The Stray Sister: Blades and Red Skulls (Hellriders Book 1)
Page 4
“Sixty-six.” She watched his eyebrows briefly lift.
“You look after them yourself?”
“Of course.”
The light in his eyes burned hotter.
Through her teeth she said, “Don’t let anyone at the club know, okay? Promise me.”
“Honestly, aint nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Promise me.”
He had on a little boyish grin again but he gave in and said it, “Okay, okay. I promise.”
There. He had said it before she realized the implications. He had made an oath to her. He had given her a promise. She knew, even if he was wishing right now that he could suck the words back in, that was a serious matter for him. He made a promise, and he would keep it.
The one thing, maybe the only thing, these bikers took as seriously as their bikes was their honor.
Cracker had made a promise to her. That was huge. Maybe it wasn’t only about her bike. But maybe it was. Keep your head straight, Jess, she told herself.
She looked up into his eyes and she was sure the significance wasn’t lost on him. His nostrils flared and his dark, golden eyes gleamed. Jesska’s mouth was dry and she moistened her lips with her tongue.
He seized her.
One hand behind her head and the other under her ass, he swept her to him. She gasped as his hard body pulsed against her.
Her soft flesh formed against his as he crushed her against him. His hot breath fanned her face and his eyes searched hers with an urgent need.
Her lips parted and they were together. Her body vibrated and sang as he squeezed her ass and clamped her face to his own, his strong lips made a seal that blew the world away. Their hot, short breaths danced in a column and entwined as a force.
She clawed him to her, pressed her hips against him, felt his need and hers clamor for union. Her nipples stung as her breasts pressed against his hard, beating chest. Her fingers raked and clawed at his shirt, his jeans and his neck.
Her head filled with his scent and hers, mingled together. Their breaths joined in fierce, animal snorts. They fed on each other and devoured each other. Their bodies together made one—one heaving engine of pent-up fire.
She held his face in her hands and gently he let her feet back to the ground. Still they kissed, but deeply, tenderly, intimately. His fingers brushed her cheeks. Stroked her neck. She felt the hard cage of his ribs. Traced the lines of his stomach. Breathed him.
Kaleidoscope flashes of every emotion she knew went through her, from fear to soft safety, from calm to nerve-crackling thrill. She lived a lifetime in his hot, wet kiss.
He held her with her head on his shoulder. She wanted more. The excitement in her body, in her breasts and her groin was screaming for more. She could smell the heat in her panties as well as feel how wet they were. She wanted to claw at him and rip their clothes off, right there, right then. She wanted to feel all of him, and feel him on all of her.
The bulge in the front of his pants swelled hot and hard against her. Her hips rocked along it, and against it. As she pressed, pushed her buzzing mound along the stiffening ridge that stretched his hard denim, her thighs shook and sensation welled up and rose like waves within her. Her breasts heaved against him.
His breath was hot, sweet and dark. His eyes melted her. And she held herself back. She wanted him, wanted to open up, to let him in, to trust him and to be safe in his arms. And she let him hold her as she trembled.
She moaned as his hand squeezed her breast and pushed her sore nipple to rub harder against the fabric inside her bra. She wanted so much to be out of all her clothes.
She took his breath in and as his tongue touched hers for the first time and her arms flung themselves around his sturdy, thick, strong neck to pull herself closer, harder against his rippling, firm body. His thick, supple lips fastened on her, held and possessed her. Took her as his own, as her soft, eager mouth opened to let him in, to give herself up to him.
Her breasts pressed against the firm rise and fall of his hard, wide chest. Her hands pulled and raked on the ridges of his back as it rolled like thick, molten iron. Her buttocks clenched as she wound her legs tighter on his thigh.
Pressing in front of her skirt, a large, heavy beast straightened and slowly rose to stand. Fat and hard, it pulsed in the front of his jeans, thrumming insistently against the top of her quivering thigh, agonizingly near to her own swelling heat.
Her hip pushed back against his stiffening pride. Still locked in the depth of the kiss, she felt his smile. And his strength. His heart thumped against her chest.
His hand meanwhile strayed down to the front of her skirt. Then it slipped inside. Her mind wanted to resist. But her body moved towards him. As he pressed on the top of her mound, her thighs clamped his, every muscle in her body clenched and and she sighed.
He pushed down on her pelvic bone and it made her wild for the touch of his fingers, his skin, on her. There. And below.
Cracker slid his fingers into her panties. Her hips jerked at the touch of his skin on hers. She meant for her body to push him away, but somehow it drew him tighter. Closer. As his fingers roamed lower, her hips strained up to him.
She ached for his touch. Thrummed at the strength and the skill of his fingers. He pressed down to feel where she was moist and then pulled his fingers back to rub higher up, slowly.
She moaned and clung to him and his finger slid up and then around. Her buttocks clenched and her thighs shook as the rising waves of sensation began to overtake her. She should make him stop. Yes. YES. But not yet.
