Claimed (Book 1): Sinners MC, #1

By Naomi West

This is book 1 of the Sinners MC romance series! Books 2 and 3 are available everywhere now!

I didn't give a damn about anything… until I put a baby in the club girl's belly.

As an outlaw biker, there's a few mottos I live by:

Crank the throttle.

Drink the shot.

And never let anyone take what's yours.

Dakota has been playing hard to get for too damn long.

And I'm done waiting.

I don't care that I'm an older man, or she's a young, curvy club girl.

She's in my territory…

And that means she belongs to me.

But claiming what's mine goes horribly wrong when Dakota ends up pregnant with my kid.

I never wanted to be a father.

After a terrible childhood like mine, bringing a kid into this world was the last thing I ever intended.

But there's no time to sit around and ponder the future.

Because my enemies can sense my new vulnerability.

And they're gearing up to strike.

I hope they come locked and loaded.

Because I may not have asked for a woman or a baby.

But I'll be damned if anyone on this earth is allowed to claim what's mine.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MBK Hanson Inc.
• Release date: Nov 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386343295

Naomi West

Motorcycle club romance that will blow you away... Naomi West is a best-selling author of motorcycle romance novels that will get your heart pumping and your panties melting. Sign up for her mailing list to receive new release alerts, free giveaways, and much more! Follow this link to join:  http://bit.ly/NaomiWestMailingList

Book preview

Claimed: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Sinners MC) (Book 1)

By Naomi West

I didn’t give a d*mn about anything... until I put a baby in the club girl’s belly.

AS AN OUTLAW BIKER, there’s a few mottos I live by:

Crank the throttle.

Drink the shot.

And never let anyone take what’s yours.

Dakota has been playing hard to get for too damn long.

And I’m done waiting.

I don’t care that I’m an older man, or she’s a young, curvy club girl.

She’s in my territory...

And that means she belongs to me.

But claiming what’s mine goes horribly wrong when Dakota ends up pregnant with my kid.

I never wanted to be a father.

After a terrible childhood like mine, bringing a kid into this world was the last thing I ever intended.

But there’s no time to sit around and ponder the future.

Because my enemies can sense my new vulnerability.

And they’re gearing up to strike.

I hope they come locked and loaded.

Because I may not have asked for a woman or a baby.

But I’ll be damned if any motherf**ker on this earth is allowed to claim what’s mine.

Chapter One

Dakota

Jameson’s is a swanky little place just on the edge of the Denver border. It’s a dive bar where you can bring your family—or maybe the woman you’re seeing on the side; that’s just the kinda trashy-yet-classy vibe that draws the bikers and the civs alike, and probably why, for some God-awful reason, I let Speed Stiles convince me I should come out here and get a drink with him.

He’s damn handsome sitting at this bar—I’ll give him that. He’s big (huge) with thick muscle from his arms to his legs and all that hard torso in between that makes the other club girls swoon. He’s got one of those Army-style haircuts. You know, the whole shaved sides deal? It makes him look older than he is, but in a good way—like he’s seasoned. It’s his eyes, though, those crystal-like blues that make people really weak at the knees and wet between their legs.

He’s older than me at 25. Charismatic, too. But—though I’m only 19 and green, as some would call it—I’m not so easy to turn to putty. Not even if he is leaning into my space right now, grinning at me like the self-assured man he’s grown into since I’ve been around.

You always play hard to get, ’Kota, he says to me. You should give me a chance. Ask any of the girls; I’ll give you a good time.

I laugh.

Is that your idea of a pick-up line? I ask, even knowing that by a few accounts that I’ve heard, he’s definitely telling the truth (or at least most of the truth.)

He’s so hung, oh my God. Long, thick.

Bucks like a bull, I swear.

He laughs, pulling me out of my thoughts as I down the last of my drink.

It’s my idea of buttering you up a bit so I can get you like I want you. Is it working?

He’s cocky. Every biker is. His persistence might be annoying if he weren’t so damn playful about all of it. It’s not like he’s tried to force me to do anything; club girls aren’t immune to being manhandled, but Speed isn’t like that. As far as I know, any manhandling that he’d do to me would be very, very wanted.

He probably could, too, with those big arms of his—

See, you’re already in a daze and we haven’t gotten down to it yet.

I flush, hiding it behind a stolen drink of his beer. When I finish it off and set it down, I scoff at him haughtily.

Okay, I say, throwing him a bone. He actually looks a little surprised, those pretty blues of his lighting up.

Okay?

Yeah. I nod, as if it’s going to be simple, before I smirk up at him. If you beat me at a drinking game.

Speed laughs. You’re giving me conditions? That’s cruel.

Are you saying you’re chicken? I challenge.

Oh, hardly. Tell me the game. Maybe I’ll go easy on you to give you a fighting chance.

I roll my eyes. "It’s a simple game. Five-thirty. Five drinks, thirty seconds. Winner gets bragging rights and if you win, you’ll get a bonus prize. Fair?"

Speed grins at me. Fair.

Our poison is beer. Straightforward. Easy enough. I get the bartender to bring us five each.

I don’t think Speed’s actually going to win—it’s why I chose the game. I’ve never been beaten, not even once. Not even by a biker. I can drink circles around damn near everyone, even being as young as I am. I want to put him in his place a little and show him that for all his flirting, he’s still just another Sinner and I’m a club girl that’s looking for more than just another wild, unruly—unstable—biker.

You ready? he asks me, leaning over again. You sure you want to do this like this? I would hate to embarrass a lady. I roll my eyes and slide over the first drink.

Stop bullshitting me and get down to it, I tell him.

We pick up our drinks at the same time, and I think I have a lead on him. The alcohol hits my tongue, cool and earthy, and gulp, gulp, gulp it down as Speed does the same thing. There’s a finesse in the way he downs his beer, and I watch the bob of his throat over the rim of my glass.

One drink down.

Two, three.

The beer sloshes down my throat and I feel my face redden as I gulp air and drink simultaneously. I’m not going to let Speed win—on principle, of course. I’m too prideful to let him beat me—

Speed slams the fifth down onto the bar table just seconds before I do. We’re both gasping, faces red. The alcohol sloshes in my belly but I feel it the most in my head as the realization hits.

He ... beat me.

My mind flickers between this reality, as