by Snow, Nicole
Her breath rose, matching mine, her big blue eyes sparkling. Same beautiful eyes I wanted to be looking at when I rocked her ass and spilled my load deep inside her.
She looked at me with that mix of disbelief and desire a woman gets when her body's begging for my dick, but her mind's screaming no.
I rammed my hips into hers, one quick, long stroke, just enough force to make the crappy leather beneath us rock with our combined weight.
“You're mine as long as we're married, woman. That means you follow my lead, and you stop talking back. You start calling me by my proper road name, and you forget all about that troubled kid you grew up with named Austin. He's dead as a fucking doornail. Doing the shit I do makes a man grow up, turns him into a beast.” She squirmed as I pushed my face lower, not stopping 'til our foreheads touched. “Baby, you gotta forget the past. So do I. We need to make this work for peace between our charters and our own damned sanity. Forget all about Austin. You're Asphalt's now. And don't you ever think you can get away with fucking me over or running your mouth with disrespect just because I went soft on you years ago. Got it?”
Her eyes narrowed into a message I heard without the words.
Fuck. You.
Whatever, at least she wasn't giving me shit from those sweet, plump lips anymore. I resisted the urge to crush my mouth on 'em again and devour her, pushed myself up, and staggered back against the mirror. Didn't bother hiding the raging warhead in my pants, about ten minutes of hard fucking away from exploding deep inside her as soon as I ripped her clothes off.
But not here. Not today. As long as she got the fucking message, we could get by – all we needed to make this sham marriage work.
“You heard what I said. Put the lightning on her and do it right.”
Ink Man got back to work. I folded my arms and watched, loving the way he put them around her brand, perfect carbon copies of what I'd worn on my face for years.
Now, she was truly, uniquely mine. Maybe not forever, it was true.
Rings could be taken off. Divorce papers could be signed. Tattoos could be scrubbed away with tears and salt.
But today, I owned her completely. Only a matter of time 'til I took over the rest of that sweet body too.
* * * *
“Come on, babe. Don't hate me forever. I had to show you who's boss back there for good reason, and now that it's through, we can have some fun. Let's make the most of this fucked up honeymoon.”
She wasn't holding me as tight as we rode toward the lodge, just a short jump outside Redding proper. The girl hadn't made a peep since I'd walked her outta the tattoo parlor and back to my bike.
I wasn't worried. I could deal with her shit, especially the silent treatment, just as long as she'd internalized what I'd told her.
Something about little Ell-Bell was different. Couldn't quite pin it down, but she wasn't the same woman anymore.
She'd grown up. Blossomed like girls do when they add brains and experience to their beauty. She didn't flirt, didn't give me those sappy doe eyes, not even when I tipped her back and gave her the kiss I'd been waiting years to plant at the church.
She'd changed, ripened like a rare delicacy I wanted every fucking piece of. The girl was gone. When she wasn't bathing me in pure hate rays, she looked at me like a woman who wanted to fuck. Not a nervous virgin living in daddy's shadow who didn't know what the fuck she wanted.
If I played my cards right, I'd use my dick to slam the hate right outta her system. I'd show her exactly what she wanted. I'd fill every hole 'til she couldn't do anything but scream my name, and I had an Ace up my sleeve because I was Asphalt, the bastard she'd loved before she changed from baby doll into beautiful broad.
Half an hour later, we pulled up at the big lodge. Place was a little too fancy for my tastes, but it had an awesome view. Maybe seeing Mount Shasta would get her extra wet.
“Come on. Helmet off. Let's check our asses in.”
I helped her take off her headgear and then threw it in the back, not missing an opportunity to slap her ass beneath that pretty white fabric.
She glowered. “Don't. I'm not afraid to hit you back if you start treating me like a piece of –“
“Aw, come the fuck on, babe. If you were a piece of ass, I'd have fucked you half a dozen times by now. I'd slap those sweet cheeks three times harder. I'll do whatever the hell I want, and you can try and stop me.”
I grinned, putting on my King Asshole face. Fuck, if I didn't know any better, the look she gave me said she had a dagger hiding between her tits, ready to come out and shank me in the guts.
