“But who will watch The Pit?” I sputter, caught off guard by his suggestion. He wants to protect me? What is it with these guys thinking I can’t handle my own problems? Where were they when I was a ten-year-old living on the streets? I guess they were kids, but still, it would’ve been nice to have someone back then.
“I’ll have my guys ride by randomly, and I’ll also have a chat with the sheriff. See if he and his deputies are willing to drive by a couple times a night when he patrols as well. It won’t be left abandoned or anything.”
“You’re friends with the sheriff? Aren’t cops and bikers supposed to hate each other?”
“In most cases yes, but not in ours. Our alliance benefits the community, and the people’s safety around here is important to all of us.”
I turn to the silent man beside me; he’s usually not this quiet. “And what do you think of all this?” He’s normally first to voice his displeasure about anything to me, it seems.
“Viking’s suggestion makes sense.” His beefy arm falls across the back of my barstool. The heat coming off him so close it makes me shudder as the air conditioning kicks on, and the two temperatures clash against my skin at the same time. “The guys today make five Iron Fists disappearing, all while watching you.”
His thumb trails over my spine, his sky-blue irises full of scorching heat as he gazes at me. “That’s a large enough group to be noticed and to take out retaliation. If they decide to hit back, they’ll rape and kill you, if you’re lucky.”
My mouth drops open. “If I’m lucky?” That’s not my idea of luck, nor should it be anyone’s.
He nods. “They could keep you alive and torture you for who knows how long, along with continued rape throughout the club members. Maybe after so much, they decide to sell you off so some twisted fuck can continue doing the same sort of abuse.”
“Holy shit,” I gasp and swallow the sudden lump in my throat. “How did I get in the middle of this and how can they get away with that?” The fingers on my right hand float toward him, eventually landing on his thigh, unconsciously seeking out his strength.
Viking interrupts. “You started making money. In our world when it comes to gambling, racing, drugs, that sort...if you make enough money, you get noticed. It was their fuck up believing that you’re an easy target without someone watching your back.”
“This is bad. All I wanted to do was run a clean track where people could relax, place some bets, drink a few beers, and watch races. I don’t need these assholes coming and screwing it all up for me. And I damn sure don’t like having my place bombed for their sick entertainment.”
“Well, it may take some time, but we’re working on getting rid of this problem. Luckily you’ll be able to benefit from it as well.”
“By staying here, do you mean with cupcake?” I tilt my head toward the broody biker at my side.
“Cupcake?” Viking snorts out a chuckle and Mercenary grumbles while shooting me an unamused side-eye.
I nod, glancing at the both of them. Mercenary’s the only man I call cupcake. At first, I did it to piss him the hell off, and it worked flawlessly. It quickly morphed into me calling him cupcake ‘cause he was pretty sweet to me when he wanted to be. And now, well...it’s because his cocks as thick as a damn cupcake. The fucker’s got a massive sized dick. I could stuff myself with it all the damn time and be peachy keen.
“Listen, doll, Merc here,” he gestures to the man in question, “claimed you out front. He essentially made you his ol’ lady since he fucked you in front of the entire club and then made you admit that you’re his.”
I blow out a breath, pretty confident I know enough biker lingo to understand what he’s getting at. I ask anyway, just to be certain. “What does that mean?”
“You belong to him; you’re a part of this club.”
I jump to my feet, my thoughts confirmed and my fist slams into Mercenary’s rock-hard bicep. “You ass!”
He stands, towering over me. “Woman, don’t make me take you over my knee.”
I sputter, my cheeks growing warm with my irritation at this bossy-ass man. “You’re off your damn rocker if you think I’ll put up with your macho shit!” I yell, and he moves like a freaking ninja, catching me off guard. I’m good at defending myself when I’m expecting it, but Mercenary whips me up in his solid arms, hiking me to hang over his wide shoulder. I curse him loudly, and his brothers throughout the bar snicker. His hand lands on my ass—hard.
