Savage Kings MC Box Set 2

by Lane Hart

“Ian says I do,” she responds, pulling the leather through the clasp. “And I want to. If that’s okay with you?”

  Rather than answering her, I pop the top button on my jeans and pull my zipper down, leaving her to do the rest, if she really wants to.

  “What’s the hold up? Take his dick out and put it in your mouth already,” Ian orders.

  Quincey’s small hand reaches into my boxer briefs to pull my hard shaft free, and then her wet tongue is licking me like a lollipop. Not that I’m watching her. Instead, I watch Ian, who is watching us. He can’t really see much of Quincey under the table as her lips part and her mouth covers more than half of my dick.

  And it feels good. Better than I want it to feel. Even better still when I close my eyes and imagine it’s Ian’s mouth sucking greedily on my throbbing dick.

  A scraping sound has my eyes popping open. Ian’s standing behind Quincey, having slid the entire fucking table out of the way. His jeans are still open, his cock at half-staff when he presses it to the back of her bobbing head. He grabs the top of her ponytail and then shoves her face down toward me, making her take me to the back of her throat.

  “Ease the fuck up,” I tell him.

  Glaring down at me, he ignores my words and keeps guiding Quincey’s mouth, making her suck my dick the way he wants while rubbing his own hardening shaft into her hair. She moans and gags and clutches at my thighs.

  It’s all so fucked up, and yet I find myself spreading my legs wider and slumping down in my chair as I grip the armrests tight.

  “You do love to suck cock, don’t you, baby girl?” Ian asks her, and she gives a slight nod. That small moan of agreement from her is all it takes for me to start lifting my hips just a little on every down thrust.

  To me, Ian says, “Fuck her eager, little mouth. You know you want to.”

  I finally snap. Letting go of the armrest, I cup the back of Quincey’s head and pump my cock in and out of her mouth, going deeper each time until I feel her nose press against my pelvis.

  And I’m not sure if it’s her throat swallowing around my flesh or Ian’s cock rubbing against my knuckles that takes me over the edge, but I blast off with a choked grunt. My back bows and my release is ripped from my body like a fucking exorcism.

  “That’s right. Lick up every drop,” Ian tells Quincey as he keeps her head moving while her tongue cleans me up. “Good girl. Now thank Gabriel for letting you suck him dry.” His grip on her hair tilts her face up to mine while her fingers wipe her still wet mouth.

  “Ah, t-thank you,” she says which is entirely unnecessary and ironic. He never thanked me for my mouth even once.

  “Thank you for what?” Ian prompts while tucking his dick away and zipping up his pants.

  “Thank you for…letting me…letting me suck you dry,” Quincey finally finishes as she licks her lips.

  Putting my dick back into my pants, I clear my throat and tell her, “Thanks for that, Quincey. Best blowjob I’ve ever had,” I add while glaring up at Ian.

  “Really?” she asks.

  “Oh yeah,” I say. “So good maybe he should make you blow Dalton and Sax too before you leave.”

  Having obviously heard me, Dalton calls back, “No, thanks. I’m all good!”

  “Me too,” Sax agrees. “At least Isobel can finally check off Participate in an orgy from her bucket list.”

  “You’re an asshole,” Ian says to me with a glare.

  Only when I look down and see the shimmer in Quincey’s green eyes do I feel like a dick for my comment.

  Before I can apologize, though, Ian scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder, carrying her over to punch in the code for the door to take her downstairs.

  Chapter Seven

  Ian

  “Don’t listen to Gabriel,” I tell Quincey after I toss her down gently in the middle of my bed and stretch out next to her. “What he said was bullshit. I wasn’t trying to whore you out.”

  “I know. It’s no big deal,” she replies, and yet she’s still wiping tears from her eyes.

  Goddamn Gabe for fucking up my night.

  “I thought you liked being told what to do,” I explain to her. “Guess I don’t know you all that well since we just met.”

  “It’s okay. Really. I do like it,” she says, slapping a smile on her face. “Ignore me. Let’s continue on with your first night of sex in five years.” I glance away rather than correct her wrong assumption. “Or do you want me to go?”

