Turning Wheels (Satan's Devils MC #1): A Blood Brothers Spin off

by Manda Mellett

Drum’s slapping Spider on the back, and I’ve no doubt we’ll be patching him in. Probably very soon, he’ll certainly get my vote.

  When the prez has finished with him, I beckon him over, and grasp his shoulder with my free hand, squeezing it to show my heartfelt appreciation, “Thank you.”

  He looks at the ground, “Couldn’t have done it without your ol’ lady’s help, VP. You’ve got a smart one there.”

  Now, this story I have to hear, but it will have to be later. Still holding her hand, I go into the clubhouse, my eyes widening at the carnage inside, but I’ve got admiration for the expert way in which the men were taken out. The attire and equipment of two of the bodies suggest to me they were professionals, and Spider again goes up in my estimation. Silencers are attached to the weapons, explaining how they got to Adam with no one else being aware.

  Sophie’s hiding her face in my side, so I don’t linger, but go on through to the kitchen. There are three women sitting around the table, all looking worse for wear, Sandy with her head in her hands. Crystal’s walking around with a tray, giving out bottles of water. The mood is sombre. There’s been a death here today.

  Doc comes over, Drum’s followed us in. Glancing up at our retained medic, he indicates the old ladies.

  Doc nods, “They were given some sort of sedative, all seem to have put up a bit of a fight, but they’ve got bumps and scrapes, nothing major. Mouse has a concussion.” He closes his eyes for a second then opens them, his face crestfallen, “Adam was gone when I got here; he didn’t have a chance.”

  “Stay here with Crystal for a minute?” I ask Sophie. She obviously wants to stay by my side, but I need to talk to Peg. I’m proud when she only has a second’s hesitation before nodding and moving away.

  I touch Doc’s arm, and jerk my head towards my woman, he follows me into the club room, his eyes narrowing as they fall on the bodies lying sprawled in the middle of the floor. He answers my question without me having to voice it, “She’s a strong woman, your Wheels,” he starts, “But what’s gone down here today would be tough on anyone. Keep your eye on her, and don’t be surprised if she lets it all out later on. She’s in shock, but I don’t think I have to treat her. Get some food into her, hell, give her a drink. But most of all, just be here for her. She’s going to come down with a bang once the adrenaline wears off. Fuck, we all are. Don’t normally have this trouble on our fuckin’ doorstep.”

  “Thanks, Doc.” As he goes back to treat his patients, I go over to Peg.

  “Spider took care of this better than I would have expected.” He kicks at one of the prone figures. “I’ll grab Marsh when he’s back and Blade, and we’ll get these fuckers out of our damn clubhouse.”

  At that moment, a loud roar of engines signals the brothers are returning, and for the next hour or so it’s all bringing them up to speed as they come back in, their staggered departure from Phoenix meaning we have to go over it a number of times. A red-faced Spider gets more and more overwhelmed by all the attention he’s getting. I doubt anyone will be voting against him when the time comes.

  A week later and again we gather along with our other charters at another funeral, and I for one hope it will be the last for quite some while.

  Adam’s final farewell marks the end of this period in the club’s history. There’s been no approach from any of the remaining Demons or their associates, and Sophie’s last threat is rotting in the ground, high up in the forest.

  As I watch my woman organise the sweet butts and assist the other old ladies making sure all the visiting members are adequately catered for, it hits me how she’s started to fit into our environment. Trouble’s come too close to our door, but instead of rolling over, she’s stepped up to the mark, being quick to offer comfort and support to the other women who should have been able to feel protected in the safety of their own club. Unfortunately, we’ve lost one, Ella having made the decision that biker cock was not worth everything that came along with it, and to Slick’s great disappointment, is back living a civilian life in town. I know it’s hurt him, but it takes a special woman to adapt to this life. One just like mine.

  We’ve learned our lesson, never to leave the compound so unguarded again, and resolved to increase the number of members in the mother charter but, as I’ve found today, despite our recent issues, a few brothers from other chapters would be more than happy to patch over. We’ll also need more prospects now.