“Shut the fuck up, Chevelle!” he commands, and his MC brothers laugh even louder at his disgruntled boom. He grumbles, “I’ll catch you later Vike, obviously this bitch has been without my cock for too long. She gets mouthy; I have to go fix it.”
“Remember what I said,” Viking responds ominously, and I flash my middle finger at Mercenary’s back. He can’t see me, but it still counts.
I let out my own growl, hanging upside down but I have a feeling that with all the noise in the bar, that I sound more like a pissed off kitten as Mercenary stomps away, taking us to his room.
15. Happiness is an inside job.
Don’t assign anyone else that
much power over your life.
- HPLYRIKZ.COM
I feel the woman at my side stir, rousing me further from my deep, sated sleep. We’re both still naked from a long night of me proving just how much she really is mine. Pulling her closer, I line my cock up and sink into her from behind.
I’ll never have enough of her or her body; the woman keeps me on my toes. I’m quickly learning the only way to keep her temper from lashing out at me is to keep her satisfied with my cock. Not that I mind in the slightest. I’m getting to know every inch of her delectable body, and a pleased Chevelle is even sexier than a pissed off Chevelle.
“Mmm, again?” she mumbles sleepily, and I push farther, sinking deeply into her warm sheath.
“As much as possible,” I groan against the back of her neck, pushing her hair out of my face, and breathe her in. “You smell so damn good. Like rain and springtime.”
With a quiet laugh, she replies huskily, “I smell like your soap.”
“I know, and I like how my soap smells.”
She snickers, and I find myself grinning like an idiot against her skin. She asks, “No more fucking this morning?”
“I’m tired. Besides you said you were sore the last time,” I rumble and slowly plunge into her again, my hand skirting over her ribs, stopping to cup her full, heavy breasts.
“Mmm, I should’ve believed you about the eight inches thing. I thought you were full of it. Turns out I’m full of it.”
“You’re still chirping about that?” I groan as my cock throbs, encased in her welcoming core.
“It’s impressive.”
“You needed to be fucked badly, sweetie. Your pussy belongs on my cock.” I nip at her neck, pulling my hips back to sink into her again, driving my pleasure on. “Fuck, you’re good for my ego.” Reaching down I seek out her clit. We’re old friends by now with how well I know that part of her body after merely one night.
Her head turns, burying her mouth in my pillow as she moans loudly and bites down. I’ve discovered just the way to touch her to make her beg me for more. I had her shooting off like the Fourth of July all night long. I’m not going to let her forget who’s in control of her pleasure. I’ll give it again and again until it’s seared into her memory.
“You’re gonna give it to me easily today then?”
Her bite on my pillow releases as she turns toward me as much as she can. “You got it easily last night too,” she replies huskily, her voice laced with desire and sleep. Her leg hikes behind her, hooking over my thigh so I can go in deeper.
Bullshit. She fought me at every turn, making me work for her orgasms. She’s stubborn, but I love a good challenge. “What can I say, your tight pussy likes me. It can’t seem to get enough of my cock making it come.”
Tucking my arm around her chest, I
pick us up until I’m on my knees with her back pressed firmly against my chest. My free arm wraps around her, my palm landing on her core, grinding against her clit. My other plays with her breasts, squeezing and caressing her nipples with my fingertips. Her head falls back, resting on my shoulder. Her eyes stay closed with her mouth open, whimpering and moaning with my caresses.
My hips rock hers, my shaft thrusting into its own rhythm drawing a soft whimper from her. Her head turns to watch my face. “See, you shouldn’t be able to move like that without breaking contact.” The vixen smiles as she adds, “Eight inches really makes a difference.”
“Nah,” I rasp, turning to meet her lips. “You haven’t been fucked properly before, that’s all. Now you know that no motherfucker can do what I can.” I take her mouth—morning breath be damned. I want to feel her tongue against mine. I was just kissing her hours ago, but it feels like it’s been too long since we’ve had that contact. Her center tightens around me, already starting to milk my length as her climax draws near.
