Taking Meghan: Disciples 5

by Sweet, Izzy

  “Oh god, you’re such a fossil. Things aren’t like how they used to be.”

  She snickers.

  Handing the phone to her, I watch her roll to her back. Her large breasts flatten somewhat, but they still look heavy and full.

  My tongue moistens my lips as I start edging toward her.

  Glancing over at me, she stops typing on my phone.

  Pushing at my head, she says, “Not a chance. My body is one giant fucking bruise.”

  Showing me her wrist, she says, “Alexei wasn’t very nice to me. Every time he touched me, he made sure it hurt.”

  Shuddering, she goes back to typing.

  I growl out his name, “Alexei… that fucker is going to die. I’ll break his fucking neck.”

  “I wouldn’t mind watching that,” she says.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, watching her face.

  I could easily check the screen, but I’d much rather watch her lips.

  “I need your credit card. Do you even have one of those?” she asks as she pushes against my ever-encroaching mouth.

  I know she said she was hurting everywhere. Maybe a kiss on some of those spots would help...

  “It’s in my wallet,” I say.

  “Grab it real quick,” she says, still typing and scrolling through things.

  “My wallet is in my pants,” I grumble.

  “Well, get it out and give it to me.”

  Her eyes lift to look at me again.

  She’s way too fucking beautiful in the mornings. It’s a weapon I’m sure she knows she has.

  “My pants are downstairs in the bathroom,” I say, and my eyes drift lower to her breasts.

  Her voice cuts through the lustful fog that’s beginning to cloud my brain. “Not a chance, Gabriel. I’m even sore down there. It feels like you put a fucking baseball bat in me.”

  A white sheet slowly covers her breasts, and I swear I can feel my cock screaming in rage at the injustice of the world. Covering up breasts like hers should be a capital crime.

  Looking up at her face, I frown. “Why do you need my credit card?”

  “Because I need clothes and food. I’m willing to bet you need some stuff too. I can’t imagine the Incredible Hulk can go without his spinach for too long. All those big muscles might turn to fat,” she says, and there’s snippy humor in her eyes as she pointedly looks at my chest and arms.

  “You mean Popeye, right?” I ask and start trying to tug down the sheet.

  Holding it tightly, she glares at me. “Wallet, food, clothes, and then maybe sex.”

  “Fuck,” I grumble as I start sitting up. “How the hell are you going to get all that stuff through my phone?”

  “There are multiple services that will deliver food from restaurants for a small fee. There are also these things called online stores that will deliver books, clothes, and anything else you can practically think of the same day if you pay enough. Other than that, I’m going to try and call Lucifer’s wife, Lily,” she says before she returns her attention to the phone.

  Those last words stop me dead in my tracks. “Why the fuck would you want to do that?”

  Shrugging those beautiful shoulders of hers, she says, “Because she told me to call her if I needed help setting up the house.”

  “I wasn’t aware you had been discussing our home yet.”

  “You were in that office for over an hour and a half. We had to talk about something.”

  She makes a shooing motion with her hand.

  “Are you fucking shooing me?” I ask.

  Treating me like some fucking kid, what the fuck?

  “No. I’m telling you to hurry up and help feed your fucking wife. Remember those vows you reamed into me last night while you were plowing me?” she asks without the faintest hint of a laugh or smirk.

  “Fucking hell’s gates,” I grumble as I turn back to the door of the bedroom.

  “I thought it was funny… reamed and plowed…” She laughs at my back.

  She’s going to find it real funny when I’m cramming my thick ass cock so far into her she starts to fucking choke.

  * * *

  Times sure have fucking changed since I went in. Just the fact alone that Meghan can have food, clothing, and I’m pretty sure anything else on the planet delivered to us is amazing. For most of the morning, I was answering the door. First came the food she ordered from some local mom and pop place. She must have ordered half the damn menu with how much food showed up.

  Sitting there, watching as she demolished everything in front of her as quickly as I did, was an interesting turn of events. She’s not the type of woman to order water and salad. No, she eats what she wants and doesn’t apologize for it.

  “Quit fucking staring at me,” she says when she finally looks up from the phone and plate in front of her.

  “No,” I say before I take another long look at her.

  She’s fucking beautiful, why shouldn’t I?

  “Ugh,” she grumbles at me before looking back down to the phone.

  “What are you doing now?” I ask as I go back to eating the last of my breakfast, still watching the way she sits there, her eyes flaying across whatever it is she’s doing.

  “Ordering more clothes. I had no idea how much influence Lily has with this city’s retailers. All I have to do is mention her name and the clothes practically fly themselves to this house.”

  “What’s wrong with what you have on?” I ask, and from the look she gives me, I obviously haven’t been paying attention to something.

  She’s got on a pair of black fleece-lined leggings and a tight heavy metal band shirt. And while I’ve got no clue about when these things came in style, I’m damn thankful she loves wearing them. She should, at least, since she ordered ten pairs of them. Fuck me, I’ve never seen a woman order so much clothing.

  It’s mind-numbing to think about until I ask the one question I should have asked in the first place. “How much is all this costing?”