  “No. Stay all night,” I assure her since that’s the reason I carried her ass down here like a caveman. “Unless you’re ready to leave? Did you come with Peyton and Dalton?”

  “I did, but I want to stay. I can get a ride home tomorrow.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, and she nods. Tugging on one of her spirals hanging lose beside her face and watching it pop right back into place, I say, “You’re not really the one-night stand type of girl, are you, Quincey?” I then trace my fingertip over the top chain holding her dress together. “And I’m guessing this isn’t something that you would usually wear.”

  “No. It’s not,” she admits.

  “Then why wear it tonight?”

  “I really needed a night like this, you know?”

  “A night like this?” I repeat.

  “Yeah, with hot sex and no strings attached. No expectations. I’ve always been a good girl who dates successful businessmen for weeks before sleeping with them, only to be disappointed by boring, selfish sex from that point on.” I may not know her well, but I doubt she’s always this talkative, which makes me think she’s borderline drunk or close to it.

  “And you thought I would be the cure to that?”

  “Well, aren’t you?” she asks with a smile. “The sex was amazing, and you don’t seem like the type to want to settle down anytime soon.”

  “Damn right,” I agree.

  “So, we agree it’ll be just for tonight?” she asks.

  “Just for tonight,” I agree. Giving the chain on the front of her dress a tug with my finger, I ask, “Now how do I get this off of you?” I want to feel all of her skin against all of mine. Since I was a natural loner before joining the Kings, I didn’t expect to miss human contact so badly while I was locked up. But I did, and I didn’t want to touch any of my fellow inmates or let them touch me. Maybe that’s why I used Gabriel…

  “There’s a zipper on the back,” Quincey says as she rolls over to face the wall.

  Finding the tiny black zipper, I pull it down, revealing her bare back since she isn’t wearing a bra. I place a soft kiss on her shoulder and then her spine. “You smell good,” I tell her with an inhale. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been around anything that smelled good. Or tasted good,” I add when I lick my tongue across her salty and vanilla-scented flesh.

  “I-is that right?” she asks with a hitch to her voice.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Woman. She smells like a beautiful, clean, sexy woman, and that’s something I haven’t had in so long I had forgotten what it was like until I was tasting her upstairs in the bar. More than rubbing it in Gabriel’s face, I couldn’t have stopped even if my life had depended on it.

  I grab Quincey’s shoulder to roll her onto her back so I can drag the dress down her body, freeing her perfect, full tits first, then her stomach, past her thong and down her legs. The thong comes off next, soaked with her juices and my cum, and then I stand up at the foot of the bed to take off my clothes while a naked Quincey watches me.

  “I’ve never really been fond of dick pics, but I wouldn’t mind having one of yours,” she says as her teeth chew on her bottom lip and her green eyes stare at my chubby. Now I’m almost certain she’s drunk.

  “That right?” I ask.

  “Yep.” She nods enthusiastically.

  “I’ll send you one,” I promise her before I head into the bathroom to grab a washcloth and coat it with warm water from the sink.

  When I return to the bedroom, I climb back up on the mattress.
As I run the cloth between Quincey’s thighs, I tell her, “I still owe your sore pussy that kiss.”

  “Please,” she says as her legs fall open, giving me full access. I press the cloth against her cunt and rub, cleaning my cum from her. “Oh god!” Quincey moans while gripping the bedsheets on either side of her head while her hips start to lift off the mattress, grinding against the pressure of my hand under the cloth. “Oh god, Ian!” she screams. Her back arches and her tits bounce in the best possible way when I get her off with just my hand.

  But as soon as her body relaxes and stills, I know she’s fast asleep.

  Gabriel

  I’m not sure which is worse, having to see Ian with someone else or having to hear him with her while I’m all alone in the room next door.

  Unable to take another second of Quincey screaming his name, I grab my air pods, shove them in my ears, and fire up my Iron Maiden playlist to drown out the noise.

  What else did I expect to happen? That Ian would suddenly decide he prefers men to women now that he’s out of prison? That I would fall asleep next to him after a fantastic fucking round of sex?

