Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC Book 5)

by Wolfe, Layla

  He started working on my torso, placing a pattern of diamonds down my abdomen between my breasts. He worked with two ropes at a time, carefully placing each rope with precision. He manipulated, shook, and patted each section, leaving my nipples bared and jutting. But his concentration was drawn elsewhere. I noticed he didn’t even knot the rope and pass it under my pussy. That was probably by design.

  “You think he knows?”

  “Why would he have been acting so strange? Leo might not have told him. Maybe Lulu did, when Harte visited the Marshals office.”

  Sax snorted. “Yeah. I imagine Lulu was pretty pissed. She hasn’t been close to Leo for a long-ass time, if ever.”

  “Sax, were you…you and Lulu close?”

  His answer was immediate. “No. It was strictly a medical matter. She’s not my type. Too brassy and ballsy. She’s the new sort of woman. I like the old fashioned sort.”

  I sat up even taller. “You think I’m old fashioned?” I had to place my bare foot on a rung of the stool to lift my thigh. Sax passed the rope under my ass, but there wasn’t enough room for him to craft the design he had in mind, so he had me stand, leaning my hands on the side rail of the pool table.

  He slapped my ass just hard enough to sting. “Of course you’re old fashioned. About as old timey as they get, I’d say. Who else aspires to be a nun?”

  It did sound pretty funny hearing him say it. “Well, it’ll be for the best if Harte does find out, don’t you agree? Leo’s out of the picture, now he has no dad, and you’ve always been a father figure.”

  Sax chuckled. Kneeling, he was working the rope down my thigh. He would tie my ankles together, but not my knees. “That’s what started our giant falling-out ten years ago. I had the nerve to lecture Harte on getting that girl pregnant. Leo felt I was overstepping. That Harte might figure it out just by the way I was acting. Now, if you accept Harte as your stepson, how weird will that be? He’s the same age as you.”

  My answer was quick, too. “He’s one year younger than me! A year and a half, to be precise. It’s not like I’ll mother him. We’ve been friends for a long time. Ah!”

  Harte’s father had buried his face between my ass cheeks. He hadn’t been able to hold out until he patterned my other thigh all the way up to my cunt, and had unceremoniously buried his face there. Knowing what a talented pussy-licker he was, I tried to spread my feet on the tiled floor, but could only spread my knees. Sax wound up with his nose in my asshole, his tongue reaching to stroke my clit, more of a maddening situation that had me jumping around like a scratched CD.

  In this position, I could reach behind me by arching my back and grabbing a handful of his thick, scruffy hair. Rotating my hips like a hula dancer, I ground my pussy lips against his mouth, encouraging him to reach farther, to stretch his throat muscles, to slash his tongue-tip across my puckered hole. That was a lewd, taboo act that was unfamiliar to me, and my inner pussy shuddered with excitement.

  But that wasn’t his goal, and he withdrew to make quick macramé work of the rope. Yanking my hands together at the small of my back, he bound those, too.

  “You still need to learn obedience.”

  “I know, father.” I still liked calling him that. Whether it was a familial reference or a religious one, either way it was strictly forbidden, heightening the eroticism of the scene. “I feel safe when I’m obedient to you.”

  He pressed a knot to the small of my back. “How does this make you feel?”

  I squiggled in my bonds. “Safe. Safe and secure in your arms.”

  “Good.” With the finality of a big tug on the knot, Sax stood. Behind me, he rustled around for something in the wet bar’s drawer. Coming to stand where I couldn’t see him, he touched something sharp and metallic to my shoulder. I pulled away with a hiss, afraid it was the tip of a knife blade.

  He brought the fork around so I could see it, and I exhaled. “Do you trust your father, your Master?” he murmured in my ear. His strong forearm was around my waist, the heat of his bulging crotch pressed against my bound ass. I wiggled my ass so the ropes massaged his cockhead through his jeans. Sax had told me I was an “intuitive,” a natural born bottom. I always knew exactly what to do, how to act.

  “Yes, father. I place my entire trust in you.”

