by K. S. Ellis
Tammy-Lynn pretty much picked everything here, except the new artwork that is adorning the walls. I maybe got a bit into our shopping spree and picked those. There's a huge framed print of a motorcycle, and also a framed print of a hawk in the middle of catching its prey. I look around the room, with its new pine colored wooden furniture, lavender walls, and thick cream coverlet. Yeah. I’m so fucking dead.
Chapter 19
ARIC
The music in our nightclub is so loud that I swear I can hear the thudding bass in my eyeballs. When we slide into our reserved booth, away from the dance floor and slightly elevated so that we can see everything in the club, the noise lessens somewhat, so that we can hear ourselves talk without having to raise our voices too much. We have to occasionally do the rounds and show our faces in both our nightclub and our strip club, to remind people who they belong to, and keep them in line when they are in our establishments. Conrad has tagged along with Bruiser, Killer, and me, since he has a massive crush on Julianna, who runs this place. His face lights up when Julianna appears at our table, her platinum blonde hair catching the lights of the DJ booth, making it seem to dance garish colors. She smiles down at us and her long, red fingernails drag up my arm as she leans down to talk to us, flashing her cleavage in her low cut top.
'We've had good takings this week,' she simpers, shaking her tits slightly, and then she slides into the booth next to me and keeps sliding until she’s pressed up against my side. Conrad looks a little put out at her actions, but Bruiser and Killer just snicker at her eagerness.
I have no idea what it is about fucking a woman a few times that makes her think that you want more. Especially a woman who has fucked most of my brothers. Hell, I've actually seen her with my own eyes at the clubhouse with both Killer and Bruiser buried balls deep in her. At different times of course, since you couldn't fucking pay those two to share. She still latches onto me in a clingy, almost possessive way which just fucking pisses me off. With her practically humping my arm, I can smell her strong perfume, which gets up my nostrils, making me want to sneeze. I almost sigh with longing or some shit just thinking about Lena's slight floral and berries smell. Like Lena herself, her scent is sweet, but not overpowering.
Reaching over, I pry her fingers off my arm, one at a time, and she seems to get the hint, because as Julianna’s hand falls away from my arm she slumps back slightly, before a determined look crosses her face.
'Your mother was in here today,' she tells me, playing with her hair and thrusting out her tits. 'Picking up the bank bag.' I just nod. Mom's here every week, doing just that. Not sure what's so fucking special about today. 'She had the new girl with her.' Ah, that's why she's so put out, Lena was here. Conrad is staring at Julianna like he's fucking lovesick, and Killer seems more interested in watching the gyrating women on the dance floor, but Bruiser is clearly paying attention to this conversation, because he's smirking at me right now. As I flip the fucker off, Julianna stands up again, and pouts and crosses her arms under her tits, pushing them up further.
'I suppose if I want attention from the club these days, I need to walk around in kitten heels and a pussy bow.' What the fuck are kitten heels and a pussy bow? Killer's eyes snap back to her, so he was listening in after all. They zero in on her crotch, which is almost visible, since her bandage dress is so fucking short. Lena manages to look sexy as fuck without flashing her bare skin at every fucking person she sees. Not sure why Julianna can’t figure how to do the same.
'You can show me your pussy bow any time you like,' Killer drawls at her, a slow smile crossing his lips and Julianna scowls at him, snapping her fingers in his face.
'A pussy bow is when you have a giant fucking bow hanging from your nun-like neckline,' she snaps, gesturing at her throat.
'Like Lena's dark blue dress,' Conrad pipes up, but that is not how he should have joined the conversation if he's trying to get into Julianna's panties, because she throws her scowl at him.
'Yes, the dress she was wearing today when she and your mother were late,' she snaps, turning back to me. 'I had to wait for them for hours. Hours when I could have been doing the job you fucking pay me for.' I let her rant, which seems to piss her off more. Finally, Killer asks the question that she was clearly angling to have me ask.
'Why were they so late?' he frowns.
