Chevelle 6x9

by Sapphire Knight

  His fingers pump, going in deep and quick until my climax thunders through me. The pleasure soaks my entrance from his touch alone. I never want him to stop this madness—it’s addicting. He coaxes my pleasure so easily, my body wanting to bend to his touch to please him.

  His fingers leave me, and I’m so close to begging him to keep touching me. His fingertips rub over my stiff nipples drawing another moan from me. He pulls back, and I ask breathily, “What...” I trail off as he draws his fingers in his mouth next, sucking them clean. Soft pants leave me, witnessing him so savage when it comes to me is a huge turn on.

  “I want to taste you when I fuck you, and it’ll be even better if I’m sucking on your tits while I’m buried inside you.” His free hand falls to my thigh, hiking it around his hip so he can sink his length in with one firm thrust.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moan as he fills me so completely. “Your cock…it’s so fucking big…so good.”

  “Mmm, I love hearing that come from your mouth.” His palm on my ass moves to my thigh to lift my other leg around his waist. When he has me completely wrapped around him, one hand palms my ass cheek while the other grips the back of my neck. I couldn’t go anywhere even if I wanted to. This man and his big-ass muscles have me surrounded by him.

  He kisses me deep and wild, his lips punishing my mouth as he takes more and more. This level of fucking is so powerful, so damn primal, I feel like we could bring down the clubhouse if he wished. He’s deep enough that I could swallow and feel the tip of his cock in the back of my throat.

  A cry bursts free from me and his mouth moves to my throat, his five o’ clock shadow scratching along the way. The stubble against my skin burns in a delicious reminder that Mercenary is ravishing me. A few jerks of his hip, drawing moans from me isn’t enough. He slams us to the bed. He rarely takes me on my back, but right now, he hikes my legs up farther, resting my ankles on his shoulders as he buries himself to the hilt.

  I scream his name, and he revels in it. His gaze is full of possession and promises. I’m falling in love with this man. I know it. I can see it in the way he looks at me, how it hits me straight in my heart. I care for him.

  His mouth moves lower, sucking and biting along the way until he pushes my breasts against each other. “I love tasting your pussy juice on your tits, straight fucking perfection.”

  They’re big enough that my nipples nearly touch, and he sucks and laps at them with such unrestrained eagerness that I shoot off like a rocket again. My climax is so strong, my body feels like it’s floating through space. He groans into my heated flesh as I cry out in bliss, my body shuddering with satisfaction.

  His gravelly voice whispers my name over and over like a chant, and my insides squeeze his cock, rewarding his plea. “You taste so damn good. You smell so damn good. Fuck, I just can’t get enough of you,” he admits and sucks the top of my breast marking me in purple and maroon once again.

  I’m not going to be the only one this time. My tongue whispers over his sweat slickened flesh, the salt is tangy and addictive. Reaching the middle, I breathe his scent in deeply, letting the leather and hint of cologne eclipse me like a heated blanket. This may be Texas, but I love it when he makes me burn when he makes me sweat.

  My teeth clamp down, and his back stiffens in response. He’s bitten me before, but this motherfucker is mine. It’s time I claim him just the same. My tongue swirls the area, and I draw the flesh into my mouth until I’ve left a mark. I continue my task, peppering half a dozen hickeys over his neck. Releasing the skin, I breathe against his throat, claiming him with a ferocious purr, “Mine.”

  “Fucking right,” he rasps and slams into me, pouring his come deep. The throbbing of his thick cock has me exploding all over his dick, gripping and releasing again and again. Both of our centers fight each other as we come together, skyrocketing with our pleasure. He kisses me once more, soundly, ending his passion perfectly. The man can fuck like no other.

  Once we catch our breath, he climbs off me, holding a hand out to pull me to my feet. “I love the jacket, thank you.”

  He nods, tugging me toward the shower. “Good. I spoke to Princess before she ordered the patch. I told her you’re always in tank tops.” He heads for the bathroom, and I trail along.

  “They’re easier to work in, especially since it’s so damn hot here most of the year.”

