Savage Angels: A Savage MC Erotic Romance

by Alice May Ball

  “Something for us to enter?” and Hacker looked at her as he said,

  “Clear the table, boys, and put on a nice cloth. We got a spread coming.”

  Hacker looked into her eyes. Now she began to realize what the price of the ride was going to be. He was expecting her to back out, she could see it, and he was offering her this last chance. Looking around the room, there were four bikers plus Hacker, all with looks of raw, animal lust igniting in their eyes.

  The urge to shout NO! and to run for the door was strong, but with her stomach quaking Gypsy held her ground. Nobody was going to bail her out of this, she had made her choice and she wanted to see it through. For once, maybe the first time, Gypsy was going to finish what she started.

  As she dragged the tails of her white shirt out of her leather skirt and undid the shirt buttons, one by one she looked at each of the five bikers. They were all big guys, and she was still afraid. But she was very excited, too. Being the center of all of that testosterone, that lust, the thought stirred her deep in the pit of her stomach. And lower. The thought of those bikers all reaching for her, clawing for her, their cocks standing, hardening for her, coming for her. Cumming for her. Cumming in her. And cumming on her. Fear thumped in her stomach still, but the thrill beat in her crotch. Gypsy’s little panties were soaking.

  Time to get them off. She lifted her skirt to slip them down, and a hand cupped the cheek of her ass. She dropped her waistcoat as she leaned into the hand, and two more hands slid along her legs. She moved her legs farther apart as she shrugged out of her shirt, her big, round breasts bouncing. Fingers found the lips of her pussy and hands slid into her bra, rolled and pulled and tweaked her nipples.

  Her dark hair hung and her breasts swung as she slipped out of the bra. Hands were at the tops of her thighs, on her neck, squeezing her breasts, pressing and twanging her clit, spreading the lips of her pussy, squeezing the cheeks of her ass.

  The bikers stood in a circle and Gypsy leaned back against one, stroking his jeans with her fingers behind her and looking in the eyes of the others across the circle. Then she turned, rolling sideways to the next hairy biker. She squeezed his cock through his jeans as she rolled on, till her pert, bare little ass pressed against the groin of the next biker. She looked in the eyes of the bikers opposite as she reached back to the denim behind her, unbuttoned the fly and found the fat, hot cock inside.

  Her fingers wrapped tight around the cock. Gripped it. Pulled the skin down. Pressed it against her ass, between her cheeks. Between the tops of her thighs. All the time she watched as the men on the other side of the circle drew closer, reached for her breasts, put their hands on her pussy.

  They all crowded close. Hands were all over her. They lifted her onto the table, and she knelt, legs apart, bare ass up, hungry wet mouth open. Breasts swinging. Now she wore only stockings, shoes and the silver chains, bangles and earrings. As she kicked off the shoes, Gypsy felt a hand on the lips of her pussy, holding her little wings apart, entering her wet opening. A hot, hard cock nosed from behind her, up under her stomach, against her mound.

  In front of her, cocks were emerging from behind denim, springing out like hot, anxious puppies eagerly reaching towards her. She reached for the two left and right, and put her lips on the one in front. The cock behind her was rubbing its underside against the swollen lips of her wet pussy, and she wriggled her hips to press against it. Finally, it slipped into the waiting mouth of her dripping pussy and she gasped as she sucked deeper on the hot, hardening hunk of pulsing flesh in her mouth.

  Hands were squeezing her breasts and someone slapped her ass, making her go harder and faster on the cocks in her hands. And the cock in her mouth. And the cock reaming and filling her hot, wet, stretched pussy. As they all crowded in, the scents of men and her own juices and all of their hot breath together was like a sauna of lust. Her ass pumped hard and swung and bucked against the hips of the biker fucking her as her mouth made a deeper wet tunnel around the thick, throbbing cock that reached to the back of her throat.

  Gypsy sucked on it as it pulsed and it swelled as it pumped and it came. Hot bursts of slick biker cum filled her mouth and her throat. She dragged her lips along it, back over and around the hard flesh to get every drop of that cum. Some still dribbled around her lips, though.