'Because,' Julianna tosses her hair and looks triumphantly at me, 'they were too busy spending all the club's money downtown so that Lena could buy all new furniture for Aric's bedroom at the clubhouse.' She's just standing there; hand on her jutted-out hip, staring at me like I'm supposed to explode or something. True, the one time that I fucked Julianna in that room I kicked her out immediately, spouting some shit about my room being sacred, but that was just because I don't let club groupies sleep in there. When my expected outburst doesn't come, she deflates a little.
'I said that she was -' she starts again.
'Yeah,' I cut her off, narrowing my eyes. 'I heard what you fucking said.' Her face falls further, and the other three trade glances. 'I fucking told her this morning that she could change whatever the fuck she wanted, since she was bitching about the sofa.' She opens her mouth, like she wants to say more, but then closes it tightly. Guess she’s not as fucking thick as she acts.
'I'll have your drinks brought over,' she says sulkily, and melts away into the crowd. Killer goes back to watching the crowd, and Bruiser is watching my face with interest, but I don't particularly want to look that cunt in the motherfucking creepy eyes right now, so I follow Killer's gaze.
'Julianna was only looking out for the club,' her lapdog decides to fucking defend her right now. Wrong fucking move for the club's newest member to make to its VP. Killer smacks his brother upside his head, eyes still focused on the dance floor, but I narrow my eyes at Conrad.
'She went shopping with my fucking mother, you really think for one second that Mom didn't pull out her credit card and pay for it all herself? You fucking know that she's been wanting to do over our clubhouse rooms for years.'
As I approach the door to my room, my feet slow and I wonder just how bad it can be. From what Julianna was implying, they spent hours just shopping for this shit. I let the door swing open and step inside, letting it close behind me. It's fucking purple. Like, pale, girly, purple. I have a girly, fucking purple room. I just stand there, slowly turning 360 degrees taking it all in. It actually looks pretty fucking good. But it does not look like a bedroom at an MC clubhouse, especially not the VP's bedroom. The bed is still the same size, in the same place, but it's not a four poster anymore, it's understated, and elegant, and pine. With comfy looking pillows and a thick cream comforter, and there's fucking throw pillows. Six of them, and they're purple to match the walls. The black leather three-seater sofa is now a light blue fabric three-seater, with rigid armrests and, admittedly, large comfortable looking sofa cushions, and another four fucking purple throw pillows. The desk and dresser and bedside tables match the pine bed, and the lamps on the bedside tables have cream fucking lampshades. I do like the framed artwork though. A gorgeous fucking motorcycle is above the dresser by the door, facing the bed. And above the new sofa is a huge picture of a hawk, swooping to collect a running rabbit, the photo snapped when the hawk’s talons are inches away from the rabbit’s back.
'Is it okay?' a soft voice has me spinning to the bathroom door. 'Your momma went a bit crazy, I tried to stop her.' She's still speaking softly, as though I'm a rabid dog about to bite her. I open my mouth to respond, but the words get lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth, and I end up standing there like a fucking idiot with my mouth hanging open.
She's a fucking vision. She's wearing another lacy lingerie nightie. This one is a dark purple, with sleeves down to her elbows. The intricate lace patterns come over her shoulders and cup her perky tits, and it's tied just under those tits, but then it falls open, like a fucking robe. Her matching lacy panties barely cover anything, and the see-through material of the dress/robe t
hing finishes just below her crotch. She's toying with the hem, which is lifting it up slightly, and I cross to her, my eyes glued to her body, as she stands frozen to the spot.
Licking my lips as I reach her, I lift my hand up and slowly pull the ribbon to undo the bow under her tits, and watch as the robe falls open, leaving her entire front bare to me, save that tiny scrap of lace pretending to be panties. Her breathing hitches as I move my hands up to cup her tits, running my thumbs over her nipples, before bending my head to capture first one, and then the other in my mouth.
Lena moans as my teeth toy with her nipple, before I move my lips up her throat, and latch them onto hers. As my tongue moves slowly in and out of her mouth, demonstrating the movement my cock is about to be making, she moans again, running her hands up my arms before locking them around my neck. I break the kiss briefly to get rid of my pointless shirt, and then lift her up before walking over to the brand new sofa and taking a seat, bringing her down so that she's straddling my lap, grinding against the bulge in my jeans.
