“You mean to tell me that you’re okay with them riding in our districts? Patrolling our streets? And don’t forget that they’ve got eyes on our property. Him – this guy.” He reaches across the crowd towards Seb and pulls him into the center next to me. I can practically feel the large, bearded man shake in his boots as Race speaks, “He owns Ariel Gordon. She is his property. Did you know that this club was outside her house? Following her around town?”
“No.” Seb shakes, but mostly from fear. “I didn’t know that, sir. I don’t think she would know either.”
Race pats him on the back as he tells him, “You need to protect what’s yours. We at least need to figure out what the fuck they want from Ariel and this girl. Do you know anything about it? Any reason why Ariel would be involved?”
“I got no clue. Ariel’s been a true Bad Bastard bitch. She does what the hell she’s told to do. She helps out around the bar when we are shorthanded. She comes on the rides when the girls are invited. She got nothing to do with another club.” Seb practically reassures himself of this as he lists his reasons why. But he’s right. Ariel’s loyal. I can’t imagine her doing anything to jeopardize Seb or her place in the club. I may not understand it, but I can respect it.
“And do you know this girl?” Race asks, pointing in my direction. “Have you seen her before?”
“Yeah. Delilah. She’s Ariel’s best friend, and she’s at the Pipeline often. Her daddy was a Bastard before he disappeared.”
“Is that right?” Nico asks, the room somehow more silent. “Are you a legacy?”
It’s finally my turn to speak, but somehow the words have completely escaped me. I struggle through my answer with a trembling and hoarse voice: “I don’t know, sir. My daddy wasn’t around when I was born. He took off, or something happened to him. No one knows. But my mama’s always lived in Bad Devils’ territory, and she knows quite a few of the retired riders.”
“And you have no fucking clue why they’re after you? You didn’t fuck around with one of the boys and get yourself in trouble?”
“No.” I cough out. I really wish they’d stop accusing me of being some MC slut. “The last MC rider I was with was a Bad Bastard, and that was a year or so ago.”
Race shoots me a look that’s completely unreadable. Disgust, maybe? Curious? Who the hell knows, but he returns to the topic at hand by pressing his president to listen to him. “The boys here know her. She frequents the Pipeline Bar, and she is close friends with a claimed club woman. She needs our protection.”
“She doesn’t need shit from us. If the club wants her, they can have her. It keeps us at peace and makes up for you taking down their riders.” Nico turns to walk back to the office. The crowd parts in his wake.
It’s like I’m not even in the room. Throw me to the wolves, why don’t you? But Race doesn’t seem content with giving up just yet. He shouts, “There’s not gonna be peace if they get her. They’ll come for other women next, and then it will be our territories and our business dealings. You know that this is how the shit started in Denver with the Coyotes. They took that boy first and then came for the club next. I’m not gonna stand here and let it happen again, Nico!”
The entire room goes silent, and I only have one thought – the same one that I can feel radiating off of every other member of the club in the room: Oh, shit.
It’s almost like Race launched a missile at Nico. The giant stops in his tracks and then skids backward. His followers barely have time to react except to move back three or four steps. Even I take cover behind Seb who still cowers next to Race. I keep one eye trained on Race as he stands his ground.
“What did you fucking say? Did you just—”
“Call you out? Yeah. I called you out. You’re a damn good president, Nico. You know I’d follow you to the fucking end of the world. But for Christ’s sake, you can’t see the red flags here? You made mistakes in Denver. So did I. One of mine was not telling you when I thought you were missing shit. And you’re fucking missing it now! This girl is the key, and if we let her go and get captured, who the hell knows what that club will come back for next!”
A few of the men bravely nod in agreement. I’m not sure for whose benefit – mine or Race’s. But Nico seems partially moved at the show. He stammers slightly as he orders, “You, Race, in my office. We’ll talk out what to do there.”
I’m left alone as Race follows him back. He leaves me only with a small nod that I am sure is him telling me to stay the hell where I am and not try to run. With my legs feeling like Jell-O and my only getaway locked in the president’s office, I sincerely doubt I could try anything if I could.
Luckily for me, Seb stays by my side. Though he doesn’t look my way, he asks quietly under his breath, “Did you know about Ariel being followed?”
“No. I promise you, Seb. I had no freaking idea. If I did, I would have told you or her. I don’t know who is looking for me or what they want.”
“Good,” he breathes out. “Okay.”
“What are they talking about?” I ask absentmindedly.
“What to do with you, I suppose. Even if Nico orders Race to bring you home, that’s not the end of it. Now that the club knows, Nico has to act. Race was smart in letting him bring it out in the open – making it his idea for the club to hear the details. We’re on his side now. The boys have been itching for war since the last turnover.”
“War? But why over me?”
“It doesn’t have to be over you, but it would make more sense if you were part of the club.”