  “She figured. Said she’s going to order you some with my patch on the back, so you always have my name on you.”

  “If it were anyone other than Princess, I’d be pissed over this.”

  He flips on the shower. “I know, babe. I’m glad you two hit it off, even if you burned half the shit she was cooking.”

  I burst out laughing. That was definitely one way for me to leave an impression on the queen of the club. She doesn’t fuck around though, and I liked her instantly for it. He rids me of my jacket and underwear before tugging me into the water with him. His hands already stirring up my fire inside for another round.

  22. Women who say “I want a bad boy”

  are clueless. What you need is a man who

  will break someone’s face for you but

  also make you breakfast in bed.

  - #ZKK

  Three days pass in no time, and before I can blink, we’re pulling our bikes to a stop not far from one of the Fists’ clubhouses. Odin remains on his motorcycle beside me. “Now we wait for the sign from Spider,” he says, repeating the plan we’ve gone over each day, so everyone remains on track. His cobalt irises glance around at everyone minus Viking, the NOMADS, and Saint. Viking and the NOMADS are all with Spider, and Saint is driving the dump truck, on his way to us.

  Odin speaks louder over the cars passing us on the highway. “When Spider blows the other club up, Ares’ charter and ours will storm the Iron Fists clubs at the same time. That way it all happens at once, and there’s less chance of reinforcements getting to other clubs to fuck us up. Saint will be right behind us. Half of you load up in the back, and everyone be ready to fuck shit up. The NOMADS and the Prez will be meeting up with us coming from the other direction.”

  Speaking of Saint, the beefy dump truck comes into view with his crazy ass hanging halfway out the window, flipping us the bird. The vehicle eventually pulls off the side of the road ten feet in front of us, and multiple kickstands hit the dirt. We’re tucked right behind a group of bushes alongside the road. It’ll be easy for us to get the hell out of here but also keep the waiting motorcycles hidden.

  We decided that our bikes may be quicker and easier to hide if the cops show up. With a van, we risk a group of us getting popped and snatched up by the police. None of us want to have a shoot-out with the law or end up in jail. Another downfall of driving the van is if the Fists happen to muster up some backup, they could easily catch and kill us in one van.

  Patting my chest, I reassure myself my vest is securely strapped on. I can feel the warmth but smoothing my fingers over it helps my mind catch on that shit’s about to get real. We’ve spoken about it over the past few days, working out times and places, all the fine details, that sort of shit. This type of thing always seems surreal until it’s actually happening.

  Nightmare, Odin, and I remain on our bikes as Sinner, Blaze, Chaos, and Torch dismount. Blaze and Torch each take out a small glass vile filled with white powder and put it to their nostrils. Snorting up a deep inhale of powder, their eyes slam closed with the impact. A few beats pass as the drug hits them then they’re all piling into the back of the massive truck.

  I guess we all have our own ways of dealing with what’s about to go down. Various brothers took a few shots of moonshine before we left as well. I, on the other hand, strapped on my bulletproof vest. I need to be clearheaded for this; I don’t intend to die today.

  The three of us riding are the biggest here other than the NOMADS, so it’ll be easier if we approach the compound on our bikes. The smaller guys need more of the protection of the vehicle. No
t saying they can’t hold their own, but Nightmare, Odin, and I could probably take down a small army just the three of us. Viking tried to make Odin stay back in case anything happened to him. He’d need to step up as the new Prez, but O wasn’t hearing it.

  “Here we go.” Odin blows out a breath, eyes trained to the sky.

  “We’ve waited long enough,” Nightmare growls and flicks open a purple switchblade. “I have a promise to keep.”

  An explosion rattles the ground, a smoke cloud rising toward the clouds, and the truck ahead of us lurches forward. The guys in the back are most likely holding on for dear life, so they don’t show up with broken bones before the fight begins. Rocks spew in their wake and our engines thunder to life. The three of us move quickly to tuck in behind the brothers.

