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Claiming Cody

by Layla Dorine

When Lucky moved to the Outer Banks to work in Thorn and Cain’s surf shop and eventually fell in love with them, Cody lost himself in gambling to dull the ache of missing his best friend. The flashing lights of the casino, the feel of cards beneath his fingers, and the rough-smooth texture of poker chips all served to drag him deeper into an addiction he was slowly giving himself over to. It helps that he works security there, easy access, and an increasing reason not to go back home. The Rollin’ Jokers are family, always would be, but there’s an ache Cody can’t fill with the roar of his machine and the wind in his hair. The best he can hope for is to dull it one bet at a time.

Wreck owes a lot to the Rollin’ Jokers MC, after all, his old man was a founding member. So, when the Joker’s president asked for a favor, no way would he turn him down. Even if the favor meant playing babysitter to Mark’s out-of-control son, Cody, who seemed to get a kick out of pushing buttons Wreck didn’t know he had. Still, he has no intention of letting Mark down, and if that means teaching Cody some discipline, well then, there are plenty of ways he could make it fun…for them both.

Only…Cody’s got different ideas, and issues that are only just being brought to light. Add in bad boy Bellamy, the wandering nomad biker who happens to land on the same road Cody’s cruising down, and Wreck finds his carefully ordered world turned upside-down. Now he’s wrangling kittens, including a human-sized one hell-bent on making a home in Wreck’s lap when he’s not looking to scratch his eyes out…and Bellamy? Let’s just say that’s the mystery element in an equation Wreck’s not certain he can solve.

With the past closing in and the future uncertain, Wreck’s desperate to find a way to protect Cody….from himself, from his demons, and from a past that’s come back to haunt him.

Cover Artists:
Pairings: M-M-M
Heat Level: 4
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 18-25
Protagonist 2 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 3 Age: 36-45
Tropes: Age Difference, Alpha Character, Criminals & Outlaws, Hurt / Comfort, Love Can Heal / Redemption
Word Count: 93409
Setting: Beach
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters

Happy Lucky was a squirmy Lucky, molded to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder, staring up at the sky where overhead, a meteor shower sent streaks racing through the heavens.

Wishes only work on stars, Cody grumbled good-naturedly, hating to dull Lucky’s enthusiasm, especially when an excited Lucky meant kisses peppering his neck and throat, all that wiggling leaving him with a warm, achy feeling low in his belly and a hard, throbbing cock Lucky would suck once they were alone again.

But that’s what meteors are silly! They’re falling stars. Lucky exclaimed, the laughter in his tone taking the sting out of being teased for once again not paying attention to something their teachers had undoubtedly gone over while Cody had been daydreaming or writing songs.


The salty tang of seawater and kelp lingered on the breeze, cool winds blowing in off the ocean, meaning Cody cuddled Lucky closer while his best friend went on and on about how meteoroids had started as parts of asteroids and comets before they’d broken apart and went tumbling around in space. It was when they got caught in earth’s atmosphere and were drawn towards the ground that they became meteors, burning up and producing the streaks of lights people called falling stars.

So then what happens to actual stars? Cody asked, impulsively kissing the side of Lucky’s head. His hair smelled like honey and the clovers they were currently laying in.

They burn out. Right now, there are stars up there that are already dead, but it takes so long for their light to reach us, that we’re still seeing the ghosts of them, sparkling in the heavens.

A whole series of air brushings, sketches, and tattoos had been born of that night, translucent forms emerging from cracked open, burned-out stardust fragments, some weathered, crooked, and stooped, others exuberant, translucent balls of energy overjoyed to finally be free.

Only, there was something else about that memory that was stuck on repeat in Cody’s mind, something that left him tense with shame and regret. Like how he’d started pulling away from Lucky not long after that night, at least, in the warm and cuddly physical sense. Instead, he’d accepted the affection Lucky lavished on him while acting like he was above returning the sentiment, using his prospects kutte and his father’s position in the club like armor against his desires.

The shadow shape in the bend of the S curve couldn’t be a deer, the proportions were wrong. Wasn’t bulky enough to be a black bear reared up on its hind legs. Downshifting, he slowed enough to determine that it was either human, llama, or someone’s Ostridge was wandering around looking to scare the shit outta someone.

Curiosity got the better of him and as soon as he could safely whip around, he went back to see what it was, half-expecting to spot nothing but a scuffed-up guardrail, only to find a vision in holey jean shorts, flip-flops, and a purple tank top with sparkly letters, the glitter spelling out wreck everything and leave. Judging from the backpack at the guy’s feet, at least one part of the slogan rang true.

“Where you headed?” Cody asked, gaze flitting to the man’s face, shimmering eyeshadow accenting brilliant blue eyes more interested in the machine Cody was sitting on than Cody himself.

“There,” the man replied, pointing towards the lights in the distance.

“That all you got?”


“Ever been on one of these?”

“Practically grew up on the back of one.”

“In that case, hop on. Someplace, in particular, you’re trying to get to, or will anyplace in town do?”

“What’s my chances of finding a motel down there for under forty bucks?”

“Depends on what you’re willing to risk to stay at one,” Cody replied. “Though I wouldn’t suggest The Rest Stop unless you’re up to date on all your shots, especially tetanus. Long as your hair is, you might wanna consider investing in some lice treatment too, just in case.”

“Are we talking worst-case scenario or best?”

There was amusement in the man’s voice, resolve too, the combination making it painfully obvious he expected and had experienced, everything Cody mentioned, and more.

“Best,” Cody replied honestly. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Waffle House?”

“Hell yeah. I’m Bellamy, by the way,” the guy remarked as he swung his leg over the back of the bike and settled on the seat behind Cody. The hand he placed on Cody’s abs made them clench and for a moment, Cody feared he’d embarrass himself, biting back the groan that threatened to burst from his throat. Fuck it had been too long since he’d been touched. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths to steady himself, hoping his voice didn’t betray him when he gave his name.

“I’m Cody.”

“Nice to meet you, Cody, thanks for stopping. When I took this road, I didn’t consider how little use it got. Yours was the first headlight I’d seen in an hour.”

“How many did you see before that?”

“Three, none going as fast as you were, but none of them gave me a second glance, either,” Bellamy remarked over the roar of the engine. Having someone on the back meant he slowed it down considerably, for about a mile, until Bellamy learned in, lips brushing against his ear.

“Do not slow down on my account.”

Reviews:Sabella on Goodreads wrote:

In this book, you will find yourself wanting to find out all Cody's secrets and to see how Bellamy and Wreck will handle those secrets. There is absolute joy on these pages as well as some heat. This book has well-written secondary characters that add to the story as well as a fascinating world.

About the Author

LAYLA DORINE lives among the sprawling prairies of Midwestern America, in a house with more cats than people. She loves hiking, fishing, swimming, martial arts, camping out, photography, cooking, and dabbling with several artistic mediums. In addition, she loves to travel and visit museums, historic, and haunted places.

Layla got hooked on writing as a child, starting with poetry and then branching out, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. Hard times, troubled times, the lives of her characters are never easy, but then what life is? The story is in the struggle, the journey, the triumphs and the falls. She writes about artists, musicians, loners, drifters, dreamers, hippies, bikers, truckers, hunters and all the other folks that she’s met and fallen in love with over the years. Sometimes she writes urban romance and sometimes its aliens crash landing near a roadside bar. When she isn’t writing, or wandering somewhere outdoors, she can often be found curled up with a good book and a kitty on her lap.