Only 5 More Days!

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Bound by Temptation is set to release 12.13.22! Are you ready??

The time is ticking by so fast and I can’t wait for you to read it!

PREORDER HERE so it will be on your reader ASAP!

Check below for a sneak peek!









Bound by Temptation: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Bound #10) (Ravage MC #19) ©2022 Wicked Words Publishing, LLC – Ryan Michele




A prickle hit me and slithered down my back. Someone was watching me. I hated that feeling. It always took me back to a time I never wanted to revisit. A time that taught me to always watch my surroundings.


Chapter One


Walking through the door, the smell of smoke, booze, and sex assailed me. Three of the greatest smells if you asked me. Nothing made me feel more at home. It was a deeply heady concoction that stuck around the clubhouse daily.

Music hit my ears and thumped on in the background as barely dressed women, which I didn’t mind one bit, danced on the makeshift floor in the center of the worn bar. Arms in the air, they shook their bodies and ground on anyone near them, getting lost in the rhythm. Several eyes came my way as I lifted my chin in acknowledgment yet didn’t stop to say a word to anyone. Sure, I knew most people here; it was Sumner after all.

Ravage knew the lay of the land here.

They, meaning everyone, knew Ravage.

Enough said.

Checking out the booths on the far right of the building, Raid, my twin, sat nursing a longneck with two women standing at the end of the table smiling and oozing sex. Raid was sly, and no doubt he’d have one or both warming his bed later tonight. From the looks of their tits almost falling out of their flimsy tops, they were all in for that ride.

It was Ravage.

The cut, tattoos, bikes, arms made of steel, not giving two shits to fuck you up if you crossed us—all of it wrapped up in a leather package that no woman could resist.

Cocky? Sure, but I’d yet to have a woman complain. We’d grown up living this life, and it was all we knew.

The attention came wherever we went; hell, even the grocery store which I had to say was one of my least favorite things ever. I actually had a woman who did that shit for me now, so I didn’t have to step foot in the store. If I did step into there, though, gazes would all be on me. It was the patch. The life. It drew people in. It piqued their curiosity.

Eyes continually scanning the crowd, there appeared to be no one ready to give us shit or cause us any problems. That was another part of this life; one never knew friend or foe. It kept you on your toes and alert. I’d been taught since birth the ways of the Ravage Motorcycle Club. Now, it was second nature. It was me.

Bimbos was one of the few bars in Sumner that Ravage visited that wasn’t owned by the club. The place ran a tight ship and Bingo, Bimbo’s old man, ran the joint. The club was on good terms with them, and we’d yet to have any issues here. Still, eyes were always open when it came to the others here.

There was always Studio X, the strip bar the Ravage MC owned and where we lived, where we could’ve met, but every once in a while, we needed a break. We lived and worked there, and this was our break.

Raid saw me coming closer and got up from the table. The two women thought he was rising for them, and their postures leaned into Raid’s touch. But when he ignored them and turned to me, the girls shoulders deflated, and they followed his every move. Their eyes lit up once again—spotting me, no doubt—with some fucking twin fantasies or some shit. Seemed every woman had that dream at some point in their lives. Eighteen or eighty women seemed to love the idea. Damn well knew Raid, and I’d filled quite a few of those.

Never had a woman turn us down yet.

Hand out, Raid grabbed it and pulled me into a hug where he slapped me on the back twice and pulled away. “’Bout fuckin’ time. You’re late,” he said with a grin.

We released each other and scooted into either side of the booth with the two women still standing there staring at us, waiting. “Looks like you weren’t hurtin’ for my delay.”

Raid shook his head, smug as fuck. He was always giving me shit for anything and everything he could come up with. We both dished out what we gave. Fucking loved this man in front of me and nothing would tear that apart. Nothing. He was my brother more than in blood which made the bond untouchable.

Anything for this man. No questions asked.

If he told me to meet him somewhere with a pickax and zip ties, I’d be there in a heartbeat and smile doing whatever needed to be done. He was part of me.

“Well, hello…” the woman on the right purred as her tongue reached out over her bottom lip. Normally I’d be all for this attention since my cock couldn’t fuck enough, but right now, Raid and I needed to talk family business. That meant bitches had to go.

“Hey. Go. We’ll catch up later.” Their demeanor changed at the tone in my words. If they wanted hearts and fucking flowers, I was not the man for that. A hard fuck they’d remember until they were ninety, that I could make happen. Loving words? Fuck that shit.

The dismissal made the girls pout for a moment, then a wide come-hither smile came to their lips, not ready to give up quite yet. “Don’t forget us. We can be a lot of fun,” she said then bit her lip seductively again. It must have been her come-on, telling us we could do anything we wanted with the both of them, and neither would say a fucking word. Gotta love that shit.

“I’m sure you are,” I replied as the women hung around a beat longer just to see if we honestly meant for them to move their asses. When we said nothing to the contrary and I lifted my brow making the ball cap on my head rise just a touch, silently telling them to get the fuck away, they finally got the hint and took off.

