Her Beastly Biker: Savage Kings MC, page 1
Her Beastly Biker
Harper Michaels
Copyright © 2025 by Harper Michaels
ASIN: B0FGTZ13ZP
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Other Works
Acknowledgements
About the author
Chapter One
Maggie
As a writer, I need to be observant. Sometimes there’s beauty in my surroundings. So, who can blame me for staring at a hot, naked guy for a little too long? -Maggie
I slap at another mosquito. “Fucker,” I mutter as I try my best to kill the creature currently trying to suck my blood.
What the hell am I doing out here? I have no business trying to be nature girl. If my cousin Madison could see me now, she would laugh her ass off. Hell, even my friends in the Smutty Scribes Club would get a kick out of it. God knows what my stuck-up mother would say. Probably something along the lines of “You bring shame to the Malone name” or some such nonsense. I sometimes want to shout back at her that my great granddaddy made all his money producing moonshine during Prohibition, so I wasn’t bringing shame to any damn name. We aren’t the Rockefellers. More like the Beverly Hillbillies. Well, if the Beverly Hillbillies carried semi-automatic guns everywhere.
I shiver. No thinking about that, Maggie. No worrying about The Family right now.
This morning when I woke up, I was determined to make something out of today. Everything is so beautiful here, lovely in a way that’s completely different from my Southern hometown. Surrounded by the looming mountains and the peaks of tall pines, this little town looks like the haven I’ve been searching for. I found myself wanting to do something different, something that makes me feel like a part of this tranquil setting. I hoped to get at least a few notes about my surroundings for the book, if nothing else. But, so far, my trusty notebook is glaringly empty for today.
Yesterday had been yet another day of no leads on the Savage King MC. Not one resident of Jackson Ridge is talking about the MC that rules their town. I mean, it’s hard to blame them, since I’m most definitely an out-of-towner. My Southern accent will not will itself away no matter how hard I try.
Writing MC romance seemed so easy in theory. And God knows I could have found one closer to Atlanta to stalk, but the whole appeal of watching this gang was that they were not anywhere near my parents’ prying eyes. And I want this new MC series to be my best work. I want my readers to feel like I know what I’m talking about. Regular research won’t do. I need to know what makes these guys tick. I need an image of the hero I want to write. The only men I’m surrounded by on a daily basis are stuffy guys in suits. They don’t fit the picture of what I want. I need someone gruff, someone with life experience, someone who is strong enough to stand up for themselves…someone the opposite of me.
My shoulders sag. I wish I was better at standing up to my parents. I wish I was capable of screaming from the rooftops that I don’t want to marry the man they have handpicked for me. If I can make my own money doing the one thing I love…
I sigh heavily as another mosquito attacks me. I scratch at the bites already running up my arm. I’m from Georgia so I’ve had plenty of bites in my lifetime, but I swear these fuckers out west are a different breed.
I hike my backpack further up my shoulders and try not to think about the way my sweaty shirt is clinging to my back. I hum softly to occupy my mind and not think about all the things that weigh me down, both literally and figuratively. It doesn’t work. My brain keeps spinning in circles.
I have to find out more about the Savage Kings. I need to start writing this series. I’m already behind where I should be. I need to show my family that I can do this, that I can make it on my own. I have to…
Fuck a duck. My foot stumbles on a root and I find myself flailing for a second as momentum propels me forward. My left knee hits the ground with a thud and pain shoots up my leg.
I shake my head, cursing again at myself and the stupidity of my situation. I rock back and sit down hard on my khaki-covered ass. I stretch out my left leg and survey the damage. My knee is scraped all to hell and back and there’s blood running down my pasty white leg. I feel a little roil of nausea at the sight. You will not be an immature twat, Maggie. You can handle the sight of a little blood. I breathe in and out deeply and the sick feeling in my stomach slowly ebbs away. I flex my foot back and forth, trying to see if I’ve damaged anything else vital. Luckily, everything seems intact.
Things just keep going from bad to worse. It takes a few minutes for me to finally get back up again. My knee stings like a son of a bitch and the blood continues to roll down my leg, staining my white sock. I can feel it, but I don’t dare look down. If I throw up or pass out, I’m going to feel like the ultimate wimp.
I huff again and look around at my surroundings. I’m not nature girl. Why the hell am I pretending to be? I’m more the reading in the hotel kind of girl. I should have stuck to that role.
Instead, I think longingly of the half-finished novel back in my room at the Devil’s Rest Motel. The motel is not anywhere close to as nice as my family normally stays in but laying in my bed reading my novel about a menage involving two bikers and a quirky librarian sounds like heaven right now. Besides, there’s something endearing about the inn and its fastidious owner Eddie.
I pull out my phone to check my maps app. The path only winds around for a mile more and then I should be able to get back to my car. The windy path I’ve been on probably wasn’t the best for beginners, but as usual I hadn’t listened when Evie, the owner of the bookstore, warned me that it was rocky and a little hard to follow. I never listen.
