ANGEL_Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  Is he trying to seduce me so he can sleep in my bed? I think crazily, just before his lips come down on mine. But then he’s kissing me and I can’t think or resist or anything, because it’s Angel, and the worst part is, now I know how good sex is with him so once he touches me all I want is more. He draws me against him, one hand going behind me to press against the small of my back, and the ache that’s starting between my legs explodes because suddenly I feel his hardness and I want it pushing against me there…

  I hate myself for how badly I want this. I hate my body because I know it’s not going to listen to me. Angel’s in charge. And he knows it.

  Angel reaches up under my shirt and runs a thumb over my nipple, and even through the fabric of my bra it sends a current through me that jolts my hips forward, makes me gasp against his mouth. His other hand goes under my ass, crushing me against his hardness, and it feels so good I moan, angling myself against his cock, writhing, pressing, as his tongue dances with mine. The hand on my breast moves to my back, and I feel my bra unclasping. Angel breaks the kiss and pushes my shirt and bra off over my head in one motion.

  “Fuck,” he rasps, his lips going to my neck. I shudder at the roughness of his beard against my throat. “I been thinkin’ about this since the last time. I can’t seem to stay away from you, Jewel.”

  My heart leaps. I know. God help me, I know.

  Angel’s hand slides between my legs, under my skirt. He moves my panties aside and finds my clit. One finger slips inside me, and my face flushes at how wet I know I am, but he groans his approval and nips at the skin of my neck. “Jesus Christ, Jewel,” he rasps. He starts to stroke me and I shudder. I’m so close already, and I cling to him in spite of myself, for balance, as I ride his hand, but as I start to climb higher he stops. Pulling away, he tells me to take off my skirt. Still shaking, I do, pushing down my soaked panties as well and stepping out of them. I leave them in a pile with my shoes and come toward him. My hand shaking, I reach down and cup his shaft through his jeans. I can feel him, pulsing and hard. It makes me bold, knowing that I’ve done this to him. I squeeze him and stroke, and he groans again. My hand moves to unbutton his jeans, then to unzip his fly. As his jeans pool at his legs, his cock springs free. I kneel before he can stop me, and take him into my mouth.

  Angel hisses loudly, his thighs going rigid. I feel him pull off his cut and his shirt. He’s so large there’s no way I can get very much in my mouth, so I compensate by wrapping my hand around his length. I marvel at the heat of him, at the velvet softness covering the hard steel of his shaft. I slide my tongue along the skin of his head and start to stroke. The ache between my legs grows stronger, deeper, and suddenly I’m desperate to have him inside me, but I keep going because I want this, too. Angel is impossibly hard, pulsing with every stroke I give him, and I angle my head differently and take him deeper into my mouth, moaning my desire. “Fucking Christ,” he groans. “Jesus, that feels good.” I grip him harder, speeding my stroke, wanting more than anything to make him lose control, but a few seconds later he grips my wrist and pulls away. “One day, baby, but not today,” he murmurs. “Right now, you need to take me to your bedroom.”

  I stand, unsteadily, and face him, my eyes going to his. I can hear my breathing, feel the thudding of my heart. I watch him as his gaze slides over my body. Then I do as he says, wordlessly walking down the hall as he follows me.

  “You know what I want. Spread your legs.”

  I lie back on the bed and do as I’m told, shivering in anticipation. He moves over me, drinking in my lips in a long kiss as he slides the head of his cock against my throbbing core. I gasp and arch toward him, waiting, but he doesn’t slide inside me. Instead, his head moves down, sucking and devouring each of my nipples in turn, drawing small whimpers of pleasure from me that grow louder and more desperate the longer he toys with me. Finally, when I don’t think I can take another second, I feel his lips leave my breasts and his hair tickle my stomach as he moves down between my legs.

  The first stroke of his tongue against my sex makes me cry out. At the second, my hand fists in his hair, my legs falling further apart. He teases me, tortures me, wrenches strangled shouts from my throat. He owns my body, my soul, every waking thought I have, and I beg him, silently and then out loud, to let me come, to give me what I need. He takes my swollen nub between his lips and being to suck and stroke, gently, then more insistently. My hands grab desperately at the sheets as the earth starts to fall away. Crying out as the pleasure overtakes me, I call his name once, twice, and the then whole world comes into sharp focus and shatters into a million pieces as I come apart with it.