She stroked his hard neck as they kissed. Her breath quaked in his mouth. She had only ever kissed one other man with a mustache, and he was much, much older, a professor. It wasn’t like this. Not at all like this.
She thought he would press her to go further. Her insides wrenched between wanting him to and wanting to resist. In a dizzying flash she knew that what she wanted most was for him to press her, so that she could resist, and for him then to overcome her.
She shuddered and shook. She kissed him and clung to him, her emotions churning within her. He held her. And he waited.
When her shaking subsided he asked her, “Come back into the clubhouse?”
“No. I should go. Let’s stay out here a little longer though. Stay with me?”
His eyes flashed and at his soft smile her knees threatened to buckle.
Cracker told her that Mace was from the Skulls and he had come with a deal. As he was a guest from another club, Blades had obligations to offer hospitality. Remembering him in that back room Jess thought, That went a lot further than any kind of hospitality I know about, but she kept it to herself.
She wanted to know more about what was happening in the ‘rumpus room,’ but she didn’t want to ask. She had a strong sense too that if she found out she’d regret it. She wanted to take him on trust. Even against the odds. Against the evidence of her eyes. Against the storm of emotion that brewed up inside of her as she clung to him.
Chapter 11
Haughey, Red Skulls VP was the acting president while Iron was on his enforced leave of absence. The big, red-headed Irishman came to the clubhouse door to greet Cracker and Bear. He gave both of them wide smiles, firm bro-hugs, put an arm on each of their shoulders and steered them to the bar.
Their shoulders were clapped by every man in the club it seemed. Whiskey flowed and Haughey said he would take them into a back room, “To nail the details.”
Bear whispered to Cracker, “Details? I didn’t think we’d agreed yet.”
The Red Skulls had a setback, something of a disruption of service, when Iron, their President and his Sergeant-at-Arms, Jam both got hauled into the cells. Selling, or allegedly attempting to sell a pound and a half of ninety-six percent pure coke.
Bear spoke quietly into Cracker’s ear, “Never mind that nobody sells coke that pure, nobody can even get coke that pure. It’s been stepped on harder than that before it ever gets near a US border.”
&
nbsp; Cracker nodded, “Damn right. That isn’t a commodity, that’s a goddamned collectors item.”
Bear said, “And, forget that the Skulls don’t ever sell coke wholesale. The biggest bag anyone ever bought from them would be about an ounce, two at the most. The Skulls ship or buy coke wholesale, and they sell it retail.”
“Makes no sense,” Cracker agreed.
Bear went on, “While we’re at it, just overlook about the fact that the two senior men in the club would never be out on the street for a one-time deal.” Their eyes met and Bear said, “Street whores in Tijuana smell less of fish than that deal.”
So, the Skulls top men are in the county lock-up and their VP comes to Blades MC, asking them to take over the Skulls’ next monthly arms shipment. He’s offering a big slice of the Skulls’ main earner to Blades, a rival club. Blades send Cracker and Bear to the meet on their behalf. Cracker, an unaffiliated nomad. And Haughey doesn’t bat an eye.
No, he treats Cracker like he’s the goddamn rainmaker and Bear like he’s the King of Spain.
Haughey had welcomed Cracker and Bear into the Red Skulls clubhouse like they were visiting royalty. He offered dope, whiskey and the Skulls finest pieces of tail. It made no sense.
Haughey brought four girls into the back room with them. The stacked redhead carried a spliff and a baggie full of weed, the petite raven-haired minx had a silver tray with a bottle of bourbon and gleaming shot glasses.
Bear and Cracker settled on a couch. Bear whispered, “Let’s just see where this road leads.”
The girls’ wide eyes shone. Women always wanted a piece of Cracker, and he was usually happy to oblige. It wasn’t often that a motorcycle club high council member came offering his best girls as—as what, a tribute? as a sweetener?—but why did Haughey want to please them so bad? Should have been the other way around.
Bear was determined to take full advantage of the gifts on offer. Two of the girls dragged his jeans opened and they squealed and giggled as they hauled out his long, thick cock. They took turns to lick along the length of it, to suck on his balls and to plunge their young mouths over his proud, stiffening cock.
He slowly pulled the redhead’s panties down over her nubile thighs and chuckled at her pubes, shaved into a red heart. Her eyes widened when he sunk his bearded face into her soft, tight little wet pussy. Her back arched and her hands flew into her hair as she moaned and rocked her pelvis on his mouth.
Cracker watched with a detached look of amusement and accepted a fat joint from the nimble black-haired girl. She stroked and nuzzled his chest, nibbled at his nipples and slid her sharp teeth down his abs.
When she dragged her neat little nails down his stomach and got to his belt, he breathed thick and hard, but to her surprise and his, he pulled her hands gently away. “Restricted zone, sweetheart,” he told her with a smile.