“No,” I reply, understanding immediately what he meant. There were only a few ways a lady could become a Bad Devils. The first was working for them as a walker. Sometimes, an MC will take on a professional woman as the club’s doctor or lawyer, but that’s rare when there are plenty of men to do the job. The second way was to be born into the fold. Legacies were rare. Most girls didn’t want to follow their deadbeat dads into the life, especially when they had no role and weren’t paid.
That left one other way, and the thought of it left my stomach aching to get the fuck out of this place. My eyes quickly dart over the headquarters, looking for a way out, but I’m cornered in. I can’t run. I couldn’t even hide. I’m stuck waiting to hear if my fate is to be claimed by Race or Nico.
The only claimed woman I know to speak of it is Ariel, and I remember the night it happened for her. Much like me, she was brought into headquarters and given an initiation. How she described it, her large eyes shying away from the details… I know I can’t handle that.
My mouth goes dry as I think back to her words: “It was awful, but I did what I had to do to be with Seb…”
I reach for Seb, but he’s gone, back to the bar. My arms grab for the nothingness, but they somehow land right on Race’s jacket. He pulls me in towards him and forces me to walk step by step with him towards the office.
“Race, I am not... I cannot… You can’t do this…”
The asshole’s actually smiling. Of course he would be. Nico moves out of the doorway as we step in. The smell of cigarettes and cologne fills my nostrils. I reach for the bottle of vodka sitting on the desk, but Race pushes it out of my hand.
“Not tonight. If the club is going to believe that I’m taking claim on you, you have to be sober and willing.”
“I’m not though,” I protest.
“There’s no other way, Delilah – not if you want protection from the Bad Devils. You need to become mine.”
I step backward from the man in the shadows. His hand reaches behind him, grabbing the doorknob. In one quick click of the lock, I’m trapped. There’s no way out of this. No turning back.
Chapter Eight
Race
I can’t claim that I’m not the slightest bit amused by this. The smell of her perfume, the softness of her bare legs rubbing against me as we rode over, her quivering lip… I’ve suppressed the urge to rip off that damn dress and take her then and there. Now, there isn’t anything holding me b
ack.
She’s mine.
But as much as I am going to enjoy the act of claiming her, there’s something that’s holding me back. The last girl I had ownership of was Miranda back in Colorado, and she turned out to be… Let’s just say she was a terrible fucking investment. Despite the fact that I had marked my territory, she still managed to run around with at least three other MC brothers. She spat in the face of loyalty and ruined my reputation. I see a lot of her in Delilah – a tough chick with a mouth. I know I am putting myself back in jeopardy by doing it this way.
The difference between Miranda and Delilah, though, is willingness. Delilah sinks into the leather sofa as she pleads, “I don’t want to be yours, Race. I’m not anyone’s property.”
“I know that,” I reply as I lean against the door of the office. Outside, two men stand guard. It’s how it’s done. They listen in and verify the deed is done. At any minute, they can walk in and do a “check”. If she’s not spread eagle with me between her thighs, it’s not official, and she loses her protection.
“Is there anything else? Any other way…?” Her voice trails off as she realizes that I’m right. This is it.
“No. And I expect you to be fucking grateful to me.”
“Grateful?” she practically screams at me. “What the fuck for? Did you not just hear me? I don’t want to be anyone’s fucking property.”
“Too late for that now. You’re mine. And I expect you to act like it too.”
“Never. This is against my will. The club can’t accept it if I refuse, right? So maybe I’ll just go out there and scream about how your dick isn’t going to satisfy me.” She stands up, and I can see by that look in her eye that she’s got escaping on her mind. The fighter I know is back with a vengeance, and she’s feisty as hell. She runs towards me, slamming her body into my chest. For a small chick, she’s deceptively sturdy. Her fingers claw into my sides, digging into my T-shirt.
I’m not one to ever put a hand on a woman, but she leaves me no choice. As gently as I can, I run my hands around her waist, pulling her arms back with a jolt. She cries out from the shock of how quickly I’ve taken her down. She drops to her knees onto the carpeted floor, but I hold on still, not trusting she’ll give up so easily.
“Are you done, Del? C’mon, tell me, are you fucking finished now? Because whether you believe me or not, I’m trying to help your sorry ass!”
“Help me!? How the hell are you helping me? You’re hurting me!”
“The more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt. Just – just stop fucking trying to run, and I’ll let you go!”
At this, she goes absolutely nuts. Her body wiggles and twists in an attempt to get away, but I’ve got at least a full hundred pounds and a full foot on her petite frame. Her protestations are of no use whatsoever.
“You can’t… You can’t make… me… You can’t…” She continues to mutter about what I can’t do, though her breath is gone from the effort. Her steamy green eyes stare daggers at me from up behind her shoulder. Her body lays on mine as she heaves a heavy, defeated sigh. “Please… just let me go home.”
