Bully Bastard: An Age Gap Biker Rom Com: WDMC, #3

By Echo Slater

A rom-com with bikers? Oh, yeah.

Age-gap romances between feisty heroines and their possessive heroes? Uh-huh!

Insta-lust? You know it!

 

Alec "Stoney" Ryan was done with girlfriends, drama, and his mother's disapproval of every chick he brought around. He planned to let his dick run free for the rest of his years.

 

Except his club brother fell hard for a high schooler, and Stoney met her bestie and sorta sister. Now, his dick is harnessed until his dream girl is old enough to take a ride.

 

Hagan Weaver's got sass to spare, but letting people close has never been easy. Though her heart belongs to Stoney, her head forces the sexy biker to chase her. After all, she's far from ready for what he's packing.

 

Waiting over, Stoney's got one thing on his mind. So, Hagan can run, snark, and play her hot-and-cold games, but her destination will always be his bed.

 

Enjoy the ride as Stoney makes Hagan his woman!

 

Bully Bastard is the third book in the Wet Dicks MC series and only suited for readers 18+.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Echo Slater
• Release date: Feb 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798224018215

Book preview

BULLY BASTARD

ECHO SLATER

Copyright © 2022 Echo Slater

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmosphere purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Cover

Image Source—DepositPhotos

Cover Copyright © 2022 Echo Slater

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Special Thanks

Judy’s Proofreading

TABLE OF CONTENTS

ALEC STONEY RYAN—THE WAITING

HAGAN WEAVER—GOTTA GET AWAY

STONEY—PRIDE AND JOY

HAGAN—YOU WRECK ME

STONEY—JADED

HAGAN—MY TYPE

STONEY—TENDER IS THE NIGHT

HAGAN—EMOTIONAL

STONEY—EVERYBODY TALKS

HAGAN—BOSS BITCH

STONEY—RUN-AROUND

HAGAN—KISS ME MORE

STONEY—HERE I GO AGAIN

HAGAN—SABOTAGE

STONEY—SHE’S SO COLD

HAGAN—SHUT UP AND DRIVE

STONEY—UNDER MY THUMB

HAGAN—SHAKE IT OFF

STONEY—DON’T BRING ME DOWN

HAGAN—CRUSH ON YOU

STONEY—SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE

HAGAN—KINDLY CALM ME DOWN

STONEY—THE SOUND OF SILENCE

HAGAN—LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO

STONEY—HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN

HAGAN—OCEAN EYES

STONEY—LOOK AT LITTLE SISTER

HAGAN—WHO’D HAVE KNOWN

STONEY—CAUGHT UP IN YOU

HAGAN—GOT ME GOOD

STONEY—ALL MY LOVE

HAGAN—KNOCK THEM OUT

STONEY—YOU MAKE MY DREAMS COME TRUE

HAGAN’S EPILOGUE—YOUR LOVE IS MY DRUG

STONEY’S EPILOGUE—PARADISE CITY

PLAYLIST

ECHO SLATER INFO

ALEC STONEY RYAN

THE WAITING

A man my age shouldn’t be so patient. It’s just not fucking natural. Neither is keeping my dick dry for eight damn months. As a Wet Dicks Motorcycle Club member, I’m accustomed to swimming in hot pussy. Not since I was sixteen have I worked to get laid. That’s when I learned smiling at certain chicks was all it took to get their panties to drop.

In life, I’ve been blessed in two ways—my looks and my club. I have my grandpop’s handsome face with my ma’s bright blue eyes. With my features, I never once had to use charm to win a chick’s affection. If I want to win an argument with a woman, I just flash my grin.

But not with Hagan Weaver.

Eight months ago, my club brother—Mad Dog—fell for Cameo Sutton. The sexy blue-eyed brunette high schooler came with an even sexier sister-hardcore bestie. Hagan floored me right off the bat. I couldn’t get the mouthy beauty out of my mind.

I decided back then to make her mine once she turned eighteen. Eight long months later, I’m finally able to make a move. Any earlier attempts might have led my club president—Grizz—to remove a testicle from my very attached set.

My prez has rules about banging jailbait. I get it. Chicks that age own immature brains in bodacious bodies. His own mom was a teenage slut. Got herself a kid too young and a life no one aspires to. So, yeah, Grizz has a righteous reason for his rules.