  We get one chance to make our surprise entrance; it has to go off without a hitch. The other club will already be wondering what the hell’s going on with the loud noise. With any luck, they’ll think it was weather related, but I’m not holding my breath on that one. Our bikes lurch forward as we attempt to keep speed with Saint. The fucker has a lead foot, even in a heavy-ass truck.

  I take up the rear. On a mission, we still don’t break formation. I can’t help but send up a prayer that God be on my side today. Chevelle’s become too important to me. I don’t want to leave her so quickly. I need more time in this life with her.

  As we approach the electric chain-link fence, I brush the thoughts away. My mind chides myself for being a pussy. I need to harness my anger and get some payback for these assholes trying to hurt Chevy. I have to make it safer for her so she can do what she loves.

  Hopefully the massive tires we stuck in the back of the truck work, and none of the brothers get toasted from the fence. Saint picks up more speed, and as we get closer, we fall back. Just in case the fence flies toward us with the impending impact, we don’t want to be prematurely injured. My gaze skirts around the surroundings in the moments we have before shit hits the fan.

  An Iron Fist attempts to leap out of the way but Saint slams on the gas, mowing the guy over and flying through the locked gate. We swerve around a bloody, detached leg and I decide right then to keep my eyes on the target and nowhere else. Some of the rival MC members out in the yard take off in different directions. Saint runs anyone over in his path.

  Odin yanks a Glock from his boot, lacing the men still running away with bullets. They fall to the ground in motionless heaps. O doesn’t even falter with the deaths, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of life he had to make him so hard inside. He’s too young to be so damn jaded. The kid’s like nineteen. Regardless, he carries out orders, killing on sight.

  This isn’t payback. No, this is an extermination.

  Viking said he only allows someone to fuck with him so much before he makes an example of them. He’s setting the bar really fucking high, so bigger clubs won’t attempt to fuck with us in the future. He said we knock out a huge, ruthless outlaw club and word will travel fast and far. One thing is for certain, this damn sure isn’t Chicago. Texas is an entirely different type of beast.

  Saint veers off to the side, the brothers spilling from the back. We pull to a stop on the other side of the truck for protection, weapons in hand as Viking and the NOMADS roar in from behind. They dismount their bikes beside us, so Odin and Spider can defend the vehicles and get anyone who may try to escape.

  The brothers and NOMADS storm the club. Viking’s first in, clad with an AK-47. He pops rounds off clearing a path through the men already shooting at us. Nightmare takes off past me toward a hallway. Exterminator’s hot on his heels tossing smoke cans in his wake. The clubhouse is bigger than ours, with rooms and hallways veering off in every direction it seems.

  I split off with Torch, having his back as he works to clear various rooms. We come across multiple bikers and return fire. Whores scream frantically, running in all directions. It’s pure chaos; the magnitude of this job didn’t fully hit me until now. No wonder the Iron Fists were able to keep coming at the Oath Keepers over the years. They’re fucking everywhere!

  We leave the whores be, as they’re most likely not here of their own free will. The members we caught from The Pit were tortured extensively and admitted to all types of sordid shit going on at this club. The President, Puppet, has been around for far too long. He’s had free reign from his high number of members and secret compounds spread from Texas to California.

  Someone comes at me from behind, catching me off guard. A forearm wraps around my throat, and I rear back, stumbling backward until I slam him into the wall. It dazes him enough to shake his arm lose, and I spin around. He lands a blow to my jaw. Good thing the fucker’s practically made of concrete; the hit against my jaw doesn’t even rock me. He gets another in close to my temple, and I see red.

  I counter with a right straight into his gut and then stun him with a head-butt to his nose. Stupid motherfucker. The bones crunch and blood pours free like a faucet. His arms flail, looking for purpose and I take a step back, with my left foot forward as I land a solid uppercut with my right. He wavers for a second then drops to our feet like a sack of flour. I land a kick to his temple for good measure.

  “That’s for sneaking up on me, motherfucker.”

