Reaper's Property (Reapers MC #1)

by Joanna Wylde

  I snarled at him. How dare he play victim?

  “Max was trying to rape me,” I said, the words cold and hard. “And the only reason I caught a ride home with him was because you were too busy letting some whore grind her skanky crotch against you to notice. I go out one night without you and you can’t keep it in your pants?”

  “Why should I?” he demanded. He shifted his weight forward as he caught my hands, twisting them behind my back and forcing me against him. A sexual thrill ran through me, all mixed up with my anger and the crazy rush of adrenaline making my heart race. I felt his cock, hard and ready, and smelled the mixture of sweat and motor oil that always seemed to follow him. My pussy was a swollen, hot well of need and my panties were sopping. I wanted to bite him and lick him and kick him in the nuts all at the same time.

  “Cookie hasn’t seen her man in months, but when she goes out, she wears his patch,” Horse snarled. “She’s proud to be his old lady. You want me to keep it in my pants, you wear my patch.”

  Horse thrust his hips against me for emphasis and I laughed at him. Then I lunged forward and caught his lip in my teeth, biting, and not a little love nip. He dropped me with a shout and I took off up the stairs. Horse tore after me, catching the back of my shirt as I reached the top, pulling me down three steps and trapping me under his body on my stomach. One hand tangled in my hair, holding my head tight as the other ripped open my fly and jerked my jeans down around my knees, pinning them together. I moaned as he fumbled to free his cock, pushing my ass back at him, feeling my juices run down my leg because I wanted him inside me so badly.

  Then Horse’s dick ripped through me and I screamed.

  What happened next was not gentle and nice and sweet and romantic. Horse tore into me, fucking me so hard I’m surprised nobody got hurt. His hand in my hair hurt, but his cock filled me exactly how I needed it. I don’t know how long it lasted. I’m not even sure how many times I came. I just know that every orgasm I took felt like a victory over him, and when he finally blew into me—hot seed shooting deep into my womb—he shouted and pulled my hair and that turned me on like nothing I’ve ever experienced before in my life.

  Shit…

  I collapsed down on the stairs, cradling my face in my arms as Horse’s cock slowly softened inside me. His harsh, panting breaths echoed in my ears. Then he pulled out, turning and sitting down on the steps below me. I rolled over and looked up at the ceiling.

  “This is really fucked up,” he said, sounded stunned. I knew the feeling. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No,” I replied, running a hand through my hair. I needed to pull up my pants, but it took everything I had not to melt into an exhausted puddle. “I’m fine. I know this is sick, but that was incredible. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  “Yeah.”

  We sat there for I don’t know how long. My heart rate slowed and I started to notice things, like the rough texture of the carpet under my ass and the risers cutting into my back. And how wet I was. Ewww…

  “I think I’m dripping on the rug,” I murmured. Horse gave a short bark of laughter. I looked at him and the complete and utter absurdity of our situation hit me. I couldn’t help myself, a little hysterical giggle started deep down in my chest. I twisted my mouth, trying to keep it in, but it broke free. I laughed harder and harder, my body shaking as Horse watched me like I’d lost my mind. Maybe I had.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, tears building up in my eyes. “But this is beyond crazy. What’s wrong with us? Where do we go from here?”

  Horse shook his head, shrugging.

  “Fuck if I know,” he admitted, and for once he didn’t bother putting on a front. “This is a whole new level of dysfunction for me, and that’s saying something. I don’t want to figure this out tonight. I just want to go to bed and I want you with me. Is that okay? Just for tonight? Can I hold you?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah. Let’s finish fighting tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”

  We stumbled up the stairs and he took my hand, pulling me into his room for the first time. I was too tired to look around. I just pulled off my clothes and fell into the bed. Horse stripped down and climbed in next to me, tucking me into his side. Like always, it made me feel safe.

  How fucked up is that?

  I woke up to find Horse lying next to me, watching as he traced his fingers across my face. He looked thoughtful and tired.

  “I’m not sure ladies’ night was such a hot idea,” I whispered.

  “I’m a dick,” he replied, closing his eyes, face pained. “I’m an asshole and a dick and I shouldn’t have been in that room at the Line. I did it because I was pissed you went out and I wanted to get back at you, which was bullshit. I’m sorry.”

  I looked away, trying not to think of him half naked with that girl, big boobs rubbing all over him. I hated the idea of them together, but I also had to be honest with myself. I’d refused an exclusive relationship with him when he offered, and then I insulted him on top of it. Sure, he’d kidnapped me in return… and then offered to pay for my college.

  Did that make us even or just exceptionally fucked up?

  I really shouldn’t have skipped biker babe orientation, I mused. Next time I’d definitely attend. A little laugh sneaked out and Horse flopped back, groaning.

  “I’m fucked,” he said.

  “Let’s talk this through,” I said, rolling over. Now it was my turn to lean up and look down at him. “We’re not in an exclusive relationship, or at least not one we agreed to together. I’m not even sure we’re in a relationship at all. I don’t know if I have the right to be so pissed at you, but I hated seeing you with that bitch. You have no idea how much I hated it. I didn’t expect that. And I am definitely pissed off about it. I’m pissed off about Max, too.”

