Exquisite Sin: Iron Horse MC, #6

By Ann Mayburn

Lyric
I thought once I finally fled the strict confines of my old church I'd be free. Safe from the demons masquerading as holy men. Unfortunately, there is just as much evil in the real world as my former home, and the demons that want to destroy me are still on the hunt. My hero comes from the most unlikely of places, a knight in black leather who is ready to lay down his life for my own. My church may have called him a sinner who was leading me into damnation, but to me he is my salvation.

Hustler
I've spent my life alone, my heart and soul claimed long ago by the Iron Horse MC. My loyalty to them was unquestionable before a certain freckled angel entered my life. Now my devotion to my club is torn between doing what my President wants, and what my woman needs. It kills me that I'm forced to leave her side when she needs me the most, but if I stay with her much longer I'm going to get her killed. Except my absence doesn't make her any safer. By the time I figure out the true threat comes from within, it's too late to do anything but pray to a God who turned his back on me long ago for a miracle I don't deserve.

(Exquisite Sin is part 2 of Hustler and Lyric's story. Exquisite Innocence SHOULD be read first. For your greatest reading enjoyment, I'd suggest you read the series in order, starting with Exquisite Trouble. In the Iron Horse MC series there is a big long story arch that spans the various books)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ann Mayburn
• Release date: May 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386603160

Ann Mayburn

Ann is Queen of the Castle to her wonderful husband and three sons in the mountains of West Virginia. In her past lives she's been an Import Broker, a Communications Specialist, a US Navy Civilian Contractor, a Bartender/Waitress, and an actor at the Michigan Renaissance Festival. She also spent a summer touring with the Grateful Dead-though she will deny to her children that it ever happened.From a young age she's been fascinated by myths and fairytales, and the romance that often was the center of the story. As Ann grew older and her hormones kicked in, she discovered trashy romance novels. Great at first, but she soon grew tired of the endless stories with a big wonderful emotional buildup to really short and crappy sex. Never a big fan of purple prose, throbbing spears of fleshy pleasure and wet honey pots make her giggle, she sought out books that gave the sex scenes in the story just as much detail and plot as everything else-without using cringe worthy euphemisms. This led her to the wonderful world of Erotic Romance, and she's never looked back.Now Ann spends her days trying to tune out cartoons playing in the background to get into her 'sexy space' and has learned to type one handed while soothing a cranky baby.

Book preview

Exquisite Sin

An Iron Horse MC Novel

#6

By

Ann Mayburn

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement (including infringement without monetary gain) is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Exquisite Sin

Copyright © 2019 by Ann Mayburn

Published by Honey Mountain Publishing

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

**DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, BDSM or otherwise, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Ann Mayburn will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in this book.**

CHAPTER 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Other Books by Ann

Chapter 1

LYRIC

ANGEL, TIME TO GET up.

A big, firm hand stroked down my back, awakening my skin with a tingle.

Mmmmm, I stretched between the warm, slippery smooth sheets and arched into his touch. No.

Soft lips surrounded by a rough goatee skimmed over my shoulder. Come on, beautiful girl. Rise and shine.

That feels nice, I practically purred as he continued to lightly caress me. More. Pet me.

Hustler’s smooth chuckle warmed me from the inside out. Pet you, huh? You wanna be my little kitten some night? Let Daddy stroke his sweet pussy cat? I giggle-snorted into my pillow. You’d look fucking hot with a pair of pretty cat ears and a nice anal plug tail.

My arching and wiggling beneath his rough hands ended abruptly. Say what?

This time, his laughter was loud, so I flipped over, eager for his smile.

At the sight of his head thrown back, with the muscles beneath the tattoos coloring his throat flexing, I let out a little sigh.

Hustler was so, so handsome.

Especially dressed in a nice grey and black pin-striped suit, a crisp white shirt, and a cool blue and black tie. His unbuttoned jacket revealed an incredibly sexy black silk vest. I didn’t realize how much the sight of my tattooed man, dressed in a conservative suit, would turn me on. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Hustler could make anything look good, even worn-out sweats and a threadbare t-shirt. I had to admit, I loved him all dressed up, with his face freshly shaven and his goatee neatly trimmed. Plus, he’d slicked back his lush, midnight black hair, revealing his solid bone structure.

