Imperfectly

  A Dante's Nine MC Novel

  By Colleen Masters

  A Hearts Collective Production

  Copyright © 2014 Hearts Collective

  All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.

  Also From Colleen Masters:

  Impossibly (Dante’s Nine MC) by Colleen Masters

  Faster Harder (Take Me... #1) by Colleen Masters

  Faster Deeper (Take Me... #2) by Colleen Masters

  Faster Longer (Take Me... #3) by Colleen Masters

  Faster Hotter (Take Me...#4) by Colleen Masters

  Other Books by Hearts Collective:

  Crushing Beauty (Harbingers of Sorrow MC) by Celia Loren

  Breaking Beauty (Devils Aces MC) by Celia Loren

  Wrecking Beauty (Devils Reapers MC) by Celia Loren

  Riding Dirty (Ruiners Motorcycle Club) by Abriella Blake

  DEDICATION

  I'd like to dedicate this book to my awesome fans :)

  SPECIAL THANKS:

  Frances H.

  Lystra P.

  PJ B.

  Kristine R.

  Tiffany K.

  Couldn't have done it without you girls.

  IMPERFECTLY

  A Dante's Nine MC Novel

  By Colleen Masters

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Prologue

  The Forty-Five Club, Las Vegas NV, One year ago...

  I can still hear the boisterous clamor of raised voices and hard rock as Sam pushes me up against the wooden door. We may be tucked away in this secluded bedroom, but the noise of the bar still pulses heavily in the air. Running my hands over Sam’s chest, I can feel hard muscles through the thick black leather of his Dante’s Nine cut. Every day since we first gave into our lust for each other, I’ve gotten to memorize a few more inches of Sam’s tall, cut figure. Some days, I even score a few sessions of...memorization. Looks like today is going to be one of those lucky days here in Las Vegas.

  My bearded, burly lover pins me against the door with his strong, tapered hips. I can feel him hard and ready as we grind against each other, pressed together just the way we like. I raise my lips eagerly to his, my nerves thrilling with delight as his scruffy beard brushes against my skin. He catches my lips in his, kissing me hard and fast. For all the men I’ve been with, I’ve never encountered a mountain man beard like Sam’s. I was afraid it might tickle or scratch, but I can’t get over how much I love the feel of his mouth against mine.

  Our tongues glance against each other as I wrap my lean arms around Sam’s bulky shoulders. I wrap my legs around his waist, my denim skirt bunching around my hips. That spot between my legs pulses with desire as I press against the telltale bulge in his jeans. He holds me with no effort whatsoever, exploring my body with his rough, strong hands. I’m a rather petite lady—5’ 3” and 105 pounds dripping wet—but I bet that Sam would be just as capable of hoisting a buxomer woman into his arms. In fact, I know that he is.

  “You’re going to make Wendy awfully jealous, bringing me back here,” I grin, running my hands through his dark hair. “You know she wants you all to herself.”

  There are a few hang-arounds here at the Forty-Five Club, mamas looking to latch onto club members of their own. The men of the Dante’s Nine MC are pretty picky about which women they keep around for good, but none too shy about having a good time with a sexy sweet butt. Or two. Wendy’s one of those girls around here, a club groupie with a thing for Sam. Her plump curves and long blonde hair have enticed Sam before, I know. But maybe my jet black curls and pixie-like figure are more up his alley? That certainly seems to be the case.

  “Sounds like you’re the one who’s jealous, Kelly,” Sam grins. “But it’s you I want all to myself. I’ll show you.”

  In one swift motion, he swings my tiny frame around and drapes me over his shoulder. I laugh wildly, pounding against his back with my fists. The Dante’s Nine logo is emblazoned there between his shoulder blades—a pair of dice rolling a four and a five. I’ve only just been introduced to this particular MC. My best friend Kassie has been here in Vegas all summer “interning” with the club’s treasurer, Declan Tiberi. But by interning, I mostly mean falling madly in love with and fucking like a damned bunny. Oh, and getting mixed up in some crazy dangerous club drama along the way.

  I first came to visit a couple of weeks ago, only to find myself smack in the middle of deep shit that was going down between Declan and some gangster named Lorenzo. On my very first night in Vegas, Kassie and I were attacked out on the town. Some of Lorenzo’s thugs pulled guns on us at the club, and we barely got away when they opened fire. I was placed in Sam’s care until the whole thing blew over. Let’s just say it was a bonding experience for us.

  My breath catches in my throat as Sam lays me out across the well-worn bed that stands in the corner of this little room. The Forty-Five club boasts a few bedrooms within its walls, perfect for the club members’ needs. These men can’t possibly be expected to wait until they arrive home to bed their conquests for the night, can they? I have to admit, I love the grittiness of this place. I love how free it makes me feel, being here. Doing whatever the hell I like.

  A look of vibrant intensity comes over Sam’s face as he kneels over me. That staggering body of his strains with wanting me. I love driving big, bad men out of their minds. And this man is no exception. I arch my back, drawing my thin white halter top up over my head. Sam’s hands run down my bare sides, fingers glancing against my ribs. He can practically fit his hands all the way around my tiny waist. My chest is heaving with every breath, now. His simplest touch sets my every cell on fire with anticipation. My sex is throbbing, aching for his touch. He may be a big, strong biker, but he doesn’t skimp in the bedroom when it comes to my needs.

