by K. J. Dahlen
I inched closer and closer to his fully erect dick, I grazed every part around it, but I refused to allow myself to touch it. Not yet.
He groaned, as my tongue got closer.
He needed this.
I needed this.
I surrendered to my instincts.
I reached for his cock, wrapped my hand around it as fully as I could and started to stroke up and down his shaft rhythmically. I swept up with my tongue from base to tip, causing his entire body to jolt.
When I heard him moan I focused my eyes on his and whispered, “Relax baby, I’m not done yet.”
A small amount of pre-cum emerged from the head of his cock, and I licked it off. Slowly, I began sucking. Leaving my hand at the base, I wrapped my lips around him and worked him into my mouth as far as I could. I started pumping his cock in and out of my mouth, breathing deep through my nose, until the tip was touching the back of my throat.
Jax’s hips began moving in time with the motion of my head.
I took long breaths to control my gag reflex.
“I’m gonna come so hard if you keep this up.” Jax groaned at me.
It didn’t matter. I wanted the taste of him in my mouth too much, and I was sure he would be able to get himself back up.
“OH FUCK,” signaled the release of his warm cum which pumped into my mouth, as I continued to move up and down his cock between my lips.
“Damn, Chloe,” he said heavily a moment later. He took a minute to catch his breath, and then sat up. “Now…what to do with you.” He grinned as he grabbed my thighs and pinned me on my back.
I glimpsed at my reflection in the mirror on the wall opposite the bed—I was splayed out across the sheets as he kissed his way down my body. Jax maneuvered his kisses over my breasts, then my stomach, then my thighs with expert application of his tongue and lips. When he began licking and sucking on my clit, my eyes rolled to the back of my head as I squirmed with pleasure.
I could tell that he enjoyed watching me react. I panted and moaned, but he didn’t show me any mercy. His tongue worked its magic moving in and out with expert precision and my body arched off the bed as my orgasm took over and I moaned into climax.
Blowing out a deep breath, I forced the words out, “That’s right…Don’t stop.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Jax shot back.
I smiled breathlessly.
Jax could barely contain his smile as he grabbed my legs, lifting me and flipped me over onto my hand and knees. Anticipating his strength and power, I managed to cling to the headboard in front of me just in time. He plunged into my pussy from behind in one long, hard stroke. As his cock slid into me, it took everything I had not to cry out. Thrust after thrust my pussy pulsated around him.
I rested my head on the headboard, and looked to my right at the wall – Jax’s shadow pounding punishing thrusts into my silhouette; our bodies only lit by the skyline out the window beyond. It was the most sensual sight to my eyes.
Harder and harder, he thrust in and out of my tight pussy, and he filled me up completely. Jax’s pace quickened, and I gasped for breath as my body took it all in. He was powerful, relentless and sexy as hell
As I came a third and final time, Jax released deep inside my body with one final thrust. “Fuck,” he groaned and came with a roar. His body collapsed on top of me, crushing me into the bed with his weight. I wasn’t complaining…I felt complete.
When he finally came back down to earth, he rolled over, taking me with him, and I lay my head on his chest as we pulled the sheet over us and lay there naked under it.
“You love me, don’t you?” Jax asked.
“No, don’t worry, you’re not my type,” I joked, then feeling brave, I spoke the truth, “You’re right I love you, Jax. I have for a long time.”
He ran his hand down the curvature of my waist as I rested my head on his shoulder. “When all this is over…. Whatever is left of me, I am yours, Chloe. I love you too.”
I looked into his eyes, overwhelmed by his declaration, as he kissed me, tenderly, deeper and deeper.
The moment was interrupted by a text on his cell phone.
Jax’s head emerged from the sheets, but I was too spent to move. My eyes fluttered open briefly, but I was too exhausted and my heavy eyes closed.
Chapter Ten
(Jaxson)
“My God! Jax, finally. Where you been, man? Traffic problems?” Dino shook my hand warmly.