“No. I can’t fucking do that. Outside that door are two guards listening for our moaning. They don’t hear it, you don’t have a claim. And you’re not going home anywhere. Whoever’s out to get you will be on you before you’re through the door.”
“Dammit!” she screams out in frustration.
“I didn’t know our last session was so fucking horrible that you’d be against doing me tonight. Or are you the kind of slut that needs to be liquored up and out of your mind to go down on a guy the first time that you meet him?”
I make the mistake of letting go of her arms for a second, and she takes full advantage of me. A small hand flies through the air and lands directly on my cheek. Before both of us know it, I have her wrists back in my hands, and her back goes flying down onto the ground with me tumbling down on top of her.
She lays under me, panting. Her dress straps pull down off of her shoulders, and the hem around her legs moves to her hips. I sit, straddling her, as I ask, “Are you fucking done?”
“No!” she calls back.
The remains of her cherry red lipstick shine as bright as her cheeks and hair. It’s enough for me. I lower myself down on her, pinning her even tighter to me as I find her mouth. It’s unwilling at first, but I pry it open with my tongue. She tastes like cola and strawberries – the same taste as the first night I took her on the bed of my motel room.
Delilah squirms, still fighting this. But the facade is wearing away with each second I hold my mouth to hers, almost as if she is melting straight into the floor from my force. Finally, I pull away from her, giving her a chance to take a deep breath in. She gasps desperately for breath with her eyes wide and pissed. She’s got the look of a wild woman about to rampage. Little does she know that nothing on Earth has ever turned me on more than the sight of a crazy bitch about to unleash.
“I’m not going to let you do this,” she insists.
“Yes, you are,” I growl out. “You want this just as much as I do. And not just for the protection. You want me inside of you again like the last night we were together.”
“I don’t even remember it!” she exclaims. “We were drunk and fucking stupid. We shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have let you take me back to your place.”
“You’re a fucking terrible liar, you know that? Remember what I said the first night we met? I told you that I knew every thought in your head. I have been around long enough to know what a girl like you is thinking before the thought even pops into your head. And right now, right here with my knee pressed right up against your pussy, you’re thinking about how easy it would be to just say, Yes, Race.”
She pauses, biting her lip. For show, I dig the knee even higher towards her sex. She lets out a gasp, and her head pulls back into the carpet. She loves the friction. I slowly begin to rotate the knee clockwise, letting her remember what it was like to have something strong between her thighs. Her eyes close and her hand falls to her side by her hips. She’s not going to argue with this.
“Race…” she weakly squeaks out, but there’s nothing after that. No, “no” or “stop”. She fades into her own thoughts and desires.
I eventually move myself out from under her, sitting on my knees by her side. I place a hand on her thigh. The black dress hitches around the bottom of her white and pink striped panties giving me lots of options. I hook a quick finger under the elastic band and yank until the thong moves up and over her thighs and knees and down to her feet. I come back to her thighs, eager for more. She resists my attempts at spreading her open at first, but even with her best effort, she’s no match for me. I have total access to her well-shaved pussy.
She doesn’t anticipate my two fingers slipping through her gap, massaging the damp, smooth skin. Delilah lets out a small gasp, one I can tell she’s trying to conceal. I push slightly further inside and then pull out as quickly as I am in. When I remove my fingers, they are covered in the watery lubricant that I know means she’s enjoying this just as much as I am.
“Tell me how much you don’t want this,” I mutter under my breath.
She turns her face towards me, flushed but still shining with pride. “No.”
“Fine. I always loved a fucking challenge.” I pull her legs again, wide enough so that I can slink my way down towards her sex. My stubble traces around the thickness of her inner thighs, taking in her natural scent. She curls one of those legs up towards herself, but I yank it back down towards my mouth. It’s not like me to toy with my prey, but I plant wickedly soft kisses along the back of her leg, leading straight up the line to her pussy.
Delilah again tries to wiggle away, her hands press into my hair, but I’m already there, deeper into her parted V. She inhales as my tongue takes over from where my fingers were. I watch from the top of her pubic bone as her stomach caves in and she begins to take in short, shallow breaths. Her hip rises to meet my m
outh, pressing me further into her moist, soft folds. My tongue creates wet lines around her map till I find the spot. It flicks once and then twice around the nub before my mouth wraps around the small ball and begins to suck as tenderly as I can allow myself.
I know I’ve found it as soon as her fingers dip deep into my curls. She’s no longer pushing me away, she’s begging me on. Her “no’s” are back, but they’re not the kind that are begging me to stop. They’re the kind of “no’s” that are fighting to reckon against the pleasure and the pain.
I’ve been on that edge before; the edge of no return where you must make a decision – stay or go. And by the looks of her chest and the way her chin lifts straight to the ceiling, concealing the twisted smile on her face, she’s not going anywhere.
Possessive_A Bad Boy Second Chance Motorcycle Club Romance Page 54
