Chevelle 6x9

by Sapphire Knight

  “Damn, those burritos were good.” I rub my hands over my stomach drawing her eyes to the taut, muscular area.

  Her shoulders relax as she takes the subject change with ease. “I love that place. Eighty percent of their monthly sales probably comes from me.”

  “That’s a lot of tacos, Chevy.”

  She smiles with a nod then stands and takes our trash, throwing it away. My eyes remain glued to her form as she sways in her own erotic strut she seems oblivious to. We were eating in the middle of the track. Random spot but this is where we ended up after searching the place, and with both of us starving decided to just sit and eat right on the track.

  “So how did you get into racing?” I ask as she comes back, and I stand up. I don’t know where we’ll end up next, but I start walking beside her. Taking her hand in mine, she doesn’t pull away, and like a fucking chick, I get all excited inside. Her pussy already has me whipped after only one night being buried in her wet warmth.

  “I met this older man.” My hard gaze finds hers, and she smiles. Shaking her head, she backtracks. “Think of him as a grandpa in a sense. He had a shop and fixed cars. He caught me begging near his place one night and told me if I helped clean up his shop, he’d buy me dinner. Being young and the promise of a full stomach, I jumped on the offer.”

  She takes a drink of her soda and continues. “His shop was trashed, but regardless, I cleaned it. The job ended up taking me nearly a week to complete, but each day as promised, he’d order a bunch of food. I’d eat until I was in a food coma and clean my ass off in return. He never asked me where I’d go at night, and before he’d have a chance to forget about me, I’d be out in front of the shop, first thing.”

  “Where did you go at night?” I interrupt to ask.

  She sighs. “I was sleeping under a bridge near his business.”

  I make a sound in my throat, a cross between sadness and anger on her behalf. “Oh wow, you were serious about being on the streets.” I didn’t realize how much truth those words had held when she’d originally said them. No wonder she has it in her head that she has to do everything all on her own.

  “Yes, anyway, he kept coming up with things for me to do. I was about twelve at that time, and eventually, his tasks switched to me helping him work on the cars that came in needing repairs. He taught me everything he knew about mechanics. After about two years of helping him, he started letting me work on cars by myself. Turned out, I could fix them faster than he could.”

  “I’m not surprised,” I comment, and she smiles.

  “Not only did he feed me, but he began paying me as well. A year before that, he’d let me start sleeping in the office at his tiny shop. It had a bathroom and a roof, so I was beyond grateful.”

  “You were fortunate he didn’t take advantage of you.”

  “Trust me, I know.”

  That thought alone is enough to make me want to rip someone’s head off. I’d kill them without a second thought if they touched her wrong in any way.

  We get to her apartment, and she sits in the overstuffed chair. I take the edge of her bed. “He also owned a dirt track on the outskirts of Houston in this town called Katy. When I got old enough to drive, he taught me how in a race car around that track. A lot of the other drivers brought their car into the shop for mods, so I was already familiar with how a race car ran, how it ticked.”

  “Jesus, I bet you were a natural.”

  She nods with a wide smile in place. I’ve never seen her smile so bright; the beauty makes me swallow roughly.

  “I started winning money racing one of his cars along with being paid to work in his shop. I was finally doing something real with my life. I had a purpose after so long of being filled with emptiness.”

  “So, what happened? Why’d you leave?”

  The smile drops, her bottom lip trembles for a beat before she hides it. “He died.”

  “Sweetie, I’m sorry.”

  She nods, a sad smile taking the place of the tremble she wore moments prior. “His shop was sold by his lawyer as instructed in his will. I had some money to survive on at the time, but nothing to keep me afloat in Houston. Then his lawyer got ahold of me one day when things were looking down, and I found out the crazy old man had left everything to me.”

  “No shit?”

  She nods. “He had a son somewhere that he knew nothing about and a bitter ex-wife that wouldn’t speak to him. He’d told me I was like a daughter to him. I just never realized that he was serious, I guess. Anyhow, I immediately started looking for something...a small shop or whatever I could buy to make money and live a quiet life. I found The Pit. I bought my Chevelle and put the rest of the money I had as a down payment to the previous owner, and I’ve been racing to pay it off and fix it up each week since.”