Breaking my hold on her breast, I use my arm for balance and lean us back until I’m lying flat on my back, impaling my cock into her heat in another position. Our mouths break apart in the move, and the change draws a deeper whimper from her. It’s the perfect spot for me to play with her sensitive nub.
Her legs fall open, spread completely apart for me. Each leg rests across each of my thick, muscular thighs. Her long locks fall off the side of my shoulder, and I catch the scent of my shampoo as well. I like this, having my smell everywhere when it comes to Chevelle.
“Yes, oh yes,” she cries deliciously.
I tilt her head farther off to the side and draw her skin between my lips to suck. She starts to shoot off me, but I hold her to me tightly. One hand continues to rub her pussy ruthlessly, the other wraps securely around her chest. My hand reaches up, gripping her neck in place, bracing her body to mine.
My moves coax the orgasm from her while I mark her so severely, the delicate tanned skin bruises with a deep purple hue. She’ll wear it for the next few weeks to come before it fully disappears. Hell, something buried down wants me to bite her and draw blood. I’ve never had the feeling like that before, but I have this insatiable need for everyone to know she’s taken. And to know death will follow them if they touch her.
Chevelle screams my name loudly, as the pleasure fully blooms over her body. I’m slowly wearing down her resolve toward me. Her tight, wet core squeezes my thickness so tightly, I follow her, pumping my own pleasure into her. Not only am I wearing her down, but I’m falling farther down the rabbit hole when it comes to her.
I hold her to me as I inhale and exhale a few times deeply, catching my breath and come down from the intense climax. The woman steals a piece of my soul each time I take her. Morning sex is one of my favorite things with her, no doubt. It’s passionate, the pleasure reached easily, and so damn fulfilling.
When my arms finally fall away, she rolls off me to the side. Her hand flies to the spot showing the world that she’s taken. “You marked me!” She hisses and glares. She can try to be pissed, but her eyes are still glazed over from how much she enjoyed it. The look makes me want to fuck her—hard this time.
“And?” My brow lifts, and I shrug, not fazed in the slightest bit at her irritation.
“I don’t enjoy going around with hickeys on my neck. I have a business to run, and I’ll look cheap.”
“You’re wrong,” I argue. “You look like a woman who’s been thoroughly enjoyed. A woman that’s been claimed and has a man. A woman not to be fucked with by anyone with a cock in their pants.”
She throws her arms up and huffs. “Men won’t take me seriously, especially when it comes to cars. They’ll see this mark and then look for a man, instead of taking me seriously.”
“Then they’ll find me right next to you, and I’ll tell them you run The Pit.”
“You don’t understand, Mercenary. I don’t want them to look for a man at all. They should see me in charge.”
“Excuse me? Too fucking bad, because I’ll be there and if any of them disrespect you, I’ll knock their fucking teeth out.”
“Some woman may fall at your feet hearing you proclaim that Tarzan crap, but I can take care of myself. I happen to enjoy doing the knocking out with my own two fists.”
“Fucking shit, you’re a pain in the ass.”
She climbs out of bed and searches out her shorts and one of my shirts.
“What are you doing?”
“Going home.” Chevelle sulks acting every bit of the flustered woman she was just claiming she isn’t. She busily pulls her clothes on and covers up that beautiful body that I was lucky enough to get very acquainted with last night.
I jump out of bed and pull on a clean pair of jeans, garnering her attention.
“What are you doing?”
“Going with you.” I shrug, gearing myself up for an argument. She’ll no doubt have something to say especially right after I put a dark purple, huge hickey on her throat.
“Uh, no...” Chevelle trails off and shakes her head. She continues searching under random objects for her other shoe.
“You’re not going back there alone. We don’t know if there are Iron Fists waiting for you to return, and my bike’s still there. We came in your car, remember?”
