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Biker's Baby Girl

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possessive
age gap
pregnant
badboy
CEO
boss
drama
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biker
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Blurb

Creed is an ex sharpshooter turned bike crew President, with a rough upbringing and the scars to prove it. Nine years ago an old drunk offered him his twelve-year-old daughter for his next pint.

Knowing that as f****d up as he was he was still the kid’s best bet, he took the deal. He left her with an aunt he thought he could trust because Uncle Sam owned his ass for the next little while, and he had no choice.

Then his babygirl turned eighteen and s**t went south, literally. He knew he had to stay the f**k away from her or she’d be under him before she could blink, but he made a deal with himself.

When his babygirl hit twenty-one he was taking her no matter what. Her birthday was three days away and though he’d kept his distance for the last two and a half years he’s been keeping tabs on her. It was time to collect.

Biker's Baby Girl is created by Jordan Silver an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

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Chapter 1: CREED
Three days and counting! I looked at the little calendar I kept on my phone for this one purpose with a smirk. Almost there thank f**k. The last six months had been the hardest, though it seemed like I'd been staring at this thing for the whole two and a half years or so since I started the countdown. I'm kinda surprised I made it; half the time s**t had been touch and go. There were nights when my need was so strong I almost lost my f*****g mind. In the beginning I'd tried losing myself in other things, but that s**t only went so far to leashing the beast. He knew who he wanted and there were no substitutes. I opened my wallet and studied the little dog eared image I kept there. My heart did its usual pitter-patter bullshit, and I was pleased to note that it no longer freaked me the f**k out. I was getting used to being owned by her. Damn, if my crew knew about this s**t they'd laugh their asses off. There's always been speculation about my indifference to the women who threw themselves at me, especially here of late. No one knew that the badass biker king had given up his Cut so to speak, to a little half pint female no less. And the funniest part is that she has no idea. All that's about to change in the next few days though, and my d**k can't wait to feel all that tightness. She'd better be f*****g tight. Of course she is, she's my good girl, my babygirl. I laid my head back against the chair as I pictured her beneath me. There was no sense in trying to curb my thoughts; they always came back here. I could almost imagine the feel of her skin, the taste of her pink lips. Did she still have that cherry flavored smell? In my mind I saw her much tinier form dwarfed by mine as I took her in my king-sized bed. I could feel the tightness of her virgin p***y as it wrapped around my c**k, sucking me in, milking me. "Shit." I pressed down on my c**k when it started to grow behind my zipper. No f*****g way, I was saving this all for her. I tried talking myself down, pulling myself back from the brink. Fuck. I had to stand so the blood could flow to where it was needed in my d**k. This always happens when I think of that first f**k, that first taste. As much as she has me twisted, she'd better be cherry, there had better be blood at the end of my d**k when I breech her for the first time, or her little ass will pay the price. My phone rang in the middle of my mini meltdown and I answered it absently. "Soon babygirl." I kissed the plastic like the sap I'd become before putting it away again. "Yo." *** "Max, I have to be out, got a little situation just came up." I hung up before my second in command could answer. He didn't have any choice in the matter but to hold s**t down until I got back anyway. I threw some gear in my saddlebag and headed out of my place with a determined stride. I had my open carry on my hip and a concealed around my ankle. My Bowie was in my back and I had backup in my cache, so I was good to go. If I get pulled over anywhere between here and my destination, the cops could go f**k themselves. Wasn't a one of them I couldn't outrun anyway. It might be legal to carry, but some s**t just wasn't made for the streets, or so they say. I was in a killing mood after that phone-call, but no one would be the wiser. That's part of my M.O. never let a motherfucker see you coming. Though I wasn't breaking a sweat about what I was heading into; I never do, I can hold my own. But I was a little out of sorts because of her, the female I was going to rescue. I didn't want our first meeting in more than two years to be like this. I had plans all laid out, had been working that s**t out in my head for the better part of the last few months, and now this. I switched gears in my head and looked ahead to when this s**t was behind us, to after I'd handled what I needed to. I was purposely keeping my mind from drifting too far off into what I was gonna find at the end of this ride. For one, there was nothing I could do before I get there, and for another, I was too f*****g pissed to think. I hopped on my ride and rode out alone. Not something I usually do, not since I formed the crew a few years ago. But I didn't want to waste the time it would take for the crew to mount up. The sooner I get to her and assess the situation, the better for all involved. Plus I didn't like men around her, not even those I trust. Not yet anyway, not until I'd staked my claim and put my brand on her. s**t would be easier that way, might save a lot of unnecessary ass whippings. Life was going to be a basket of f*****g laughs from now on, because my place was always crawling with testosterone. I hadn't worked out how I was going to deal with that s**t, didn't have to really. I'd been planning to bring her home in another three days. That was about the time I was planning to tell them I had an old lady. f**k they need prior warning for? When I start explaining myself to anyone that's the time I need to hang s**t up. I'd done enough of that s**t in the army, never a f*****g gain. Like I said, I'd had s**t all worked out in my head for a few days down the road. But now some asshole had stepped out of f*****g line in a big f*****g way and I had to move s**t up a couple days. I was studiously avoiding thinking of the report I'd just received each time it teased the edges of my mind. That s**t was only gonna cause me to wipe out on the highway, or end an asshole in a road rage situation. And the only blood I wanted on my hands this night was the motherfucker's who'd thought to touch what's mine. Yeah, I felt my fingers beginning to get twitchy. Pull back Creed; take a deep breath. I hit the road for the three-hour ride that was a straight shoot on I80. She had no idea I was coming, no idea that I had even been planning to come get her before this. I'd kept her in the dark too, because my mind was already made up and that was all that was needed. I didn't need anyone's permission, not even hers. She was mine plain and simple, had always been. If anyone needed time to play catch up with that s**t that was on them. I pretty much didn't give a left nut about that s**t. She'd better be of sound mind and body when I get there though, or that little town was gonna go up in flames. I sped up a notch and let the wind propel me through the night, taking me to her, my destiny, my babygirl.

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