  “Damn, Chevelle. I’m impressed. The man would be proud of you, no doubt.”

  “You are?” Is that hope in her eyes? She’s like a kitten that scratches and hisses at first but then basks in attention shown to her by her owner.

  “Hell yeah. You’re a fighter in all senses. I suppose you learned to defend yourself from growing up like that then?” I can’t believe this beautiful woman had such a hard life. I really am lucky with my family.

  She nods. “You fight and adapt, or you die.”

  “You really are a badass,” I mumble, and she pulls me down to the bed.

  “Mmm, then it’s my turn to have my way with you. Badasses get what they want.” She smirks and pushes me against the comforter. She climbs over me, straddling my waist, giving me a perfect view of her beauty. She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’ll gladly let her have her way with me.

  16. If you’re sad, add more

  lipstick and attack.

  - Coco Chanel

  The sounds of multiple motorcycles draw Mercenary’s attention the next morning. He hops from the bed, nearly tripping in my sheet on his way to the window. We were supposed to go back to the club but wasted the day away talking about anything and everything. Then the night was spent filled with passion, wrapped in each other’s bodies between the sheets on my bed.

  “Shit, are you okay? What’s going on?”

  “I’m fine,” he waves me off and mutters dismissively but not rude as he stares out the window to the parking lot below. “Fuck!” He curses as his eyes go wide at the scene. He flips around, scanning over every surface, not saying a word.

  “What is it? You’re freaking me out over here!”

  “The fucking Iron Fists.”

  “So, shoot them!” I point to the tranq gun, my voice a higher note than normal.

  “There’s too many. Fuck!” Both hands rake through his spiked, inky hair in frustration. His stomach muscles clench as he paces, the movements offering up a delicious view of every toned inch. He’s all strength and corded steel, strung tight at the impending fight the Fists will no doubt bring to The Pit.

  “Can you shoot any of them or something?”

  He tosses me his phone. “First number listed,” he orders. “Dial it and tell them we need backup—quick—and to bring a fuck ton of it.”

  Fumbling with the phone, I do exactly as he says, watching as he points the tranquilizer gun and curses with each shot.

  “O,” a gruff voice answers the phone.

  “Uh, Odin?”

  “Yep, who’s this?”

  “It’s Chevelle.”

  “Chevelle? You okay, chick?”

  “Yes, there’s no time to explain, but Mercenary says to bring a lot of backup to The Pit.”

  Merc hisses, a curse drawing my attention. He’s fumbling with the gun. “What is it?” I ask, forgetting about Odin momentarily.

  He flicks his gaze to me, not stopping his fingers from jiggling the metal. “I hit three, missed two and then this jammed.” He briefly holds the gun up before turning his concentration back to it.

  Odin yells through the phone, and I scramble to get it back to m
y ear. “What the fuck did he say? He shot three?”

  “Yes, with the tranquilizer gun,” I reply, not taking my gaze from Mercenary.

  He grumbles. “Fucking shit, how many are there?”

  I call to Mercenary, “How many are there?”

  “I didn’t stop and count the fuckers, tell him at least a dozen.”

  “Holy shit,” Odin murmurs, yelling to people in the background. “Tell my brother to take you somewhere safe and wait us out. There’s too many for you two to fight off. Your lives are too important to waste trying to stop the Fists. They’re dangerous. If I thought you two could take them all without getting hurt, I’d say differently.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, and he hangs up.

  Mercenary pulls his Glock off the side table and checks to make sure it’s fully loaded. I highly doubt his weapons aren’t ever unloaded or not cleaned. He’s too meticulous for any of that.

  “He said for us to hide until they get here, cupcake.”

  He nods, yanking up his pants and tucking his feet into his boots. “Get dressed Chevy, quickly.”

  A loud boom shakes us, drawing my breath. I fall over my feet, hurrying out of bed toward my dresser and yank on the first thing I find. “What the hell was that?”