  Angel moves over me again, and I part for him as he slides his length deep inside me. I feel myself still pulsing around him as he pulls out and drives in, once, then again. He growls my name against my neck as he goes harder, faster, deeper, and I cling to him because I know I’m not done, I’m climbing again already, getting closer with every thrust, and then he shouts my name and explodes inside me as I come around him — our bodies seeming to fuse together, joining as one.

  Eventually our rhythm slows, the echoes of my orgasm still washing over me like soft waves. I’m gasping for breath, and Angel’s panting mixes with mine. It’s almost like music: our own cadence, a song only we can hear.

  What did I just do? A small whisper asks in the back of my brain.

  I push it away.

  Angel gathers me against him as he collapses on the bed. He kisses me long and deep, holding me close. When he pulls away, I open my eyes. He’s staring at me, his beautiful eyes the color of gunmetal glowing in the darkness.

  “I can still go out to the couch,” he murmurs, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

  “Sleep here,” I whisper.

  Knowing as I do that I’m making yet another mistake.

  22

  Angel

  In the morning, I wake Jewel up as gently as I can.

  “The Lords have Jude and the prospects. They’re back at the clubhouse. Jude says he had nothing to do with the break-in, and no idea it was gonna happen.”

  Jewel blinks tiredly at me as she takes in my words.

  “I’m takin’ you with me back to the clubhouse,” I continue. “I’ll have some of the men come here and fix your door and the lock.”

  She sits up in bed, reflexively drawing the covers around her naked breasts. “Now?”

  I nod. “Soon as you can get ready.”

  If Jewel is bothered by my businesslike tone, she doesn’t question it. She pads into the bathroom and takes a quick shower, then comes out with a towel wrapped around her. I resist the urge to take her back into the bedroom and make her all dirty again.

  “I usually wash my uniform when I get home at night,” she says, nodding at her crumple of clothes on the living room floor and reddening.

  “You know I don’t care what you wear,” I say gruffly. “Though… you might want to choose something that makes it easier to ride on a Harley than that sexy little skirt.”

  Jewel risks a small smile. “You think my skirt is sexy?”

  “Darlin’, I’ve thought about peelin’ that thing off you a million times. And so have most of the other men in the club.” I think about Bullet and my fists clench. “Though I’ll rip their fuckin’ heads off if any of ‘em try it.”

  She ducks her head and flashes me a quick grin as she darts into the bedroom to change. I think about following her in there, but decide against it. Business first.

  And hopefully, pleasure later.

  Jewel comes out a few minutes later, her wheat-blond hair tied up in a high ponytail that shows off her cheekbones and the curve of her neck. She’s wearing a black T-shirt and jeans that hug her figure. They ain’t as good as the mini-skirt, but I’d still like to peel ‘em off her all the same. With my teeth.

  “I want to check on Olga before we leave,” she says. “Just to make sure she’s okay.”

  While Jewel’s gone, I call up Beast. I tell him a
bout Jewel’s door, and tell him to send some men out to fix it today. I’m just hanging up when she returns.

  “Ready,” she announces.

  Ten minutes later, we’re at the clubhouse. Jewel’s car is parked out front. A couple of the brothers are outside when we get there, but no one seems to question what Jewel is doing on the back of my bike. We go inside, and find Jude sitting in the main room on one of the low couches. A couple of the prospects are there, too, but they clear out when I tell them I need to talk to him.

  Beast or someone must have given Jude the rundown on why we picked him up last night. He’s looking kind of sullen, but he doesn’t say a word as I sit down across from him and Jewel takes a chair to one side.

  It doesn’t take very long to explain the situation to Jude, and to tell him the people who broke in to Jewel’s apartment were his buddies from Krow Klan. He’s defiant at first, not quite believing it was his buddies who broke in.

  “How do you even know it was them?” he challenges. “Beast said the place had already been robbed when you got there.”