  I reach to rip open his belt at the same moment he goes to unclasp my bra. We laugh breathlessly, tearing the clothes off of each other’s bodies. This is why I love fucking Sam. We can be as wild and dirty as we like with no strings attached. There’s no anxiety, no schmaltzy romance—just rough and rowdy sex.

  My favorite.

  He shrugs out of his leather cut and places it reverently on the night table. That’s the one article of clothing that can’t just be tossed away. I know enough about the MC life to know that a member’s cut is sacred. But past that, we can’t get our clothes off quickly enough. Sam rips off his white tee shirt, revealing scrawling ink all over his chest, arms, and back. My full breasts bounce as I rise to him, kissing each gloriously defined ab. I want to cover every inch of this hard body with my lips, run my tongue along his inked skin. We’re tumbling forward in our lusty haze, my panties and his briefs are the only scraps that separate us now. But not for long.

  I groan delightedly as he takes my breasts in his huge hands, brushing against my hard nipples with his thumbs. He presses me back against the mattress and brings his lips to one of those sensitive nubs. A grin spreads across my face as he takes my nipple into his mouth, biting down with just the right a
mount of force. Pleasure and pain have always enticed me, the way they can be so interchangeable, so closely related. And Sam knows that full well. He slides my panties down my thighs, and I eagerly tug down his briefs. I take his thick, stiff member in my hands, barely able to wrap my fingers around it. I stroke down along his long shaft, loving the look of bliss that spreads over his face.

  “Two can play at that game,” he grins, running his fingers up along my thigh.

  His fingers trace the length of my slit as I work my hands along his cock. I gasp as he rolls his thick fingers over the hard, aching button of my clit. A ripple of sensation rolls through me as I run my hands up and down the impressive length of him. We moan in unison, our voices mingling with the raucous sounds from the bar and other bedrooms. I descend into the sexy debauchery of this place, the uninhibited sinfulness. This whole world is so new to me, but I feel more like myself here than I ever have. I don’t quite know how to explain it.

  Sam has me on the edge of coming as he knocks my hands away from his cock and pins them up over my head, lowering himself onto me. His firm torso presses against mine, my full breasts billowing against the panes of his chest. I brace myself as the tip of his cock presses against my wet, eager sex. That delicious pressure mounts between my legs, and I hold my breath, desperate to feel him fill me up. I suck in a huge breath as he draws back his hips, prepares to thrust up into me and do his part to fulfill my insatiable desire—

  Chapter One

  Los Angeles, CA, Present day...

  “Kelly, are you even listening to me?”

  “Huh?” I reply, snapping sharply out of my sexy daydream. My entire body feels flushed, alive, and rather inappropriately turned on. That’s what I get for letting myself fantasize in public. I blink across the impeccably set dinner table, the upscale sushi restaurant coming back into focus around me. Across the plates of sashimi, my boyfriend Bryan’s face has collapsed into a testy scowl.

  “Clearly not,” he mutters, clicking his chopsticks together with annoyance, “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised by that anymore.”

  “Sorry babe,” I smile, reaching across the table for his hand, “My mind was just wandering a little.”

  Wandering quite a lot is more like it, but Bryan doesn’t need to know that. It’s amazing how memories of the Forty-Five Club manage to swallow me whole whenever they surface. My fleeting time there has been on my mind a lot, lately, especially thoughts of Sam. My heart twinges as I think about my bearded lover in the present tense. Even though I only knew Sam for a short while, it still hurts to think about him.

  A few short weeks after our little fling went down, Sam was killed in a motorcycle accident outside of Las Vegas. I haven’t heard much else about what happened, but it doesn’t sound like the club has ruled out foul play. Sam was a great guy. I can’t help but wonder what might have become of us, if we’d had time to get to know each other. Mourning his loss was complicated and more difficult than I let on. Was I really mourning the man I’d met, or the loss of a potential life with Dante’s Nine? It’s tough to say for sure.

  “And there you go again,” Bryan says exasperatedly, “Am I really so boring that you can’t keep your mind on our conversation for three seconds?”

  “Don’t get all huffy,” I sigh, glancing around the hushed restaurant, “I thought we were just having a nice meal. If I’d known that laser focus was going to be mandatory—”

  Bryan’s brown eyes flash with indignation, his angry look transforming his entire face. My boyfriend is, by all rights, a wickedly attractive man. He has to be—it’s his profession, after all. Bryan is an actor and model, and a moderately successful one at that. His brooding, pretty boy face has graced the big screen more than a couple of times, albeit in very small roles. And his gym-sharpened body has rocked its share of underwear ads. We met while I was doing some event marketing work for the movie studio that released his last picture. I admit, I was a bit star-struck by him. He may not be a household name, but I was and am still impressed. Even when he starts acting like a high-maintenance diva at dinner.

