“My cock bouncing, begging and craving to unload, but you don’t fuckin’ stop. You bring me to the brink and you do it all over again, and again, and again. And just when my balls are red from the pulling and tugging and deprivation, you fuckin’ wrap those plump candy lips around me and suck me ‘til you drink every last drop of my cum. That’s what sweet is to me, Nix. An hour of pain, followed by a moment of pleasure.”
“Shit,” Phoenix says as she stops eating and looks at the plate, too scared to lift her gaze to me.
“What?” Don’t tell me I said something that’s pissed her off again.
She puts the plate on the chair next to us, wraps her arms around my neck and closes her mouth over mine. Her mouth dominates mine. She’s licking and sucking at me, while hungrily drowning us both in an intoxicating, heated kiss.
She pulls away only to lean into me and start kissing and sucking up my jaw toward my ear. “God, Jaeger, you’re such an ass. But I want you so badly.”
I stand at the speed of light, half pushing Nix off me, half dragging her with me. “Take care of her,” I say to Sarge as I point to Milina. Grabbing Nix by the hand I head straight for my room.
“What are you doing? Milina will be on her own. You can wait,” Nix says as she tries to break the tight hold I have on her.
“Sarge will look after her. You need to give me a blow job, right now.” I push her into my room, closing and locking the door behind me.
“I’m not going down on you, knowing my friend is out there alone.” She points past the door toward the back of the clubhouse.
“You want me; I want you. It’s simple math. If you’re not going to suck me, then bend over and let me fuck you.”
“You are a jerk.” She sidesteps me and moves toward the door.
“What the hell is your problem?” I ask as I pull her back into the room before she can leave.
“It’s the way you say things, like I’m expected to just be here for your cock.” She indicates toward my groin
I run a frustrated hand through my hair and tug on the ends.
“I’m trying this open communication bullshit you chicks seem to always go on about. You know the whole ‘let’s tell each other how we feel’ thing. I’m telling you how I feel, and you get pissed. What the hell do you want from me?”
“I just don’t want you to act like such a caveman,” she retorts angrily. “There’s more to me than just my mouth or my ass or my pussy.”
“I can’t do nice, Nix. I can only do truth with you. Not the whole flowers and candy crap. I’m not that type. But I’m also not the type that’ll ever lie to you either.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I might tell you I want those lips around my cock, and how I want to watch your tits bounce up and down as you ride me. But I won’t lie to you about anything. Isn’t it better to have me tell you those things, then not say anythin’ and go get them from someone else?”
“Well…”
“I’d rather fuck you in the ass than go to anyone else and stick my cock in them.”
“How damn romantic.” She rolls her eyes and takes a deep breath.
I take a step closer to her, and lower my agitated tone, “I don’t do romance, Nix. I don’t do pretty and soft. I’ll tell you what I want, how I want it and although you may not like how I say it, it’ll always be the truth.”
The longest moment passes between us.
Nix looks away from me, as she considers what I have to say.
“Do you know what this feels like?” She gestures between us.
“What?” God help me. I hope she doesn’t say something like what comes out of those those instant love, happily ever after bullshit books that horny women read these days.
“To me it feels like we’re magnets, pulling together, but rejecting each other every time we get close.”
“Sugar, the only one pushing away is you.”
She looks at me and frowns, thinking about what I’ve said.
Another moment of silence turns into several.
The heat in the air is cooling, Nix’s shoulders slump and finally, I think she gets it.
“I’ll try a bit harder not to lose it with you. But can you please tone it down?” she asks.
“Don’t like your chances,” I answer honestly.
“Didn’t think so.”
My balls are still blue. I’m desperate to unload inside her mouth, but I gotta go with what I’ve got.
“C’mon, Nix, let’s go talk with your friend.” I sigh and take Phoenix’s hand in mine, tighten my fingers around hers and lead her outside toward Sarge and Milina.
“Okay,” she replies as her fingers hold onto mine.
“Nix?”
“Yeah.”
“I really want you to give me a blow job tonight.” See? I can tame it down.
I hear her let out a huge sigh, followed by a small laugh.
“We’ll see,” she says, resigned to my more subtle ways.
I chuckle at her, and lead her outside.
Grit: Chapter 17
Sarge and I have an easy ride out to Northeast Sheds. When we arrive, there are two black SUVs already parked, telling me that Emily and company are already here.
“You ready?” I ask Sarge as he takes his helmet off and slings it over the handlebar.
“Hmmm,” he answers his usual way.
“Let’s hope I don’t get us killed.”
“Better not, I got me a girl I like,” Sarge says, surprising me with his honesty.
“Nix’s friend made an impression, did she?”
“Somethin’ like that.” A smile creeps across his face, which makes him look like a scarier fucker than he does when he looks normal.
“Alright, let’s get this show started,” I say, walking toward the shed’s entry.
The door’s open and Sarge steps through the threshold first. He holds onto his gun, ready for anything that may come to us.
