Satan's Revenge (A Satan's Sons MC Novel)

by Loren, Celia

  Without another word, I reach over and press my hand firmly over his crotch, feeling his hard cock already waiting, pressing against his fly. He stands up, unzipping his black jeans and pulling them down to his ankles, along with his boxers. I grab his huge member in my right hand, feeling myself get even wetter at the sight of his manhood. He groans as I run my hand up and down his shaft.

  I don’t need any more foreplay, and I know he doesn’t either. I just want to feel him inside me, right now. I sit up and slide to the middle of the bed, then sink forward onto my hands and knees, my ass in the air, waiting for him. I look back over my shoulder at him and he sinks one knee, then the other, onto the bed, making his way over to me.

  I turn my head back around and close my eyes, waiting for him. I feel him slide his hand over my ass crack and then once again inside me. He pushes a finger inside me, and I hear him groan.

  “Oh, fuck, you’re so wet already.”

  He pulls his finger out of me, and then his hands are on the insides of my thighs, pulling my knees farther apart. I sink down on my elbows, biting my lip in anticipation.

  He doesn’t keep me waiting long. I feel his tip at my slit. He has cock in his hand, and he works it around my opening, then slides it along to my clit, circling around me.

  “Oh, Drifter,” I moan.

  He moves back up, and I gasp as he slowly pushes himself inside me. His hands move to my hips, grasping me, pulling me back against him.

  “Ahhhh,” he sighs, in relief, in pleasure, as his cock reaches its depth. I walk my knees back in until my thighs are pressed tightly against each other, squeezing his shaft tightly inside me. He grunts and pulls almost all the way back out, then thrusts back in, hard.

  I cry out as he slams into me, bracing myself as best as I can on the mattress. He reaches around me with one hand and flicks my clit back and forth aggressively. He pulls out again and slams back in. He thrusts in and out hard now, and his hands move up to my breasts. I feel my nipples against his palms as he massages them, and I press my hips back against him.

  One of his hands disappears and I feel it a moment later against my ass. He slips a finger into my ass and I cry out. He groans and thrusts against me even harder. I feel an orgasm building inside me quickly, and the pleasure is so overwhelming that my arms collapse. I fall onto my stomach and he lands on top of me, not missing a beat. His hands move under me and grasp my shoulders from below, pulling me against him still. His legs are on the outside of mine, and he thrusts inside me again. He is going so deep, the pleasure is so intense that it’s painful.

  I grit my teeth as his cock drives into me. My world begins to spin as he hits my g-spot again and again. Our cries mix together as we come at the same time. I see stars against my closed eyelids and I’m lost in pleasure.

  His beard rubs softly against my cheek, bringing me back to reality.

  “Maybe I should stay,” he murmurs.

  I smile. “I don’t know how Flint would feel about that.”

  “Flint’s feelings are the last thing on my mind right now,” he replies as he dips his head and kisses the back of my shoulder.

  “How about you leave now, but when you get back, I’ll wear that little leather corset for you.”

  “And that’s the image I’ll have in my head as I ride,” he smiles. I turn my head and he kisses me on the lips.

  He sighs and pulls out of me, sliding off the bed.

  “OK, I’ll see you soon,” he says, as he zips up his fly. I turn over again as he walks toward the bedroom door. “Hey, tell Marcus I said goodbye. I didn’t want to wake him.”

  I nod, and see him look down and smile as he opens the door. He holds it open for a moment, and Kalb and Scout run into the room and jump on the bed with me.

  “Love you,” he calls softly as he shuts it behind him.

  “Love you, too. Be safe,” I reply, as Kalb and Scout curl up on the sheets, making themselves completely at home.

  I fall back to sleep with the two dogs breathing next to me, exhausted both from my early morning romp with Drifter, and from my recent work schedule. It feels so nice to be able to sleep in a little.

  I wake up to the sound of scratching at the door. I glance at the clock. It’s almost 11AM. Scout is at the door, wanting to be set free. I wrap a terrycloth robe around myself and finally get out of bed. The dogs follow me down the hall and into the living room, where I open the door to let them out into the yard. A breeze flows into the house. The wind feels a little stronger than usual, the air a little heavier. Scout and Kalb feel it, too. I watch them stop and raise their snouts in the air, closing their eyes to absorb the detailed scents.

