by SL Schiefer
God dammit. Just one night. One night. That’s all I want. One night where I don’t have to fucking fix something. “Can’t Bug get rid of them?”
Creep raises his eyebrow. Fucker reminds me of The Rock when he was still wrestling.
“Bub, where we at on the ink?”
“Just have to finish the color. We can do that in two weeks or so once this heals up.” He starts to clean off his work. I get my first look at what he’s done. Non Ducor Duco. I am not led—I lead. It’s just a black outline for now, but the color will be a bright-ass red.
Bub gets the ointment on it and gives me a stern look. “Try to keep this one clean, huh?” I smirk at him, leaving him shaking his head as I walk out of the little room.
“Alright, boys. It’s time to ride out.” No questions. No complaints. Everyone files out the front door to the tattoo shop and hops on their rides. Creep is the only one who comes with me to the club, so everyone rides off to do their own thing. Which is probably head back to the clubhouse to fuck women.
I get to my bike, throwing my leather jacket on, trying to be careful with it on my forearm. The damn material is sticking to my arm because of the ointment. Creep revs his bike up behind me, telling me he’s ready to go.
I start mine up, the rumble of the engine vibrating my thighs. She’s a brand new Shadow Rocket. When this thing was first unveiled, my dick was hard from just seeing it on the TV. When I first sat on her, I’m pretty sure I came in pants like a teenage boy.
She’s all decked out in black. Not a single hint of chrome is anywhere on her. Black. Just like my soul.
***
We park behind the club in a little alcove exclusively for our bikes. This shit cost a fortune to put in, since it was a structural change, but it’s worth it. This club is something I started after I became President. Pops about killed me when I bought this old warehouse. He didn’t understand, even when I was trying to explain it to him, why we needed such a huge building.
After we gutted it and remodeled everything, he finally got it. We have a huge meeting room in the basement which is perfect for Church. And the sex club is just a front. We have to cover our asses with something legal, that way our illegal shit is harder to get to.
I walk to the front of the building to check out the line we have going on. Just like the night we opened, the line goes around the block. We allow people eighteen and older in. But in order to get into the more, ahem, exclusive part, we do extensive background checks. And you have to pay a minimum one thousand dollars to even be considered. Depending on what you want in there for. But that’s not why I’m here tonight.
Walking past all the waiting assholes in line, I nod to the bouncer for the night, Yeti. His name is self-explanatory. The inside of the main part of the club is all done in dark colors, the only bright color being red. We have the sickest setup for lights and the DJ area. The dance floor is huge, with bars lining two sides of it, for easy access. The more people boozin’ it up, the more money I make.
Heading toward the bar, I keep scanning the massive crowd for Bug. Fucker has eyes that damn near bug out of his head, hence the name. I finally spot him through all of the gyrating bodies on the dance floor. He’s cozying up to some pretty blonde, who is obviously too naïve to see he’s no good for her. Which is why we typically stick to club sluts.
Making my way over to him, I reach out and grab the back of his cut, dragging him away from his blonde. He struggles at first, until he turns and sees it’s me, effectively stopping his sputtering and struggles. I drag him back toward my office on the main floor.
When we’re inside, I waste no time questioning him. “What’s going on that you had to call us down here for a couple of girls?” I make my way around to my chair and sit down in it, propping my feet up on the desk in front of me.
“They tried to get into the back.” He smirks as he takes the chair opposite of me. “Well, one was trying to get in there, while the other was trying to drag her out of here. They settled on going to the bar and then dancing.”
I scrub a hand down my face. God, I need a break. Or I need smarter boys. “You seriously called me down here for that? For two girls. That’s why we have Yeti. If you have a problem, call him and he’ll drag their asses out.”
“Alright, Pres. Sorry for interrupting you getting your tattoo. But I also thought you might want to see the one girl.”
He’s always fucking talking in circles. “If you could just get to your point, Bug, I would appreciate it.”