  “Do you want the right to be pissed at me, seeing as you’re so good at it?” he asked, mouth quirking. The humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself. “What if we started over? Do you think you could give me another chance?”

  “Do you actually think we could?” I replied. There were so many things between us, so many complicated feelings that I didn’t know how to even begin dealing with them. “Or is it too late? There’s a lot of baggage here. I mean, even if we let all the things between us go, there’s still Jeff.”

  “I don’t want to be your enemy,” he said firmly. “I want to be your man. You make me feel crazy things, Marie, and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want trouble for Jeff, either, but I’ve done everything I can to help him. I can’t do any more, it’s up to him now. I hope you believe that.”

  He dropped his hand down along the length of my body, catching my leg and pulling it up and over his hip. His cock brushed my center and I shivered, like always. His gaze caught mine, full of intensity. “I want you to be my old lady, babe. That’s all I have to offer. I’m a Reaper, and this is my world. You wear my patch, you be my woman and I’ll be your man. We take the good times together and fight through the bad times. No games. That’s everything I’ve got and it’s all yours if you’ll take it.”

  I sighed, trying to think. I wanted it—I wanted him. I still didn’t like the whole property thing. But I’d seen Darcy and Dancer and Cookie in action—they weren’t helpless victims and what they had with their men might be different, but it was good. Much better than I’d had with Gary. That was another whole load of baggage. Horse would be taking on a woman who was still married to another man, a woman with no assets and no skills.

  I guess it just came down to a leap of faith.

  “I want to try,” I said slowly, holding his gaze. “If we do it, I think we need to give each other a fresh start. Only look forward, leave all the past behind us. Let go of the anger. Otherwise we could spend the next year fighting over things we can’t change.”

  “That works for me,” he replied, face still grave. “But I need to know—are you ready to wear my patch? That’s how it works in the club,
babe, and there’s no leaving the club. If you can’t live with that, I’ll find another place for you to stay until this shit with your brother resolves. It’ll kill me, but I’ll do it. I’m ready to let you go if that’s what you need. No strings.”

  “I want to be with you,” I said, reaching down to run my fingers along the length of his rapidly hardening cock. I moved my mouth toward his, letting my lips hover over his. “I’ll be your old lady and I’ll wear your patch. But if you ever let some bitch shove her tits in your face again, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  At that, I wrapped my fingers around his dick and squeezed a little too tight for comfort.

  “Noted,” Horse said, smiling against my mouth. “You got a gun?”

  I laughed, shaking my head, brushing my lips against his.

  “Okay, we’ll take care of that today,” he said, nuzzling my mouth. “Gonna fuck you first though. Honest to God, you wouldn’t believe the checklist I’ve got in my head for us to work through.”

  Horse wasn’t kidding about the checklist. We got a good start on it, but after a couple hours I needed a break for food. We ate breakfast together and cleaned up, basking in each other’s presence.

  Then he took me out to the barn and I learned he wasn’t kidding about the gun either.

  “Okay, hold it straight like I showed you. Left hand down low to brace your right. Keep your finger off the trigger until you line up the sights. Good. Now put your finger on the trigger and pull back until it just stops. Double-check your aim and fire.”

  I shot the little semi-automatic .22 pistol at the hay bale target three times, then pulled my finger off the trigger like he’d taught me and pointed the gun at the ground.

  “You like it?” Horse asked, looking pleased with himself. He’d presented me with the pistol like it was a diamond ring or something. Probably best not to think about that too much.

  “It kicks ass,” I said, because it did. Firing it made me feel sort of powerful and tough. “But are you sure it’s big enough? Those are really tiny little bullets, Horse. If I’m gonna be a badass biker chick, shouldn’t I have a bigger gun?”

  “A .22 was big enough to kill Bobby Kennedy,” he replied, and I stopped smiling and raised my brows.

  “Damn.”

  “No shit. Honestly, it’s about accuracy, not size, babe.”

  “Did I seriously just hear you, Marcus ‘Horse’ McDonnell, tell me it’s not about size?”

  “Yeah,” he said, ignoring my little jab. “It’s true it doesn’t have the stopping power that a bigger gun does, but I’d be more afraid of a woman with a .22 who really knows how to shoot than a man with a .45 he bought because his dick’s too small. It’s not like the movies, Marie. A handgun isn’t gonna stop someone in his tracks unless you hit something important, not even a big handgun. You need a shotgun for that. It’s just physics.”

  “So even this little thing could kill someone,” I asked, looking at the pistol with new respect. I handed it to him very carefully. “It looks like a TV prop or something, you know?”

  “No shit,” he replied. “I want you to practice with it, really get used to it. We’ll do it every day. Just remember, you ever point this at a person, you shoot it right at his heart and you shoot to kill. Never point a gun unless you’re ready to end a life. And don’t fool yourself that you can shoot them in the foot or some such shit. If it’s bad enough to shoot, it’s bad enough to kill. And nobody’s that good a shot anyway.”

  “What about that night at the party?” I asked, my voice soft.

  “What about it?” he asked, grabbing another, larger pistol out of his bag and sliding in the magazine with a click.