“Gentleman,” Emily says as she stands from the chair she was sitting on. Sarge drops his gun to his side. Beside her is a tall guy whose eyes say not to fuck with any of them, and standing behind both of them is a chick dressed all in black. She’s got a shoulder holster on with two guns hanging from it near her tits, and one strapped around her thigh. Her hair’s pulled back into a severe ponytail, and she’s wearing dark glasses, which to me is dangerous ‘cause I’m not sure where the hell she’s looking.
Out of the three of ‘em, the chick standing in the back feels the most menacing.
“Emily,” I hold my hand out to shake hers. “This is Sarge,” I say introducing him to her.
Emily takes my hand in hers and shakes it, then Sarge’s.
“This is my partner, Ben,” she says as she gestures over to the tall guy. He reaches out his hand to shake mine, then Sarge’s.
My eyes automatically go over to the chick standing in the shadows. Silently, I ask who the hell she is.
I can’t help but check her out either. She doesn’t look like she’d be able to handle the three semi-automatics she has strapped to her body. She’s curvy. She’s got hips and tits, but the way she stands, with her back straight and her chest out, tells me I should be scared of her.
“She won’t bother you, unless you bother us,” Ben says, answering my question.
I look at Ben, then back to Emily. My eyes wander over to the hot chick in the back again.
“Look at me like that again, and I’ll take your eyes out with the knife you’re carrying in your left pocket,” she says coolly, not raising her voice at all.
How the fuck does she know I have a knife in my left pocket?
Who the hell is this chick?
“15,” Emily says over her shoulder.
Fuck!
Now I know who she is. She’s a damn legend. I heard about that one hit she did that took a guy out from two miles away.
And I know she’s beyond ruthless, a cold-hearted killer. Rumors about what she does are alwa
ys floating around. I take the warning she gave me; I don’t look at her again.
“Why did you call?” Emily asks as she sits in the folding chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“We’re looking for a new supplier,” I answer and mimic her pose, while Sarge sits on the chair beside me.
Ben sits too, and leans his elbows on the table in front of him. His look is hardened, deadly. I’ve seen that look in men’s eyes before, just before they take a swing, usually at a death match.
“We don’t get involved in feuding. We won’t be played off against anyone,” Ben states as he looks over his shoulder to 15, essentially warning us.
My eyes travel over to the ghost standing in the back. Her posture hasn’t faltered; her presence alone is intimidating.
I sit back in my seat and take a deep breath, “We just want the guns.”
Sarge grunts, and nods his head in agreement.
Emily rubs her chin, and Ben’s gaze holds mine.
The sheds are quiet, not a sound can be heard. The air is filled with ice. Negotiations have begun.
“90/10 split our way,” Emily begins the process.
“Hmmm,” Sarge counters with a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head.
“We can move a good quantity every week, for 60/40 your way.”
“Bullshit,” Ben says, smirking as he laces his fingers together and puts them behind his head.
“85/15, our best offer,” Emily responds.
“Not gonna happen,” I say as I stand and take a few steps away to light up a smoke.
“Then it looks like this meeting is over. Nice talking to you, Jaeger. When you’re ready to get serious, you know how to contact me,” Emily says, as I hear her chair scrape against the concrete floor.
Shit, we need the guns in order to keep going. But I don’t want my club going in the direction of drugs too, and I know that the Pace family won’t run drugs.
“What if…” I start saying, stopping only to take a drag on my smoke, “What if we run for a two-week trial at 85/15, and if you’re happy with our work, then agree to 70/30?”
I turn to see Emily sit down on the folding chair and turn to her partner.
Nothing’s said between the two of them, which gives me a moment to look at Sarge, who hasn’t changed his laid-back position.
“Run a month at 85/15, and we’ll meet back here in exactly thirty days. If we’re happy, we’ll agree to 70/30. If not...” She turns to look pointedly at 15.
I’ve got a feeling that if they’re unhappy with us, we won’t even make it the month.
At this moment, I’m not sure who exactly is more dangerous–Cain or the Pace family and 15.
I look over to Sarge. His eyes are following me as I take another deep inhale of my smoke before dropping it to the ground and stubbing it out below my boot.
“A pleasure doing business with you.” I walk over to Emily and Ben as they both stand from behind the folding table.
The four of us shake hands and Emily gives me a phone.
“Keep it on you. It’s our only means of communications for now. Make no mistake though, if we’re brought into a dispute, we’ll settle it our own way.”
“Understood.”
Sarge flanks me, behind and to the left, in my peripheral vision.
Emily walks out first, followed by Ben.
15 stands in the same spot, not moving, not following, just rooted in the same position. If she didn’t speak earlier I’d be convinced she’s a damn robot.
Sarge and I walk out and leave her, not knowing what the hell she’s doing.
Ben and Emily get in the back of one of the black SUVs and I notice there’s a driver in that one because the car takes off.
15 comes out of the shed, ignoring us. She gets in the other SUV and she leaves, too.
Sarge and I are standing near our bikes, looking at the cars flying down the dirt road at high speed. Dust is flying up and soon the SUVs have disappeared into the brown cloud.
“Let’s take it back to the table,” I say as I get on my bike.