That doesn’t mean the last eight months weren’t painful. My suffering can’t be dumped completely on him, of course.

Hagan’s downright gorgeous with the longest legs I’ve ever seen on a woman. Her smile is a drug, leaving me hopelessly addicted. Hagan’s fun personality made her an easy addition to the crew out on the Ranch, where I live with my club.

Yeah, my woman’s a real catch. Her only flaw is how she loves to play hot and cold.

Like today, when I wait for her outside the high school. The winter day isn’t unbearably cold, but my balls freeze a little when I stand out in the parking lot.

Once the Barrow teenagers pour out of the doorways, I reach back for the red roses I bought for Hagan’s birthday.

Today, my woman turns eighteen, and the countdown to us in bed has officially begun.

Hagan walks out alone, oblivious to the swarm of students around her. I know she misses Cameo, who graduated last June. Hagan frequently mentions her loneliness. Even though she regularly avoids me on the Ranch, I overhear plenty of her conversations.

Spotting me, her big brown eyes widen. A smile spills across her pretty face. She walks toward me while wearing a lovestruck expression.

Before I get comfy with her interest, she jerks to the right and takes off sprinting for her car.

Even knowing this was coming, I’m somehow unprepared. We’ve played this game for months. She’ll see me and smile like we’re friends before running away. The chick loves her games.

Hagan’s escape hits a hiccup when she gets stuck in school traffic. I pull my Harley next to her red Terrain trapped in a line of cars inching through a four-way stop sign. Grinning, I admire her pretending to be singing along with a song. I rev my engine after she moves up three times without acknowledging my presence.

Turning her head, she flinches as if startled to see me. Hagan waves and then goes back to her song.

After two more spots forward, I knock on her window. She rolls it down as if dealing with a cop.

Can I help you? she asks.

Happy birthday, baby, I reply and flash my million-watt smile.

Hagan stares at me in awe before shivering and mumbling, Restraining order.

Then, the little minx rolls up her window and ignores me. I hardcore stare at her, moving along with her car and revving my engine to intimidate anyone who might try to make me follow road rules.

Eventually, a cop pulls up level with my Harley just as Hagan reaches the stop sign.

Is there a problem? he asks.

You tell me, rookie.

Giving my motorcycle the once-over, he seems to get how my hog and vest aren’t for show. The Barrow cops offer the Wet Dicks Motorcycle Club a wide berth to ride how we choose. In exchange, we don’t release incriminating shit about what the boys in blue are up to. This balanced relationship is threatened by a newbie cop interfering with my big day.

Do I need to call your boss? I ask, and he pulls away without another word.

By then, Hagan’s gained distance from me. Unfortunately for her escape plans, my motorcycle handles traffic easier than her economical SUV. I catch up with her again at a light. Once again, she acts startled to see me and waves.

Lowering her window, Hagan smiles. Hey, Coney. I don’t know where Mad Dog is, so, you know, go away.

You make eighteen look good.

Stalker.

Cock tease.

Hagan’s gaze goes to my crotch, where it lingers before she shrugs. Probably.

Closing her window, she returns to ignoring me. I follow along easily until she acts like she’ll slow at a yellow light before gunning it instead. I make a right turn, racing down a small side street. I soon end up not far behind her as she parks in front of the Suttons’ two-story colonial-style house.

This entire exercise is typical Hagan behavior. She ducks and dodges, playing games and faking me out. Yet, we both know our destination, so her behavior changes nothing.

My woman likes to be chased. After eight months without fucking, I have plenty of built-up energy. Catching her will be a relief.

Hagan’s long legs make quick work of the run from the curb to her front door. Disappearing inside, she believes she’s reached her sanctuary. I’d call her dumb, but she’s really just young.

Strolling to the front door, I knock and wait for someone to play interference. Phil Sutton claims that reward today. The tall, balding accountant tries to hold his own against me despite his lame sweater vest.

Hello? he asks as if he doesn’t know me or why I’m here.

Hey, Phil. Why don’t you tell the birthday girl to come out and get her flowers?

She’s not feeling well, he says, clearly repeating whatever she said in the few seconds between her arrival and mine. Lady issues.

Sure, I mutter and hand him the roses. We both know she’s spying. I’ll go ahead and talk to her through you. Get it?

