Give It To Me (MacAteer Brothers Book 5) Read online

  Give it to Me

  ML Nystrom

  Hot Tree Publishing

  Also by ML Nystrom

  DRAGON RUNNERS MC

  Mute

  Stud

  Blue

  Table

  Brick

  MACATEER BROTHERS

  Run With It

  Ready For It

  Hold It Close

  Risk It All

  Give It To Me

  Blurb

  A woman with secret desires, an alpha construction worker who enjoys his darker cravings, and a chance meeting that will change everything. Join bestselling author ML Nystrom in the Dragon Runners MC spin-off following the much-loved MacAteer Brothers.

  Rhyleigh has a secret—one she keeps from her friends and family. While she’s ashamed of the part of her life she hides away, she’s so addicted to this dark obsession that she can’t stop returning to it over and over again.

  Angus MacAteer has his own secret he keeps from those he is closest to. He even invents a new personality to indulge in his desires.

  Then one night changes everything.

  Join Angus and Rhyleigh as they explore the power of vulnerability and the beauty of being set free in this final book in the MacAteer Brothers series, a Dragon Runners MC spin-off.

  Give it to Me © 2021 by ML Nystrom

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Give it to Me is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.

  www.hottreepublishing.com

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Designer: BookSmith Design

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-922359-69-8

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-922359-70-4

  To everyone who dares to be a little different. Go for it.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  About the Publisher

  Other Books by ML Nystrom

  More Authors to Check Out

  Prologue

  “Oh my God, we’re gonna get in so much trouble!”

  Lana shot me a disgusted look. “We won’t if you stop acting like a kid.”

  “We are kids. High school kids.”

  “We’re eighteen already and almost graduated. Quit bitching.” She stopped at the dark street corner and peered at the sign. “I think this is it.”

  I twisted my fingers together. My best friend, Lana, convinced me to sneak out of the hotel with her tonight and go exploring. Our school volleyball team made the nationals, and we’d traveled to Atlanta to compete all weekend. Unfortunately, we got knocked out in the second round and would head home tomorrow. Since it was our last night in this huge city, Lana decided we needed to go find some fun.

  I wanted to find a fancy coffee and donut shop. She wanted to find something else.

  Somehow she got a hold of a couple of tickets to a special midnight adult show at a private club, and she was determined to go.

  “I bet there’ll be at least some male strippers, Rhyleigh. When was the last time you saw a nice fat dick?”

  I didn’t want to admit I’d never seen one in person. Just the ones she showed me in the hidden porn collection she’d found in her brother’s room. He had a box under his bed filled with pictures of men and women having sex in weird twisted positions. The faces of the people were supposed to show the throes of ecstasy, but some of them looked painful and strange.

  “Where did you get those things, anyway?”

  “Some old guy at the bar left them on his table. I swiped them when he wasn’t looking.”

  “How do you know it’s a male strip show?”

  She pointed to the ticket. “See? Says Master Johnson. You know what a Johnson is, right?”

  We left the city train station and walked three blocks to the address on the tickets. The dark building looked a little like an old hotel, but all the windows were blacked out. The guy at the front didn’t ask for IDs when we approached the front door. He simply took the tickets and let us in.

  Heat flushed my face as we entered the building. “Oh my God, please don’t let us get kidnapped and sent to be sex slaves in Outer Mongolia.”

  “Rhyleigh, shut up!”

  I shut it. People filled the room that looked like a theater foyer. The attire ran from cocktail dresses to jeans to black leather and studs. There were more men than women, and a number of people wore masks. I squeaked as a waitress walked by us with a tray full of champagne flutes. She wore an elaborate feathered mask and black thong, but nothing else. Her high breasts bounced with every step her stilettos took on the carpet. One of her nipples had a gold hoop piercing. I tried not to stare at it or her, but Lana pointed it out to me with her usual degree of discretion.

  “Look at that. Ooh, I bet that hurt.”

  The woman stopped and held the tray out to us. “Not too much. It was worse when I got my hood done.”

  “Your hood?” The question came out of my mouth before I could stop it.

  Her sculpted eyebrows came together in a frown. “Are you old enough to be here?”

  My heart pounded hard enough I thought it would burst from my chest. Oh my God, we’re going to jail!

  Lana took a glass and scoffed at me. “Stop being a dumbass. You know what a hood piercing is.” She turned to the quizzical waitress to explain, “This is her first time to one of these and she’s nervous.”

  I wasn’t sure the woman bought Lana’s answer, but she smiled and nodded as she addressed me directly. “Don’t worry about what you’ll see. It’s a little shocking the first time, but really beautiful. Master Johnson is one of the best riggers around, and his wife’s been his bottom for years. Everything is consensual and safe. We’ll be loading in a few minutes, so enjoy the show.”