“Dino! Uh...right, yeah.”
“The boys are just loading up,” Dino said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Very cold, bitter, coastal winds hit us. We watched with interest as six of our prospects moved, in an uncoordinated fashion, unloading crates of Whiskey from our ship’s aft holds, and stacking them up in our trucks so that the shipment could be checked over – all of them exhausted.
“Not sure about this bunch.” Dino scoffed.
I sighed. “We’ll see.”
There was a distinguished tradition of selecting new blood for our ranks every spring. For eight weeks, not one of them could set foot in our clubhouse. Instead, we worked the prospecting men damn hard to see who was willing to earn it the hard way. All the patch members, aside the founders, had done the same. No one who made it as a patch member ever carried any bitterness. I would never make any man do work I wasn’t prepared to do myself; it was all about respect, in the end. And respect was a two-way street.
To get patched in, each man had to prove their loyalty, respect and complete honor to the club.
I shouted over to them, “Catch ten boys, get yourselves a drink.”
While the prospects took a break, Dino and I set to work, taking stock of the number of crates and inspecting a sample of bottles inside. For once, everything looked bang on target. I jumped out of one of the trucks and stepped back, surveying the busy, but charming scene.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Antonio sitting on one of the boats fiddling on his phone like a moody teenager.
I turned to Dino. “Any sign of trouble today?”
“Not yet. He’s been damn quiet all morning though. Makes me wonder what he’s plotting in that head of his.”
I nodded in agreement. “My thoughts exactly.”
From behind us, I heard heavy footsteps approach. I turn. A huge, tall man, nearly 300 pounds, and a face that looked stern and grumpy. Bruno had arrived. He was dressed in head-to-toe black. He wore a large, shapeless bomber jacket – which almost certainly meant he was hiding more than just his gun underneath. As head of the De Luca crime family, his power was as awe-inspiring as his presence. The mafia kingpin attracted wealth, respect, allies …and enemies. Like a god, he inspired both worshipful submission and mortal terror.
Bruno always came down to the docks to supervise our larger shipments. It wasn’t surprising, seeing as the practice was his most lucrative venture. He owned a rather grand establishment right on the waterfront too – tall and timeless. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to suppose he might have wanted to actually spend some time there.
Bruno was known for his sharp-mind and ruthless competitiveness. He played to win. And he did. In business, he played a far more sneaky and subtle game than his enemies. When he founded his MC in honor of his late brother, Charles De Luca, he swore to the grave that the economics of the club would be something his brother would be proud of. Charles had been good man; the sort to give the shirt off his back to help any person out. Sadly, the De Luca crime family hadn’t been supportive and shunned him when he turned his back on their illegitimate ways. The guilt of Bruno’s family feud still plagued him to this day.
Apparently, after his brother’s funeral, Bruno hadn’t left his home for three months; he schemed until he had plotted a colossal comeback. By virtue of being very bright and well-connected, Bruno was insightful enough and brave enough to figure out how to exploit a loophole in a government incentive that would build the MC a substantial b
usiness.
Best of all, the club didn’t have to break a single law to do it. I was always proud of that. In a spectacular fuck-up, the United States Congress had started to pay special subsidies to shippers for food commodities that were produced in one part of the foreign market and re-exported from another’s. Bizarrely, under their index of articles that qualified for these government monies, whiskey was listed.
A number of shippers discovered that if they were taking a consignment of agricultural products, such as coffee from say, Panama to Australia, they could make a fortune by stopping off at a port in California en-route then pointlessly unloading the cargo and reloading it into their ship’s forward holds.
While other shippers went about their business selling low-margin commodities, Bruno imported the finest Whiskey as the premium scotch yielded the highest profits. This little ruse had enriched Bruno to the tune of $38 million over the past decade. Bruno invested into pubs, clubs, property and the markets. Ten years of excellent business without any worry of somebody baiting him out for illegal-activity. As a result, both Bruno and his MC were safe.