'So, you don't mind it then,' Lena pants, as I kiss my way up her neck again, fastening my lips onto that spot behind her ear that I know drives her wild.
'I don't mind it,' I murmur honestly, swirling my tongue over the flesh there, and my nose is filled with that berry smell of hers. She moves her hands to tangle her fingers through my hair, and fabric brushes against my cheek. I pull back and see a fabric bandage wrapped around her wrist. Frowning, I move to pull it away, to see her wound that wasn’t there this morning when I left her here, and she tries to tug her arm away from me.
'Your momma got Cockerel to tattoo me,' she grimaces. 'It's a bit tender, so don't touch it, please.' She sounds so prim and proper with her request, that I smirk, but I drop her arm and run my hands up her sides, brushing the outsides of her tits instead.
'Why on earth did my Mom get you a tattoo?' I chuckle, more to distract her than because I want to know. She shrugs, sighing when my mouth latches on to her neck again.
'I'm not sure,' she breathes. 'I think it had something to do with the incident at the strip club with that Phoenix club member.' I pull away, frowning, and she pouts. Normally that would have me smirking, but what fucking incident? At the moment I'm willing to put aside the fact that there are members from the Phoenix, AZ chapter in town that haven't presented themselves at the clubhouse, a major insult in itself. But if Mom was there, then Dad already knows, and he's the Prez, so he can deal with it. I’m more interested in what the fuck happened that made Mom run off and get a tattoo put on my fucking girl?
'What incident?' I growl, and Lena blinks, surprised.
'Oh,' she shrugs. 'It was nothing, really,' she's trying hard to convince me, but I'm still sitting here, pretty un-fucking convinced. 'He tried to grope me, but your momma told him off, then we left, and went to see Cockerel.' Then she giggles slightly, fucking giggles like she hasn't just told me that a Wild Hawk tried to fucking touch her. 'When your momma told him that I was with you, he didn't believe her. He said that you wouldn't be with someone who dresses like me.' She looks worried again and her voice is small. 'Should I dress differently?' Fuck this shit for making her feel fucking insecure. She can dress exactly how the fuck she dresses now. I fucking like her sexy little Southern belle look, because everyone who sees that doesn't get to see her how she fucking looks now.
I stand quickly, holding her up with me, before dropping her onto the sofa. Lena starts to scramble up, looking confused, when I strip, kneel down on the sofa in front of her, tugging her legs so that they are resting on my shoulders, and tear her panties in two before thrusting in hard. She grunts with the force of my thrust, her back slamming into the back of the sofa. I grip the flesh at her hip with one hand, the other holding onto her calf as it jerks next to my head in time with my punishing thrusts. Her breath comes out in small pants and moans, as her pussy contracts around my cock.
'You. Are. Mine,' I growl, in time with each thrust. 'No one. Else. Fucking. Touches. You.' Her eyes lock on mine, and I can see she's about to fucking come. Not before she fucking says it though. 'Say. It,' I growl through clenched teeth. 'You. Are. Fucking. Mine.'
'I'm yours,' she gasps out, her orgasm crashing over her. 'I'm fucking yours, Aric.' Hearing that out of her sweet lips as she comes tips me over the edge and I thrust hard into her once more, stilling as I come too. After pulling out, I collapse onto the sofa, pulling her to my chest, as she trembles and tries to get her breathing under control.
'I fucking mean it, Lena,' I pant into her hair. 'You're mine.' She doesn't speak for a moment, and then she tilts her head back and smirks at me.
'Yeah,' she says, 'I kind of figured I was,' and she tugs the bandage at her wrist off, holding up the fresh tattoo for me to see. It's the club insignia, but underneath it is a single word. Aric. Holy fucking shit. I may be absolutely fucking spent, but suddenly I'm fucking rock hard again. She's branded with my fucking name.
I pick Lena up and walk her over to the bed, dropping her in the middle before quickly crossing to the door to shut off the light, then I head back to her, crawling onto the bed and kissing her, pushing her back into the fucking multitude of throw pillows. She giggles against my lips as they fall onto our fucking heads.
'Too many fucking pillows,' I murmur into her mouth, swallowing her giggles.
