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    Our Surprise Family: The Damned MC, #3
    Our Surprise Family: The Damned MC, #3
    Our Surprise Family: The Damned MC, #3
    Ebook83 pages1 hour

    Our Surprise Family: The Damned MC, #3

    By Paula Cox

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Our Surprise Family is book 3 and the finale of The Damned MC trilogy!

    The biker's thickness gave me morning sickness.

    I thought I could rescue him from a life of crime.
    But the bad boy biker didn't want anything I had to offer.
    Instead, he wanted to give me something of his own:
    The baby I'm carrying in my belly.

    It was my job to talk him out of his way of life.
    But Rust was playing me all along.
    He didn't want my help.
    He just wanted my body.

    Now, he's dragging me into an underworld that I'll never survive.
    But I can't say no to him.
    His touch, his scent, his power…
    It's all too much to resist.

    I'm a good girl librarian, not a rebel biker chick.
    But when I'm on the back of Rust's bike, I feel like the whole world is ours.

    I'll be whoever he wants me to be.
    His ride or die.
    His old lady.
    And the mother of his children.

    At least, until his enemies come for me and our baby.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublishereBook Publishing World
    Release dateSep 24, 2018
    ISBN9781386746553
    Our Surprise Family: The Damned MC, #3

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      Our Surprise Family - Paula Cox

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      OUR SURPRISE FAMILY: The Damned MC (Book 3)

      By Paula Cox

      The biker’s thickness gave me morning sickness.

      I THOUGHT I COULD RESCUE him from a life of crime.

      But the bad boy biker didn’t want anything I had to offer.

      Instead, he wanted to give me something of his own:

      The baby I’m carrying in my belly.

      It was my job to talk him out of his way of life.

      But Rust was playing me all along.

      He didn’t want my help.

      He just wanted my body.

      Now, he’s dragging me into an underworld that I’ll never survive.

      But I can’t say no to him.

      His touch, his scent, his power...

      It’s all too much to resist.

      I’m a good girl librarian, not a rebel biker chick.

      But when I’m on the back of Rust’s bike, I feel like the whole world is ours.

      I’ll be whoever he wants me to be.

      His ride or die.

      His old lady.

      And the mother of his children.

      At least, until his enemies come for me and our baby.

      Chapter 1

      Rust

      This girl is full of surprises, I reflect as I drive her car toward her apartment building. I wanted to fuck her; I had every intention of fucking her. With any other woman, I would’ve just fucked her. But there was something about the way she was moaning when I was eating her out: something irresistible about it. The way she tilted her hips, the way she begged, the way she closed her legs around my head...Goddamn, man, but that was enough for me. For me: Rust, serial lady-killer, if Zeke’s descriptions are anything to go by. I shake my head, smile ruefully. There’s something else, too. I’m smiling. This girl has taken me from rage, to lust, to stunned contentment in less than an hour. Then I think about her revelation, the pregnancy, and the smile falters. I’ve never been much good with family talks, and I reckon that’s what’s awaiting me up in her apartment.

      During the car ride, Allison takes a pocket mirror from her handbag and freshens herself up, and then as we come to a stop she steps from the car with the aspect of a professional, reserved lady. I almost laugh at the sight, when less than half an hour ago she was on her back in a side street moaning to the skies. I climb from the car. Allison tilts her head at me. Something funny? she asks, as we walk to the apartment building.

      Nothing, I reply. Just—you.

      She blushes, and opens the door. We walk up the stairs of the building and into her apartment. The first thing I notice is the coffee table, wooden and set low to the ground and covered with paperback books and notes. I scan the books and see that all of them are about hunky men: romances, then. On one of the covers a barbarian holds an axe in two hands, growling; I wonder if that’s how Allison sees me, her barbarian. The second thing I notice is how in-between messy this place is, with everything not in complete disarray, but a few things scattered here and there: a few articles of clothing strewn across the floor, a coffee mug on its side on the floor, an open book balanced precariously face down on the arm of a chair. Allison goes about the apartment, clearing things away, and then waves at the armchair. Take a seat.

      Alright.

      I sit down. It’s one of those stylish armchairs, which means it’s small and with little padding. I feel like a giant sitting at a kid’s playset as I wedge myself into it. Allison calls through from the kitchen: Do you want a drink?

      Whiskey, I reply.

      She giggles. I don’t have whiskey. What about a smoothie?

      A smoothie? The fuck would I want a smoothie for?

      It’s healthy, she says. I can make us an apple and banana one. I had one when I was feeing sick. It helped.

      Well, I ain’t feeling sick. Just give me whatever you’ve got that isn’t a smoothie.

      She laughs this time, then brings through two glasses of orange juice. She sits on the couch near the armchair. We both sip our orange juice in silence for a few moments, the only noise the muffled sound of somebody playing heavy metal music a few apartments over. I look at Allison almost in awe. Less than an hour ago, she was on her back, gasping, moaning, and now she looks like all respectable. The contrast between the moaning woman who begged me to call her my whore and this prim little social worker is so striking it makes my dick ache. I try to be subtle as I adjust myself.

      Alright, I need to stop this scatterbrained shit. I’m trying to take myself away from the issue; we both are. We don’t meet each other’s gaze. After the closeness of what we just did, the atmosphere is awkward.

      I clear my throat, and then say, So, we need to talk about this.

      Allison nods. We need to talk about this, she agrees. She clasps her hands together and fidgets with her fingers.

      I think about the anger I felt at her when she first confronted me outside the Englishman. I think about how I snapped at her, how blinded with rage I was. I can hardly believe it. She’s so deer-like, so fragile-looking, her hair mussy around her shoulders, her eyes

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