  “Olga found them,” Jewel tells him. “She walked in on them while they were ransacking the place, and they hit her on the head and knocked her unconscious. She was still in the apartment passed out when we got there.”

  “Oh.” Jude at least has the fuckin’ decency to look sorry. “She okay?”

  “She will be,” I cut in.

  “Jude, please tell me you had nothing to do with this,” Jewel says quietly.

  “What? No!” His voice rises. “Of course not! Why would I tell them to rob my own sister?”

  “Why would they target your sister?” I demand.

  “I don’t know!” he insists, throwing up his hands. “I’ve barely even seen any of them in weeks! Not really since I started working at Twisted Pipes. Jase has texted a couple times to hang out but I couldn’t.” Jude glances at Jewel. “That’s the guy you met that day at your apartment.”

  “Olga said he was one of the people who robbed me,” she tells him.

  Jude is silent for a moment. “Shit.”

  “Look, Jude.” I put my hands on my knees and stand. “I’ll deal with you later. I got some shit to do today. But stick around. We’re gonna talk more about this when I get back.”

  Jude looks defiant again for a second, but then seems to realize it’s wiser not to fuck with me. He glances down at his hands and doesn’t say anything.

  Jewel sucks in a breath and sighs. “Okay. Well, I’m starving, and I need some coffee.” She looks at her brother. “You want me to make you some breakfast?”

  Jude takes the olive branch. “Thanks.”

  I walk with her into the kitchen on my way to my office. “I’m gonna take care of this,” I tell her.

  “Take care of what?”

  “Krow Klan.”

  Jewel bites her lip nervously. “Angel…”

  “Sshhh. No arguments.” I lift my hand and tilt her chin up to mine. I brush my lips against hers. “Okay?”

  Her cheeks turn the same shade of pink they were last night. “Okay.”

  I call church and tell the Lords what happened at Jewel’s place last night. Then I send a message to Kane tellin’ him I want to meet. I take a few of the brothers with me to the meet-up, which I set at a bar in neutral biker territory called the Smiling Skull.

  We get there first, ahead of the scheduled time. As we park the bikes and get ready to walk in, I notice a “for sale” sign planted at the edge of the parking lot.

  “What the fuck, Rosie?” I ask as I walk in and see the owner. “You sellin’ this place for real?”

  Rosie, an old, feisty fireplug of a woman with iron-gray hair cut short and no-nonsense, comes out from behind the bar. “I’m retirin’,” she sighs. “I ain’t gonna live forever, you know. I’m gonna move down to Arizona, I think. My sister lives there.”

  “I didn’t know you had a sister.” I nod at the bartender to bring me a beer.

  “Yeah.” The corners of Rosie’s mouth turn down. “We don’t get along. Never have. But she’s all the family I got, so…”

  “You can’t sell this place, Rose,” Thorn complains. “The Skull is an institution, love. What would we do without it?”

  “Well,” Rose cocks her head at him. “You could buy it.”

  Thorn and a couple of the other men chuckle. “That would keep it in the family,” Thorn agrees.

  Beast leans over to me. “Kane’s gonna be here soon.”

  I nod. “Rosie, we’re gonna take that room in the back for a little while. The prez of Krow Klan’s gonna be payin’ us a little visit.

  Rosie scowls. “What the hell you meetin’ up with that asshole for?”

  I exhale. “Don’t worry. I’m not any more excited about it than you are. Shouldn’t be long, though.”

  “You keep it clean,” Rosie warns me. “There’s carpet back there. I don’t want any blood on it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Kane and his gang have done business with our club in the past, though not lately. They used to be part of a gun running cartel — hell, maybe they still are — but we stopped doing business with ‘em because of the low quality and high prices of their product. Back then, they were called Crow Clan — no fuckin’ Ku Klux Klan K’s in their name. I had heard they changed their names a while back, but at first I just assumed it was because of Kane’s outsized ego that he wanted the club to share his first initial. It was only later I heard he was moving into the white supremacist bullshit.