  I want to scream but refrain. I’m not a screamer but whatever they blew up downstairs has me jittery. Mercenary’s mood change has me a bit fidgety as well. I’m not used to him on edge except for when it comes to arguing with me. Even then, he’s not as solemn as now.

  “My guess is they couldn’t get in, so they made a new door.”

  “Ugh!” The exclamation leaves me in a furious, unladylike growl. “I’m going to wrap each of their nuts around their throats and make them chew on them like fucking bubble gum!”

  He smirks and tosses me the tranq gun after I slide my feet into a pair of Toms slip-on shoes. “Damn sweetie, you’re mesmerizing when you’re pissed.” He gestures to the metal contraption. “Use that on any fucker who comes at you.”

  “I’d rather fight.”

  “If you want to make it safely out of here, you’re going to have to trust me on this, Chevelle. I know you can fight, but what if there are three coming for you? Take out whoever you can safely, and then use your fists.”

  I huff but refrain from arguing with him. He knows this type of life better than I do. I got through the streets as a kid; I’ll make it through a pack of rabid bikers.

  “You’ll wear yourself out too fast, and we may need to fight at some point to get out of here. If we can take some of the threat out with weapons, then let’s use it to our advantage. I couldn’t handle it if one of them hurt you. It’d be a bloodbath as I tore them limb from limb for it.”

  “I get it.”

  “Good, now where can we hide for the next twenty minutes or so where no one will think to look for us? We need to wait for backup to get here. I won’t do anything to jeopardize your safety.”

  “Follow me.” I gesture toward the door with him in tow. I lock it on our way out, and we walk down the hall between my office and my apartment, stopping in front of the maintenance door in the middle. “I need to lock my office.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “It’ll be a distraction if they think we’re locked in one of these rooms.”

  He has an ‘ah-ha’ moment and takes off jogging to my office. He opens the door and quickly locks it before closing it silently. “Locked.” He tilts his head to me, coming to stand at my side.

  I nod, remaining silent and open the janitor closet door. He rakes a hand through his spikey dark hair and then massages the back of his neck. “Locking three doors wasn’t my idea of hiding out, sweetie.”

  “Shh!” I shoot him a glare and lock the thick metal maintenance door behind us.

  He huffs, not so patiently watching me with a raised eyebrow. I head for the corner in the back right of the small ten-by-ten-foot room, lined with metal shelves and various cleaning supplies. I wave him to come near and point at the small square cut in the roof covered by thin wood. It’s painted to match the ceiling, so you don’t notice it right away when coming in the room.

  “An attic?” he guesses.

  I whisper, replying, “No, it’s access for an electrician or to fix the dome, that sort of thing.”

  “Ah.” He nods again, concentrating on listening for anyone coming up to this level.

  “I’m too short; you have to pull the lip down.”

  He pulls me behind him and hops, easily touching the ceiling. His fingers skirt over the lip, missing. Taking a deep breath, he jumps again, this time finding purchase when his middle finger sinks into the one-inch-sized slot. He pulls the door all the way open, so it hangs toward us.

  “I’ll lift you.” His hands go out to grip my waist, hefting me up. The man is definitely stronger than any other I’ve been with. He lifts me with such ease, and I can’t help but think of what else he could do with my body like this if we were naked and not being hunted down by an irate MC club.

  My hands reach for the opening, and I help to pull myself into the small entry area. Turning over, I sit on my butt and slide backward to give him some room. My hands come away covered in dust, and I quietly clap them together to remove the scratchy feeling. The area’s a bit musty, the air stale like a closed-up attic. Good thing I don’t have asthma—this would be an attack waiting to happen.

  Good thing he enjoys pull-ups so much; a weaker man wouldn’t make it. A few beats pass, and I’m about to pop my head back over when his hands appear, grasping the sides. He easily pulls himself up, high enough to readjust and get his elbows planted on the beams running along each side of the opening. This is just another randomly placed work out for him I suppose. Who needs a gym when you have ceiling beams to keep you fit?