“I know you don’t like to talk about what happened to Trina. Understandably.” He shifts around nervously in his chair.
“Get the fuck on with it, Bug.”
“Well, the one girl who didn’t want in there… she looks like Trina.”
With those simple words, my world implodes on itself. I jump up out of the chair. A million thoughts racing through my head. I watched her die on that video! She would have come to me if she was still alive! What if she’s still alive? I will fucking kill every single person who has fucking touched a hair on her head.
I go racing out the door back out onto the dance floor, leaving Bug behind before he can utter another word. A couple people give me nervous looks. They all know who I am, so they quickly scramble out of my way.
I walk around the dance floor and look at both bars and don’t see her. I’m about to stand up on the bar top when a flash of red near the floor catches my attention. Turning my head, I see the hottest pair of red leather shoes. I don’t know what the fuck they are but I want them wrapped around me. I follow the line of her legs up and get to possibly the shortest skirt I’ve ever seen out of the club. If this girl bends over, I’m going to get a great view of her pussy. My eyes roam up a little higher and my heart stops. Whoever this fucking chick is, I’m going to fuck her into next week.
When my gaze finally reaches her head, all I see is a shock of dark hair falling straight down her back. Trina had dark hair. I start making my way toward her, wanting to see her face.
When I’m almost to her, she turns around.
This is the chick Bug was talking about. She looks almost identical to Trina. But then again, she doesn’t. She makes eye contact with me. The biggest difference between her and Trina is their eyes. Trina’s were a dark brown. This girl’s eyes, though, are the grayest blue I have ever seen.
She gives me a strange look, and then I notice her friend behind her. She’s trying to push this angel toward me. Helping her out, I reach my hand out. I almost start to pray to a God—who I’m not sure even exists—that she places her hand in mine.
Chapter Three – Raven
I CAN’T BELIEVE I let Jazz talk me into coming here with her. Lucky for her, we were single females so we were granted access to the main club without having to pay the outrageous admission fees. Otherwise, I may not have agreed. We tried getting into the area guarded at the back—well, Jazz tried while I tried to pull her back toward the bar, but we were turned down, anyway. Thank God.
I have read many books that are darker in nature and definitely more kinky and wild than my sex life has ever been. I dream for a man like that to take interest in me. Even if it turns out to not be my style, I can’t seem to help but always fantasize that lifestyle when I pleasure myself. This could be my opportunity, but the idea of doing it, especially for the first time, in front of strangers with some random from the street freaks the hell out of me.
After being turned down entrance to the back, I ordered Jazz and I another round of shots and drinks before we took our asses to the dance floor. I don’t know how long we’ve been here, but the beats are sick, and the alcohol running through my blood loosens me up enough to dance like I don’t give a shit about anything anymore. We just brushed off two random creepers when Jazz nods her head to something, or rather someone, behind me. I don’t give any thought to it; I just keep dancing. I can feel small drops of sweat drip down my spine. I need a drink.
I motion to Jazz with my head to the bar, hopi
ng she’ll come with me, but instead she just smiles and nods. I roll my eyes and turn around, stopping instantly as I take in the man standing breaths from me. Holy fucking hell. All I see is muscle, denim, and leather. Tall, dark, and handsome with a bit of edge. My breath grows more erratic, my palms sweaty as I take in the look he’s sending my way—a hunger I’ve never witnessed before. But why? I have no idea who the hell this man is.
I decide on side stepping around him to head toward the bar, but before I can get my feet to move, he lifts a hand out toward me. I stand, dumbfounded, as I consider my options. If I take his hand, does that make me obligated to strike up a conversation with him? What if I can’t get my words to come out? My tongue feels thick and dry, nerves swirling deep in my stomach.
I take a few deep breaths to try and relax myself before I slip my hand over his. His dark amber eyes sparkle as his mouth tips just slightly up at one side. Strong, calloused fingers enclose around mine, his thumb brushing gently over the skin between my thumb and forefinger.