  I mostly ignored him and his shitty organization, since we haven’t had any business dealings since before I took over as prez. But a little less than a year ago, I started seein’ graffiti around the area, on underpasses and the occasional office building. A Krow Klan logo, that looks a hell of a lot like a Nazi symbol. Lately, I’ve seen it appearing here and there in Tanner Springs.

  That shit needs to end. Even if Jude has decided he’s done with Krow Klan, Kane needs to learn in no uncertain terms that his bullshit stays out of my goddamn town. Out of my territory. For good.

  My brothers and I settle into the back room to wait. About ten minutes later, Kane arrives with his men — or should I say, his bodyguards. I don’t recognize any of the four of them — either they’re new recruits to the Krow Klan, or Kane’s paying them.

  Kane himself has changed since I last saw him. The deep, jagged scar that goes across his throat and up his right cheek is still there, of course. His hair, which used to be long and lank, is cropped short, about a quarter inch from his skull. It emphasizes the creepy angularity of his face, and gives him the look of a wide-eyed snake. He was always an ugly sonofabitch, but this shit ramps it up a level. He looks predatory, like a Nazi pedophile.

  “Angel,” he croaks. Whatever happened to Kane to cause that scar fucked with his voice box, so when he speaks he can barely get much above a whisper. “Congratulations on your promotion. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing you since you removed your former president from office.” Kane’s lips part into an ugly grin. “Good move, by the way. Very ambitious.”

  Kane’s always been a sleazy fuck. I ignore his words and what they imply, even though I want to pound the fucker’s face into the ground for them.

  “This ain’t a social visit, Kane,” I cut him off. “What’s with this Nazi shit?”

  “That’s a harsh term,” he says mildly.

  “What do you call it when your fuckin’ minions have swastikas and SS tattoos on their heads?” I growl. “Your little KKK minions have been seen in Tanner Springs. And last night, some of them broke into the apartment of a friend of mine.”

  “That’s what this is about?” Kane clucks his tongue. “You’re coming here to get your friend’s possessions back? This is quite a fall from grace, Angel.”

  “Nah. That’s not what this is about.” I stand from the table where I’ve been sitting, the chair flying back behind me. I lean forward and put both hands on the heavy wood tabletop. “This is
about Krow Klan. And how you’re recruiting for your shitty club from my fuckin’ territory.”

  Kane half-flinches, but the frozen grin doesn’t leave his face. “I’m not recruiting, Angel. I’ll admit, I do have a… following… among the young people. Some of them get… enthusiastic.”

  “I thought you were happy enough just to move shitty guns and low quality ammo back and forth. Last I remember, you were sellin’ to the black gangs up north. You still doin’ business up there?”

  “Why not?” Kane’s grin widens. “Fortunately, their money is still as green as anyone else’s. It’s not my problem if they need guns to play their gangland games up there in the ghetto. If they kill each other in the process, then that’s an unexpected benefit.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Thorn mutters beside me. I can feel the tension rising on my side of the room. This is gonna end in bloodshed, and I promised to spare Rosie’s rug.

  Kane is unfazed. “Let me give you a little advice, prez,” He begins in a condescending tone. “Young men, they need to feel a part of something. Something bigger than themselves. Something to make them feel important — like they belong. If you can give them something to believe in — a higher purpose, if you will — they’ll fight harder. Be more loyal. Perhaps even be persuaded to do things that they otherwise wouldn’t have the courage to do. Giving them a belief system, and a leader in this cause —” Kane points to his chest — “that gives them strength. Bravery.” He smiles, the scar on his cheek puckering. “Those boys will do what I tell them — anything I tell them — to belong to Krow Klan. That’s gold.”

  “Jesus fuck,” I breathe in wonder. “You don’t even believe the bullshit you’re feeding them. You cynical piece of shit.” A flash of white-hot fury bolts through me, the urge to kill him right here and now so strong that the adrenaline hit makes me feel almost drunk with it.

  “It ain’t any surprise to me that you gotta seduce little boys to do your bidding, Kane.” I spit out. “Hell. With that ugly fuckin’ face of yours, I’m guessin’ you’re recruitin’ yourself a little army of fuckboys to do anything you want. Ain’t that right?”