Good. I wanted to test her limits. I wanted to fuck with her, make her come at me, anything to make her lose control and give me all her hate so I could turn it into sopping wet sex.
Hell, I was already giving her more patience than I'd ever doled out to any girl. They might as well call me King Fucking Midas for turning everything to gold, and if she finally gave me a chance, I'd make her sparkle on my arm for good.
I checked in quick, eyeballing her the entire time as she stood at least five feet away from me. The sorry fuck at the counter learned awhile ago not to look at the brothers like they were animals. The other boys had shown him what this patch meant the last few seasons when they came here with their girls, and the media did the rest.
The Grizzlies were the biggest swinging dicks in NorCal again ever since we'd chased off the cartel. The Prez meant to keep it that way by keeping our Tacoma charter locked down tight, reminding me I was just a cog in a greater machine.
Just like her.
I got our keys from the nervous asshole behind the counter, then grabbed her tense little hand and led her to the elevator. A man could've cut the tension in the small space between us with a goddamned knife. I couldn't wait to get her clothes off and diffuse all that manic energy the best way I knew how.
When we stepped into the room, she walked straight to the window and paused, looking over the darkening mountains. Elle turned, hitting me with those ocean blue eyes for the first time since I reminded her what wearing my name meant.
“Don't get any ideas. I meant everything I said. I swear to God, Asphalt, if you try to force anything, I will tell my father. The truce won't hold if he knows you're treating me like shit. You'd better believe you're not just holding the ball, but the whole court.” She took a tentative step closer, her lips trembling, trying to lay down the law like I did – and failing miserably.
Sure looked cute when she tried to twist my balls, though. I fought the instinct to tear her lily white clothes to shreds and take what was mine.
But I wasn't a complete sonofabitch. I used my ears and shut off my cock, striding across the room, closing the distance between us.
“So, you're telling me if I toss you on that bed and throw those panties across the room, a whole bunch of people are gonna die? It'll all be my fault, yeah?” I gestured to the huge king sized bed, so plush the damned thing was begging to be defiled. “Because that's what's gonna happen if this fuckery between us falls through.”
“Yep,” she said coldly. “Go ahead and try it. I won't be able to stop you. But I can scream from the rooftops after the fact, and that won't be on me. It'll be you, asshole, and nobody else.”
It must've taken every little molecule of courage she had to reach out and jab her finger into my chest. I waited all of five seconds before I lunged, grabbed her wrist, spun her around, and had her against the wall so fast her head spun like a damned rocket misfiring.
“I'm not the evil motherfucker you think I am. I'm your husband, babe, and you're my old lady. My wife. You'd better believe I own you, but you're a fucking fool if you think I'd ever hurt you.” I tore myself away from her, listening as relief poured out her lungs.
She stopped back on the bed. We stared at each other for several hellish seconds, her eyes softening as she met the anger, the want, the shame in mine.
I still couldn't believe she thought I'd fuck her without any of it. I'd never s
unk so low, and I sure as shit wasn't gonna start with Elle.
I'd have her sooner or later, oh yeah. But I'd make her beg for my cock. Wouldn't give her a single inch 'til she was dripping, moaning, coming apart at the seams if I didn't fuck her that very second.
“Asphalt...Austin...I didn't mean it like that. I don't know what to think. This whole thing is just so much to take in, and then after you talked to me like a Neanderthal at the tattoo shop...”
“Save your words,” I said with a nod. “Seriously, babe. Get cleaned up and get some sleep. We've got a weekend together before we decide what the fuck to do. I'll be a complete gentleman when I'm around, if that's what you're worried about.”
She tilted her head, making her gold locks catch the dying evening light. Damn if I didn't imagine that soft hair clenched in my fist, pulling on it while I bent her over and pounded her like keeping my patch depended on it.
“When you're around?” she repeated.
“Yeah. Look, I'm not sharing a bed with a chick who thinks I'll tear her up while she's fighting it the whole way. I had a dinner planned for tonight since the guys couldn't agree to a reception with so much bad blood between the crews. Fuck it, we can do that tomorrow. Tonight, I'm giving you the greatest wedding gift of all – I'm getting the fuck out and leaving you alone.”