Sure, but I think she’s in the bathroom right now.

Uh-huh, I mutter and flash a grin at the stairwell where she’s likely hiding. So, it’s Hagan’s birthday. I’m sure she’ll enjoy a party today with her family and fill up on cake. However, in two days, I’m taking her out for sushi at The Greenhouse. What do you think a good time will be to pick her up on Friday?

I don’t know if she’s interested, Phil says and sniffs the roses. Hagan is swimming in suitors these days.

Tell me their names, and I’ll break something on them to ensure they go away.

Phil scowls like I’m a bad puppy. Well, violence isn’t really the answer.

Look, I reply and shove my hands into my pockets, I know Mad Dog charmed you and the missus with his bullshit, but I’m not planning to do that.

On account of you not caring enough or because you lack the charm to pull it off?

Narrowing my eyes, I study his grinning face. I liked you better when you were afraid of the club.

Yes, but I’m now married into the Wet Dicks. Apparently, that offers me benefits such as no longer fearing the adult man bullying his way into dating my youngest daughter.

She’s an adult, too.

Yeah, today, Phil mutters, frowning at me. Though, to be honest, we both know she isn’t all that mature yet.

Okay, this has moved into a distasteful territory, Hagan announces and appears from her stairwell hiding place. I’m excessively mature.

Are you, though? Phil asks, grinning as she approaches.

I got an A-minus in English Lit. I think I’m fully aware of the meaning of ‘excessively.’

Do you have this?

Hagan looks at me with her usual swagger before freezing and backing away. No, stay, Phil. I don’t trust this hooligan.

You owe me a date, I tell her.

I owe no one nothing. Except Phil and Arlene and Cameo. Oh, and that nerd I borrowed five bucks from. Otherwise, you get my point.

My strategy was to bully Hagan into agreeing. Though she owns a motormouth, I notice she gives in easily to the right push. Instead, Phil pisses all over my plan by sticking around to watch the show.

Hagan flips a switch and loses her panicked gaze. She smiles, moving closer.

Your club brother’s old lady suggested I use you for free meals and gifts, she says and glances at the flowers. Where did you say I could go to town on the menu on your dime?

The Greenhouse, I reply, knowing full well she heard every word from her hiding spot.

She made using you sound so easy.

Hagan’s dark-eyed gaze is soft and playful until I ask, You’re talking about Marina, right? I always sensed she was a troublemaker.

No, Raqui, you heathen, she spits at me before shrugging. I guess I’ll say yes and try out her plan.

If you want to use a person, you shouldn’t announce that beforehand.

Brushing her thumb across my smiling lips, she asks, When the guy’s as horny as you are, what choice does he have but to go along with being used?

Phil shakes his head and tugs Hagan behind him. I’m uncomfortable with the current conversation.

But Cameo already got to ride off with a dirty biker, Hagan whines, poking her bullshit in his direction. Why can’t I make the same mistake?

I envision a terrible ending to this situation, he says and holds my gaze. I see you leaving her barefoot and pregnant. Then, you’ll show up on Christmases, reeking of cheap booze as you give my grandchild gifts you bought at a gas station.

Scowling, I mutter, Pretty vivid scenario you put together there, Phil.

I’ve had nightmares, he replies in a strained voice.

Hagan asks her father, Wait, why am I barefoot? When we both look at her frowning face, she adds, I’ve seen plenty of preggo chicks wear shoes. Cameo does it all the time.

It’s just a saying, Phil explains.

Like loose lips sink ships?

Though I ought to interrupt their babble and return to my plan, I always get a kick out of Hagan on a tear. Around Halloween, she spent ten minutes complaining about fermented cheese. None of her gal pals had to say a word. She just kept going, lost in her unfocused thoughts.

Friday, I say when Hagan finally acknowledges me.

I already have three dates scheduled for that day.

You and I both know I made threats to those turds at your school to stay away from you.

That’s inappropriate, Phil says, although I suspect he wishes he could have done the same to keep all the boys away from his beautiful daughters.

Not appropriate, Hagan tells him. But it’s also the truth. Baloney’s a huge bully. I heard he made one of those turds cry. Very terrible behavior.

Her glorious smile is why I’ve waited eight months. Right now, my persistence wins its reward.

What time should I be ready to start spending your money on Friday? she asks, watching me with a sexy gaze as she fixes my jacket collar.