My ears perk up when I hear the sound of rushing water. Evie did mention there was a waterfall a little off the beaten path. Should I try to find it? I glance down at the bloody trail making its’ way down my leg. My stomach does a slow roll again. Ugh. I shrug. Shit, why not? At least maybe I can wash this off.
I follow the sound, slowly making my way around trees, and trying my best to not stumble over more rocks. When I finally do reach the source of the sound, my breath catches in my chest.
The waterfall is breathtaking, but the truth is it doesn’t compare to the sight of the man standing beneath it.
My writer’s brain itches for a pen and paper to describe the beauty before me. I vaguely remember the notebook in my backpack. But damn…the horny woman side of me just aches to reach out and touch.
The man bathing under the waterfall is no ordinary man. He’s a study in masculinity, a powerfully built specimen with broad shoulders and a graceful strength in the way he pushes back his long, black hair. His bare, muscular chest is covered with patches of black hair. His body is covered in tattoos that only emphasize the beauty and rugged planes of his body. My eyes track a path downward, taking in the vee that leads to an unknown land beneath the water. My mouth waters. What if he’s naked? God, I hope he’s naked.
That thought is quickly followed by the ironic thought that they don’t make men like him where I come from. The puny guys in their Brooks brothers suits that work at my father’s corporation could never compare to the beauty in the savagery of this man. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes. I place my hand over my heart in response to the galloping rhythm of it.
I’m so mesmerized that it doesn’t even occur to me to hide from his gaze when he finally looks in my direction. His icy blue eyes widen as they take in the sight of me. Then his mouth curves up in a smirk.
I don’t move, for the first time in my life completely brought to a halt by another human being. My whole life, I’ve always had questions, always had a quick comeback, and have always been able to think on my feet. Right now, I can’t think of anything except that I hope I’m not drooling.
The man continues to give me a cocky smirk as he moves away from the waterfall into the shallow end. I watch as more and more of him comes into view. My hungry gaze waits for more of him to be bared.
Finally, his thick cock comes into view. I lick my lips. It belongs in the hall of fame of gorgeous dicks. Long, hard, and freakin’ huge. An ache settles between my legs.
I finally have the decency to look up at the man’s face. His face is just as mesmerizing as the rest of him. A slightly crooked nose and high cheekbones, a hard jawline, and those blue eyes…the man could make anyone turn on the street just to have a look. He arches one of his dark eyebrows as he surveys me from head to toe.
I could not feel more wanting, thinking of my sweaty clothes, my tangled red hair, and my general dishevelmen
t. But there’s heat in those deep blue eyes when he finally looks me in the eye.
“Enjoy the show, sweetheart?” he drawls lazily.
I gulp. How exactly do I respond to that? As usual, my mouth takes over before my brain has time to catch up.
“Hell, yes,” I mutter.
Chapter Two
Hawk
Damn tourists. I’m not on the list of local attractions, even for the prettier ones. -Hawk
I watch with amusement as the woman’s cheeks turn bright red. Almost red enough to match the tangled curls escaping from her ponytail. My cock is already hard at the idea of her watching me bathe naked. I could easily come just from watching this woman blush like a damn teenager. Fuck. I’ve always had a weakness for redheads…and women who act all innocent. Even if they aren’t. Surprisingly, instinct tells me this one might not be just acting.
I tilt my head to gaze with interest at the pretty stranger. She’s got the curves of a goddess to boot.
I snort. “My eyes are up here, princess.” I cross my arms and give her my best fulminating glare. Her green-eyed gaze finally meets mine. “I’m glad I could provide you with some eye candy, but do you mind tellin’ me what the hell you’re doing up here?”
She looks like a city chick. Her hiking boots are brand new, and the backpack thrown over her shoulders probably costs a few hundred bucks. Even sweaty and a little dirty, she appears to have money and resources beyond what the usual resident of Jackson Ridge would.
She gulps hard. “I…I’m…well, I…”
I sigh loudly. “Maybe you could just spit out a few words here, princess. This isn’t a damn tourist spot. This is for residents only. We don’t take kindly to strangers wandering around and getting their asses lost. Mountain rescue has better things to do than save some pampered princess who wandered too far from the trail.” I take my time looking her up and down, from her new leather boots to the blood running down one of her pale, shapely legs, and finally to the heavy breasts covered by a pink tank top. The sight of the blood makes me tense. The sensitive skin of her shoulders already has a pink glow to it that signals a sunburn. That all combines to make me irrationally angry. I have a weird need to cover up her beautiful skin and hide her away where she will always be protected. You’re a weirdo, Hawk. Just get rid of the perfect girl who is way out of her comfort zone.
I continue in a harsh voice. “You’re definitely not from around here, and based on those shoes, you have no business hiking anywhere. Those damn shoes are probably why you got so skinned up.” I sigh, hating myself a little bit for being so mean to the pretty princess. “Let me look at the knee.”
