, you being happy is what I want. “
“What makes you happy, Ryker?”
“You.”