  I slide the door shut and decide to make French toast for myself, which feels very decadent to do for one person. No sign of Marcus yet. After I make it, I grab the syrup from the fridge and sit down at the table. Now that Drifter took down the adjoining wall, I can see the TV from here, though that was not at all the point of the renovation. I click it on and bypass the news shows to watch something that will ease my fried brain. HGTV is good for that, especially since I feel like I’m understanding some of what Drifter does at his job.

  Just as I’m finishing eating, I hear my cell phone ring from where I left it on the counter last night. I hurry over to glance at the screen and flip it open.

  “Hey, Liz!” I say, glad to hear from Flint’s old lady.

  “Hey girl,” she responds. “Now I’m not saying you’re going to forget, but I know you’ve been busy at the hospital, so I wanted to remind you about our planning meeting today.”

  I wince. I had forgotten. The Sons’ annual fair to raise money for the Foundation for Muscular Dystrophy is coming up and the old ladies always spearhead the organizing.

  “Well, I’m not saying I had forgotten, but thank you for reminding me,” I reply.

  I hear her turn her phone away from her face as she laughs.

  “Oh, good. So I’ll see you at my place at 4,” she says.

  “Yup, see you then,” I promise. Well, I don’t have the whole day off, but at least it’s for a good cause. I know Liz’s sister has the disease, so it’s very near to her heart.

  I take the dogs for a walk after I clear up my dishes, and when I get back, there’s no sign of Marcus’s car. Maybe he’s dropping off that application at the hospital like he said he was going to. It is strange that he would spend so much money on food and alcohol last night, but maybe he just wanted to show he was grateful.

  Even as I think that, I still have an uneasy feeling in my stomach about him. Maybe it’s just that he’s involved with whatever Drifter doesn’t want to tell me about from his past? I shouldn’t let that color my thoughts of him, though I don’t always like the way he talks to Drifter.

  After a quick shower, I head over to Liz’s. She lives in a much larger house about ten minutes away. I see a couple cars and a few bikes out front already. Some of the old ladies ride bikes themselves. I’ve ridden a bunch, but don’t yet have one of my own. I park on the street, and as I walk up the front steps, I can already hear voices inside.

  I knock softly as I open the unlocked door, knowing Liz is expecting me. The house is built for entertaining, as the house of the president of the Sons’ national headquarters should be, and needs to be.

  I follow the voices across shiny hardwood floors and into the kitchen. The ladies are gathered around the large kitchen island while Liz hands out glasses of what looks like sangria. With these women, even a planning meeting is going to be fun.

  They all turn as I enter and excitedly greet me, the ones with glasses already raising them with a cheer. I break out into a huge smile as Tina, Bethany, Danielle, Lauren and Cherish take turns giving me hugs.

  “Thank god you’re here!” Tina says dramatically. “We haven’t seen you in months, ever since you started working at that hospital!”

  “I know, it’s been crazy!” I reply. “But after I put my time in, I’ll be able to choose better shifts.”

&n
bsp; “Well, it’s good to see you,” Cherish says, smiling shyly. I rub her arm. Some of the other old ladies weren’t sure about her after she moved on so quickly from Drifter to Hollywood when I entered the picture, but I made a point of including her so that they’d know I didn’t harbor any ill will. It’s true we did start off on the wrong foot, but now we’ve grown to be close friends.

  “Here, try this,” Liz says, pushing a glass of sangria into my hand. “I call it ‘Sangria-Plus.’”

  “Why?” I ask, and then take a sip, my lips puckering immediately. “Jesus, what’s in this?”

  “You’re tasting the ‘plus,’” Liz says, smiling mysteriously.

  “Liz, we can’t get too drunk! We’re all driving home, not to mention this is a charity meeting!” Tina says, laughing.

  “If anyone gets drunk, I’ll just get a prospect to drive you home,” Liz says.