  “You know that I don’t like being ignored,” he says crisply, his sharp, clean-shaven jaw pulsing with tension.

  “Oh, yes. I know how important attention is to you,” I drawl, rolling my eyes, “But I assure you, babe, you can survive not being the center of attention for a minute. Attention-depravation is not actually fatal.”

  “Don’t pull that sassy, empowered woman crap with me,” Bryan snaps, “It’s fucking exhausting, Kelly.”

  “Well, I can’t help you there,” I shrug, “That’s just the way I am. You should know that after six months.”

  My mention of our dating timeline cools both our tempers. That’s why we’re here at this far-too-expensive restaurant, after all—celebrating our six month anniversary. I swallow a little smile, remembering how angry Bryan got when I pointed out that anniversaries mark years, not months. It’s a good thing he’s cute and rich, because he does not have a whole lot else going for him. I was still reeling from Sam’s death a bit when I met Bryan. He seemed like such a clean-cut, upstanding alternative to the bad boy biker who’d swayed my heart. But I’ve been realizing lately that even movie stars have their flaws. Or in Bryan’s case, many flaws.

  “You’re right,” Bryan says, sighing dramatically, “You can’t help the way you are. I don’t blame you for being difficult.”

  “Gee. Thanks,” I say dryly.

  “At the end of the day, I like all of those things about you,” he says, running a hand through his artfully-tousled blonde hair, “You’re stubborn as hell and impossible to get along with sometimes. You’ve got the whole angry feminist thing going on, but it’s kind of hot.”

  “And you’re incredibly well-kept and charismatic, despite your egomania and narcissism,” I smile, “Look at us, doling out the compliments.”

  “Exactly,” Bryan says, flashing me his million dollar smile, “I think we work well together. This is a partnership that makes sense to me.”

  I cock an eyebrow at him. Are we talking about a business deal or a relationship here? If I’m honest with myself, there’s no good reason for me to be dating this person. But at this point in my life, I’m feeling a little lost. I feel like I’ve just been stumbling into one thing after another since my run-in with Dante’s Nine. I know I need to start standing up for what I actually want, but really doing that’s another matter.

  My skeptical look goes unnoticed as Bryan snaps for the waiter’s attention. My skin crawls at that awful habit of his, and I smile apologetically at our server as he hurries over with a plate of assorted mochi.

  “Hope you saved some room for dessert,” Bryan says grandly, crossing his arms with smug satisfaction.

  “I’m actually pretty full,” I reply, pushing the plate toward him, “You should help yourself, though.”

  “First of all, you know I don’t eat dessert. My agents would kill me,” he replies, his glee wavering, “And second of all...just...look at the damn plate.”

  I begrudgingly lower my gaze to the assembled confections. A vibrant glint catches my eye, and I lean in closer to investigate.

  “What the hell...” I mutter, nudging a treat aside for a better look. Only then do I realize what Bryan’s been on about. The room spins wildly around me as the air rushes out of my lungs. Nestled between the sweet desserts is a gigantic granddaddy of a diamond ring. There’s only one thing a rock of that momentous size could mean.

  “That cost me a pretty penny,” Bryan says happily, “But it was worth it. I like spending money on you, Kelly.”

  I tear my eyes away from the bling, staring at my clueless boyfriend. My jaw hangs open, my mind unable to form words. What the bloody hell am I even supposed to say?

  “Try it on,” Bryan urges.

  “I...What...” I stammer, looking around the restaurant to see if there are any hidden cameras about, or whether Ashton Kutcher is about to jump out of the woodwork to tell me I’ve been punk’d.
But no dice. This is really happening.

  “Come on, Kelly,” Bryan laughs, plucking up the ring and slipping it onto my finger, “This is the part where you get all weepy and call your girlfriends, and—”

  “Jesus Christ, Bryan,” I gasp, my hand weighed down by the massive jewel, “This is absolutely insane.”

  “Right?” he grins, “The perfect proposal moment. I’m pretty proud of how—”

  “No, I mean certifiably insane,” I clarify, “Like not-in-your-right-mind, straight jacket and electroshock therapy insane.”

  His winning smile falters ever so slightly. “Are you not...happy about this?”

  “I’m...very confused,” I say, sliding the ring off of my finger once more, “For fuck’s sake, Bryan, we’ve only been together for a few months.”

  “Several months,” he corrects me.

  “We’ve never lived together. Or travelled together,” I go on urgently, amazed at his ignorance, “I don’t even know your middle name. You’ve never even seen my apartment.”

  “How is any of this relevant?” Bryan asks blankly, “You’re a great match for me. We look great together, we have amazing sex. We should get married.”

  I have to bite my tongue to keep from breaking the news that our sex life is mediocre, at best. I’ve been doing my fair share of acting too, where my orgasms are concerned.

  “Look, actors with non-industry spouses are having a moment,” Bryan goes on, annoyed at having to explain himself, “We could be a power couple, Kelly.”

  “I really have no idea what to say to you right now,” I tell him, shaking my head.

  “Say yes already,” he urges, “Come on. The help is starting to look concerned.”