Five.

Why so early? she asks, instantly frowning. Do men your age need to get home for naps?

I plan to kiss your lips raw.

As Hagan’s panic returns, she backs into Phil. I don’t know what you’re implying, she lies, sounding out of breath. But five will be acceptable.

Phil mumbles, Your curfew is midnight.

Seven hours? she balks and takes the flowers before shuffling closer to me. I’ll be home by eight, right?

What makes you believe I’ll ever let you go? I ask and back away. Eight months is a long time.

Not really when you consider your age.

Chuckling at her bullshit, I like how she admires my body and sighs softly in her smitten chick way. Hagan made me chase her for eight months. At any point, she could have stopped running and talked to me like a normal person. Instead, she panicked and bolted every damn time.

Today’s no different. Friday will involve more chasing. At some point, she’s bound to wear herself out. That’s when I’ll finally claim her for good.

HAGAN WEAVER

GOTTA GET AWAY

Contrary to the cool, calculated impression I make on people, I’m actually just a little bit skittish. Oh, yes, I’m absolutely fearless in my element. Like at cheerleading practice, when the other pom-poms cover me in shade, I always have a bold reply. I never trip over my tongue, always able to make a pretty girl feel like a dog. I’m the queen of mean at Barrow High School.

But with a big bad blond biker, I get flustered and dumbstruck. My bestie-sis, Cameo, says I need to play things cool. Ice queen shit, for sure.

Except the hunk’s got a tattooed, muscled body capable of twisting my virgin bajingo into knots. I’m not ready for so much man. Better for me to waste my efforts on a tiny-dicked fool from high school.

That was my plan pre-Wet Dicks Motorcycle Club. I’d marry me a whipped mama’s boy looking to be owned by a new woman. He’d work hard for me. I’d drink wine all day and talk shit about my neighbors. When my dweeby husband got home, I’d have a meal waiting after his nightly blowjob. Yeah, I’d be a baller wife. No bitch in all of Barrow would satisfy her tiny-dicked man with as much pizzazz as me!

My dream for suburbia hell ended after I showed up at the Wet Dicks Motorcycle Club’s monthly townie party with my bestie-sis. Cameo wanted to bat her pretty eyes at the dirty bastard of her dreams. They were obnoxious in the best way. No one improves a room like my girl, Cameo. She’s got curves to spare and puffy lips bitches spend money to copy.

I was at the Ranch as her chaperone. Being the responsible one is not where I excel. Yet, I was locked and loaded as the voice of reason. Cameo could go wild while I tugged her back to the straight and narrow. My second-chance parents—big, balding nerd Phil and his sexy geek wife Arlene—would be proud. High fives all around!

Except, well, yeah, my plan splashed into the dirty toilet of reality as soon as a different dirty bastard looked at me.

How can someone be that sexy? No way could Stoney be real. When he looked at me, my brain shut down. I instantly knew I’d never see a more blazingly hot guy. Stoney was a sexy dream with shaggy blond hair, ocean-blue eyes, tanned and tatted flesh, and a smirk forged by the devil himself.

I was instantly a fan of his every breath and would serve as his sex slave until my bajingo got old and dusty.

Unfortunately, I quickly realized I wasn’t anywhere bodacious enough to seduce his biker dick into my bed. Guys like Stoney don’t cream their jeans over what I have to offer.

But, wait, what was this? Stoney soon revealed he was horny for my brand of sexy! He liked my long legs, lean waist, decent-sized boobs, and almost curvy ass. I had a chance!

What was the problem, then? Well, Stoney is a lot of man. I tell myself how he’s waiting for me to turn eighteen so he can hit my sweet spot. I’m not a loser. He isn’t out of my league.

For eight months, I’ve seen him several times a week. By summer, Cameo had moved to the Ranch to be with Mad Dog. They’re having a baby. I’m always visiting my bestie-sis, often spending the weekend. I’m friends with the other two girls at the Ranch. I often babysit the Wet Dicks’ babies. I joke around with the other bikers. I’m a part of the crew. My confidence should soar at the Ranch.

However, I get one look at Stoney and stumble.

I want him so much. I can’t get through an hour in the day without smiling over his existence. He’s all I want.

But I always choke.