Three years ago, the laws had started to change. The clubs relatively ethical business started to change with it. Why? Because Bruno was a winner. And he had to keep on winning. No matter what. Although the Whiskey operation was still Bruno’s most profitable setup, I had grown deeply concerned about how the club would end up – especially now that I was in line to take over as president.
Bruno strolled right past Antonio without so much as a chin lift to acknowledge him.
I glanced at Antonio’s phone gripped tightly in his hand. He chewed on his lip in frustration as he dug furiously in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.
Bruno walked right up to me and shook my hand with his signature white-knuckle style painful grip. He then winced, as he looked me over from head to toe. “What the fuck happened to your eye?”
“Nothing,” I replied as I shook my head “Got myself too close to a brawl at the bar. That’s all,” I added, shrugging it off.
Brawls at the biker’s bar were shockingly common. Too many guys in a small space. cheap liquor, live sports broadcasts and never more than a handful of women to fifty or so guys ‒ fierce competition and bust-ups were inevitable. It also probably goes without saying that the men who did back down from a fight were usually too embarrassed to ever return.
Bruno nodded, seemingly convinced. “Well, you look terrible, just letting you know,” he commented in his usual pleasant disposition.
“Thanks, Boss.” I replied, sarcastically.
“Let’s find a quiet place to talk,” Bruno said, his voice all business.
We stepped inside his marina office just in front of where our ships docked away from the loud, busy, and prying foot-traffic. The building was still and silent; a brother only entered with Bruno’s permission. It was a well kept, tidy and an extravagant place. With white marble floors, and avant-garde furniture, and nobody smoked in here, except for Bruno when he lit up one of his cigars. Nothing like the clubhouse. The front office was the most stunning room: large, beautifully furnished and decorated elegantly.
Bruno moved to the bay window that looked out over our section of the docks, and pulled up the blinds, flooding the room with light. We watched for a while as the prospects worked.
Antonio had been talking on the phone, and then he hung up, smiling smugly to himself. He shot a glare at me through the window and I saw hatred in his eyes – nothing surprising there. But this time he gave a smirk; a knowing kind of smirk. I envisioned Antonio with a knife at my throat.
“Charlie…” Bruno cleared his throat. “My brother would have been proud to call you family, Jax. What you’ve done for him. What you’ve done for me…” Bruno said his voice slow and calm. “I didn’t want to come down so hard on you the other day, Jax.”
“It’s alright. I understand,” I said softly.
“You needed to see things from a different perspective. That’s all.” Bruno paused for a beat. “We – me and the boys – we’re your family. We’re all you’ve got. Jax.”
I didn’t respond right away. I looked out of the window at Dino with the prospects working. Rivulets of sweat flowed from the prospect’s brows. Each of them was hustling hard despite their tired bodies and flushed faces.
“That was you once, you know that. Right?”
“I know,” I answered, simply.
“I know you.” A small, brief grin crossed Bruno’s face. “You’re my Jax. The boy who had nothing and no one. The boy who I turned into a man. The boy I gave freedom, and opportunity.” He paused again. “Taught you respect loyalty and honor.”
I nodded. “Yes, sir, you did that.”
Bruno inhaled deeply. “I trust you not to dishonour your family.”
I bowed my head briefly in respect.
The last thing that man said to me before we left the office that day was, “Don’t fuck this up.” His eyes were wide and soft as he looked into mine.
I exhaled deeply and nodded without breaking his gaze. It was the first, and undoubtedly the last, human moment I had shared with Bruno.
Bruno dug into his pocket, pulled out a cigar box and offered one my way. We lit up, took a drag and watched the guys reload the whiskey for shipment. Nothing more needed to be said. We were both thinking the same thing…in a couple days, the fate of the Black Devils would be in my hands.
What Bruno didn’t know, was that my faith in the future was paralyzed. Chloe and I couldn’t hide away forever. I knew that if anybody closed the connection between me and Chloe, or if I were to abandon my brothers for her, the club and likely my life was doomed.
