by Marie James
“Bite her,” I demand. “She likes it rough.”
Her eyes snap back to mine when Xena digs into her flesh with her teeth, and begrudgingly, I realize I missed her looking at me.
“Please,” she begs as her legs circle my waist in an attempt to pull me closer, force me deeper.
With one hand gripping Xena’s hair, Candi reaches for me with the other. I fight against the urgency in my own gut, safeguarding myself by inching back and alternately swiping my thumb over her swollen clit.
“More,” she demands.
Unbidden, my cock obeys her, thrusting deeper, harder, faster.
She detonates, exploding around me in a glorious fashion. She grips and pulses around me, her internal muscles rippling in orgasm.
I fuck her through it, refusing to give her a moment's reprieve to enjoy her release alone.
“Come for me.”
I almost laugh, almost smile down at her and tell her that she’s a demanding little thing, but I catch myself. I concentrate on her audacity to think for a second that I’m doing this for more than my own relief. She doesn’t command me. She doesn’t dictate my actions. She takes what I give, and doesn’t get to ask for more.
“Xena,” I grunt, pulling out of Candi so fast she gasps.
The condom is ripped off, and Xena is on her knees all in the same moment.
I combust, the first rope of cum striking Xena’s cheek before she can even wrap her lips around my cock.
Taking it in stride, the black-haired girl turns her vibrant blue eyes up at me as she swallows every drop.
Chapter 20
Candi
Lynch doesn’t look back at me as Xena gets to her feet and walks across the room to dispose of the condom he’d tossed to the floor. He simply zips up and walks out. My breaths are still uneven, and my heart feels like it’s going to pound right out of my chest.
I’m lying on the massage table in a billion little pieces, and he’s calm, reserved, and completely unaffected by what just took place. The differences in our needs couldn’t be more opposite. I’d give anything to have him wrap his arms around me, carry me to the shower, and wash me like he actually cares. He’s probably headed to the living room to watch TV with the guys and scope out his next fuck of the day.
Tears burn the back of my eyes as I watch the door close quietly behind him.
“Well that was unexpected,” Xena says as she walks back toward me. My eyes snap in her direction, focusing on her mouth in a bid to keep my tears exactly where they need to be until I’m alone. “I haven’t touched him like that since my first week here.”
“But last night?” Sitting up on the edge of the table, my mouth turns down in confusion.
“A massage,” she specifies giving me a weak smile. “That’s all last night was. That’s all any night is between Lynch and me.”
“I’ve been ready for you since I got off the road.” His words filter into my orgasm-fogged mind.
I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle. My dad would’ve killed me himself before he allowed me on the back of one of those death traps, but I can imagine soreness is a close friend after long rides. I can’t sit still for long on the damn couch, so being on a bike for hours on end would kill me.
“He’s always sore when he comes off the road,” she says as if she’s reading my mind. “Now go clean that pretty pussy of yours so I can wax you and go find someone to fuck.”
Climbing off the table, I chuckle at her blatant statement.
He walked out on me without a word, but somehow knowing he didn’t touch her in a sexual way last night lightens my spirits. In the back of my mind I know that the elation I feel over that knowledge is more dangerous than the pain I felt watching him silently leave.
“Don’t laugh,” she warns. “I’m the only one who didn’t come. You can remedy that if you want.”
Her eyebrows jolt up and down playfully, a teasing smile spreading across her face. Without answering, I scurry into the attached bathroom. Her laughter follows me inside.
In the harsh fluorescent light of the bathroom, I stare at myself in the mirror. My oil-slicked skin glows pink in patches all over, some spots from my recent release, others from where Xena bit and pinched me at Lynch’s command. She was an ambassador, a stand-in representative for my pleasure, an extension of him. Her mouth was his. He was the one licking, biting, and sucking on my flesh.
His pleasure was evident in the clench of his jaw and the punishing grip of his fingers into my hips as he held me in place.