Fortunately, Stoney never unleashes the full force of his charm on me for those eight months. Until I’m legal, he can’t do anything about his Hagan boner. His club president is a growly motherfucker who claims women go from duh to mature on their eighteenth birthdays. Though Grizz’s rule seems dumb, it offered me eight months to get my shit in order.

How did all that time fly by so fast? I mean, yeah, a whole lot of stuff happened in those eight months. Grizz and his ball-busting woman, Raqui, had a second son. The big-dicked biker brat—aka Horse—learned about his oopsie baby with the sweetest chick. Marina arrived with their baby and her three-year-old twin sisters. That’s how it is on the Ranch with my crew—nothing but baby and dick talk.

I planned to slide into that life, too. Stoney wants me, and I can’t stop dreaming of him. Once I turned eighteen, I’d welcome his big cock inside my bajingo. Moving to the Ranch would allow him easy access to my lady bits. Eventually, we’d make babies like every other one of the Wet Dicks when they find the right girl. My future was solid. I just needed to turn eighteen.

Today is that day. I wake up, hoping Stoney didn’t forget. And there he is, waiting for me with flowers even. My heart races and my dreams feel within reach.

Yet, once again, I choke!

However, it’s not entirely my fault. The sexy blond looks otherworldly in my boring high school world. My classmates walk past him, seeming like babies next to a full-grown hunky man. He’s so big and strong, and I’m just a kid.

Turning eighteen didn’t fix the panic in my chest. I’m still afraid to leave home. I fear having to back up my bullshit with actions. I want to remain a kid forever, so Phil and Arlene can make the world safe for my immature ass.

Except I know Stoney won’t give up. For months, I worried I’d show up at the Ranch to find a hot bitch rubbing up against my blond hunk. Instead, Stoney waited for me. He thinks I’m worth the effort. Talk about pressure!

After panicking today, I want to blow off Stoney. The plan is to make Phil do the hard part while I hide like a kiddo frightened of the biker bogeyman.

But Stoney’s voice calls to me. Hiding in the stairwell, I squirm as his words caress all my chick parts. How does he always do that?

Months ago, Raqui claimed I needed to stop worrying so much. Just let Stoney wine and dine me. Go on dates like normal people. Don’t think about living on the Ranch or making babies. Give zero fucks about the actual fucking. Just be cool and let my experienced suitor spend his time and money to win me over.

Basically, I needed to grow up and let him catch me.

So, I do. When I join Stoney at the door, I agree to dinner on Friday. Super confident except for how I panic whenever his gaze holds mine for too long. I really need to get over that issue.

I’m rethinking everything by the time Arlene arrives home from her vice principal job. Her brown hair is tied back, making her head look too big. Her thin-rimmed glasses are more flattering, but I wish she’d stop trying to imitate a Pez-dispenser. Of course, Arlene has already won her man’s heart. The two lovable nerds are going strong after twenty years together.

My girl’s eighteen, Arlene says and hugs me.

I sigh as the panic washes away. Unlike Cameo, I didn’t get adopted as an adorable baby. My original parents—Aaron and Jaya Weaver—were friends and neighbors of Phil and Arlene. Cameo and I had frequent playdates until she was my only bestie.

After Jaya died and Aaron refused to stay sober long enough to raise me, I was taken in by the lovable nerds. At eight, I suddenly enjoyed a warm, predictable home. Yet, I sometimes feel like I’m only visiting while Aaron gets his shit together.

Every day, I consider calling Arlene and Phil Mom and Dad. Then, I imagine Aaron drinking himself to death down the block. Rather than say what’s in my heart, I choke.

Stoney’s taking me out for sushi this Friday, I tell Arlene after soaking in her hug.

Oh?

For months, my parents have known about his interest. When Mad Dog sniffed around Cameo, the Suttons played shit cool. I admired their restraint. However, no one wants their daughter to marry a big, tatted monster like Mad Dog. Sure, he’s sweet and loves Cameo like crazy. However, I’d totally pull a gun on him if he ever wanted to bang my baby girl.

Of course, Phil doesn’t own a weapon, and he’s more about words than violence. So, my parents let Mad Dog steal Cameo away. Will they be as cool with Stoney defiling my virginal snatch?

Why do you call it that? Arlene grumbles after I ask my question.

"You don’t like the word ‘pussy,’