  I smile. Liz is wonderful to the people she loves, but if you cross her, watch out. The prospects are all terrified of her.

  After about an hour of chatting—it’s tough to get moving when we have so much gossip and club business to talk about—we finally sit down around Liz’s large dining room table. Everyone has been put in charge of some aspect, but since I wasn’t here last year, they’ve labeled me a “floater,” meaning I’m supposed to help out whoever needs it.

  We run through the various elements—music, games, food and drink vendors, tents, raffle and silent auction items—and I’m thoroughly impressed by the women’s thoroughness and attention to detail. Liz asks me to work with Cherish on the food and drink. She was there last year, but as a sweet butt, so she has the least experience next to me.

  After a while, everyone’s brains are fried, and we retreat to the living room. Liz grabs a seat next to me on the long, suede couch.

  “So, I hear Drifter’s brother is in town,” she says quietly.

  “Oh my god, Liz, you know everything,” I laugh.

  “Hey, the president’s old lady has to,” she smiles. “You keep that in mind.”

  I sip my sangria. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that Drifter is being groomed to take over a leadership position in the club.

  “So, is he as hot as Drifter?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

  “No one is as hot as Drifter,” I point out with a grin, recalling our steamy session this morning. “But they do look a lot alike.”

  “Mmhm,” she murmurs, wanting more information.

  “Flint brought Drifter from Oregon with him, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Liz confirms. “Flint was the VP of the Oregon chapter, and he helped make a lot of good changes, so they asked him to come into the national chapter, and he brought Drifter along.”

  “Did he ever meet Marcus back in Oregon?”

  “Well, we had just gotten married when he met Drifter, I think, so it was a while ago, but I can’t remember. They were foster kids, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. Drifter doesn’t like to talk about that time of his life too much, that’s all.”

  “Well, don’t push him too hard, that’s the surest way to make a man shut down,” Liz advises me. “Oh my god, I can just remember meeting Drifter when he was in high school.”

  “What?” I squeal. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me before!”

  “I honestly didn’t think of it until you brought up Oregon! He was so different then.”

  “How? What was he like?” I ask, my eyes widening, excited to get a glimpse of him as a kid. I’ve never even seen a photo.

  “Well, I remember he was tall, maybe not as tall as he is now, but certainly for a high school kid. But too thin for his height. And serious. Didn’t seem too comfortable with himself—probably didn’t realize how fuckin’ cute he was!”

  I smile at this image of the teenage Drifter, still awkward in his body and unsure of himself.

  “Ooo, ladies, I want to get home before this storm hits,” Danielle pipes, looking at the TV, which is turned on at low volume.

  “What storm?” I ask.

  “Supposed to be a big thunderstorm hitting tonight, though it looks like they’re saying it’s coming faster than they thought originally.”

  We all agree it’s better to be safe than sorry and decide to head home, especially since Bethany and Tina are on their bikes. I’m glad I only had a half a glass of that sangria. We quickly help Liz clean up a little, then stream toward the door. I say a quick good bye to Cherish, with the promise that we’ll get together to talk about the food for the fair.

  As I hop in my car, the clouds above darken ominously. I think with concern about Drifter, out on the open road. Maybe he’s already inside, wherever he is.

  I turn the radio on to lessen my anxiety, and hum along to some Otis Redding. As I pull up to a stoplight, I hear my cell ringing in my purse on the passenger seat and lean over to answer it. It’s a number I don’t know. I put it on speaker and lay it in my lap.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Violet, it’s Hollywood,” his voice answers.

  “Oh, hey, I just saw Cherish. Wait…is everything OK with Drifter?” My stomach knots in fear that he’s calling to tell me something bad happened on the run.

  “Everything’s fine with Drifter. It’s his brother I’m calling about.”

  “Marcus? What do you mean?”

  “I’m down at The Tease,” he says, referring to a strip club that the Sons own. And from what I’ve heard, the name is pretty inaccurate, since the dancers take it all off. “Marcus is wasted, making a scene. I’d call one of the prospects to take him home, but it’d probably be best if Flint didn’t hear about it. You know, keep it unofficial.”