  “Come on.” Torch nods with an amused eyebrow lift. We keep to our path before a shrill whistle rings through the air. My gaze meets Torch’s, and he holds a fist to his chest telling me to stay in place and remain quiet. He listens for a minute, then when a series of three sharp whistles follow, he nods for us to go back the way we came.

  We make our way there quietly, waiting for any other clues. Back in the main entry, we’re met with a scattering of dead bodies everywhere and Nightmare holding a bloodied older man. He’s been beaten, and Night has the dark purple switchblade pressed firmly in place.

  “Brothers,” Viking thunders. “This is the root of our problems.”

  “Fuck off Oath scum,” the broken man spits. Prez presses his finger into the man’s temple so hard, I’m afraid he’s going to stab through his skin and into the guy’s brain. I have pent-up anger inside and enjoy a good ass kicking, but I’m not much for torture.

  Blaze steps forward, his hunting knife in one hand and Glock in the other. The knife is already bloodied, I notice. “No, fuck you,” he snarls and stabs Puppet in the gut. The older man hisses in pain but remains standing.

  “I should’ve put a bullet in your skull,” Puppet coughs.

  In response, Nightmare flicks the blade up swiftly. He slices a gash into one side of Puppet’s mouth. With that move, his eyes widen in shock from the jolt of pain.

  Torch yanks his blade free from his holster, approaching Nightmare and the prisoner. He drives the blade into Puppet’s upper thigh. “For Bronx, cunt.”

  The man groans, his head swaying side to side and I can’t help but wonder how he’s even still alive. Viking approaches them next, and I swallow roughly. He grabs the man’s shirt collar with both hands and rips it completely open. Blood sops out from the gash Blaze already inflicted.

  “For Scot—may our road father rest in peace—and for Princess, my ol’ lady.” He draws a small axe free, and with one harsh swing, hacks into the injury free side. That’s the hit that hurts, as Puppet wails in pain.

  Scowling, Nightmare growls, “The fun’s only begun. When I’m finished with you, that hatchet will be child’s play. You kidnapped my son, you beat my ol’ lady, you will suffer.”

  With a nod to the brothers still beside me, I make my way outside before I puke my guts up.

  23. Bikes are like ol’ ladies,

  if it ain’t yours don’t touch!

  Princess wears a pleased smirk as I tromp into the kitchen clad in leather. “Well, he was right about the fit, but you’re not burning up in that jacket?”

  “In here, no. The guys keep this place like an icebox.” I gesture around at nothing in particular. “There’s no way I can wear it outside though. Me
rcenary said you were ordering me some tanks also?”

  She nods, opening the oven to pull a casserole out and check the temp in the middle.

  “I appreciate it.”

  She waves me off. “It’s nothing girl. I practically live in them too. You know how this summer heat gets the end of August.”

  “Miserable,” I mutter, and she hums in agreement.

  “So, what’s up? The guys say you usually only cook when something’s going on.” We discussed this briefly the last time I was here too. I, in turn, burned her food, but not on purpose.

  “What did Merc say before he left?”

  “That he was going to help the club make it safer for me to be at The Pit.”

  “Did he tell you anything else?”

  I shake my head. “No, and come to think of it, he distracted me before I could get anything else out of him.”

  “Sounds about right. Let’s just say it has potential to be really dangerous. I’m trying to keep myself busy so I can pretend that they’re fine and the cooking is keeping my mind occupied.”

  “But the cooking’s really not?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I get it; I can lose myself in an engine and drown any outside shit out.”

  “My best friend’s out in the bar with Jude; they’re getting drunk. That’s her way of drowning it out.”

  “You don’t want to be with them?”

  “When my ol’ man’s on a run? No. We all cope differently. This is my way.”

  “That’s Nightmare’s ol’ lady, right?”

  “Yeah, Bethany. Their son’s Maverick.”

  “I saw him running around the other day when Nightmare brought him to the club with him. Cute kid.”

  She smiles wide. “I know. I love that little boy as if he were my own.”

  “What about you and Viking?”

  She wraps foil over the casserole and sets it aside on a hot pad. “What about us?”