Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC

by Britten Thorne

  "Hold it like this," he said, passing it to her.

  "What-" She was still recovering, but with him hovering over her, positioned just so and looking at her like that, she was lit afire all over again. "Gunner."

  He snaked his arms beneath her, protecting her back from the rocks and twigs littering the ground. Then he surprised her with a soft and tender kiss.

  "I'm going to make you come again," he said, then kissed her forehead. "I'm going to make you come every single day that I have you. Keep that light up." His lips found hers once more and attacked. His tongue invaded her mouth and slid against hers, slowly, as his hips rocked against her.

  It was too much. His hunger and his passion were overwhelming. Yet even as she whined beneath his assault, her free hand squeezed between them. She found his cock, hot and hard and still slick with her fluids, and guided it to her swollen pussy.

  He filled her so perfectly she wanted to weep.

  "Oh, fuck," he groaned against her mouth, echoing what she felt.

  She locked her ankles around his waist. "Fuck me," she breathed. The angle let him sink even deeper. "Fuck me hard."

  Her words set him ablaze. He pounded into her with shocking force, grinding himself against her clit each time he sank deep. The air filled with the sounds of flesh on flesh, his grunts, her cries.

  "Come with me," he grated as he picked up speed. He lifted his head to look down into her eyes. "Come with me."

  She could only nod, tilting her hips higher and rocking with his thrusts. It took only a few strokes more to send her spiraling into another orgasm, even more intense than the first. Her mouth fell open but she couldn't make a sound - she could only stare up into his darkened gaze as her body quaked and trembled.

  She felt him withdraw and spill himself on her thigh. Sated, exhausted, she relaxed against his arms, still shielding her back from the forest floor. Her ass would certainly be filthy with dirt and leaves, but she didn't care.

  Somehow she hadn't dropped his phone. She'd wanted to see him just as much as he'd wanted to watch her. Now, though, she released it so she could wrap both arms around his neck.

  No words. She had nothing to say. He'd knocked all thought from her head. All she wanted was to lie there the rest of the night.

  He was pissed at himself for letting the voicemail rattle him so badly, but when the end result was so sexy and perfect, it was hard to hold onto that anger.

  He thought that he'd feel finished with her once they'd had sex, as he so often had with other women before. But that wasn't the case at all. Already he was imagining fucking her again. He wanted to taste every inch of her.

  Instead he settled for rolling onto his back and taking her with him, holding her tight against his chest. She exhaled across his neck.

  "That was kind of intense," she said.

  "Understatement."

  She chuckled. "That was really fucking intense and I don't think I can stand just yet."

  He stroked her hair as he stared up at the dark sky. Maybe he would take her with him to see Alvarez after all. It had been his friend’s mother who’d called and left a tearful message, begging him to say goodbye. Which meant his father had given her his number. Not cool. He was allowed to avoid the whole situation if he wanted to. He was allowed to pretend it hadn’t happened, that he and Alvarez were still simply not speaking. What right did they have to drag him into reality?

  But maybe, just maybe, with Senna standing at his side as steady as she always was, maybe he could handle it.

  And if he couldn’t, well, it seemed far too much to hope that she’d be there to pick him back up. Though something told him she would. The madness of the past few days had forged a connection between them. It would have to break eventually, but there was no use denying that it existed at all.

  “I want you to come with me,” he said.

  “Okay.” He hadn’t needed to explain what he was referring to; she knew. She traced the ink on his side with a fingertip - an old army tattoo, a scorpion above it. The Dust Bowl Devils’ lettering crossed his lower abdomen, and she traced them, too. “Can I ask you something?”

  Please don’t. “What is it?”

  “Are you…” She hesitated but he could guess.

  “I haven’t murdered anyone,” he grunted, “What you didn’t see the other day, that was unusual.” He sighed. “We do bad shit, but we’re not that bad. Mostly we’re just transporters.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Yeah. Weapons. You know.”

  She whispered, “People? Like, women?”

  “Fuck no.” He shifted his shoulder, deliberately jostling her. “And that’s a godawful thing to accuse someone of.” The Northern Eagles weren’t innocent of that crime. And now they were in business together. But he wasn’t going to make any assumptions yet.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you did anything like that but...”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “Have you been in trouble with the law?”

  “Yeah. There’s no warrants out right now or anything, but I’ve had run-ins.”

  “Oh.”

  “That a problem?” He didn’t want to get defensive with her but her line of questioning couldn’t end well.

  “No,” she said, and chuckled bitterly. “I’m a daughter of a nationally known criminal, remember? Who am I to judge? At least you’re honest. With him it was all denials and justifications and bullshit until the end.”

  He chuckled. “Crooks and criminals all around. Doesn’t matter where you go.”

  “You weren’t always.”

  “Nope. I’ll bet he wasn’t either.”

  She seemed content to leave the conversation at that. He would have been happy to lie there and keep chatting about anything at all, or to simply doze off. But they had to go. There were a lot of miles left to cover. He just hoped he hadn’t managed to scratch his bike too badly.

  ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

  It was two in the morning when they reached his father’s house. He didn’t roll up until he was sure that no one was watching the place - at least from anywhere that he could see. Still, he parked a couple blocks away and made Senna walk with him and wait at the bottom of the driveway. The windows were all dark, so he rang to doorbell three times to be sure it was heard.

  Lily was the one who answered - his father’s young wife. She was about Gunner’s own age, actually, and they’d known each other in passing growing up. Gunner had hit on her before, a number of times, before she’d ever met his father. It was a messy situation back then and now he preferred not to think about it at all.

  “Hey,” she said, “He got your text. He’ll be right down. Do you guys want to come in?” She nodded towards Senna. “Does she need anything?”

  “No thanks,” he said. He wanted to speak to Nomad first. He needed to know that he wasn’t going to bring any trouble to the old man’s door just by being there.

  Finally he appeared wearing a robe and slippers and rubbing sleep from his eyes. He sent Lily back to bed before he spoke to Gunner at all.

  "We thought you weren't heading out here until tomorrow," he said. He peered over Gunner's shoulder. "That the girl that's causing so much trouble?"

  Gunner cringed. "That’s her. Are you being watched?”

  “No. They’ve got eyes on your place, though.”

  “Figured. How much do you know?”

  Nomad squinted at him. “Enough. I know you tied up Jupiter. I know she witnessed a hit and ought to be dead.”

  Gunner sighed. “Listen… I'm gonna need you on my side with this."

  Nomad frowned. "We'll talk about that when we have a meeting."

  "You don't understand," he said, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, and then the words fell out. "Not as a Devil. As your son. I need you on my side, for her."

  Nomad whistled between his teeth. "Shit." Gunner never asked his father for anything. It was a shock for the old man. But with Senna’s life on the line, he was willing to tu
ck his tail between his legs and appeal to the family bond that had so badly chafed for him before. Fuck, I’d do nearly anything, wouldn’t I? How did this happen? I’m in way over my head here.

  "Bill is not going to trust her and there's nothing I can say to make him listen."

  "I know."

  "I can't bring her to my place. I can't bring her to the clubhouse..." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've walked her into a fucking minefield. This was a mistake."

  "I'll help. For tonight. But you have to face him sooner or later and tomorrow will be your best chance."

  "What's tomorrow?"

  "Just a casual barbecue. Most of the guys and their families. At least you won't have to worry about him taking her out right in front of everyone and their kids. It'll buy you time, at the very least."

  Or we could just run.

  His father read the thought right off his face. "Running will make things worse for you both and you know it. Here." He pulled a pair of keys from the side table by the door. "Stay at Lily's mother's place. Veronica is away with some Eagle she's fucking. Won't be back before Monday."

  "Thanks," Gunner said. "I... Thanks."

  "Lily and I will be by in the morning. Get some sleep. You look like shit."

  Gunner flipped a good-natured middle finger as he jogged back down to Senna. At least they'd be safe for the night.

  ◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

  He dropped the keys twice. She kissed him in the hallway and he was sunk. He left them where they lay and leaned back against the door, letting her rest against his chest in turn.

  "I'm exhausted," she whispered when she finally peeled herself away.

  "Me, too." His hands roamed her back. His fingertips itched to touch her bare skin again. The memory of how soft she felt would be burned into his brain forever.

  With a contented sigh, she retrieved the keys and let them into the apartment. He moved after her again as he closed the door but she danced away from his reach. "Bathroom," she said, then slipped away in the dark to find it. He'd been able to make a pit stop between some trees earlier down the highway but she claimed to be too shy.

  He splashed water on his face at the kitchen sink. He needed to cool down. Between the tension of their situation and this nagging, burning need to touch her, his head was left spinning. If we get through tomorrow, we'll need to deal with her rich asshole problem next. Funny. It had been two, maybe three days ago that he had declared them "your fucking problem." So much had changed since then. Is it because of Alvarez? Do I want to save her because I failed him so badly?

  Maybe, but it was more than that. He was addicted to her mouth, and fucking her had felt like coming home. It's going to kill me when she leaves.

  And she'd better fucking leave.

  This was no place, no life for her. He'd get her on that bus one way or another.

  Eventually.

  He heard her move behind him. Her hands slipped beneath his vest and his shirt and brushed along his waist, tracing the lines of his muscles. Warm and soft and delicate - he put his own calloused fingers over hers.

  "Come to bed."

  She said it almost like a question. As if I could refuse her.

  He let her lead him to the bedroom. His cock had stirred to life when she'd kissed him in the hall, but it was straining against his pants when he watched her stop next to the bed and simply kick off her sneakers.

  They undressed and fell together quickly, desperately, starving for each other, frantic to be joined once more. His eyes rolled with the white hot pleasure of sliding inside her. Where I belong. She gripped him too perfectly to believe anything else.

  Finally together, he took her slowly, his cheek pressed against hers. He wanted to hear every little sound that he coaxed from her lips as he rocked into her. He felt enveloped by her; her pulse and her heat were all around him. Her nails dug into his back; he grazed her neck with his teeth. “The things I’m going to do to you…” he said. He wanted to do them all now; to flip onto his back and watch her ride him. To take her on her hands and knees, to feel her come against his lips while she took him in her mouth. So many things. If they weren’t both so exhausted, he’d have started on that list immediately, kept her awake for hours.