The light to the massive walk in closet of his bedroom was on, but it was still mostly dark. The thick, navy blue curtains on the windows practically blocked out the sun burning bright outside. I sat up and scooted closer to him, drawn to the warm, citrus scent of his cologne. Leaning forward, I briefly rested my head on his firm stomach and took a deep breath. Peace and contentment relaxed me further as I leaned back and grinned at him.

His gaze softened when he cupped my cheek. Damn, you’re adorable. Waking up to your sweet smile every morning is a glory a sinner like me doesn’t deserve.

Conscious of my morning breath, I resisted the urge to kiss him.

He captured my hand in his own and kissed my fingertips. Come on, lazy bones. I let you sleep as long as I could. I have a meeting I can’t miss this morning at my pawn shop, and you’re coming with me.

I grumped and groaned, but allowed him to help me out of bed as my nerves cleared my mind. We’d stayed up late the night before, binge-watching superhero movies. Hustler was a secret comic book geek, and I’d loved listening to him explain the intricacies of the fantasy universes. Evidently, vintage comic books were a big deal in the pawn business, so he’d studied up on them. He was one of those people driven to know things, always seeking out the truth and asking why things happened. Despite not having a college degree, Hustler was one of the smartest men I’ve ever met—not just because he’s naturally intelligent, but because he’s curious and driven enough to investigate everything that catches his fancy.

My father would have called him a jack of all trades, master of none, but to me, Hustler was the most interesting person ever. Even if he didn’t spoil me with orgasms and pamper me like a princess, I’d still find him fascinating. Although I found it hard to believe, he seemed to find me equally enthralling. He’d asked me what seemed like a hundred questions about my life growing up, and he always seemed to pay complete attention to my answers. We’d spent a long time talking—in between bouts of mind-bending sex—last night, and I felt closer to him than ever.

Get dressed. He gave my bottom a slap that had a little sting to it, snapping me out of my daze. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.

Rubbing my butt, I tried to scowl at him, but that only made him laugh as he left the spacious bedroom.

The closet was really big, large enough to have a bronze and black marble island in the middle with room to spare. Like the rest of the house, the space was done in a classic, masculine style. Wandering inside, I found the pile of clothing that Sarah and Swan had delivered to the house yesterday sitting in neatly folded piles on two shelves to my left. My heart warmed as I looked at the pretty fabrics. Even on their honeymoon across the world, the Anderson sisters had still found a way to show me they was thinking about me. Love for my friends washed through me and I thanked God for them being in my life.

A pang of worry had me pausing as I pulled on an empire-waisted, silky green dress. It was gorgeous, but my old church would have considered it slutty and inappropriate. With renewed determination, I pushed away the voices from the past and allowed myself to admire the dress without guilt. Faceted jet beadwork embellished its halter top, and the dress glimmered as I adjusted my breasts. The slightly ragged hem gave it a floaty feel as I took an experimental step. Even though the dress was relatively modest, I still felt almost sinful with my upper back and freckled shoulders bared.

Looking into the mirror, I almost didn’t recognize the girl smiling back at me. It had been a long, long time since I’d seen myself happy. My eyes sparkled and my cheeks were pink as I ran my hands down the pretty dress. I would need the confidence looking nice brought me today.

I wanted to make a good first impression at Hustler’s main pawn shop/office. After all, I’d hopefully be working there soon— that is, if I could talk him into giving me a job. He wanted me to stay at home, to let him take care of me. To live a life of leisure, he said. I understood he was only coming from a good place when he offered me that, but I needed to keep busy. Being idle gave me too much time to think, and I’d spent my life working from sunup to sundown. It was ingrained in me, and while I’d enjoyed these past few days of staying locked away in Hustler’s kick-butt house, I needed to start my new life.

For me, that meant getting a job.

After fighting me on it, Hustler finally agreed that I needed something to do, then offered to find me a work at his pawn shop. I said okay to that, but only after I insisted there would be no fornication while I was on the job. A giggle slipped out of me as I remembered how he’d roared with laughter at my use of words fit for polite company. Then he’d gone down on me until I cursed worse than a sailor as I came.

Slipping on a pair of green and gold ballet flats that were just a touch too big, I made my way downstairs, into Hustler’s gleaming open kitchen.

The masculine theme of the home continued, this time through the dark oak cabinets and oiled brass knobs. A vast, granite countertop in shades of blue and gray dominated the room and lightened it up. At the stove, an elderly Hispanic woman named Maci bustled about. She caught sight of me in the doorway and smiled, her gold tooth winking in the sunlight.