  “Madness and sanity… You said those words. So, therapy it is. Retail therapy,” she says, looking back down at the phone. “Also, I need a phone too. Can you ask for one on this plan or do I need to order that too?”

  “That’s not exactly what I meant,” I growl out as I stretch out my arms. “I’ll check on the phone. Operational security is going to put a lot of restrictions on what you can get.”

  “I’ve had this phone the whole time and you haven’t once checked on what I’m doing.”

  “No need. Nine-one-one has been disconnected, and I’m pretty sure all the stuff you’re doing is being monitored by that prick, Simon,” I say with a lazy shrug of my shoulders. “Besides, we’ve established you’re in this for the long haul, just like me. I’m going to trust you. That’s not something I do much of. You could try to run like you did last night, before you came into the shower… But you came back.”

  Looking up from the phone, I can see she’s contemplating my words. Her eyes narrow as she realizes everything I said.

  “How did you know?” she asks.

  I smirk. “Did you see all the grass on the bathroom floor? Your feet had clippings on them.”

  “Shit,” she mutters.

  “Pretty much. You came back, that shows you’re smart enough to know what’s best for you, and us. Also, you could have tried killing me in earnest.”

  “I thought me trying to shoot and stab you would give you more pause,” she frowns at me.

  “Nah, that shit was just foreplay,” I say.

  Food has made me sleepy. Now all I need to do is get Meghan out of those clothes. A day spent in the sack sounds perfect right now.

  The loud shrill of my phone hits my nerves like a fucking atomic bomb. Fucking hell.

  “A guy named James is calling… Is he the one who did the thumbs?” she asks with a wince.

  “Yeah,” I say, motioning for her to give me the phone.

  “That was…” she starts before shaking her head at me. “Do you know how t
o answer it?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I push the talk button?”

  Laughing, she presses the button and says, “Hello, Gabriel’s answering service. How can I direct your call?”

  I don’t hear the response, but by the way her face flushes, it probably wasn’t a nice request to speak to me.

  “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she asks before handing me the phone.

  “With tongue,” I hear James say as I press the phone to my ear.

  “What do you want, James?” I ask as I push away from the table to stand up.

  “I was figuring you’d want to go out to the cemetery today. Should be a good time to get shit done… Well, shit done before all the madness you start,” he says.

  He’s got a point, I guess. Shit’s going to get hectic soon enough. The calm before the storm is right now. Might as well take advantage of it.

  “Alright, where do you want to meet up?” I ask.

  “I’ll see you over at the cemetery next to Father Coss’s church in about an hour,” he says.

  “Sounds good, bring another load out for me. I need a hip holster and a forty-five,” I say before hitting the red button on the screen.

  Arching my back, I stretch out the stiffness that formed in my shoulders from sleeping on such a soft mattress.

  Looking to Meghan, I feel another form of stiffness starting up as well. Not enough time for it, though. We’re out in the suburbs of Garden City, and it’s not going to be a quick trip to the cemetery when it’s on the opposite side of the city.

  “What’s up?” Meghan asks.

  “Gotta go see some old friends. You dressed warm enough to be outside for a bit?”

  “I think so,” she says as she pushes away from the table.

  “Good…” Staring at the food and stuff all over the table, I grimace. “We need to hire a maid. I hate fucking doing dishes.”

  She picks up her empty plate. “I can check with Lily, if you want.”

  Heading toward the garage after a quick sweep up of the kitchen table, we stand inside, looking at the black Tahoe and the black F-250.

  “We’ll take mine. The mom-mobile is yours,” I say with a grunt.

  “Mine?” she asks as we head toward the truck.

  “You wanted in, you’re in now. That’s your SUV, keys are on the kitchen counter. We’re taking mine today, though,” I say as I pull myself inside the truck.

  My ass feels good behind the wheel of this baby. John did me proud when he got me this big bitch.

  “Why the hell are you calling it a mom-mobile?” Meghan asks when she gets settled in the truck.

  “What the fuck does that Tahoe look like? It’s the new soccer mom car. You’re going to love it when you’re running our brats to practice,” I say with a grin.

  “It’s really early in the day for me to shoot your balls off, Gabriel,” Meghan snarls at me.

  11

  Gabriel

  The cemetery next to St. Michael’s looks the same as it always has—old and full of dead and fucking useless carcasses.

  That’s all we are in the end. Dead weight.

  Fuck, I think most of us guys in the inner circle would have been lucky to even have someone mourn us over the grave, or I used to think that. Now everyone’s getting married and has fucking soccer mom cars. Fuck, I even did it myself. None of us are thinking of the repercussions from doing this shit. It’s going to affect our families one day… it’s just how shit is in our way of life.

  Just like all those stupid fucking movies, the bad guy always gets it in the end.

  I’d like to think the fucking weather matches my mood as I get out of the truck, but it doesn’t feel like fucking cooperating, I guess. Fucking sunshine and blue skies for as far as the eye can see.

  The ride over was pretty damn quiet. I guess kids aren’t in the near future with Meghan. Can’t say I blame her, fucking things are a death knell. She’d look good knocked up, though, with a big belly and those luscious tits…

  “I thought you said we were visiting some old friends,” she says as we walk toward James’s BMW.