Pussy was pussy, and it was all around for the picking.

“Any reason you wanted to come here for this shit?” I asked my brother just as the waitress came over to the table.

“What can I get ya?” she asked, and I couldn’t help appreciating the red leather corset that pushed up her breasts and tight black leather pants that hugged each of her curves and rode low on her hips. With blonde hair and brown eyes, she was definitely my type.

“Bud bottle with the cap on and you ridin’ me later tonight,” I answered as Raid just held up his bottle for another and shook his head at my antics.

“Bud it is,” she said, turning away completely and dismissing the come-on. No doubt she was propositioned at every table she stopped at, including the women.

“Damn, bro. You got shot the fuck down,” Raid teased.

“Nah. Momentary lapse in judgment.” She posed a challenged, not fawning over us. That shit was hot. Easy pussy was just that—easy. When you had to work for it, it tasted so much sweeter. She was going to make me work. I was down for that.

Business first.

“Right. As for your question, just needed to get away for a bit.”

This wasn’t unusual for Raid. He had a bit of nomad in him at times, wanting to just be by himself on the open road. He said he thought better that way, but I knew he liked solitude too. Been that way since we were kids.

While I loved being in the thick of everything going on around me, he was more in the background. We might be identical twins, but personality wise, we were two completely different people. I was the loud to his quiet. His predictability to my impulsiveness. My need for eyes on me to his wanting to be on the sidelines.

We were the yin to each other’s yang. Cut from the same cloth yet split down the middle so we balanced each other out.

Looking at Raid, everything about him was like looking into a mirror, except for the scar by his right eye. It was deep and gnarly, never healing right even though he had it stitched up and taken care of. Mom gooped that shit up at every turn, but it never went away. It actually caused part of his brow to not have hair.

To me it was badass. And he didn’t seem to give two shits about it being on him. Actually never said a word about it or discussed with anyone how it happened. All I knew for sure was it was one of the very few ways to tell us apart.

“Right. What’s up? You texted something about family shit. Whose family, and who do I have ta kill?” I asked, and Raid chuckled even knowing I was serious as fuck.

The waitress came right then and set the two bottles down on the table, both with the caps firmly in place. I even grabbed it and made sure it was tight before nodding her off and giving her a wink to which she didn’t acknowledge.

We both opened the beers and tossed the caps on the table with a tink to the wooden top. Whenever we were somewhere that wasn’t exclusively Ravage, we opened our own shit. We’d learned our lesson on that one, and no chances were taken for history to repeat itself. People could be sneaky fuckers, and that was what got men like us killed. So, fuck that.

“Ours,” Raid started. “Nick’s back.”

Fucking hell. “What the fuck does that dick want?” I asked, taking a huge pull on my beer, the coldness seeping into my bones. More than likely, though, this talk would need something stronger than beer. Anything that had to do with Nick needed Jack or Jim.

“Called me yesterday out of the fuckin’ blue sayin’ he wanted to come by the clubhouse and talk to the club. I told him fuck no, but you know Uncle dick. He’s pushin’.”

My head shook at the man’s audacity. “Doesn’t he ever fuckin’ learn? He just wants to get his ass dead. Cruz will never forget the shit he pulled decades ago. Even suggesting coming to the club is asinine. He’s lost his fuckin’ mind.”

Back when Cruz and Princess were getting together twenty or thirty years ago, Nick thought it would be a good idea to fuck Princess in a bathroom at the clubhouse. Granted she asked him too, but it didn’t go over well. Cruz ended up tearing the door off the hinges, pulling my uncle away from his woman and Nick barely got out of the clubhouse without his ass kicked.

Nick wasn’t allowed back in the clubhouse for any reason afterward. It had been said the actual fucking between the two never happened, but it was enough for Cruz to put a ban on Nick. No one fucked with his woman ever, even if she didn’t know she was his at the time.

Even though Nick tried many times over the years to come back into the Ravage fold, since he was trying to be a Prospect before the bathroom incident, he eventually stopped pushing hard yet would bring up the Prospecting idea from time to time, putting a bug in our ear so maybe we’d change our mind. Yeah, fuck that.

Normally Nick would call his brothers—my father, Buzz, and Uncle Breaker, who were also twins and wouldn’t give him an inch when it came to the club. They kept a tight leash around the man when it came to Ravage.

Looked like now he intended to drag Raid and myself into his craziassness. The question was, why?

We’d had “family” dinners over the years at my folks’ home with Nick in attendance. Nothing too much, but enough to keep him in the family loop and our lives at least a little. The sad thing was when he brought up wanting to be part of the club, he just sounded pathetic. It had been fucking decades, dude—get the fuck over it. Wasn’t gonna happen. Not only because of our President, Cruz, but because the rest of the club.

Raid’s mouth quirked up at the sides. “And when I asked him why the clubhouse and not just Dad’s place, he said he needed to talk to the club, but he wouldn’t give me the fuckin’ reason, so he got another no.”


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