  I’m still the same stupid kid from the streets who thought giving orgasms would translate into receiving affection.

  While Abe thought I was in foster homes, I was actually doing all sorts of shit to stay alive, although most of the time I felt dead inside. That’s one of the toughest parts about being a closeted bisexual. None of the men I was with ever gave a shit about me. I was a human sex toy. A naïve, doe-eyed, blow-up doll for them to use and toss aside before they went back to hiding a part of themselves in their normal “straight” lives.

  And no, I don’t blame those men for hiding. I haven’t come out myself because I know how much is on the line by admitting to my brother and the MC that I’m…different from them.

  There has to be more to life for me than one-sided, meaningless hookups, though.

  I want what my brother and his wife have – a happy, committed relationship. A family. Children of my own.

  But I’m never going to have any of that with Ian. Why it’s taken me this long to figure that out, I’m not entirely sure. I guess I kept making excuses for him, thinking that it was one-sided because Ian was just scared. I’m responsible for getting him locked up, and so I thought I could earn his forgiveness on my knees. In retrospect, even the idea is fucking ridiculous.

  From now on, I’m done wasting my time. Women are okay in the sack, but it’s always felt like I’m missing that hot and insatiable desire when I’m with them. That’s why I prefer to be with men. Men who are out and don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about them being with other guys would be ideal. I want to go on dates, hold hands in restaurants, hell, kiss a man in public rather than keep having clandestine encounters on a goddamn dirty bathroom floor.

  I deserve more than that even though my past, the things I’ve done, are too filthy to talk about it. Maybe it’s time to finally leave all of that guilt and shame behind and move forward.

  So, where the hell am I supposed to find gay men who have bravely come out of the closet and have no intention of hiding again? It’s not like there are many walking around the streets of our small, conservative, coastal town.

  But there are bigger cities nearby and dating apps…

  I grab my phone and download one of the most well-known gay dating apps and start setting up my profile, stating clearly that I’m looking for more than quick, meaningless hookups.

  This could be another waste of time, but at least these guys have already freely admitted to themselves and others that they enjoy sex with other men. It makes me a hypocrite, but I doubt that any of them are surrounded by badass, highly intimidating, heterosexual outlaw bikers. Still, I can’t see myself up and leaving the Kings or my brother.

  If they find out the truth about me, though, I may not have a choice.

  Chapter Eight

  Quincey

  I’ve never had more than one orgasm in a night, so it’s no surprise that I had to take a few minutes to recover after my third one.

  Except, when I open my eyes, Ian’s room is pitch black thanks to someone turning off the bathroom light. I’m in his bed, naked, underneath the covers with his strong arm around my waist pulling my back tightly to his chest.

  When did all of that happen, and how do I not remember it?

  Guess I fell asleep thanks to the happy endorphins and alcohol.

  Now I need to use the restroom urgently and can’t seem to extract myself from Ian’s hold.

  “No,” his gruff voice says from behind me when I squirm.

  I try to pry his fingers from me, but they won’t budge.

  “You can’t go,” he mumbles. “You can’t leave me for him.”

  “Ah, Ian? I just need to use the bathroom, and then I’ll come back,” I say as I stroke my hand up and down the length of his muscular arm. I never took him for a cuddler. Although, I guess this is more like him holding me hostage rather than cuddling.

  “You’re lying,” he says. “You’ve been lying to me for weeks!”

  “No, I really need to go,” I tell him even though I’m starting to think he’s still sound asleep and he thinks I’m someone else. Reaching behind me, I run my fingers through Ian’s hair and tell him, “Start counting slowly, and I’ll be back before you get to thirty, okay?”

  “Promise? Promise me, Nik!” he demands.

  Nik? I can’t help but wonder who she or he was and what happened.

  “I promise, Ian,” I agree. “Now start counting.”

  His head nods under my fingers, and then he relaxes his hold on me. “One…two…three…”

  I’m easing off the bed and into the bathroom when he gets to three and stops because he’s knocked out again.