  Of course, as I expected, Spider was voted in and gained a new road name, Shooter. The way he protected my woman and killed the intruders have made him a man we’re all happy to call brother. Poor Marsh, now our only prospect, is being run ragged trying to keep all the members happy. Of course, we’re all being understanding. Not. Uh uh.

  Deep in contemplation, the hefty slap on my back startles me.

  “How ya doin’, brother?”

  I shrug, “It’s been a shock to all of us, Red.”

  “Well, I helped where I could.” I know, his ambush on the drug runners was successful, and I thank him for taking some of the Demons off our back.

  “How’s Sophie copin’? She gonna be hangin’ around?”

  Now that’s what I’ve been wondering. Worrying about. Now that it’s safe for her to go back to England, after everything that’s gone down, will she still want to stay? I’m not a man who allows himself to have doubts, but about her? Nothing much frightens me in this life, but I’ve been too afraid to broach this particular subject.

  So I shrug, and tell him the other thing on my mind, “Not sharin’ her again, Red.”

  He eyes me astutely, “Didn’t expect you too, brother. If I had someone like her, I wouldn’t want any fucker to touch her either. Even you.”

  I don’t want him to feel bad, “But it helped mend her.” And that’s the other problem; she is mended. She’ll never get her leg back, but mentally she’s in a good place. And physically? Well, she’s independent enough and now she’s no longer in danger she can go where she likes and do what she wants.

  And then she passes me, giving me a warm smile to Red which I notice doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but pauses to place a kiss on my cheek. She’s got a plate of food in her arms and is managing to get through the jostling throng without too many problems. Just that brief touch of her lips has me hardening.

  Red notices me adjusting myself, and chuckles, “She’s somethin’, your woman. You want my opinion? If she hasn’t already run for the hills, I doubt she’ll be doin’ so. Takes a lot for someone to stay after goin’ through somethin’ like that.”

  “I’m not so sure, Red; she’s full of guilt over what happened. First Hank, then Adam.”

  “Shit happens in our world.”

  He’s not wrong there.

  As night falls, the clubhouse begins to get rowdier, and after excusing myself to Drum, I take Sophie back to our room, for once feeling nervous as I lead her inside. Tonight I’ll be asking her the question, but if she’s going to give me the answer I dread, I’m going to be inside her first.

  As soon as we’re inside the door, I undo the zip on the black top she’s worn today, a mark of respect for the dead. She makes no protest as I slide the material down her arms, leaving it to pool on the floor. Reaching my hands around I undo the front fastening on her bra, letting her breasts fall free.

  Chapter 31

  Sophie

  Wraith seems to be at odds with himself tonight, devastated at burying another of his brothers, I expect. He’s holding me to him, teasing my nipples, but there’s desperation there. He takes on the blame for leaving me alone that day; I blame myself, for bringing yet more trouble to their door. We’re a screwed up couple, and I don’t know where we go from here.

  His hands are clutching at me, as though he never wants to let me go, his hard cock is pressing into my arse, and though I know we should talk, right now a conversation is the last thing on my mind. His fingers are trailing down my stomach now, leaving a path of tingling skin in their wake, he makes every part of m
e feel alive.

  As he undoes the button and takes down the zip, he puts his hands inside my underwear.

  “You’re wet for me, darlin’”

  I groan in response and, putting my arm up, rest my fingers against the back of his head and try to pull him down to me. I want his mouth, and he doesn’t disappoint. Turning me to face him, he brings his lips to mine and our mouths press together. Running his tongue along the seam, he demands entry. The day’s been difficult, another funeral, another goodbye and the way we kiss seems a celebration we’re alive. Our tongues meet and swirl together, our tastes mingling until it’s hard to tell them apart. I put all of me into that kiss, reaffirming my love for him.

  When he pulls away a moan of protest escapes my lips. He smiles an enigmatic smile, then lowers his head to lave attention on my peaking nipples, his touch one of worship, making me feel special.

  In no hurry, he uses his teeth, giving a little bite then soothing with a slide of his tongue, first one erect tip, and then the other. My clit is throbbing with need, my muscles spasming as he continues his exquisite torture.

  “I need you,” I gasp.