  She turned to lay on her back. Either side of her were big, hard cocks and she eagerly grabbed both of them. She pulled and sucked on them alternately, shoving them as far into her wet throat as she could. Her legs were lifted and between her thighs a cock was rubbing and rearing up against her mound. The biker beat her tidy little bush with his weapon and slapped her ass as he did. The cocks in her hands were heating up and she tasted more tangy precum.

  Cool lube on a finger pressed around her ass and then it pried its way in. The cocks in Gypsy’s hands started to go off and she tried to get both of them to cum in her mouth, but some of the salty, sticky jizz sprayed out onto her face and over her tits. Meanwhile her ass was invaded by the bulbous head of another cock and as it burrowed in, she saw Hacker standing over me, the mean curve of his thick, hard cock waving above her face.

  Hungrily she pulled Hacker’s cock into her mouth, dragged it along her tongue, and saliva gushed into her mouth as she slid the velvety shaft into the top of her throat. Gypsy couldn’t concentrate on sucking Hacker’s cock the way that she wanted to, because of the reaming her ass was taking. The thighs and hairy stomach of a biker slapped noisily into the cheeks of her butt and Hacker held her head in his hands as he skull fucked her, with long, deep strokes. His balls slapped at her nose as the head of his shaft plowed into her neck. She sucked on him, eager to taste his cum in her throat.

  Hacker came and his slick, salty jizz blasted into her throat, slathering on her tongue, foaming up hot in her mouth and bubbling out of her lips. At the same time, her ass was pumped with hot sticky cum from the thick rod slamming hard into her raw, sore butt.

  All five bikers breathed hard, whooping and panting. Sprawled across the table, ripped and laddered stockings hanging off her legs, her heaving tits, her hair and her face all glistened and were sticky with wet cum.

  A joint was lit and passed and Hacker took Gypsy upstairs. She mounted the steps watching Hacker’s rolling ass and he took her into a long room with large windows, like a loft. A rectangular black couch and chairs were round a low, black table in the middle of the room. Between two doors, a massive black stereo and TV filled the far wall, and an even more massive bed was by a big window and against the near wall.

  The room was white and light, and perhaps even more surprisingly, the bed was made up and neat with a soft pale cover and scattered with big dark pillows. Hacker showed her to the farthest of the two doors, which led to a bathroom with a shower.

  He left her in the bright, tiled bathroom to shower, and afterwards she found a fluffy towel to dry off with. Still toweling her hair, she came out of the shower to find another biker, big, dark, older and somehow sharper looking than the others she had seen downstairs, sat on the couch with Hacker. They looked up. Hacker said, “Bogart, this was...” and the other man said,

  “I heard.”

  Gypsy could see that Hacker and Bogart had things to talk about, and so she made like a dutiful groupie or whatever. Through the other door she’d seen that Hacker had a little kitchen area, and so she went to fetch beers and fix sandwiches. From there she was able to hear most of their conversation and she was glad, because that was kind of the point.

  They were talking about a deal or a meeting, and it involved Los Muertos MC. That was the club name on the backs of the two bikers who had attacked outside the Meathook.

  Bogart said, “You sure you want to handle this on your own, Hacker? Los Muertos are a treacherous basket of snakes from way back.”

  “I think I know what to expect from them, Bogart.” Hacker said, “I got the straight steer on them from Grinder. You know he’s serving drinks at the Meathook, and he clued me in. I already had a litt
le run-in with Boxer and Shank.”

  “I don’t know about this, Hacker. You’re no expendable prospect, and I don’t want to see you go down. You certain you don’t want backup?”

  “No, I’d sooner take my chances than show up as weak. For the good standing of the club, we need to establish a point here. I’ll be cool. Thing is, either way it goes down, we’ve got a grip on them. If they play straight, we’ve got leverage down the line. If not, then it we’ve got a hammer that we can use right away.” They both pulled on their bourbons and clinked their glasses, like they were saluting each other. As they did, the men looked each other in the eye and said, “Bro,” before they took another pull from the shot glasses.