Ms. Lyric, good morning to you. Mr. Lorenzo said you had to leave, so I made you a breakfast burrito to go. She gestured to the long piece of carved driftwood and glass that served as Hustler’s kitchen table. There’s coffee in the red thermos, just the way you like it.

Though we’d only known each other for three days, Maci had taken me under her wing. She said I reminded her of her granddaughters, and she treated me like family. She also treated Hustler like her own and wasn’t above lecturing him about finishing his vegetables. Maci, along with a maid I hadn’t met yet, kept Hustler clean and fed. While it was weird to have someone else cook for me, I didn’t protest. This was Maci’s job, and I didn’t want to endanger it just because I was used to fending for myself.

Still, I planned to talk to Hustler to see if sometimes he could give her a paid night off, so I could cook for him.

Once we were outside in the heat, Hustler took my hand in a firm grip. It was gearing up to be a blistering hot day, and I could already feel the pavement baking beneath my slippered feet. He helped me into the front seat of his tricked-out, silver truck and coped a feel in the process. The truck was jacked up, and due to my lack of height, he practically had to lift me into my seat. He, of course, used the excuse to grab my butt. That man was obsessed with my booty, and my breasts, and my lips...and pretty much all of me. As he climbed into the truck, I wondered for a moment how long it would take for his interest to fade. Even though he claimed I was his woman, I didn’t quite know what that title entailed. I mean, if we were married, I’d know what we shared would be forever, but being his woman didn’t seem to have that same sense of permanence.

Music roared through the speakers, and he quickly turned it down with a grin. Sorry.

Wow. I tugged at my ear. That was loud.

Yeah. I usually blast it while I’m driving the truck. Something about this beast just makes me want to lose myself on the road.

You can turn it back up if you want.

Nah. I’d rather talk about what has you so nervous that you’re hurting yourself.

What?

He glanced away from the road then down at my hands before pulling out past the security gates and onto a residential street lined with gated mansions. Your hands. You clench them any harder and you’re gonna break a bone.

Startled, I realized I did have my hands clenched super tight. They tingled as I loosened them then shook them out. Oh.

So what’s got you stressed out, baby? He glanced at me again before smoothly pulling out onto a busy street. Talk to me.

I looked away, watching an unfamiliar world pass by. What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m weird?

Who?

The people you work with.

Okay, first—I don’t give a fuck what they think, and you shouldn’t, either. Secondly, they’re going to love you. If they don’t, they can find a new fuckin’ job. If any of those bitches gives you any problems, you tell me.

Bitches? I don’t think it’s very nice to call your employees names.

He grunted. Not all of ‘em are bitches, but there are a few.

I frowned at him. If they’re bitches, why don’t you fire them?

Because they’re really fuckin’ good at their jobs. As long as they keep their shit in check with me, and make the shop lots of money, I don’t give a fuck if they get an attitude once they walk out my doors.

That makes sense.

Listen... He glanced over at me before looking out his window. I slept with a few of the salesgirls in the past. I know you probably don’t want to hear that, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m tryin’ to hide anything.

I tried to keep from instantly sliding into insecure jealousy, my unwanted default mode when it came to women Hustler had been intimate with. Were you serious with any of them?

Nah. Most of ‘em were a long time ago. I don’t like to shit where I eat.

Charming, I muttered as I crossed my arms.

He cleared his throat. I’m just tryin’ to say that you have nothing to worry about. The women that still work there are my friends and that’s it. I never had anything more than a casual relationship with most of ‘em, anyways. A few of my employees used to be club girls. They’re nice women and hard workers, so I gave ‘em good jobs at the pawn shop. Besides, most of ‘em are happily married now with kids. No matter how much of a dog I was in the past, I would never knowingly fuck another man’s wife.

What about unknowingly?

Grimacing, he turned the wheel of the truck, and the diamonds on his shiny watch glittered. Can’t say there wasn’t a couple times when I found out a bitch I was fuckin’ had a husband back home. As soon as I found out, I cut that shit off. I’m many things, but a homewrecker ain’t one of ‘em.

And there you have it. While Hustler might not be a paragon of virtue, he diligently followed his own moral code. Some people might find it odd to think of an honorable outlaw biker, but Hustler was one. He had a core set of values, things he viewed as being right and wrong, that nothing could shake. In many ways, his faith in his beliefs was almost religious in nature.