Turning slightly, I run my fingers over the bruises blooming on my skin, the evidence of my punishment.
Pain was clear in his eyes. His tortured soul bleeding out right before my eyes, so intense I had to look away. I couldn’t face his demons. Addressing his would only force me to recognize my own.
Each time he touches me, I give a little piece of myself away. Each time his lips brush mine or his tongue licks into my mouth, I lose some of the walls I’ve built up.
Lynch is deadly. He’s untouchable in any real sense, and wanting him, needing him, is a fairy tale.
No.
There’s nothing redeeming about this place or the man who runs the Ravens Ruin MC. I’m not progressing toward a happily ever after. I’m stuck in a nightmare, and Lynch is my puppet master. Hell, he’s controlling each and every damn person in this compound.
A clang on the other side of the door forces me to refocus. Fixating on all of the things I’ve done since arriving here won’t change anything. It won’t alter the fact that I let a woman fondle my tits as I writhed on Lynch’s mouth within an hour of my arrival. It won’t modify the truth that watching Vixen suck him off turned me on more than I ever thought it could. And it sure as fuck won’t erase Xena’s mouth on my pussy, or how much I fucking enjoyed it.
Nothing will change, not my memories or the incessant need to have Lynch’s body touching mine. Just like Lynch walking away time and time again after he’s done with me will never change.
I step into the shower and turn both nozzles up full blast. The frigid rush of water is quickly replaced by warm, soothing heat. I don’t know if the soreness in my muscles is from Xena’s deep-tissue massage or a combination of everything that has happened since I arrived. Regardless, the heat of the water isn’t strong enough to wash it away. With exhaustion, I reach for the shower gel, pooling it in my palm before lathering it up.
Twice I’m forced to wash and rinse to get the slick oil off my skin. Twice I brush over my clit and groan at the unsatisfied need still waiting there. Coming multiple times didn’t eliminate the urge to want to do it again, over and over until I’m too tired to open my eyes.
When I step out of the shower, I take my time drying off, hoping on some off chance that Xena will have given up on me and left to go find someone to fuck.
No such luck.
Xena is waiting with a small smile on her face when I walk back into the room covered only by the bath towel.
My cheeks heat when her grin turns salacious.
“It’s like that, huh?” Teasing marks her tone, but the feral need burning in her eyes tell me she can turn serious in a split second.
“I’m not a lesbian,” I spit, eyes widening at the confession.
Her grin grows wider as she shrugs. “Neither am I, but we don’t really do labels around here.”
The warning in her voice is clear, and my mind revisits the conversation I had with Molly after my first night here. Slut-shaming and judgments of any kind won’t be permitted. I can do my own thing, but having an opinion one way or the other on what anyone else does won’t be tolerated.
Grabbing my tank top from the chair, I pull it over my head before climbing on the table.
“Do you want to keep the patch?”
I roll up, looking down at the apex of my thighs. “Might as well wax it all.”
Change is good, and lord knows the status quo isn’t quite working for me.
Xena sets to work, and I almost r
evel in the warmth of the wax as she spreads it over me. I know, however, that the soothing heat will be short-liv…
“Fuck,” I grunt when she quickly peels the first cloth strip away.
No matter how many times I have this done, that first strip is always a harsh slap to the face. I contemplate growing a full bush in an effort to deter Lynch from touching me, but knowing him, he’ll have someone hold me down and wax me to his specifications.
The thought of being restrained while Lynch orders others to do things to me is more appealing than it should be. My eyes flutter closed as the images flash through my mind. Ronan would hold down one arm while Xena would clasp the other. Lynch’s head would disappear between my legs.
I swallow roughly, barely registering the wax strip being peeled from my skin.
“Do you know how hard it is to concentrate on doing this right when I’m watching you slicken right before my fucking eyes?” The lusty intonation is back in her voice.