“Have I met you somewhere before?” he asks, his voice deep and rough. This is the type of man my father always warned me about. He’s dangerous. I can feel it in my bones. The way he looks at me, the way he sounds. The way he carries himself. He’s also every woman’s wet dream. I have no doubt a tumble between the sheets with this man, or even against a brick wall in an alley, would be life shattering. My pussy starts to weep with need, and all I can do is clench my thighs together in hopes to deter the feeling.
“No. Not that I can recall. I was actually headed to the bar for a drink, so if you’ll excuse me,” I try to say confidently, but instead my voice comes out wavering, betraying how nervous I truly am right now.
When I try to step around him, he moves with me, blocking my way.
“I would love to buy you a drink.” He smiles wide and his entire face lights up. His eyes shine with humor, and his perfectly straight white teeth glow under the lighting of the dance floor.
Normally, I would jump at the chance for free drinks, but something inside me tells me this might not be a good idea. Although, he is the epitome of what I fantasize about when I’m home alone late at night.
A gentle squeeze of my hand brings me back from my thoughts and I throw caution to the wind. Fuck it. I can always leave. Besides, Jazz is here. She won’t let anything happen to me. I send a smile his way and slightly nod to give my permission to join me to the bar.
He tips his head in the direction we are headed, releasing my hand from his grip. Instantly, I feel a bit disappointed at the loss of connection, but before I even take a step, the heat of his skin seeps into mine as he places it at the lowest part of my back.
He leans slightly over to me and whispers into my ear, “Have you ever been here before?”
I feel my cheeks heat as embarrassment washes through me. He obviously has, and if I say no, he’s going to know I’m much more inexperienced than what he’s used to. A guy like that, in a place like this—I have no doubt he’s a sex god who has a book of stories about his tumbles in the sack.
Honesty. Honesty is always best. “No. My best friend wanted to come and didn’t want to come alone.” I look at him from the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction, but he gives nothing a way for a few seconds.
He nods and smiles lightly, “I can tell. But you’re a good friend to be with her. I mean, from personal experience, I hate coming alone.” He grins wide as his eyes dance. I can’t help it, I laugh. I work with mostly men. I’m much better in situations of sexual innuendos and crude comments than I am in situations like I’m in now. I guess you can say I have no game.
“I knew you’d be even more beautiful once you laughed.”
“Do these lines normally work for you?”
What sounds almost like a growl emanates from his chest before his body is almost flush against my side. His eyes grow dark. “Why were you trying to get into the back?”
My head whips in his direction. Narrowing my eyes, I try to read him. How’d he know about that? Instead of answering him, I say nothing.
“I own this club. I know everything,” he states coolly, reading my mind. His eyes rake up and down my body. Chills course through me, leaving goose bumps in their wake. Yet, heat causes a near explosion deep inside me as I watch him take me in.
“I thought you were going to buy me a drink?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow his way.
He signals the young, busty blonde bartender and she comes running. Interesting.
“So do they all come at your beck and call?” I joke.
“When I want people to come, they do. And when I want to make someone come, they will,” he whispers hoarsely into my ear.
Oh, good God.
“A scotch for me and a—“
“A strawberry mojito, please,” I answer for him.
She disappears and within a minute, our drinks are set down on the bar top in front of us. I grab mine and take as big of a sip as I can before swallowing hard.
I look over to the man next to me and become almost nervous with how he’s watching me. Trying to break the intensity, I say, “You know, it’s not really that impressive when you offer a girl a drink and you end up not having to pay for it.”
I place the straw of my drink back between my lips and suck lightly, watching him.
“I don’t see any girls here. I only see one of the most strikingly, beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”
His words throw me off. My insides turn almost mushy as I try to force away the smile creeping onto my face.
“It seems you have a knack for words. Probably all the practice you get from owning a sex club.”