  Still, when I slip back under the covers after relieving my bladder, Ian’s arm finds me again, pulling me flush against him. Then, he lets out a heavy sigh that sounds like relief.

  “Go back to sleep,” I tell him before I press my lips to the center of the eagle tattooed on his chest.

  “Don’t kiss me there,” he grunts and rolls to his back, while still keeping his arm around my waist. “That’s Gabriel’s eagle.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I reply, resting my cheek on his chest even though I’m not really sure what that means either. Gabriel’s a tattoo artist, so I assume he did the eagle.

  “I don’t think I can forgive you, Nik,” Ian responds, clearly still thinking I’m someone else. His hand pats around my back and moves up to the back of my hair, holding me to his chest. “But I still want you to stay tonight.”

  “I’m staying,” I assure him.

  “Good,” he says on another heavy sigh.

  Ian

  I startle awake thinking I overslept and didn’t hear the breakfast alarm that usually rouses me from my bunk.

  Then, I realize that the bed is too soft to be my prison cot, and I sure as shit never woke up to the scent of delicious cupcakes.

  That’s because I’m not in a hellhole but in an apartment in the basement of the Savage Asylum with a beautiful, naked woman asleep next to me. I bury my nose in her curly hair, soaking up Quincey’s vanilla flavor, just as my stomach lets out a ferocious growl.

  Last night I ate my weight in ribs and chicken, and yet I woke up hungry enough to eat an entire truck full of Little Debbie snacks.

  Today, I need to make a trip to the grocery story to pick up one of every single damn thing I missed eating, or send the prospect to do it for me. But for now, I’ll have to make do with whatever I can find upstairs in the bar’s kitchen.

  As I slip out of bed quietly to get dressed, I can’t seem to shake the random thoughts of Nicole. I don’t know why the fuck she’s on my mind after all this time. It’s been years since I even let myself waste a second wondering how her and her kid are doing. My father, on the other hand, could be dead for all I care. My only concern would be whether or not he went out with the painful death he deserves.
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br />   Before heading upstairs, I take a quick shower to try and wash away the old memories and then wander around upstairs in a pair of clean jeans and an Avalon t-shirt I found in my drawer. Thankfully, I find a pot of coffee already on and a few donuts that I quickly put away.

  The warm liquid is about ten times better than the shit in prison. Everything in that place tasted like weak, molded despair.

  “You’re up early,” Reece says when he comes into the kitchen, looking put together and dressed with his white “Fuck off” coffee mug in his hand.

  “Yeah, one of the unfortunate side effects of a six o’clock wake up for five years,” I tell him. “What time is it?”

  “Six-thirty,” he responds.

  “Why the hell are you up so early?” I ask.

  “An unfortunate side effect of the military and feeling responsible for the MC’s security.”

  I take another sip of my coffee and then sit down at the bar. “Gabriel told me about all the shit going on out here while I was away. Sounds like you’ve had your hands full lately. You got anything I could help with? I need to get back into the swing of things with the club, shake off the institution, you know?”

  “I know where you’re coming from, sort of,” Reece says as he refills his mug. “I mean not from prison, but you probably feel a lot like I did when I got out of the military. Kind of aimless. I had spent years with someone telling me what to do, where to be, when to sleep or shit, every minute of the day. It took me months to get used to waking up and being able to do whatever I wanted.”

  “Aimless, yeah, that’s it exactly,” I confirm. “I need to be doing something to get my head right now that I’m back on the streets. It’s not just that, though. I feel like I owe you guys for holding it down and keeping things going all these years.”

  Reece waves a hand dismissively and snorts, “We’re family, man. We have obligations to each other, responsibilities, but we don’t talk about ‘owing’ each other. You served time for your family. And now that you’re free, we’re going to do everything we can to get you set back up right. Don’t forget you committed to helping run Avalon. That’s going to be a full-time job, and I’ve got big plans on how to market the girls who will be living there online, but I’ll need you hiring staff and coordinating their schedules to make it all work. It’s a good job that will keep you entertained, and even better, it will work with your probation. I’ll round you up in the next few days to take you over there, but for now, just enjoy fucking off for a little bit.