  She left, and I quietly hissed at Lana, “This is your first time too. So what is a hood piercing?”

  She lifted one shoulder and grimaced at the taste of the champagne. “Blech, this is nasty. No, I don’t know what it is, but Google has the answers. We’ll look it up when we get back to the hotel.”

  My anxiety shot high when the red doors to the stage opened. We entered a theater in-the-round and found our seats. I looked around nervously at the scaffolding on the stage. Hooks and pulleys hung down from the sturdy framework, and a neat pile of multicolored coiled ropes sat in one corner.

  “You sure this is a stripper show?”

  Lana eyed the odd-looking setup, and for the first time, lost her bluster. “Um… maybe not?”

  “We should go.”

  “We’d have to climb over a bunch of strangers to get to an exit. That would draw too much attention to us and guarantee we’d get in trouble. Let’s just watch what happens. That waitress said it’s really beautiful once you get over the first look.”

  “Like a hood piercing?”

  “Shut up, Rhyleigh.”

  The house lights dimmed, and I held my breath. A blue spotlight came up slowly on a woman standing on the stage. Her straight hair shimmered in the light, and she wore a simple white robe. A smattering of applause sounded through the theater, and both Lana and I followed suit. A man in a Japanese kimono came up behind the woman as soft ethereal music started playing. He plucked at the robe, lifting it away from the woman’s shoulders. She was naked underneath. It was clear from her body she was not young. Her breasts lacked the perkiness of youth and her stomach protruded with softness. Her demeanor said she didn’t care. Her head lifted high as the cloth slipped down her body and a gentle smile appeared on her face. She didn’t try to cower or cover herself from the audience. Instead, she radiated pride in her appearance. I found myself enthralled and a little jealous of her confidence.

  The man plaited her hair in one long braid and folded it under itself to secure the strands. The whole time the woman stood still, resembling a nude marble statue like the kind in an art museum. He took great care not to pull or jerk and stroked her like he would a favorite beloved pet while he tended to her. His fingers trailed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, her smile still soft. My stomach bloomed with unfamiliar heat at the tenderness and love between them. I’d never seen the kind of connection they had in anyone else. Not my parents or their country club friends. Not the couples that got together at school. Not even in movies. The depth between the two people on that stage was something so profound, my eyes teared up at its spl
endor.

  “Well shit, I thought we’d see some cute, young dicks waving around, not some old-married couple. This is boring.”

  “We’re stuck. You said so yourself. Now hush before someone sics an usher on us.”

  Lana crossed her arms and sat back in a snit. I turned my attention back to the stage.

  The man picked up one of the red coiled ropes, and the blue light made it look neon purple. He started wrapping it around the woman’s arms, binding them behind her back in an elaborate crisscross shape. More coils went around her stomach and thighs. The entire process took several minutes while the music kept playing. The lights faded from blue to pink to gold to green to red. Over and over.

  I watched the woman’s face while her husband wound rope after rope until she couldn’t move. Her legs were covered in diamond-shaped knots, but it was her face that intrigued me the most. Ecstasy, pure ecstasy shone from her as she was tied up. He touched her with gentle hands, controlling her body with the intricate design. She let him bend her arms and legs however he wanted, binding and constricting her movements until she had no control over herself. They looked like they didn’t care that there were several hundred eyes watching this intimate moment. Their world only occupied the two of them.

  He draped several more ropes from the scaffolding and attached them to her shoulders, waist, hips, knees and ankles, until she looked like she was caught in a spider’s web. Once done, he stepped behind her and lifted his hands to cup and hold her breasts. Her head fell back, and he kissed her neck.

  A moan in front of me caught my attention. A woman had her breasts out, and the man next to her had his mouth all over them. Another woman further down looked like she had her legs spread with her hands in between her thighs.

  I swallowed the squeak in my throat and snapped my eyes back to the stage. The man moved back from the woman and asked her something. She nodded. With one huge pull, all the draped ropes lifted the woman in the air, arching her back and drawing her legs apart. The crowd shared a gasp at the move and applauded. Master Johnson approached the dangling woman and made some adjustments. He spun her in a long, slow circle, displaying his work to the appreciative audience. When he stopped her spin, he pulled some ropes and released others, putting the woman in a new shape before spinning her again. Upside down in a fetal position, on her side with her legs bent back, facing down, legs curled underneath, spin after spin after spin.