“Yeah,” Sarge answers as he puts his helmet on and starts his bike.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and send Aaron a message, ‘Table. Three hours.’
I start the bike, slipping the phone back into my pocket, and Sarge and I leave.
Riding back to the clubhouse, the quiet of the smooth road below the tires of the bike allows me to think about what might happen once we tell Cain to fuck his offer to run drugs.
When Cain initially came to me, ready to fund the club so we could run the weapons for him, Aaron and I were all for it.
The Hunters quickly developed, becoming one of the fastest growing outlaw clubs this side of the Mississippi. I run things precisely, and if a member’s suspected of being a snitch, they’re never seen again.
The ride is filled with my thoughts about Cain, and what the aftermath may turn out to be.
This is going to end up in a huge clusterfuck, I can just feel it in my bones. Something big is gonna happen, and I know that shit’s gonna hit the fan. I just need to make sure me and my club ain’t standing in front of it when it happens.
Grit: Chapter 18
Phoenix
What the hell is wrong with me?
I’m damned smart, I’m cluey, and switched on. So why the hell am I as attracted to Jaeger as I am? It doesn’t make sense; we’re obviously not compatible.
He’s the President of a motorcycle club, which I highly doubt is a by-the-book, strait-laced club.
I’m…well, I’m me.
I don’t get involved with tattooed, foul-mouthed bad boys with shaggy hair and scars on their chins.
I don’t get involved with anyone. Sure I’ll screw a guy I like, but after a few dates I always end up bored with them, so I break it off.
I’m far from a goody-two-shoes. I enjoy sex; I enjoy a guy paying attention to me. I don’t like that whole alpha-male crap, though. Who does?
Why am I lying on Jaeger’s bed, waiting, eager for him to come back from his ‘club business’ bullshit?
Maybe it’s just the sex. It was pretty good. Ah, who am I kidding? The way that man licked my pussy and fucked me was seriously right up there with the best sex I’ve ever had.
I turn on my side and look at the door, hoping he’ll open it, waltz in, and demand that we have sex again.
Every time he opens his mouth and says something crude, I should be angry and pissed off, but I’m not. Instead I get wet and turned on. What is up with that?
The jerk turns me on like crazy and he can certainly pin me with just the hot way he looks at me. But I can’t help but think about my farm.
I want it back. I want to be living on it, without the worry of having some ass come and try to take it away from me again. Or worse, according to Jaeger, take me.
There’s a heaviness in the air around the clubhouse. It’s been here for a few days now, like everyone’s waiting for something to happen.
Since Sandy came into the clubhouse all beaten and bruised, the dynamic in the club has changed. Not that I know what it’s like ordinarily, but I felt a clear shift in the way everyone’s been interacting, almost like they’re waiting for some huge event to happen.
As I lie on the bed, I can hear a few of the guys in the bar area laughing and carrying on about something.
Screw staying in here. Seeing as I can’t get in contact with Milina, I may as well go see what’s going on out there.
I walk out to the bar area and Aaron’s standing behind the bar, his arms propped against the bartop in front of him, his body leaning at a slant while his head hangs down.
Jason’s playing pool with Lion and one of the other fully-bearded guys, and Sandy’s sitting on a bar stool drinking something.
I round the bar to pour myself a drink, and stop myself as my eyes see the top of a bleached blonde head bobbing up and down, giving Aaron a blow job.
The moment I see her and freeze, Aaron opens hi
s eyes and turns to look at me.
I can just imagine the look on my face. Really, she’s just going down on him out here, in front of everyone.
“Sorry,” I mumble and try to get out of there before I interrupt their, well…um, time together.
“You wanna taste, Nixy?” Aaron says as he smirks and weaves his fingers through the bleached blonde bunny’s hair and starts thrusting his hips.
“Um, no, and it’s Phoenix,” I answer as I turn to leave them to it.
“If you want to suck my cock, just let me know,” he says through tight grunts. “Yeah, baby, keep sucking me off,” I hear him say in a lower tone as I walk away.
Pig.
Disgusting and perverted pig.
As I quickly get out of that whole strange ‘let’s give a guy a BJ while everyone’s standing around’ environment, I hear the front door open and Sarge asks for a Jack.
If Sarge is here, that means Mr. Arrogant Ass will be in here soon.
A small smile dances around my lips. I’m damn excited that he’s here, but I certainly won’t let on when I see him.
I’ll make him work for it, bastard that he is.
I open the fridge and see a tub of potato salad on the bottom shelf that was left over from the cookout yesterday.
Bending at the waist, I lean in to get the bowl, when I see his legs behind me. Jaeger runs his hands along my hips and brings his pelvis flush with mine.
“Hmmm, I’d like to fuck you like this,” he says as he thrusts once against me, emphasizing exactly what he wants to do to me.
I straighten and close the fridge door.
“Really? I thought you were supposed to be trying to calm it down.” I take a step away from him and lean up against the kitchen counter, crossing my arms in front of me, in defiance of his statement.
“C’mon, sugar. This is me being subtle.” He gives me a cheeky grin, the little scar on his chin making him look sexier.
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