'Noted,' she murmurs back, and I roll us over so that she's straddling me, and she grins, before sliding down slowly, impaling herself on my cock. I groan as she begins to move slowly, fucking torturing me with that sweet, tight pussy of hers. I groan as Lena starts to pick up the pace, her tits beginning to bounce as she finds her rhythm and rides me. Her fingers twine with mine and she tips her head back, her honey blonde hair spilling down her back, her sexy purple robe hanging off her shoulders. The sight is almost enough to unman me, and I'm pretty fucking sure if I hadn't just come, I wouldn't have been able to hold on. Fuck me, but she's so fucking sexy. Her head tips forward and her eyes meet mine as I see her orgasm broadcast across her face.
'Aric,' she moans, finding her release, and I drop her hands, which fall to my chest as she braces through her shudders. Gripping her hips, I start moving her, thrusting up into her as I come again. Lena slumps down onto me, and I roll us onto the side, so that I'm cuddling her. I've never been a fucking spooner, but even in my sleep I can't seem to fucking get enough of her, so here we fucking are.
Chapter 20
LENA
My weekly salon appointment has come around again, and I don't really need the massage this time, since I'm now sleeping in a bed, and a brand new one, at that. I'm so glad that I let Tammy-Lynn buy a new mattress. At the time it seemed like such a wasted expense, but now that I've had sex with Aric on it, I'm definitely thankful that it, and the sofa, and all the other furniture in that room is new. I never really thought about it before, but he has probably had sex with other women on all that old stuff.
I wrinkle my nose in disgust as I cross from my car to the salon, but a hand grabs my upper arm, stopping me in my tracks. I frown, turning, and see that it's Cory. Shit. Since apparently the club is sure that no one will touch me with my new tattoo, Conrad isn't following me anymore. They said there was no point since I just went to the same salon and then did some shopping and came back to the clubhouse.
'Lena,' he looks me up and down and I'm so thankful that I decided to wear my jeans and a tee shirt today, since I was going to get a haircut, and this is just more comfortable to sit in to have my hair washed and styled.
'Let go of me, Cory,' I tell him, a warning coloring my tone, but he just looks around and then smirks.
'No biker chaperone today then?' Something in his tone makes me feel ice cold. Looking him over more carefully, I can see it’s not just his eyes that are tight this time. His whole face seems tense. His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, like he’s slightly disheveled, and his eyes are a little wild.
'I'm late for an appointment,' I tell him, trying to wrench my arm from
his grasp. Sometimes it fucking sucks to be the weaker sex, you know. His fingers tighten painfully and he hauls me closer to him.
'I don't think you are. You're coming for a drink with me and you're going to listen to what I have to say.' The wild look in his eyes feels dangerous, and I can see that he's really close to losing it, so I just nod and let him drag me along until we get to the strip club owned by the Wild Hawks. Cory drags me inside and deposits me in a booth, flagging down a waitress to bring us two scotches. Hannah is the bartender today, and I can see her watching us with interest. If I can just get a signal to her, maybe she can call the club and someone can come and get me. Or, even better, maybe one of the guys will be hankering for an eleven AM lap dance and come wandering in. Chance would be a fine thing.
Our scotches arrive, and Cory dismisses the waitress with a wave of his hand, before taking a slug of his drink, and then leans towards me.
'I need information on your "master",' he hisses, and my eyes narrow. I assume he means Aric, but he has seriously misrepresented whatever it is we have going on. But then again, he did sell me to Wild Hawks as a sex slave, so I guess he has a picture in his mind. It's not really his fault that we're not living up to his sordid ideal. At least, my heart stutters, we don’t seem to be. I mean, when Aric made me say that I was his, that didn’t feel like he was saying that I was his sex slave, more that I was his. That makes no sense, but somehow, it makes complete sense. He also wasn’t upset about his name being tattooed on me. In fact, I think that was a major turn on for him. But I need to stop analyzing my runaway freight train feelings for Aric right now and focus on Cory and his craziness.
'I don't know what you mean,' I roll my eyes at him, sitting back in my chair, sipping my scotch as though I don't have a care in the world. Cory reaches out and grabs my wrist, tugging it sharply so that I'm forced to lean in closer to him over the table.