“Sorry,” I mumble, keeping my eyes closed. I can’t face her. I can’t even confess out loud just how damn deviant my thoughts are sometimes. I hadn’t even given a thought to my sexual bucket list in weeks. After being so uncomfortable with all of the sex acts happening around me in the clubhouse recently, I knew I’d never be relaxed enough to do some of those things myself, no matter how many times I dreamed of them before arriving at the Ravens Ruin MC.
Yet, I just had a bisexual three-way. Well, sort of. I don’t know what actually classifies a three-way, but surely two people touching and pleasing me sexually at the same time counts. I mark it off the mental list.
“Don’t be sorry.” Xena clears her throat just before cool, soothing fingers touch my delicate flesh. “This is to prevent irritated skin.”
I hold as still as humanly possible, wanting it yet terrified that she’s going to touch me again. She never brushes my clit. Never slips her slender finger inside of me, and I’m disappointed when she walks away to wash her hands in the bathroom.
“Thanks,” I holler as I jump off the table and tug my yoga pants up my legs. I’m out of the room before she steps back out of the bathroom.
Chapter 21
Lynch
“You seem agitated.”
My eyes narrow at my best friend in warning.
“We live for this shit,” he says.
“We need to get this shit under control,” I hiss as I stomp out a cigarette under my boot.
I don’t even smoke. I mean I may light up every once in a while, and pot is never fully clear of my system, but cigarettes are nasty as fuck. It only verifies just how chaotic my life has become.
“Without things like today, what fun would we have?” A devious smirk crosses his face.
“Pussy. We could all be balls deep in one of the girls, instead of dealing with this,” Hornet grunts from the other side of Briar. “You should try it sometime.”
Briar’s jaw snaps shut when I cock a challenging eyebrow in his direction.
My friend’s only release are things like what’s about to go down. He lives for it. Shooting a bullet through someone is equivalent to my shooting a load inside of Candi.
My eyes scan the empty parking lot of the shitty hotel we convened at an hour ago. The last thing I need right now is thoughts of that woman filtering into my head. She’s a fucking distraction, has been since the second she showed up.
The days I’ve spent avoiding her since I walked in on her and Xena have been pure fucking torture.
I go stone-hard just walking through my own damn house and catching the scent of her body wash. Hell, my dick twitched in my jeans yesterday when I saw her coffee cup in the sink. I barely resisted the urge to fuck her as a reminder that dirty dishes go in the dishwasher, not left in the sink for someone else to clean up.
“…and two that stay holed up in the back room.”
My eyes find Briar’s, and I hate the worry in his eyes. He knows I wasn’t paying attention. Not knowing the game plan can be deadly in this business, and he’s already nervous about me being here.
The president isn’t supposed to get his hands dirty, he said to me yesterday when I informed him of my intent to come along tonight.
Cowboy sure as hell never got involved in the street level workings of his club. That’s what his guys were for. Hell, half of the time, he didn’t even want the details.
“One more time,” Briar insists for my benefit, and I pay attention this time when Hornet starts giving the details of the house we’re about to enter.
The police and Ravens Ruin MC are natural enemies. It’s not that we hate every cop everywhere, or that we seek to hurt those that wear a badge, but they tend to interfere with our livelihood. That being said, they do some things right. Just like SWAT, we've dressed alike, all in black so we can identify each other if things go to shit when we make entry. We’re also hitting the trap house right before dawn. It seems to be the only time the tweakers take a fucking break.
“Everyone clear?” Hornet asks as he wraps up.
Everyone nods, and we begin to move into action.
Seven guys showing up at a location on motorcycles is very conspicuous, so we’ve rented two SUVs under one of the clubwhores’ names. TJ assured me earlier that Erin “Legs” Trejo was more than excited to be included in club business in some way. We pile in, Briar driving the SUV I’m in and TJ behind the wheel of the other.