  “Yeah, I got you. I’ll be right over.”

  I hang up, get into the left lane and put on my blinker. Just as I turn toward The Tease, a big fat raindrop falls onto my windshield. And just like that, the heavens open up and the sound of the rain hitting my car is so loud that I can’t hear the radio. I flip on my headlights and squint as I make my way toward The Tease. I try not to focus too much on my annoyance at Marcus.

  About fifteen minutes later, I pull into the parking lot, getting as close as I can to the awning. I run inside, but still manage to get pretty soaked in the five feet that I had to traverse.

  Hollywood is waiting for me just inside the door, arms crossed, looking annoyed.

  “Hey. Thanks for calling me. What’s going on?” I ask, skipping the small talk.

  “I’m filling in for a bouncer, and some guy comes in and starts throwing money around, which is fine of course, but then he gets wasted and starts grabbing at the dancers. They get pissed, and when I come over he starts yelling that he’s Drifter’s brother and we better treat him like it. I heard his brother was in town, and they look alike, so I believed him. Look, I don’t want to have to beat the shit out of him, but you’ve gotta get him out of here or I’m not going to be able to help myself.”

  I hear raucous laughter coming from inside the club. My head snaps around and I see Marcus leaning on the edge of the stage. He grabs a topless dancer by the leg and she angrily tries to shake him off.

  “Yup, that’s him,” I confirm.

  I make my way through the tables and chairs to where Marcus is sitting. It’s a Saturday, but it’s still pretty early and the weather is terrible, so the club isn’t that full. I reach his table and lay a hand on his shoulder. He jerks back and stares at me, blurry-eyed. I wonder if alcohol’s the only thing he’s been abusing today.

  “Marcus, it’s me, Violet. I’m here to take you home.”

  “Ohhhh, Violet,” he slurs, then looks me up and down. “I didn’t wanna say, but you could work here, ya know? You’ve got the body for it.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I reply drily.

  “Don’t tell Drifter,” he adds, giving me a sloppy wink.

  “Oh, I won’t. Come on, it’s time to go.”

  “No, I want to stay!” he says, taking a handful of singles out of his pocket and t
hrowing them onto the stage. The dancer smiles begrudgingly at him.

  “Marcus, we have to go…hey, I cooked a great meal for you,” I lie.

  “Yeah?” he asks. “What is it?”

  “Um, it’s…pork…pork chops, and applesauce, and potatoes…”

  “I could eat,” he reasons.

  “Great, well we better go before it gets cold!”

  “Alright, lemme just finish this beer.”

  I wince as he chugs the half-empty beer bottle on the table, as though he needs it. I turn to leave, but he stands and leans over the stage again.

  “Baby! Give me a kiss goodbye!” he demands, yelling at the dancer.

  “Marcus! Come on, you’re not supposed to touch them.”

  “Fine! Not even hot,” he mutters, finally making his way to the front.

  “Sorry,” I mouth to the dancer, and she shrugs resignedly at me.

  Hollywood glares at Marcus as I catch up to him and we pass through the front door. Marcus wanders out into the pelting rain and I guide him to the back seat of my car. He looks unsteady enough that it might just be best for him to lie down.

  I don’t have to suggest the idea to him. As soon as I open the door, he pitches forward and lands on the back seat. I push his legs in and close the door, then hurry over to the driver’s side. I’m thoroughly soaked as I slide the keys into the ignition.

  “You don’t know him like I do,” Marcus murmurs, almost tauntingly, as I pull out of the parking lot.

  “Are you talking about Drifter? What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap at him. I’m thoroughly fed up with Marcus at this point, and nasty little hints about Drifter are more than I can take.

  “You all think he’s so great,” he says louder, laughing a little now, “but he’s a liar. He’ll turn on you as soon as you give him a chance.”

  “That’s not true,” I say, trying to remain calm.

  “He did it to me. His own brother. Can’t trust him.”

  “Don’t talk about him like that.”

  “I could’ve had a different life!” he sputters.

  “Marcus, where’d all that money come from that you were throwing at that girl?” I ask, trying both to change the subject and to get a little information from him while he’s drunk.