  I tried not to glance at the other audience members, but it was hard to keep my eyes to myself. Muted sighs, whimpers, oohs, and ahhs surrounded me. The mysterious spot between my legs pulsed and grew heavy. Heat rose in me and the urge to squirm in my seat intensified. Even though I was one of the few virgins left in the school, I wasn’t stupid. Plenty of sex talk happened in the locker room during gym class and team meets. I knew what a clitoris was and how it worked. I just hadn’t explored mine yet. Locker room talk indicated that girls who masturbated were no more than horny sluts who couldn’t keep a boyfriend. I wasn’t sure I agreed, especially as at the moment, I wanted to touch myself so badly, I ached with the need.

  Master Johnson slowly spun his wife so her open legs straddled his hips. She was secured in a horizontal position to the floor, carefully tied in a web of colored ropes. He pulled one suspended strand and her knees pulled back, further opening her core to him. He untied the belt to his kimono and let it slip from his body. His ramrod dick stood straight out from a bushy ball sack.

  I held my breath, gaze intent, mesmerized as he cupped himself and fitted his hard dick between the woman’s legs. She cried out as he pushed into her with one hard thrust.

  Half the audience cried with her.

  My mouth watered, and I swallowed several times to clear it. The man pounded into his wife and she writhed against the restrictive ropes. He used the suspension to drive inside her, swinging her body into his. I watched as he licked his thumb and put it between her legs. Another cry came from her, this time a long keening one of satisfaction. The man rammed in her one last time and roared his own release.

  I shook lightly, my head buzzing and body pulsing with a need I didn’t exactly understand. Shame and guilt rose up in me, and I bit my lip to keep tears from forming in my eyes. I didn’t know why I felt this way, and I wanted to run. Escape from this place and never look back.

  Confusion raced through me, not understanding my reaction. I liked what I saw, a lot. The knowledge sent a bolt of fear through me.

  The moments then passed in a haze: the applause, the shuffling from the room, the journey to the train station.

  Once on the train, Lana complained all the way back to the hotel. “Nasty. Who wants to watch two old people fucking? Gross! What a fucking waste of time.”

  I made humming noises to agree with her and make her happy, but my head drifted to relive the ending scene. Master Johnson untied his wife with as much care as he had when he started. He kissed the marks on each part of her skin as he revealed the expanse of milky white flesh. Worshipful. Reverent. Adoring. His last act was to place the robe around her body and fold her into his arms.

  The waitress was right.

  It was beautiful.

  Chapter One

  “Wake up, brother. We’re here.” Angus woke to his brother’s shoulder shake. He sniffed and stretched his neck to relieve the cramp from sleeping against the truck’s window. He’d taken the first leg of driving while Patrick snoozed.

  “Connor’s place?”

  He groaned and put his fingers to the knot at his neck. Fuck, I’m getting too old for this.

  Patrick opened the glove compartment and pulled out a stick of Axe deodorant and a comb. “No, dumbass. Bevvie said they were goin’ out for a bit tonight. Come on. I need to get out of this fucking truck and into a pretty lass. It is my day, after all.”

  The knot started to release under the pressure. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Patrick slipped the scented stick under his shirt and swiped it under his armpit. “Angus, what’s the date?”

  Angus thought for a moment and grinned at his twin. “Aye, I see what you’re saying. St. Paddy’s Day.”

  Patrick grinned back as he ran the comb through his thick ginger hair. “It is our duty, no, our obligation to go in there to see family and make our presence known to this city in the biggest, loudest fashion possible.”

  Angus smoothed a hand over his head. The sides were shaved close, but the top and back he kept long. Both men had similar styles but wore it differently. It was the only way most people told them apart. Patrick liked his long hair loose and flopping to one side, while Angus preferred to keep his in a Viking braid on the back of his head. “Well then, brother, let’s not keep the masses waiting.”

  Patrick tossed him the deodorant. “Good idea to freshen yourself a bit after ten hours of driving.”

  Angus caught the stick and applied it as Patrick got out and raised his arms to the night sky in a long, bone-cracking stretch. “Let’s get this party started, brother.”

  Truthfully, Angus would be just as happy going to their hotel room and crashing for the night, but Patrick would never dream of staying home on St. Paddy’s night. Or any other night most of the time.

  Home—a strange word to use when their entire lives had been spent traveling around the country working on job site after job site. From the time they could grip a hammer, they and their brothers and sister had worked the family business. That broke up a few years ago, and both Patrick and Angus continued to travel and work different crews and jobs. Home didn’t really have a meaning for them other than cheap hotel rooms or renting a temporary crappy apartment.

  The lights from the bar and sounds from the Irish band bled outside to the street. His second wind came when Patrick opened the door and stepped inside.