  He pushes his hips into me, “I need you too.”

  Now he’s lifting me, placing me on the bed. With an economy of movement he removes my black trousers, and then makes quick work freeing me from the prosthesis. He places a kiss to my stump, proving, once again, that he couldn’t care less about my disability. He stands back, admiring the view, stroking himself through his jeans. As if a switch has been thrown, in one move he pulls off his cut and T-shirt toes off his boots and removes his jeans. My eyes widen as he stands there in his boxers, and seeing my reaction, he hooks his fingers in the waistband and slides them down his legs, taking his socks off with them as he reaches his ankles.

  Standing naked before me, he affords me a moment to admire the view, and a smirk comes to his face as my tongue comes out to lick my lips.

  I sit up, reaching out my hands, wanting to touch him. He considers my unspoken offer, decides to accept coming forwards so I can take his cock in my hands. It’s not new to me, but will never grow old, his dick twitches when I touch it, almost as though it’s got a life of its own. I suck in my bottom lip, my teeth biting down on it and swallow as I salivate at the thought of his taste in my mouth.

  Coming closer, he puts his hand round the back of my head, “Suck me, darlin’.”

  He doesn’t need to ask twice. Opening my mouth I take him inside, first just the tip, licking the pre-cum that’s oozing out, relishing the flavour that’s uniquely him. My actions are making me even wetter than I was before.

  As he presses my head forwards, gently fisting his hands in my hair, I open wider, taking him in further, allowing him to control the pace. He begins to thrust in and out, gently, not forcing me, and I fondle his balls which themselves seem to swell in my hands. As he pulls out, I massage his shaft before he pushes back in again. The rhythm we’ve adopted soon has him warning me he’s about to come. I don’t stop, and soon rivers of cum shoot down my throat. I lick him clean before pulling away.

  “Fuck, darlin’. That felt so good.” He leans down and kisses me, ravishing my mouth.

  Pushing me back onto the bed, he skates down and pulls my legs apart, and I whimper in expectation. He breathes a warm breath, and I arch off the bed, already so sensitive and aroused he doesn’t even need to touch me to tighten that bundle of nerves. Gently placing a first, then a second finger inside me he curls them around, expertly finding that spot he’s learned so well. Massaging me gently, I feel a slow build of tension tightening my muscles.

  Next, he lowers his mouth, his tongue swirling, teasing, flicking lightly over my clit. My back bows as I try to push up, a desperate hint I need more pressure, but instead he pulls away.

  “Want to feel you come around me.”

  “But I’m so close,” I complain with a whine.

  “Patience,” he whispers.

  He pulls his fingers out, and I feel the bed dip as he reaches over me to the drawer which is now always fully stocked with condoms. There’s a gleam in his eyes as he tears open the packet, and I can’t tear my gaze away as he expertly smooths the latex over cock which has risen to the occasion once again. He pumps it slowly, noticing me watching him carefully, smirking, content in the knowledge of exactly what he’s doing to me.

  Lifting my hips he positions himself and then starts pushing inside, my arousal, which hadn’t diminished while he’d been preparing himself, increases rapidly to new highs. As he presses inside an involuntary whimper escapes my lips as he stretches me, a delicious burn that makes me feel alive.

  Then he thrusts home, touching my cervix and my muscles clench at his shaft, he rolls his head back at the sensation, for a moment keeping still. The scent of our joined sex reaches my nostrils, and I inhale deeply, the heavy breathing and soft moans, sounds of our lovemaking reach my ears. I can still taste him in my mouth; there’s not one of my senses that isn’t full of him.

  As he starts to move, sliding in and out, long deep slow strokes I lose myself, unable to think of anything but the pleasure he brings. My womb’s contracting, my legs feel weak, it’s a slow build that’s taking me higher than I’ve ever been before. I don’t know how long he sensually tortures me, but just when I feel I can take no more he picks up the pace, thrusting into me. My head thrashes on the pillow in frustration as I need, I need…

  And he knows, his fingers begin to strum my clit, flicking over it again and again and then, at last, giving me that pinch that takes me over the top.