“Austin!”
She yelled my name – the wrong goddamned name – and I cut it off by slamming the door before the whole thing was even outta her mouth.
It'd be a long ride back to Redding. Harder when I made the return trip to the lodge with poison in my veins and my balls much lighter.
If she thought I was gonna stick around and argue all evening on my own fucking wedding night, she was dead wrong. I'd take out my frustrations some other way. I was heading into town for some fun, and I wouldn't be back to deal with her shit 'til sunrise.
* * * *
“What the hell you doing back here, bro? Guess this means the honeymoon's off.” Rabid came up to me at the bar, his old lady at his side.
Home, sweet home. The clubhouse always had that vibe, and I headed straight for it after blowing outta the lodge.
I hadn't seen much of his scarred beauty lately. Tutoring and managing the new bar attached to our strip joint was a full time gig for Christa.
“I'm having some fun here that I can't with her,” I said, knocking back another shot of whiskey. “The babe's cold as ice, brother. What the fuck do you expect for an arranged marriage?”
Rabid grinned. “Shit, you say it like it's a bad thing. Give it some time. Wouldn't be the first time some chick's thawed out after getting off to a rocky start.”
He grabbed his old lady's hand. Christa smiled as I watched my brother lift it to his lips.
“I feel sorry for both of you,” she said softly. “It must be a tough thing, growing up in this club from day one.”
“Yeah, tough fucking titties in the old days, for sure,” I growled. “Thing is, Tacoma was always one of the cleaner ones. They lost some guys back when we were fighting the Devils, but Gil took care of his shit like Fang didn't when that sonofabitch was still in charge of national. I'm halfway surprised her old man didn't wind up with lead in his head years ago for defying California.”
“That's what makes him dangerous. We gotta keep his ass in line, and if we have to do it through his daughter, so be it.”
Christa cocked her head. “Rabid, baby, you talk like she's just there to be used.”
I looked at them both and gave a shallow nod. “That's because she is. I'm not proud of it, but a club's gotta do what a club's gotta do. Beats having brothers under the same patch shooting and stabbing each other's guts out again. We all had enough of that shit when Fang went down.”
Rabid understood like every brother sharing this patch. We'd been through so much shit in the last few years, cleaning house and restoring this MC to its old glory. Time for it to stop.
Kicking the cartel's dick off had been a small miracle. Fuck if we needed more trouble now that things were finally settling down, drifting toward quieter, more peaceful times.
All the boys here with women and kids needed it. Wild bastards like Brass, Rabid, and Roman would do whatever the fuck they needed to get it, too.
“I'm gonna get the girl back in her natural habitat tomorrow. Calm her ass down, and get to work scoping out our 'brothers' up north.” My voice oozed contempt when I talked about brotherly love with Tacoma.
“What are you saying, bro?” Rabid said, reaching up and scratching the dark stubble on his chin. “The Prez said we're supposed to coordinate this shit. You can't just ride up there on your own and –“
“Nobody tells me what to do with my old lady – especially when I've got the club's good interest swinging from my heart.” I pounded my chest. “Go ahead and tell Blackjack what I'm doing. It's not like they're gonna beat my ass up or skin me alive for going alone. We've got Gil's girl as collateral, yeah, but she doesn't need to be miserable the entire fucking time.”
“Bro, I know you're solid. But I think you're letting this wedding crap go to your head.” Rabid pressed a friendly hand to my shoulder. It pissed me right off. “You're not really married, and she isn't really your old lady. You'd be smart to take a step back, talk to the MC, and let us all handle it the way we're supposed to.”
I jumped up from the bar and flung his hand off me. “Outta my way. Tomorrow I'll have a bunch of assholes up in Washington treating me like I don't know my ass from my own head. Don't need one of my own brothers doing it too.”
“Fuck...Asphalt!” Rabid called after me, but it was already too late.