I set my hand on his thigh and squeezed the thick muscle. I trust you. If you say you didn’t do it on purpose, you didn’t. I believe you.

After a quick look at my face, the lines of stress around his mouth softened. You have no idea how much that means to me, Angel.

I merely smiled at him, taken a little aback by the heavy emotions in his eyes as he spoke.

When we arrived at the store, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I sure as heck didn’t picture this kind of place when Hustler said he owned a pawn shop. The only time I’d ever seen one was in movies—usually depicted as dirty, seedy establishments on the wrong side of town. I imagined a squat, grimy building where people sold stolen goods for money to use on drugs.

This place...this three-story sprawling complex, looked like it belonged on Rodeo Drive.

Last night while cuddling, he’d told me that when he bought—or somehow inherited?—the store ten years ago—he was vague on the details—it had been a wreck, but he’d busted his ass to make the store a success. He’d done it. Instead of selling stolen guns and cheap jewelry, they handled everything from high-end art to luxury automobiles. I could tell he loved his job, and I was proud that he’d accomplished so much.

And that was before I got my first look at the three-story building plus warehouse that dominated a space the size of two city blocks.

Large, black and gold marble planters stood out front, filled with brightly blooming red and pink flowers and feathery golden grass. Tall palm trees lined the small green space between the sidewalk and the street, and the entire area out front was free of any dirt or debris. Holding my hand in his own, Hustler led me through the smoky black glass front doors.

The pawn shop’s showroom was so clean it sparkled. Literally, everywhere I looked, something glimmered and gleamed. The lush black and gold dotted carpets didn’t show a speck of dust anywhere. Towering arrangements of bright flowers sat on small glass tables here and there, giving the room a welcoming feel. Polished glass display cases stretched out as far as the eye could see before me. Everything was designed to catch the viewer’s attention, and the lighting made all the jewelry glitter like a pirate’s treasure.

I wasn’t really listening to Hustler as he talked in a low voice to one of the two big, black men in in navy blue suits guarding the front doors. He held my hand in his as I gawked, absently rubbing my skin with his thumb. My wandering gaze landed on a beautiful woman who glared like she hated me. With lots of curly red hair, and milky smooth skin, she could have been a model with her tall, svelte body. I’d noticed in my first glance of the place that all the women who worked here were beautiful, but the redhead was in a class by herself.

When she realized I’d noticed her, the sneer twisting her red lips turned to a bright, welcoming smile.

I blinked, not sure if I’d seen her look of hatred, since now she gave me a smile as sweet as sugar. I hadn’t imagined that she was giving me the atomic stink-eye, had I? Hustler gently squeezed my hand, drawing my attention back to him.

Lyric, I’d like you to meet Darius. He’s going to take care of you while I’m in my meeting.

The large, almost bald, black man held out his massive palm for me to shake, and I noted the gold and diamond wedding band on his other hand. Nice to meet you, ma’am.

Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Darius.

He smiled, and suddenly he seemed familiar as a small dimple popped in his cheek, but I was sure we’d never met. Just Darius is fine, ma’am.

Please, call me Lyric.

You got it.

Hustler led me over to the tall redhead, and my gut churned the closer we got. I nervously licked my lips as we stopped on the other side of the display case where she dusted expensive looking men’s watches. There was no sign of her earlier animosity, but something still seemed slightly off in her icy blue eyes as she smiled at me.

Rhonda, I want you to meet my woman, Lyric. He gave my lower back a gentle rub. Lyric, Rhonda’s one of my managers and has been working here forever.

Up close, I could see that, even though she was still lovely, she was also older than me—probably closer to Hustler’s age. Her cold blue-eyed gaze reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t place it as she held out an elegant hand toward me.

Lyric, so nice to meet you.

Though her voice sounded perfectly pleasant, and her smile shined bright as ever, I could still feel her animosity toward me. Growing up in an abusive environment, I’d learned to read people as a matter of self-preservation. I knew how to recognize when someone’s mood might be bad before it caused them to lash out at me. I quickly shook her hand, aware of her slight cringe of distaste as she briefly held my fingers in her own.

Unable to speak, I gave her a tight smile and nod.

Hustler, clearly wondering why I was being weird, said, Rhonda, I’m expecting some business associates. Let me know when they arrive. I’ll be upstairs.