She rounds her shoulders, and I finally catch a flash of something besides embarrassment in her eyes. Anger darkens those emerald eyes into a hunter green.
“My knee is just fine. It’s just a scratch.” She waves me away with a haughty lift of her hand. “Do you think you could possibly get some clothes on?” she asks in a hard tone. I can hear the drawl of Southern in that voice of sweet steel.
“Why?” I ask, letting my hands fall to my sides, “Why should I when you like the view so damn much? Or was that not you saying, “hell yes” a minute ago?” I raise an eyebrow. “I would hate to ruin your sightseeing trip.”
She surveys me up and down. Predictably, my dick responds by giving a twitch. Fuck, my body wants this stranger. She then waves her hand in the air. “I’ve seen better.”
My mouth curves up into a smirk. “Sure, that’s why you were staring at me like you’ve never seen a naked man before.”
That blush of hers belies her innocence again. “Just…just get dressed, you…you neanderthal. Then you can ask me any questions you want.”
I waggle my finger at her. “Alright princess, I’ll put some clothes on, but you damn well aren’t going anywhere until I find out what you’re doing up here. No runnin’ off.”
I turn to walk away, giving her full view of my naked ass. I hear her sharp intake of breath and can’t help but smile.
Chapter Three
How dare he? How dare he think he knows what I am and am not capable of? How dare he…be so damn hot? -Maggie
His ass might be the perfect ass. Somehow, that thought infuriates me more, even as my body heats with desire. Round twin globes of perfection stalk away with me. What I wouldn’t give to bite that…the smirk he gives me over his shoulder makes my blood roil with frustration. I can swear the man knows what I’m thinking.
Yes, I’m looking, you asshole. I can’t help but look. Anyone who appreciates masculine beauty would look.
I take note of a leather jacket laid out nearby and an old Nikon camera that he sets aside with care. But ultimately, my entire focus is on the rugged, naked man before me.
I heave a sigh as he bends over to get his clothes off a rock and gives me an even better view. I have a sudden image of holding on to that beautiful behind while he screws me relentlessly. I close my eyes. Shit, why do I have to have such a damn good imagination?
I open my eyes and try to concentrate on anything other than him. I tap my foot. Um, that’s a beautiful waterfall. See, great scenery right there. Again, my gaze skitters to the left where he’s still changing. Damn, he has a beautiful chest too. I never thought a hairy chest did it for me before, but…
Oof, stop already!!! Think angry thoughts. The man is not for you, Maggie.
Who does this guy think he is? I mean, calling me a pampered princess. I could be an experienced hiker for all he knows.
I glance down at my hiking boots. My feet hurt like a son of a bitch. I know I’ve got blisters on time of blisters. Would an experienced hiker wear brand new shoes without breaking them in first? Probably not.
I cross my arms and feel tears gather behind my eyes. This is what my father and mother were talking about. I never think before I act. I always jump first and think later. Maybe I am an idiot that needs a husband like they say. Maybe I can’t take care of myself. Maybe I…
Nope, we’re not doing this Maggie. I square my shoulders and try to fill myself with the righteous indignation that I felt just a moment earlier. I am capable. I am an independent woman. I don’t need anyone.
By the time hottie Mchottie has his clothes on and stands before me again, I’m back to my usual spunky self, or at least the feisty person I would like to become.
I raise an eyebrow. “Nice to see you own clothes. I should really be heading back now. See ya later.”
I turn around and give him a little wave.
Immediately, his hand touches my shoulder. “Oh no you don’t, princess. You’ll tell me what you’re doing in my town, and you’ll tell me now.”
I turn slowly, fisting my hands by my side. “Or what? Why do you care? And your town?” I scoff. “I’m sure the two thousand or so citizens would beg to differ. I don’t think you own it.”
He folds his arms and scowls. “You’re avoiding the question. What the hell are you doing up here?” He looks me over again. “You obviously don’t belong here.”
Sadness descends upon me. I don’t really belong anywhere.
I huff. “If you must know, I’m a writer. I’m doing a signing for the bookstore actually. I heard about the trails and decided to come up here. Does all that meet with your approval, Mr. Nosy?”
He eyes me warily. “You’re an author? What kind of books?”
I feel my cheeks heat before I say a word. I know what some people think of romance books. I know some people think they’re just word porn. It’s an opinion that my family openly shares. It’s the reason I have a pen name they know nothing about.
“I write romance, if you must know.”
There goes that dark eyebrow again, lifting in response. His lips also curve up into a grin. “You mean like “his big cock hammered into my love box” kind of stuff?” He winks. “I never would have thought you had it in you, princess.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve obviously just read bad romance. I don’t call anything a…a love box,” I sputter. “That’s ridiculous!”
His grin broadens. “But you do refer to the size of the man’s cock, right?”