She sighs. “Fine, but we’re stopping to get breakfast on the way, and since you want to be all manly, you’re buying,” she grumbles, and I yank on my shirt.
“Hard deal, but I think I can manage being forced to eat and pay.” I tug on my boots, ignoring what I’m sure is an eye-roll directed my way.
We ended up going back to the taco shack to pick up breakfast burritos and thankfully the dumbass from yesterday wasn’t working again. I don’t think I could’ve handled seeing him eye my woman right after I’ve claimed her. I’d probably break his frail little beta male neck.
“Does it bother you that I don’t cook?” Chevelle peers at me curiously. We’re in the middle of eating after doing a search of The Pit. It was all clear, so now I’m enjoying nearly cold eggs, bacon, and cheese wrapped in a freshly made tortilla.
I shake my head. “Nah, why would I give a shit if you can cook?”
“Because I’m a woman.” Her gaze flicks to the ground, and it has my own curiosity flickering to life. Is she actually nervous about what I think and over something so insignificant?
“That’s pretty damn sexist,” I mutter around my mouthful.
“I know, but most of the men I’ve come across tend to think something’s wrong with me.”
I swallow. “Well, for one, I’m not most men. And for another thing, they’re fucking stupid. I’m used to eating out or my own cooking. I don’t give a fuck if it’s got to stay that way either. If I get too hungry, I could always just feast on your pussy.”
She bites her bottom lip, her neck flushing at my suggestion and her gaze grows thoughtful. “What’s your story, cupcake?”
I nearly choke on the new bite I’ve taken. “Uh, what?” It’s so out of the blue that my mind spins over her question.
“What happened to make you decide to become a hard-ass biker? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re nothing like I’d expected when you first came to The Pit.”
I swallow and offer her a smile. “Believe it or not, nothing.”
“I’m not buying it,” she admits, biting off her own mouthful of burrito.
“You don’t have to, but it’s true. I grew up with both of my parents, they’re good people. I had a fun childhood, well, besides normal hormones and teenage shit. My family had enough money to get by, and I have an older brother who’s a doctor.”
“You’re shitting me!” She stares at me, chewing slowly.
“Nope, I was fortunate in that department.”
“Are you the black sheep or something, at least?”
I snort. “Why, because I ride a motorcycle, enjoy a good fist fight, like my liq
uor, and enjoy pussy more than the average feeble male?”
She nods, being completely honest with me.
“No, sweetie, my family loves me, rough and wild and all.”
“You’re lucky.”
I nod. “I am. Got my first motorcycle in high school. I had a part-time job, and the bike was the first transportation I could afford. The rest is history. What about you?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Well, besides the fact that you just bombarded me with all those questions? Because I want to know more about you than just your attitude and tight pussy.”
Her cheeks tint, and I grin again. It’s hard not to smile when she’s sitting here all quiet and sweet, eating her breakfast and has made me come all night long. Usually, she tough as nails closed off Chevelle. I like her like this.
She tucks a long dark lock behind her ear and shrugs. “Not much to tell. I grew up on the streets.”
“On the streets? Here?”
“No, in Houston. I ended up here by accident.”
I nod, wanting to hear more. I want her to tell me everything there is to know when it comes to her. “And your family?”
“I have none.” She shrugs, and I find it hard to believe that she’s so unaffected. I may be a dick and all, but I still love my parents and sibling.
“Wait, you’re an orphan.” It’s more of a statement than a question as the thought hits me.
She swallows. “Yes.”
“Weren’t you in foster care or something?” The thought of her alone all this time has my stomach in knots. No wonder she can easily be so closed off and cynical. It’s how she’s learned to protect herself on the inside.
“They tried, but I ran away.”
“And no one caught you?” My sneaky girl. Can’t say that surprises me. Chevelle likes to prove to everyone and herself that she needs nor wants anyone.
She clears her throat, growing tense. “No, I adapted.” I can feel her closing off, so I drop it for now, but I still want to know.
Chevelle 6x9 Page 12