  He finds me. His brows jump, and I see he has a flashlight gripped in his mouth between his teeth. I go to reach for him to try and help pull him in, but he shakes his head. I reach for the flashlight and free it from his clenched teeth. He blows out a breath, his muscles bulging as he finishes lifting himself up. Once he makes it, he flips around, lies on his stomach, and reaches for the door, securing it to the ceiling before scooting back beside me.

  “Good thinking,” I praise, holding up the flashlight.

  He nods, drawing in a deep, shaky breath. Sweat dots his brow as he peeks around me. “Now what?”

  “We should probably move farther away in case any of them find the ceiling entry and pop their heads up to look for us.”

  He agrees, and I click on the flashlight, crawling on my hands and knees under the low roof until we make it next to the air conditioning unit. I edge around it until I’m safely hidden from sight, and he does the same.

  “It’s hot up here,” he releases a breath, as more sweat droplets drip down his brow.

  “There are roof fans around the dome. Otherwise, the only cool air is what escapes right here.” I thumb toward the big machine and the leak in a huge tube leading off of it. The tube’s been patched twice since I took over The Pit, but the air’s so strong that the patches keep bursting. The tube needs to be replaced, but I can’t afford it yet. “Switch me spots, so you’re closer to it.”

  His head cocks to the side, his lips tucked into a thoughtful grin. I smile in return and his dusty palms land on my cheeks, pulling me to him. His kiss is sweeter this time rather than all-consuming. It’s different than we’ve shared before like he’s rewarding me for being thoughtful. His tongue tangles with mine before he draws away, taking my bottom lip with him. He sucks it in his mouth, making me groan with pleasure.

  We switch spots, and he pulls me to sit next to him. “I’m sweaty, but I prefer you close.”

  My shoulders bounce in a shrug. “I don’t mind you sweaty. You forget we’ve been naked and sweaty together.”

  “I could never forget,” he mumbles, and it could be one of the sweetest things I’ve heard from him yet.

  Havi
ng her next to me, smelling her scent and mine mingled has my groin tightening and my cock growing heavy. I just fucked her not even an hour ago, but I can’t seem to get enough of being inside her. Once I started last night, I couldn’t seem to stop. We’re both going on barely any sleep, and I can’t think of a better reason to be up all night than being with her.

  “What do we do now?” she whispers.

  “We could make out,” I mutter, and she laughs.

  “I think we’re way past that point already.”

  “Nah, you can never be.”

  She grins and my lips land on hers again, only this time my kiss is far more heated. Pushing her onto her back, I brace myself over her. The massively sized air conditioning blocks our bodies to keep us out of sight from the ceiling door. The cool air blows over both of our bodies in this position, rewarding us for our lust.

  I take her mouth with a fervor closely matching the first time I wrapped her tightness around my cock in front of the clubhouse. Pushing her shirt up to bare her breasts, my mouth leaves hers to suck each of her nipples into my mouth. She’s delicious with creamy skin that reminds me of silk. I could touch her for hours and never have my fill of her.

  “Mmm...” She hums in her chest, the sound drawn out as her hips twist side to side. Her nipples are a direct link to her core. I learned that if you want to get Chevelle turned on immediately, go for her tits. She loves when I play with her pussy too, but her breasts are hypersensitive.

  “You should pierce these succulent tits, with just a flick of my tongue, your panties would be drenched.”

  “They already are.”

  “Damn, I love it that your pussy gets so wet for me.”

  My tongue trails over her tummy, licking at the soft, smooth flesh, tasting a bit salty. It’s hot up here, and we’re both sweating. Rather than it turning me off, it does the opposite. I want to see her drip with it, all because my body drives her completely wild.

  Her chewed-down fingernails rake through my spikey hair that’s the color of freshly poured asphalt. Our features closely match, both of our flesh is dotted with a light tan. Her hair and mine are nearly the same—the only big difference is our irises; mine are like ice—blue, cold, and ruthless. Hers, on the other hand, are like embers—the light tawny color full of warmth and honey.