I looked over my shoulder just long enough to catch a glimpse of Christa pulling him back, keeping his ass in line. An old lady was good for something besides fucking, at least when putting your brand on her really meant something.
I stopped by the drinking fountain and sucked down cold water 'til I thought my guts would blow. I'd come to fuck and drink my woes away, but all my instincts wouldn't let me do anything except flush out my damned system and ride back to her as soon as I could.
Didn't stop my boots from moving toward the empty rooms we had since more brothers moved out. Whores and prospects used them a lot now, crashing there with booze and condoms.
First door I hit, I stopped and inched it open. A burnt out lava lamp pumped violet light through the room. A dark haired girl sat on the bed, turned away from me, her bare back shaking.
Hadn't ever seen her before. The chick looked fuckable as all sin, but the way she quivered screamed junkie.
Blackjack didn't allow the hard shit since we'd cleaned this club up, and everybody agreed with the Prez. I balled my fists, ready to burst into the room and run her the fuck outta the clubhouse.
But the loud, sexy moan bursting out her lips stopped me in my tracks. She arched her back suddenly, panting and moaning, purring like a fucking jet engine as she came.
Somebody else moved under the covers.
Stryker's hands pushed her off his face, grinning from ear to ear, his mouth slick with the juice her pussy left behind. I turned away with a growl, suppressing the hard-on banging in my jeans.
“Asphalt? What the fuck you doing back here?”
I didn't answer. Just turned and slammed the door shut behind me, walking out to the garages, not even bothering to check for free chicks in the other rooms.
Seeing him making that bitch squirm reminded me of everything I'd lost in this goddamned sham marriage. I hadn't gotten any appreciation so far, and I sure as shit hadn't gotten laid.
My brother looked happy when he reared up after having his tongue inside her. He'd be happier in a few more minutes when he went balls deep, railing that slut to the headboard 'til she screamed and milked his dick for all her whore ass was worth.
I couldn't do it. Sure, I could fuck 'em, but what the hell good would it do?
My cock pulsed lightning, hard as solid granite, begging for a tight, warm hole to fill for the night. It
'd been at least a solid week since I'd pounded my last slut deep into the mattress.
I thought about her and snorted, amazed how freely I could fuck and drink just a week ago. I had her all to myself, this little country bumpkin who'd come into Redding just for Grizzlies cock. I pulled her short blonde hair and pinched her tits rough, half the size of Elle's, shoving her lipstick smeared lips down on my cock when I blew my second load down her throat.
First one, I'd fucked straight into her, emptying my balls in the condom. Had to check it after to make sure I hadn't split the rubber from slamming her loose cunt.
I'd been a mean, angry fuck during the best of times. Now?
I wouldn't even smile. I wouldn't take any joy winding faceless sluts up and making 'em come themselves blind. Not when the only woman I could fuck without blowing a gasket was still at the lodge, sleeping off her nightmare, this arranged marriage to me.
I had to go. I had to blow the clubhouse without a second glance 'til the Tacoma charter was under our control.
Stopping by the storeroom, I grabbed a few extra beers for the road and walked to my bike. I pulled out a smoke – a luxury I'd gone light on the past few years to help my lungs – lit it up and stared at the sky 'til the buzz of Jack wore off.
The stars yawned high and wild. I'd seen a similar sky that first night I'd crushed my lips to hers, back when we were two dumb kids with dreams as different as yin and yang.
She wanted to take the world by the balls, prove being a club princess wasn't all she could do. I just wanted to ride and fuck my way to the top of this MC, line my cut with a few more patches earned in blood, sweat, and playing hero.
I snorted and stubbed out my cigarette when it wore down, thinking about the bitter irony we shared. We'd both tried to escape the black holes trying so hard to swallow us, chew us up, and shit us back out.
She'd run away from the club. I'd gotten as far as I could from Tacoma, Gil and the rest of those bastards. They'd have never given me my bottom rocker if I hadn't met Blackjack.
I'd fought side-by-side with the old man when he was California's chief Enforcer, back when he had pull with Fang, enough to bust Gil's balls 'til they made me a brother with full voting rights.