He could have just been having some fun but he realized that he knew what he wanted and this young girl, lovely though she was, was not it. Bear saw what was going on and, when he figured it out, he did his level best to torture Cracker.
He got the redhead on the couch on her knees with her face inches from Cracker’s. He felt her pants of breath and watched her gleaming eyes water as Bear pried her open. She gasped and moaned as his hard bulb popped into her. She stretched and bent her back and her fingers clawed as his length reamed up her.
Her little wet tongue lolled out of her red lips and she sighed as Bear’s thighs slapped against her upturned ass and he pounded into her until she collapsed into Cracker’s lap. She writhed, moaned stretched and flexed and shouted helplessly as she came, over and over.
Out the corner of his eye, Cracker watched Haughey. Haughey took tiny sips off his whiskey with long gaps between them. He let the girls crawl over his lap, but his attention was never on them. He was watching Cracker and Bear.
When the girl on Bear’s dick was done, he grabbed the next girl to make her come with her face in front of Cracker’s nose. Cracker smiled and said, “Okay, bro. That was enough. Get your jollies and fire off down this sweet girl’s throat. Then let’s get our business done.”
When he was done and the girl grinned and gurgled happily with sticky dribble over her face, Cracker beckoned Haughey over.
“A’ight, Haughey, we’ll take the run, and I’ll head it up. There’s terms and conditions, though. I’ll set the place. Click to confirm that you have read and agree to accept all of the terms and conditions.”
“Well… we’ll need some time to get set up…”
“I’ll call, I’ll tell you where, and I’ll give you an hour. That’s exactly how long you’ll have to get your circus there. Are we on?”
Chapter 12
Cracker and Bear rode two miles down the road straight back from Red Skulls’ clubhouse before Cracker stopped and looked about him. Bear stopped up ahead and turned back to where Cracker was.
This was some bleak and desolate terrain. Reddish brown rocks and dirt, spiky, bare spines of shrubs and blue-gray ridges shimmered together in a dull haze all the way to the horizon.
Sound didn’t travel, it just fell at your boots.
He turned and looked back up the road to see that there wasn’t anyone following. You want any covert surveillance out here, you’d need a lizard to do it for you. Anything more than a foot high, you’d spot it coming from a mile away.
Damn place gave him the creeps. He got out his cellphone. No signal, of course. He pulled out a spliff, thinking about what he was going to tell John Reader back at the Blades’ clubhouse.
He and Bear turned off their engines. Bear waited for him to speak.
“Haughey didn’t ask any of the right questions, Bear. He didn’t ask why I was there, or even why John Reader wasn’t there. Most telling of all, he didn’t say anything about the money.”
“Yeah, I was ready for some hard bargaining.”
They looked at each other and looked back up the road.
Bear said, “You know it, bro. Some truly devious shit going down here.”
Chapter 13
Jess had gotten used to spending her evenings at the club, and the club got used to her being around. She enjoyed the protection of being ‘with’ Cracker, officially at least, and that meant she was treated with respect by all the men, and mostly by the women as well.
Jess felt as though she was getting along with everyone. Everyone except for Mary Ann. They avoided each other like Kryptonite. Jess saw Mary Ann in brief little intimate huddles with a lot of the regular bikers, but especially with Bear. And with Cracker.
There was no outward sign of anything more going on, but the way she leaned close, spoke softly and body blocked whatever man she spoke to, it always looked as though she had some special something with every one of them.
Everyone knew, or at least probably knew, that Jess wasn’t Cracker’s ol’ lady in any real sense, but if a biker says, ‘she’s with me,’ that’s most often enough. Unless someone has a beef with it.
The unofficial status, not quite one thing or the other, made Jess feel comfortable and safe. That was how she’d been all her life, practically.
The fact that the men of this club with their rigid codes and rules made a space, an exception just for her, that made Jess feel as though she really belonged in a way she hadn’t felt before.
The space was for her and her alone. They had chosen to let her in and, to a degree, had let her in on her terms. This was the first place Jess had ever felt that she was accepted.
She began to feel that there was a place where she might truly be at home. A place that wouldn’t up and move, people that she wouldn’t have to lose, people she could risk having real attachments with.
Bear continued to bait her, but she felt a protective warmth beneath his jibes. Gyro always treated her like a lady, as all of the MC members did. Their sense of community and of honor ran deep and was firm.
Cracker, the nomad, well, Cracker was a whole other story.
Chapter 14
He came up to the bar, stood between Cracker and Jess. Before the guy even finished crossing the floor, Cracker saw Jess put out her bottom lip, corners of her mouth down. Kit seemed okay to Cracker, and to Bear too.
After a couple of beers, Kit got the talk around to a couple pounds of fresh Californian outdoor grown weed. Primo quality. Bear looked over at Cracker. Something had sounded a little off in the way that Kit had brought it up.