Okay, she smiled brightly as she toyed with the large solitaire diamond pendant around her elegant neck. We’ve got inventory tonight; will you be coming by to help?

Nope. He looped an arm around my waist and gave me a tight squeeze. I’ve got plans tonight with Lyric.

Her smile became even brighter—and more fake—but she said, Of course.

I cuddled up into his side, absorbing his strength.

Can you go make sure the conference room is set up? he asked her.

"Yes, Sir," she practically purred.

From behind me, Darius grunted.

Hustler frowned at her, before shooting me an odd look. Ready?

Uh, sure. Where’re we going?

Up to my apartment.

You have an apartment here? And also a house?

Yeah. Got a place up on the third floor. He led me back through a series of hallways, then we took a set of stairs, while Darius trailed behind us. It’s more of a crash pad than anything else. Nothing fancy. Sometimes I work late, and the thirty-minute drive home is just too fucking long.

When he opened the heavy door at the top of three flights of stairs, I let out a choked laugh. "You think this is nothing fancy?"

A huge, gorgeous, modern apartment filled with cool art stretched out before me. The floor plan was open, and I gawked as Hustler tugged me past the pretty kitchen, with its bright orange and blue tilework. We reached a set of glossy black stairs, and I followed behind Hustler as he opened another door.

I took a moment to admire a large painting of a cactus done in rainbow colors. This place is unbelievable.

He paused and looked over my head at the room below. Well, at one time it wasn’t much more than a place to party, not until Sarah stepped in. She asked if she could add a few accent pieces, and the next thing I know, I got a demo crew up here taking down walls. Come on, I want to show you something.

When we stepped out onto the roof, I froze at the astonishing view.

From four stories up, Austin stretched out in a seemingly never-ending expanse of buildings to our left. To my right, hills broke through the landscape, and the view was even more amazing. I took a hesitant step forward, vaguely aware of Hustler moving while Darius stayed behind us.

Lyric, you okay? He moved in front of me, his dark eyes squinted against the bright sunlight.

Oh, Hustler, I whispered as tears burned my nose. It’s...it’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.

A nearby grouping of chairs sat around a big, black wrought iron table, and a bunch of potted succulent plants in enormous planters decorated the rooftop. I vaguely noted a few other decorative elements, but mainly my attention was captured by the view of the city. It took my breath away to see so many buildings housing so many people. The brick and concrete edge of the roof reached my chest, and I curled my fingers over the rough stone as I peered over the edge.

My stomach gave a funny dip, and I quickly looked back up, feeling a little dizzy.

Hustler came up behind me and wrapped his strong arms over my shoulders. Can’t wait to show it to you at night.

I scanned the horizon, trying to drink it all in. There was traffic everywhere I looked, and the noise rising up from the street below sounded like an odd sort of music. Sunlight glinted off windshields, and overhead, a hawk circled slowly in the distance. People walked into a coffee shop across the four-lane street, ignorant of my spying. An elderly couple shuffling down the wide sidewalk caught my attention. I studied them, taking in the way the old man sheltered his equally frail wife as they walked together. Both used canes, but he was aware of her every move, shadowing her and keeping her safe.

Kind of how Hustler acted around me. No matter where we were, I remained his priority. Like right now—his arms wrapped around me, and his solid presence surrounded me on the warm roof. A steady breeze blew, taking away the worst of the heat. Leaning forward a little further, I looked at the street below us.

There are so many people, I marveled. I never realized the world was so busy all the time. I always imagined that most people worked from nine to five, like in that old movie with Dolly Parton. I mean, I know it sounds silly, but I kind of thought cities would be deserted during the day, because everyone was indoors working.

Most people have regular business hours during the day, but the world is becoming more global all the time, so that’s changing. Plus, you got people who work odd hours—night shift, part time—and some people even work from home.

Hmm... I cuddled into him. Good point.

He rubbed his nose against the top of my head then took in a deep, audible breath. Smelling me was one of his ‘things.’ According to Hustler, I smelled amazing, no matter what soap I used or perfume I wore. He always seemed to be finding excuses rub his nose against the soft skin behind my ears, or to sniff my hair. I had to admit, I liked that he enjoyed how I smelled. No woman wants to think she’s stinky.

Excuse me, Rhonda said in a sultry voice. We’re ready for you now, Sir.

I swear, she purred that