  “Good.” When he slid the fork tines over my protruding, crinkled nipples, a delicious shiver ran simultaneously up my neck, making me gasp, and down my spine into the very core of my pussy, making my uterus shudder. Then he did it to the other nipple. The sensation was so strong it was almost as though my uterus was going to cramp. He was stimulating me, riling up my endorphins as though stirring a dangerous stew. Being pregnant, I’d been surging with hormones lately anyway. He was just stirring the pot.

  Then he slapped my ass! He would scrape with the tines, down my belly inching closer to my pussy. He used the fork like a paintbrush, touching me here, there, I never knew where to expect it next. Then he’d spank me with what felt like a big wooden paddle. He was riling me beyond belief, but my hands were bound behind my back, and all I could do was squirm like a stray dog in a net.

  “Learning to trust again is the most important thing,” he growled. “You need to believe in me, to know that I’d never hurt you.”

  I knew what he was doing. He was using his Psych 101 training to ensure that I never connected him, consciously or otherwise, with the immature, abusive fumblings of Roscoe Flantz. The sociopathic violence of Tony Tormenta, that was a given. Sax was doing everything in his power to make me immune to those memories. Dr. Petrie had mentioned something called EMDR, a PTSD treatment used by the Department of Defense. Apparently reliving my trauma while shifting my eyes back and forth and him tapping or making some kind of repetitive sound, this would eventually render the memory ineffective, take the punch out of it. I could replace it with something positive. It seemed like Sax was enacting something like that. Whether he knew it or not, I couldn’t tell.

  But it was working. I didn’t associate the scrapings of the fork or the stinging paddling of the wooden spatula with anything other than Sax’s love. The impact play was the domain of Zane Saxonberg entirely, the only man I’d ever truly loved. My pussy quivered, in fact, longing for the feel of his long, fat prick inside it, snugly stroking me up to ecstasy.

  I whined. I fucking admit it—I whined! “Zane! I want you! Slide that giant cock inside me and fuck me. Stroke my clit while you fuck me, so you can feel me come around you!”

  What man could fail to want that, right? Wrong! Sax had to draw out his little game. Cupping my neck in his palm, he shoved me face-first onto the surface of the pool table. My butt was in the air slung over the rail like that. I was vulnerable and as wide open as the sky above, and I didn’t feel violated.

  Sax even helped my lifting my hips. I heard him fumbling, I hoped displaying his cock for my pleasure. There was a big mirrored beer sign on one wall, and I could just see his beautiful, shapely white butt as it flexed impressively, preparing to penetrate me. First, he rubbed his fat cockhead against my pussy lips. I swear, my inner canal fluttered so heavily it nearly made me cramp. It was like there were internal arms reaching from my clit in a straight shot to my womb. Sax gripped and manipulated me by the hips but it was his tight, hot glans massaging my clit that had me nearly squealing with bliss.

  “Do it, Sax! Fill me with that big, plump dick. I want to feel your semen spurting out my eyeballs.”

  Maybe it was my badly-worded entreaty or maybe just the need to get off, but Sax penetrated me then. “Do what your father tells you to,” he snarled, the epitome of the big Daddy Dom. Although he tried to maintain supreme control, I could see in the beer mirror the tremor that ran through his haunches as he tried to hold himself still inside of me.

  “I promise, daddy. I’ll be still. I can’t wait for your big fat horse cock to spurt inside me. But I’ll stay still.”

  Slowly but surely, Sax built up a plunging rhythm. My eyes were riveted to the flexion of hi
s ass in that stupid beer mirror. I’d never seen such beautiful, muscular haunches, especially reaming me dogstyle while I lay helpless flat on a pool table.

  Gripping my hip in one hand, he pasted me down flat with the other on the back of my neck. “You’ll obey your father, you sweet little thing. Obey every word I say, or I’m going to seduce and defile you until you don’t know which end is up.”

  “Oh, please do,” I gasped. “Please, Sir. Please do molest and defile me. It’s the only way I’ll ever learn.”