I push every thought out of my head. Blank is the only way around the thoughts that want to leak in. I watch as our line of motorcycles disappears in the side mirror as we drive closer to our destination. I can feel Briar’s eyes on the side of my face each time we catch a red light on the way across town. Even though I’ve had a gut feeling that there’s something he wants to talk to me about, I’ve done my best to ignore him.
Unfortunately, pushing thoughts away and pretending they don’t exist hasn’t made things better.
“These younger generations will never learn,” Boston muses from the back seat as we draw closer. “Pitiful fuckers.”
We all know this intervention on the trap house that has somehow managed to be turned into party central could go very calmly. There’s a chance we can go in there and correct the issue with little to no bloodshed. We all also know it will never happen. The men inside know that an example has to be made and not one of them is willing to make the sacrifice. They will fight to the death, and so will we.
With precision only obtained from years of working together, we make our way down the quiet street and into the yard of our designated location.
“Fuck!” Axe yells when he trips over something in the yard.
Dogs begin to bark, and a security light on a house down the street flashes on.
I’m on the porch beside Briar with TJ just to my right when I spin around and glare at him.
“Idiot,” Briar grumbles as he tugs open the screen door.
“His brother is inside,” TJ hisses in my ear.
“What?” I hold my hand up, indicating to Briar that he needs to wait.
“His brother,” TJ says with his mouth damn near touching my ear. His words are softer than a whisper and only meant for me. Angling his head, he motions toward Axe at the back of the group.
“You wait until now to tell me this shit?”
TJ’s shoulders move behind my body in a quick shrug. “I thought he was loyal until he just pulled that shit.”
His head is exactly where mine went the second he revealed the information on Axe.
“Axe,” I hiss.
His head snaps up, eyes wide before he slowly begins to make his way in my direction.
“Yeah, Prez?” His voice is shaking, trembling with either fear or excitement. There’s only room for one emotion right now, and from the way his eyes are darting from me back to the door repeatedly, I can easily tell he’s worried, either for himself or his brother inside.
He won’t have to worry long though.
“This is your initiation,” I tell him and spin him
into position in front of the door. “Make me proud, and you’ll no longer be wearing a prospect patch.”
“Fuck,” Hornet mumbles quietly. “Good help is so hard to find.”
I don’t have the luxury of considering how much Axe has been helping Hornet in the garage since he first shrugged on his prospect cut. Secrets, big or small, aren’t tolerated in my club. I have half a mind to line up TJ right behind Axe and take my chances considering he’s just now told me about something that had the potential to get all of us killed.
“All you have to do is kick the door in,” I whisper in Axe’s ear. He begins to tremble even more. “We’re right behind you.”
Axe glances over his shoulder, and I don’t know if he’s begging and pleading or saying goodbye to the group like a man.
“Don’t shoot!” he screams just as his boot hits the wood near the doorknob.
Seems he was begging. A man, a true Ravens Ruin member would never give a warning. He would allow his body to be riddled with bullet holes as the fuckers inside focused on him allowing us to focus on them.
The yelled warning in the front yard alerted the men inside just as we’d expected. I don’t know if Axe alerted them before we rolled into town, but he wasn’t privileged to the address until we pulled up down the street.
Axe’s body crumples to the floor just as the sound of bullets stop. The echo of clips being pulled and replaced is our cue to get to work. Briar enters first, and we all file behind him and spread out.
The anticipation, the build-up of things like this is where all of the energy is. It takes seconds before the half dozen people inside are incapacitated. Bloody mist seems to be suspended in the air around us. It combines with the smoke of spent bullets, leading to the familiar scent of destruction.
Gurgling draws my attention, but I don’t even give the guy that was hired to run this house a second of my time.
“Get his cut,” I order before I walk out of the house.
We’ll burn Axe’s leather tomorrow in front of the other members and girls. It’s tradition, but it’s also a way to remind everyone that the only way you’re honored in Ravens Ruin is if you die for the club. They’ll never know the details of what happened tonight. Their minds running wild with all of the possibilities is a much better deterrent.