  Doesn’t matter. Even this feels goddamn amazing.

  When she moaned his name, it was a struggle not to root deep and spill inside her. His cock demanded release, but instead he concentrated on her, watched her face and waited for that perfect, open moment as he thrust into her harder. “Come for me,” he demanded.

  She nodded, reaching between them to reach her clit and bring herself the rest of the way over that invisible edge. She closed her eyes as her body spasmed, but he caught it anyway; that look of utter bliss, transcendence and satisfaction. I did that. She doesn’t let anybody else see that face. It’s mine.

  With that thought he abruptly withdrew and with one single stroke of his hand, he exploded, spilling himself across the sheets.

  He was spent, too tired to do anything but collapse. He tore the soiled sheet from the bed and kicked it away. Draping an arm across her back, he didn’t even wonder what happened to his “no sleeping together” rule. The last thing he felt as awareness fled was her curling her fingers through his; then he sank into sleep, sated, all worries temporarily forgotten.

  They woke in a tangle with the sun pouring in through the curtainless windows. She knew she’d fallen sleep nestled against his shoulder, but they woke in opposite, with his head on her chest. “The hell…?” he mumbled as he stirred. He shifted and looked up into her face, brows furrowed, disconcerted.

  She smiled. “Morning.”

  He blinked. “Morning.”

  She draped one arm across his chest and ran her other hand through his hair. “Sleep okay?”

  “Yeah. Just a weird fuckin’ way to wake up.” But he closed his eyes in contrast to the comment.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t do many sleepovers?”

  His voice was still thick with sleep. “Mmm. I’m the fuck ‘em and run type. An asshole by definition.”

  “I’m the date ‘em and don’t, er, fuck ‘em type. A prude, probably.”

  He grinned that wicked grin without opening his eyes. “You haven’t been prudish with me.”

  “Well. In a game of rock paper scissors, I guess the asshole beats the prude.”

  He chuckled.

  It felt too normal. It's become way too easy to forget what he is and what he's involved in. She wasn't thinking of him as a "gang member" or a "criminal" anymore.

  What she saw instead was a profoundly fucked up army vet. A man with a hard past and a dark future, bleeding from a hundred emotional wounds that she desperately wanted to plug up.

  Their peaceful morning cocoon was broken by a knock at the front door. “You father?” she asked.

  “Better be,” he grumbled as he stood. She was slower to dress, and he was already leading the visitors into the kitchen when she emerged from the bedroom.

  Gunner's father and his pretty wife Lily had arrived carrying coffee and pastries. "Call me Nomad." The old man had a firm handshake. He looked her straight in the eyes as if he could read things about her that way - much as Gunner himself had.

  "I'm Senna."

  The three of them sat around the small table in the kitchen while Gunner stood against the counter. “Thanks for the coffee,” Senna said, sipping hers and looking between the couple. She wasn’t really sure what they were here for or what sort of influence they really had on the president and the club itself - though she noticed that Nomad wore the club colors. All she knew was that she needed to make a good impression.

  "You're in some pickle here, aren't you?" Nomad jumped right to the point. No pleasantries or small talk. Senna liked him immediately.

  "I only came out here looking for my sister. I never meant to get involved in all this."

  "Have you found her?"

  "It's Dawn," Gunner spoke up, pacing the floor behind her. "Iris
h's old lady."

  Dawn? She changed her name? Nomad's eyebrows went up. "Now there's a girl I wouldn't have guessed to come from rich beginnings."

  "She took off a long time ago. I don't even know if she'll want to see me. I just had to try." She took another sip of coffee, eager for the caffeine hit. She suspected it was going to be a long day. “I have to warn her. You’ve heard of Glenn Moore?”

  He shrugged. “I know you’ve got some rich and powerful people looking for you. All the more reason to get you out of here and away from the club as quickly as possible.” He sent a hard glare in Gunner’s direction. She almost wanted to laugh. They think my problems will become club problems. Like the guy after me would give half a shit about them. She kept that thought to herself - somehow she didn’t think telling Nomad “your little club is completely insignificant to these people” would work in her favor. She searched for something more diplomatic to say. “Their issues with me are purely financial, they aren’t going to harass anyone else.”

  “Mmhm,” he said, clearly not buying it. “Sounds good until they think we’re helping to hide you and your trust funds or whatever it is they’re after.” She made no reply to that. Don’t let him upset you. “So, to be clear, you came out here looking for your sister because of these guys, so you could give her a heads-up. And then you were going to move on." She nodded at Nomad. "Okay. I think I've got enough of the picture here."

  "So will he let this go?" she asked, "The president? I didn't see anything, I don't know anything..."

  "You understand why we can't just believe that and send you on your way, right?"

  She nodded slowly. Right. Don't think he's here to help you just because he's Gunner's father. He's not your friend.

  He nodded towards Gunner. "You realize he's in a world of shit for helping you?"

  "I know. I don't know how I can ever repay him."

  "Stop," Gunner said, putting a hand on her shoulder. To his father he said, "What can you do?"