  My begging seemed to set something off in him. I felt his hips tremble. The tremor shot through his dick that was nestled up against my womb. I clenched at it with my inner pussy walls, pleased with the result. He uttered a strangled sound and began pumping me harder, faster. I upped the ante by getting deeper into my role.

  “Oh, please, please don’t stop! I want to be pounded by your big, thick penis, my Sir. I am your receptacle, waiting wide open for your load.” He didn’t need to press my face to the playing surface anymore. I was smashed there, permanently glued, reduced to a simple, submissive vessel for his overflowing virility.

  I was happy to be there.

  He was muttering, “You sweet little pussy. So innocent…you don’t know what you do to me.” Then he shot, a big, healthy load of jizz that jetted with force deep inside me.

  He held himself like that for a long time, twitching and jerking, spurting more gushers. I milked his rod with my inner cunt, the muscles toned and strong after years of sessions with my battery-operated boyfriend.

  We had never used rubbers, and we would never have to now. We could be utterly naked and intimate with each other. That was a new level of trust I’d never achieved with anyone else.

  Tucking his fingers beneath the patchwork of ropes between my shoulder blades, Sax lifted me. I straightened myself up with trembling legs, not being used to holding myself up like that. He walked me to my stool and kissed me deeply, slowly, taking a lot of pleasure in the closeness, the twining of our tongues together.

  “I love you, you sweet thing,” he murmured, half in and half out of the scene.

  I was experiencing sub-drop too, my endorphins crashing after the intensity of our lovemaking. As if reading my feelings, Sax took a Snickers bar from a pocket in his cut. I took a few bites like a drunken person.

  “I was so worried I’d hurt little Zelda.” Sax liked to call our unborn baby “Zelda.” I think he was only halfway joking, just because it was another name like Zane that began with a Z.

  I said, “I’m pretty sure dogstyle is okay. But I’ll check with Maddy when she gets back from Greece.”

  Then, as usual in that building, there was a clamoring of loud men at the door. “How do you even know how to play pool?” Wolf Glaser shouted at someone. “Unless it’s virtual, Wii pool played with a remote.”

  To our surprise, Tobiah replied. “Oy gevalt! You goon! Just because I have a master’s in business doesn’t mean that every sport I play is Wii.”

  “Oh yeah?” Wolf yelled goonishly. “Which sport? Competitive fishing?”

  “Poker?” said someone with a thick French accent. Faux Pas.

  “Masturbation?” suggested Wild Man.

  “I’ll have you know,” said Tobiah. “I was considered a pretty fair curler in my high school days.”

  “Get the fuck out of my way,” said Duji. “I just want to play Mortal Kombat.” For there were a few computers in the game room, signaling the motorcycle club’s entrance into the modern, scientific age.

  Sax sighed. “Let me get you out of these ropes.” Louder, he shouted at the door. “One minute.”

  Every slip of the shiny rope across my skin was a sensitive screech and crash due to my endorphin drop. I hissed and sighed as Sax slithered the strands undone.

  It struck me that The Citadel actually had some similarities to my old convent. It was a team of people all working toward a common goal. We had a code of conduct, rules and regulations that restricted our activities and urged us toward others. And there was an almost euphoric, divine sense of belonging to something that, collectively, was a higher power than the individual.

  I belonged. As Sax opened the door and the unruly, tattooed, ragged men poured into the room, I realized that I’d found new faith somewhere else. It was a family I’d never expected. But it was the one I’d be with the rest of my life.

  And that was just fine with me.

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  About The Author

  Layla Wolfe lives in coastal California with a leather jacket, one bad-ass pink camo compound bow, and a vicarious outlaw lifestyle.

  Layla Wolfe is the pen name of multi-published erotic romance author Karen Mercury.

  Visit her at:

  www.laylawolfe.com

  www.facebook.com/laylawolfeauthor

  More Books from Layla Wolfe

  The Bare Bones

  http://amzn.to/1mYMr22

  Book #1 in The Bare Bones MC series

  If you ain’t living on the edge, you’re taking up too much room.