“And it seems your body betrays you. The red creeping onto your face, neck, and chest when you’re turned on or embarrassed gives you away. It’s relieving to know I affect you, even if you won’t say so.” He runs a finger from my left cheek, down my neck, and stops just above my cleavage. My chest begins to rise and fall with each heavy breath.
“What’s your name?” I whisper breathlessly.
“My real name is Gunner, but everyone calls me Mace.”
“Why Mace? I like Gunner. It’s… kind of sexy.” I shrug as I look down at the drink in my hands. My thumb starts to rub away the condensation starting to drip on the outside of the glass.
His rough fingers gently turn my chin back to him until our eyes meet again. “What’s your name?”
“Raven. Raven Anders.”
His hand immediately drops at the sound of my name and he begins to take a step back. His eyes cloud with what I can only assume is anger as his body becomes stiff and hard.
“What’s wrong?” Confusion swims in my brain as I try to recall what I had said to cause such a reaction.
“I think it’s time for you and your friend to leave, Raven. You don’t belong here.” He nods to someone behind me and before I can comprehend anything, I feel a strong hand grasp my elbow. My body jerks away from the contact, causing my back to press up against Mace. What sounds like a growl fills my ear as his strong hands hold firm to my hips. “You need to leave, Raven. Don’t come back here,” he whispers harshly before gently pushing me to the ginormous Neanderthal in front of me.
“Her friend, too,” Mace says before his heat leaves the back of my body. I turn my head to look behind me, but he’s vanished into the sea of bodies surrounding me.
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter Four – Mace
ANDERS. FUCKING ANDERS. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve the shit storm that is my life. Shaking my head, I try to push Raven out of my mind. I walk back toward my office to try to find Bug and let him know I’m heading out.
But when I get to my office and open the door, I’m not sure whether I should be surprised or not. Bug has two girls in here with him. He’s got a brunette laid out on the couch, the blonde is eagerly feasting on the brunette’s pussy, and Bug is pounding into the blonde from behind.
“Bug, I’m out. I’ll catch you back at the clu
bhouse later.” I turn to head out and he gives me a brief nod to let me know he heard me. Fucker is a little preoccupied.
Back on my bike, I start it up and peel out of my spot. Cruising through the city is always relaxing to me. Others love to ride through the country. Me? I love the bright lights. Call me lame, I really don’t give a fuck.
Unless I can find a girl to fall under me, I’m not going to be able to chill the fuck out. All the downtown lights blend together as I ride, each one undistinguishable from the next.
Before I know it¸ I’m back at the clubhouse, the ride going by much faster than usual. When I park my bike in the garage and head inside, I walk into chaos of the best kind.
Music is so loud, you can’t hear yourself think. Boys are doing coke off of club sluts’ tits. Shots are being slammed back, one right after the other. Some are dancing in the middle of the main room. And one of my favorite little trouble makers is here.
This girl is barely legal, but she’s always ready to take what I want to give her. She slides herself up next to me, situating my leg in between hers. She’s riding my leg like an experienced pro.
“Babe, you wanna head upstairs?” she all but purrs to me right into my ear.
“Don’t call me babe, Bunny.” She pouts at my response, but not for long. I grab hold of her hand and start leading her in the direction of my room. Bunny is short for Energizer Bunny. Original? Nope, not in the least. But it’s the fucking truth. This girl gives me a run for my money. When I fuck, I can go for hours. Even when I come I don’t get soft. I can keep going.
I slam the door behind us. Not wasting any time, I grab the halter top she’s wearing and pull it up, trapping her arms next to her head and covering her eyes. I make quick work of her skirt, loving the fact that she isn’t wearing any panties.
“What should I do to you tonight? Hmmm?” She knows better than to answer. I don’t like to listen to any chick talk while I’m balls deep in her.
I slide my fingers through her pussy lips, finding her drenched. “My little cunt is ready for me.” I slide my hand up the center of her body, dragging her wetness with me, until I get to her mouth and shove my fingers inside.