Chapter Eleven
(Chloe)
I’d still been asleep when Jax arrived home. The front door to the apartment opened with a creak. My eyelids fluttered open, before abruptly closing in the glare of the direct, blinding light that invaded the room through the sash-window. I rolled to my left and glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table through squinted eyes; it was 11:32am! I sat up in bed, suddenly.
To my surprise, I was greeted by my own naked reflection in the wall mirror that faced me. My eyes darted over the bed as I rummaged under the quilt, looking for my clothes. I found my t-shirt slung over the edge of my pillow and tugged it on. I shuffled out of bed and kept the duvet wrapped around me while I pulled out a clean pair of panties and black yoga-pants from my things.
The bedroom door was wide open and Jax appeared in the doorway, still wearing his leather jacket. I was bewildered by his serious, don’t-fuck-with-me looking stance. His arms were crossed, his legs wide apart while he straddled the width of the doorway; his face looked solemn and resolved.
As I pulled up my yoga pants, I gave him a warm smile. “Jax, where have you been?” I asked, invitingly.
Jax didn’t respond, nor did he come into the bedroom.
I tried again, “Say something,” I chirped. “Or are you too overcome from last night?” I teased, with a giggle. I strode over to him, pressed my body against his and whispered, “I missed you.” I got onto my tiptoes to reach his lips. I held myself steady by the collar of his jacket and inhaled to take in the scent of his cologne. To my surprise, the scent had transformed this morning. It was a new and remarkable mix of cologne and the rich smell of smoke from a Cuban cigar. It overwhelmed my senses and I crushed my lips to his.
Jax didn’t kiss me back. And he still hadn’t said a word.
I lowered my weight back down onto my heels and looked up at his face; it was cold and emotionless. Almost hostile. I was taken aback; the night we’d shared had felt to me like a beautiful dream. From the way Jax was behaving, it seemed as though, to him, it had been nothing but a meaningless one-night-stand he wanted to distance himself from.
My voice turned serious. “Are you all right?” I asked.
Again, he gave me no answer.
My tone hardened further and I tried again, “Ja
x, what the fuck’s going on? You won’t even talk to me.”
Jax gave a long, heavy exhale and stepped back, out from my grasp. Finally, he spoke, “I can’t BS you any longer,” he said, abruptly.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not making any sense.”
“There’s something I want you to know.”
“Alright,” I replied, my eyebrows furrowing at him in confusion.
“We should sit down.” He dropped his crossed arms and his shoulders fell with them; it appeared that he had relaxed a little more. Jax put his right arm around my shoulders and kissed my forehead.
What the fuck had gotten into him? First, Jax is unresponsive, and then he looks fired up….now he kisses me?
“What’s going on, Jax?” I asked, firmly. “You push me away and then you kiss me?” I walked by his side, under his arm, out of the bedroom.
“Like I said, there’s something I’ve got to say,” he replied, sharply. He steered me to the couch. Slipping off his jacket, he tossed it onto the dining table on the way.
We sat down on the sofa. Jax sat in one corner and I crossed my legs on the middle seat and pivoted to face him. “So?” I asked. I wanted to reach out and take his hand but he had a standoffish aura, so I just sat there and waited for him to speak.
After a minute, he began to talk, “If there is going to be anything between us, then it’s important that you know a few things about my past and my club.”
“Okay,” I replied, nonchalantly. I supposed that I’d been mistaken; perhaps Jax thought I didn’t understand what I was getting into by considering a relationship with an MC man. But I understood their world completely. I understood more than Jax, my mother and anybody else would ever know. It was in my blood; everything about bikes, bikers and their clubs fascinated me. Despite my mother’s warning to avoid MC’s like the plague, I couldn’t resist. It was something I had always quietly craved. And it scared the shit out of me. But if I had really wanted nothing to do with Jax and this life, then I would have left Jax and his apartment after the first night.