  The rose-colored illusion of Madison Shellmound’s girlish crush on biker Ford Illuminati is stomped into smithereens by his crude father Cropper, Bare Bones motorcycle club President. Fearing Ford will kill Cropper if he finds out, Madison flees, becoming an upstanding cardiology nurse.

  Madison and Ford have an ill-fated, star-crossed love that will last their lifetimes. Ford is a lifer in a different sort of enterprise, the gritty full-throttle club of guns, blood, and allegiance to his brothers. Twelve years and several tours of SEAL duty later, Ford is thrust back into Madison’s arms on the worst day of his life. Madison’s prospect brother Speed has screwed up big-time and owes the club his life. She offers herself to Cropper as a sacrificial lamb to save Speed.

  But how long until the fiery, full-on outlaw Ford discovers that the woman he loves was treated like a degraded slave by his own father? Well, meet the new boss. He’s not the same as the old boss.

  Publisher’s Note: This is not your mother’s contemporary romance. Readers will encounter molestation, drugging, consensual bondage and discipline, violence, and a HEA. It’s a full-length novel of 65,000 words. Recommended 18+ due to mature content.

  Stay Vertical

  www.amazon.com/dp/B00KKTMGR6

  Book #2 in The Bare Bones MC series

  Publisher’s Note: This is Book #2 in the Bare Bones MC series. This book is a stand-alone and can be read out of order. However, it is advised to read THE BARE BONES first to get a complete picture of the club’s background, storylines, and setting. This is not your mother’s contemporary romance. Daring readers will encounter sexual assault, violence against women, general violence among men, consensual BDSM, and a HEA. It is not for the faint of heart. It’s a full length novel of 65,000 words with no cliffhanger. Recommended 18+ due to mature content.

  One two three four five six seven. All good sinners go to heaven. Peace Corps volunteer June Shellmound returns to Arizona to care for her dying mother. At the clubhouse of The Bare Bones motorcycle club, June is swept into the drama when half-breed Lytton Driving Hawk barges in and demands recognition as president Ford Illuminati’s half-brother.

  Hot enough to melt steel, Lytton has forged a life apart from the reservation as a brilliant chemist, living the high times at his pot farm in the mountains. Lytton is no fortunate son, though, and the mortal secrets Ford’s been hiding about their father drive the last nail into their brotherly coffin.

  Lytton turns his back on the Bare Bones and sweet bleeding heart June. Blinded by vengeance, Lytton becomes ruled by his own demons, raising hell alongside Ford’s mortal enemies, The Cutlasses. Alliances are torn apart within the club, loyalties are divided, and everyone’s true spirits are tested. When the dust clears, Lytton and June find themselves running for their lives just to…STAY VERTICAL

  Bad To The Bones

  ww
w.amazon.com/dp/B00O2IRLB2

  Book #3 in The Bare Bones MC series

  Publisher’s Note: This is Book #3 in the Bare Bones MC series. This book is a stand-alone and can be read out of order. This is not your mother’s contemporary romance. Daring readers will encounter sexual assault, dubious consent, general violence among men, and a HEA. It is not for the faint of heart. It’s a full length novel of 73,000 words with no cliffhanger. Recommended 18+ due to mature content.

  Knoxie Hammett has been The Bare Bones’ tattoo artist for years. He’s just drifted through life, living it large and performing in their Triple Exposure films, recovering from a divorce he never wanted. Suddenly Knoxie has a reason to live and to want to prospect for The Bare Bones outlaw motorcycle club.

  He’ll need their help to rescue the lovely Bellamy Jager from the jaws of the cutthroat, warped cult leader who has been holding her hostage all her adult life. To the neglected, abused Bellamy, living in the desert canyons off stolen food and time, the sanctity of the ashram looked like a safe zone. But her haven turned to hell and she was drugged and abused, ignorant of any other way of life.

  Knoxie will need every one of his Bare Bones brothers and every ounce of bravery he can muster. To save Bellamy and her white slave sister from the twisted swami, he’ll need to pull off the most daring job of his life to prove to the club and the world that he’s…BAD TO THE BONES. Don’t ride faster than your guardian angel can fly.

  Playing with Monsters