  I scream. My muscles grasp at his length, trying to keep him inside. He jerks, once, twice and then again as he empties himself inside me.

  Every fucking time it gets better.

  My eyes have closed; I open them and look into his to see there’s a shadow there.

  Worry causes a reciprocal flash of doubt in mine. Was he saying goodbye?

  His hands come to cup my face, “Sophie, are you alright?”

  We’re still joined; his softening cock not yet slid out of me.

  I hardly want to speak, hardly dare ask, but I’d rather know now, while we’re still so intimately entwined.

  My heart’s beating fast, not only from the exertion but from dread of the answer to the question I’m about to ask, “Where do we go from here, Wraith?” I hardly dare breathe, waiting for his reply.

  My question doesn’t seem to take him by surprise. He lowers his head until his forehead is touching mine.

  Chapter 32

  Wraith

  I knew it. Had felt she was pulling away. All day at the funeral it was as if Sophie had been standing right beside me, but wasn’t really there. As if she was withdrawing, saying goodbye. As we lie, skin to skin, my flaccid cock slipping out of her, regretting I’m not longer able to keep our bodies so intimately joined, I know I’ve got one shot at this to make it right. Does she want this to be the end? Or is that what she expects now the reason for her being here is no longer being valid?

  Where do we go from here? That’s what she asked. I inhale a deep breath, and lift my head, staring down into her lovely blue eyes. “Well,” I start to answer, but already pause, not wanting to rush this. “I thought we’d buy a house off the compound. Like the other brothers with the ol’ ladies.” Her eyes widen. “We’ll get you a car―you’ll have no problem drivin’ an automatic.” Her mouth falls open, “If you want, you can get a job.”

  “Wraith.” She says my name slowly,

  I put my finger to her lips, “If you don’t want to work, that’s fine too. Wouldn’t have a problem pumpin’ this belly full of babies.”

  She’s blushing a deep red, but then a laugh bursts out of her, “Barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, eh?”

  “Works for me.”

  She slaps me on the shoulder, but she’s grinning. She’s fucking grinning. “You want me to stay?”

  “Always have done, darlin’. Anythin’ else was all in your head.”

&nb
sp; “But after everything that’s happened, after the trouble I’ve caused for the club?”

  “You caused no trouble, shit happens, babe,” I repeat the words Red had spoken earlier, they sum everything up. “Ain’t no one here wantin’ you to go. As you’re my ol’ lady, you’re part of the club.”

  While she digests what I’ve told her, I decide to reveal my own insecurity. “Thought you wanted to leave me, darlin’. Thought you’d want to go back to England.”

  Now it’s her hand caressing my cheek, “There’s nothing for me there, nothing I’d want to go back to. I love you. I love Arizona, and I even love the club.” She turns her head away, and then brings it back, “I just hate what I’ve done to it. I thought you’d tell me I had to go.”

  “Never!” As I smile my forceful denial, I think of everything we can do now. Those road trips I’d planned, the home we can make together. Fuck, I’m a lucky man.

  Idly my fingers rub over the back of her hand, her left hand. It’s not the first time this past week that the idea’s come to me, but the thought of tying her to me in every way I can is very attractive. I breathe in deeply, and then take the plunge,

  “Sophie, darlin’, what do you say to bein’ my wife.”

  Her hand covers mine, her blue eyes are shining, her mouth parts slightly, then she closes it and opens it again before getting out the words, “Wraith, are you asking me to marry you?”

  I grin, “Yeah, sorry it’s not a more fancy proposal…”

  And then I can’t speak anymore as her lips are covering mine. After a moment I pull away, “Is that a yes?”

  She laughs, and lightly fists her hand to punch me in the arm, “Maybe I should have made you work harder for it, but life’s too short, isn’t it?” She sobers for a moment, and then that perfect smile lights up her face once again, “Yes, Wraith. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  ****

  It’s a week later; Sophie’s out with the old ladies, and the members are sitting in church. The usual shit being thrown around and Drummer trying to keep order, and it’s back to business as normal. We’re discussing patching-in three members from other charters, and remembering Buster, I give a caution about vetting them carefully.