  “We are, in a way. Gotta pay my respects. Lots of guys are gone from my family since I left.”

  “Oh,” she says, and I think I can detect a hint of understanding or something.

  I don’t know what it is. But when she grabs my hand and squeezes it tightly, I know she’s here with me. With me and not because of me.

  “Gabriel, how’s the air on the outside?” James asks as he steps out of his car.

  He’s dressed in his usual black fancy jeans and tight-fitting shirt.

  “Good, pretty boy. How’s life with a tiny dick?” I ask him.

  “Eh, less chance of catching something when I don’t even get inside.” He smirks at me.

  Turning back to go to his trunk, he continues, “I wasn’t sure how much of a load out you’d need, so I brought a mix of everything.”

  “Sounds good. You able to fit her with a vest?”

  He pops his head out from behind the trunk lid, reminding me of one of those movies where some kid is looking around a corner.

  “The runt?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Yeah, I got one that will fit her, I think. Though, with her bust, she’s gonna be squeezed in until I can one fitted properly for her.”

  Looking down at the confused but blushing bride of mine, I nod. “Yeah, she’s short as fuck and busty as hell. Kinda like a Texas woman from a country song, just needs the hair.”

  “I’m going to castrate you and make you an ox in your sleep,” she growls at me.

  “Jesus, you’re just like fucking John, man. Dude’s always cutting someone’s junk off,” James says with a chuckle as he motions us over to his trunk.

  Walking to the back, my heart gets that little stutter as I look at all the beautiful weaponry he has stashed inside. It’s like the boy wants to arm half a platoon and invade a small country.

  “Jumping fucking Jesus, you going to war?” I ask.

  With a snicker, James, shrugs his shoulders. “Nah, I just follow the good ol’ Boy Scout motto.”

  “What’s mine from all this?” I ask.

  “Anything and everything. I was at the compound, so I grabbed all the shit I thought you might want. I’ll resupply later,” he says and steps back so that I can get in and start loading up.

  Looking at my little fucking sexy woman, I spot our first problem. “You order any jeans when you were shopping?”

  “A couple. Why?” she asks as she peers down into the trunk.

  Pulling up my shirt, I motion to the holster I have on my hip. Nodding over to James, I watch as he does the same thing.

  “Arm holsters are impractical for how we dress, unless you’re that fuck Simon,” I say.

  I motion to her leggings. “Those aren’t going to hold a belt holster, and carrying a gun around in a purse is asking to get yourself fucking killed.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth makes that a-ha movement, and I could so see myself sliding my thick cock in between her lips.

  Clearing my throat, I say, “Were probably not going to need most of this today, but since you tried putting a bullet through my chest a couple of days ago, I figure you can at least shoot a gun, right?”

  She nods that beautiful head of hers and gives me a grin. “I get a gun?”

  “Yeah, and bullets too,” I say.

  She grimaces. “A girl tries to shoot someone one time without bullets and you never let her live it down.”

  “We’ll see,” I say, and pull out an empty black bag.

  Spotting the large sticks of C-4, I grab a few stacks, as well as three bags of metal ball bearings.

  Looking over at James, I ask, “This C-4 civilian or military grade?”

  “Military grade,” he says, looking up from his phone.

  “Good,” I say.

  Grabbing the rest of the gear we’ll need from the trunk, I smile as Meghan’s eyes grow wider and wider with each weapon I pull
out. Most of the guns I won’t need anytime soon, but it never hurts to have a couple of M4 assault rifles. Grabbing four more pistols, I shove them into the bag I’ve filled up.

  Hefting the large black bag of goodies onto my shoulder, I hand a modified M4 assault rifle to Meghan. “That one is yours. And we’ll get it set to your comfort in a couple of days. I’m sure we’ve got a range we can train at.”

  Walking over to the truck, I say to James, “I’m surprised I didn’t see any surface-to-air missiles in there.”

  “Simon and Lucifer have a stock of those at the compound. They won’t let me play with them, though. Something about children and blowing the house up,” he says with an annoyed shrug.

  Meghan

  Pistols, assault rifles, and explosives, oh my. Gabriel pulls so much from the back of James’s car, my head starts to spin.

  There’s seriously enough weaponry packed between him and James to start a war.

  At first it all seems a bit like overkill. After all, how many weapons does one man need? Especially a man as big and powerful as Gabriel?

  But when I remember Alexei and the threat he poses to me, it almost doesn’t feel like enough.

  “Try this on,” James says and tosses a black vest to me.

  The vest hits me square in the chest and I just manage to grab it without falling over or dropping it to the ground.

  “Gee, thanks,” I grumble.

  “You’re welcome,” James says, giving me a smirk before turning his attention back to his trunk.

  Hefting the vest up, I’m surprised by the weight. The thing is heavy. I swear it must weigh at least ten pounds.

  I struggle a bit to undo the Velcro straps. My hands trying and failing to pull them off not only because my hands are sore and my arm still hurts like a bitch, but because it feels like someone must have superglued them on. After loading the last of the weapons up in the truck, Gabriel notices and walks up to me.

  “Here, let me help you with that,” he says as he takes it from my grasp.