George Bell, aka Twisted, knows the odds are against him. Have been all his life. Born in a Louisiana bordello, raised around the rough and rowdy men of a motorcycle club, he’s never been the lucky type. But he believes luck can change, so when fate gives him a glimpse of breathtaking beauty, he’s more than willing to roll the dice. Chancing upon what could be the woman of his dreams, he’s prepared to push this streak as far as he can.
Penny Dane’s background gives her an edge in the life she’s chosen to lead. Raised in a can-do family, she’s resilient, rolling with life’s punches and landing on her feet. But, when the past holds painful secrets—when a single misstep can turn deadly—can she trust the passion this man stirs in her?
On the surface, Bell and Penny don’t work. Their mismatched worlds are too different. But like a backwater bayou, what you see is not the whole story, there are mysteries buried underneath. Penny is the red-haired beauty caught up in a web of lies. Bell is like no one she’s ever met before. The problem is, he knows it.
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About the Book
This is the Route of Twisted Pain
by MariaLisa deMora
Neither This Nor That MC Book One
July 25, 2016
From Chapter Seven
“Yeah?” he answered, bringing his mouth down her throat, lips moving in tandem with his tongue. “Whasup, Penny?” Next her chest, kisses on every inch traversed along his way to her breast. Titty in his mouth on a deep draw, he sucked hard, flicking the tender, sensitive nip with his tongue. A gasp escaped over the top of his head, then her fingers threaded through his sweat-clumped hair near his scalp. A sweep of her hand cleared the long hair from one side of his face, and he tipped his chin, dragging his beard across her breast, angling his head to look into her face.
“Thank you.” Her words didn’t make sense. Then he took a punch in the chest when she said, “Promise I’ll make it worth your while.” Fuck. Prostitute. Right. Not a supremely sweet connection like he experienced. She assumed his actions the work of countless practice sessions. His thoughts must have been evident on his face because she frowned, tipping her chin to the side like she’d done before and then whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what…” Rattling a breath in, shards of pain like broken china laced in her voice. “…I’m sorry.”
Recovery might be possible if he were honest with her. Not happenin’. He rejected the idea. Modified truth, maybe? “This wasn’t about that, darlin’. This is just me, with you. Tonight, I want to be just me.” That was a truth that cut close to the bone because, in every second spent outside this truck, he wasn’t himself. He was Twisted, president of the Incoherent MC, a man who had killed and cheated every step of his way to the top. Twisted wouldn’t be lying here, holding a used condom to his cock, worried about the emotions of the woman underneath him. Twisted would be flipping her over, hand over her mouth as he fucked hard, takin’ her ass because she wouldn’t have been sweet enough to get him off. Not the kind of cunts he fucked. Bell was a memory. George Bell someone he knew in a past life, memories flowing through dreams at night.
But tonight, he could be Bell, could be what might have been if Twisted weren’t birthed years ago by circumstance and events beyond his control. “Just Bell and Penny, exploring the boundaries of what we like together.” Dipping his chin, he tugged at her nipple with his lips, kissing the curve of her breast and across to the other one. Lips to her skin, he murmured, “Can you let me just be?” Teeth to the clasp, he released the bra still confining her torso.
“Yes.” This response rang clear in the cab, the swell of her ribcage expanding out with her breath. “Yes, of course.”
“Then, let me thank you, Penny dear.” Moving down her body, he folded, rising on his knees, sweeping her frame with his gaze. “You’ve provided me with a priceless opportunity I will not squander away. Turned me into a pinchfist, and me holding onto these minutes with miser’s fingers.” Winking at her, he grinned, deliberately lightening the mood by drawing the two words out long, “Aaaallll niiiight.” Her laughter was a sweet reward, too.
Five minutes later he was stretched out beside her, having shed his jeans along the way. She had flipped a sheet over their hips, in modesty or out of habit he couldn’t say, but he liked her cuddled into his side like she was. Head to his shoulder, her touch grazed around his nipples, dragging her fingertips through his chest hair, down his belly and back up, repeating the journey tirelessly.
For his part, he had one hand pushed under the sheet, fingers tracing interlocking rings on her hip in an endless loop of tenderness. His other was thrust under the pillow in mimicry of her earlier pose. Glancing down, Twisted let his eyes dance across her exposed breasts, liking how they pressed against his side. “Tell me about Penny,” he said, finding a curiosity inside him about her, an interest nearly as broad and profound as his appetite for her. Even having just taken her, just fucked her until he came, and came hard, he wanted to be back inside her. Reliving of his fantasies from earlier had him dancing along the edges of rational reasoning. Two more condoms.
About MariaLisa deMora
Raised in the south, MariaLisa deMora learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, with the help of a gracious librarian who did not believe in age-restricted stacks, she would spend hours in the local library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she says “I always loved to read, then I discovered writing, and I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available, I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.” She still reads voraciously, and always has a few books going in paperback, hardback, or on devices.
deMora has penned a variety of stories, with several established series as well as standalones in romance and dark suspense. Her website is filled with links and information, as well as extras like character interviews, playlists, poetry, and trailer videos!