  “You pointed a gun at that man. You didn’t kill him, you shot next to him. But you could have killed him.”

  “Yep, I could’ve,” he said. “I got real lucky that night because when he shot near you, he didn’t hit you. Then he got lucky, because I put him in the same situation and he didn’t get hit either. The difference is, he chose to pull his gun on a bunch of innocent women at a party. Then he chose to pull the trigger three times. No excuse for that. He deserved more than he got.”

  “You’re scary sometimes, you understand that, right?”

  Horse grinned at me, leaning over to kiss my nose.

  “Try the .38, little Miss I-don’t-know-if-my-gun-is-big-enough. It’s what I like to carry—big enough to do some damage, but small enough to be discreet.”

  I picked it up. This one was heavier and my hand shook just a little as I aimed it. I lined up the sights, braced my body with one foot back and pulled the trigger. The pistol bucked and while I didn’t lose control, I didn’t like how it felt either. The gun seemed kind of wild to me, and I decided an even larger one would probably knock me on my ass.

  “I see what you mean,” I said. “That one’s harder to hold.”

  “Yup,” he said. “And they have more kick as you go up. I’d rather see you with a gun that feels comfortable. Otherwise you might hesitate to use it when you need it. It’s your choice and if I don’t have what you want, we’ll go find it.”

  “I want to try the .38 one more time,” I said. He nodded, and I took my stance. This time when I shot, the shell casing flew back and hit my face, bouncing down my neck and into my cleavage.

  “Holy shit!” I yelled, dropping the gun and jumping round, trying to shake the hot metal out of my clothing. It slid around, burning me until I managed to pull my bra away from my body and the shell casing fell to the ground.

  “Jesus, Marie!” Horse said, picking up the gun. “You drop a gun like that it might go off. You could’ve killed yourself!”

  I stood and looked at him, breathing hard.

  “The casing burned me,” I said, my voice faint.

  “Honey, that sucks, but it’ll hurt a lot more if you shoot yourself. Or me. If you’re gonna shoot me, I want to do something to earn it first. Seems only fair.”

  “I think I’ll stick with the .22,” I said, biting my lip. He set down the gun and then shook his head, smiling at me.

  “You’re not boring, you know that?”

  “But you like that about me, right?” I asked hopefully.

  “Yeah, I like it,” he replied, leaning down to kiss me. “Now practice loading your gun so you can shoot it some more. If you ever need it, I want it to be more than a paperweight.”

  “Do you seriously think I’ll need a gun? Is life as an old lady really that rough?”

  He shook his head.

  “Probably not,” he replied. “No more than life is rough for any woman, depending on her circumstances. It’s an ugly world. But if you know how to use one, and you take it seriously, it’s not going to hurt you. You don’t and you need it? I couldn’t live with that, Marie. Shit, you needed it last night.”

  That sobered me.

  “What about Max?” I asked. “What happens with him?”

  “That’s club business,” he replied. “You don’t ask—you trust me to take care of it. He’ll be punished and he definitely won’t bother you again. If he does, I’ll kill him.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” I whispered. “You’d really kill him?”

  “He fucks with you, he’s dead. That’s the way it is. Enough questions—now show me how you load your gun, babe. We’re gonna practice every day until you’re comfortable with it, can do it without thinking. This gun is part of you now. You got me?”

  “I got you.”

  “Oh baby, you have no idea,” he replied ruefully, brushing back my hair and tucking it behind my ear. “No idea at all. Now let me watch you shoot. Chicks with guns are hot.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  December 10—Three Months Later

  I’d love to say that things got easy after that. That every day was a new, perfect adventure and life with Horse was like living in a Disney movie with motorcycles instead of carriages.

  That would be a big fat lie.

  Horse had been by himself for a long time,
and he was in need of the occasional attitude adjustment. I’d already lived with one asshole and I wasn’t in the market for another one. He claimed I could be a raging bitch myself. I can’t say he was wrong about that, but it was never boring.

  For every bad time we had there were ten good ones, and they were very, very good. Horse and I had been working through his list of fantasies and I could attest to the fact that using the pink vibrator with him was a lot more fun than using it on my own. Gary had been a slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am kind of guy. Horse was creative and the only thing he liked more than fucking me was making me come.

  This worked for me.

  I didn’t learn what happened to Max. I knew he wasn’t around for all of October and most of November, although he reappeared at the Thanksgiving party, slinking around the Armory like a half-drowned cat, all grumpy and defensive. The rest of the club seemed to ignore it, so I did too. It was okay. Not quite as good as castrating him with a dull spoon would have been, but life is all about compromises, right?

  Especially life in the Reapers MC.

  That was another thing I had to get used to. I hadn’t just moved in with Horse at his house. I’d moved into the club, which was as much a family as he’d said, although they were a really weird family. The heart of the club was the Armory, a place I kept hearing about but couldn’t quite wrap my head around until I saw it the first time. Maggs called one morning to let me know we were having an impromptu barbeque. I was supposed to make a “shitload of that fuckin’ great potato salad” (a direct quote from Picnic) and be ready at four when she’d come and get me.