  After Bogart left, Hacker made a couple of calls on his mobile. While he sat on the couch to talk about ‘consignments,’ a ‘shipment,’ some ‘hardware’ ‘shortfall’ and a meet, Gypsy took out his long, beautiful cock, and stroked it. She blew softly on it. She cradled his balls and took them in her mouth, one at a time, sucking gently before letting them ‘pop’ out of her wet lips. Then she licked the underside of his cock with the tip of her tongue.

  Hacker’s speech slurred a little, and he took to saying, “Mmm,” quite a bit.

  As the shaft began to swell, she blew on the head and stroked the sides lightly with her fingertips. She slid her lips over the head, and grazed the underside with her tongue as her breath heated him up. His hips were beginning to squirm. So she slowed down. That made him squirm more, so her touch became softer. That made him press his pelvis up, shoving his cock deeper into her mouth. She held him behind his balls, pushing them towards her with her thumb and forefinger.

  Then he said quickly into the phone, “Gotta go. Later.” He hung up the phone, grabbed her hair and fucked her face, hard. His cock jammed into her throat, making gurgling noises come out of her and sweet saliva flooded her mouth. Then Gypsy sucked. Each stroke as the head of his cock reached her lips, she sucked harder and lapped him with her wet tongue. He gasped as he came. This time she fastened her mouth and her throat on him so well, she didn’t lose a single drop of his gorgeous cum.

  He lay back with a huge sigh and a massive grin. He reached out for a joint from the ashtray and fired it up as his phone beeped.

  Hacker took the call. As soon as he heard the voice at the other end, he was alert and attentive. He turned away, got up, walked to the window. And he spoke in a low voice. But Gypsy heard his side of the conversation.

  “Yup... as agreed... yeah, yes... and you’ll bring the merchandise... yup... yup... Yasgar’s, right? Yup... eleven thirty. See you there. Yup... stay safe, bro.”

  Yasgar’s. That was a disused factory on the far side of town. Miles from anywhere. Gypsy knew it from way back when she went with teenage groups for moonlight drinking and whatever.

  Yasgar’s was a bleak skeleton of an old factory and warehouse complex, like a rectangular mansion of evil from an old black and white movie. The wide tracks around the outside and the parking lots were littered with the shells of vehicles, sheds and broken down outbuildings. Fractured and broken windows on the upper floors glinted in the moonlight. All the ground floor windows and doors were just black gaps with blackened and broken Art Deco curves.

  Gypsy’s plan was to surprise Hacker. She knew that he was going to get there early for the meet, and she thought that a little al fresco bj would perk him up before showtime. Through the gaping doorway of the main building, massive rusted chains hung from the high roof and piles of old tires and boxes stood by wet pools around the decayed concrete floor. Dripping water echoed in the gloom.

  As soon as she stepped inside, Gypsy heard men’s lowered voices. She froze. She crouched at the doorway, trying to hear, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. The sound was coming from behind a stack of metal shelving, and through it she was able to make out the silhouettes of at least two pairs of legs. They were no more than fifteen feet away. Their heads were hidden behind the piles of stuff on the shelves. She kept very still as she tried to hear them.

  The words were just a muffled noise and she couldn’t make anything out of them. With a chill, she recognized the voices. Boxer and Shank were just on the other side of those shelves, and she hadn’t a friend for ten miles or more.

  They must have second guessed Hacker and shown up early with their own surprise for him. That didn’t bode well at all. Gypsy’s first instinct was to call Hacker, but she couldn’t risk having her phone flash or make a noise before got herself a safe distance away. That thought made her wonder how much distance she would need. It was very quiet around there, they would be able to hear her for some way. It was a miracle she had got as near as she was without being detected.

  She crouched and started to back very slowly out. She would keep low and as close to the wall as she could to get away. Her foot dislodged an old can and it rolled very quietly across the concrete. The sound of the voices stopped abruptly.

  Gypsy looked back at the shelves. No legs were visible. She turned to run. A huge hand fell on her shoulder and gripped, hard and she heard Shank’s voice, low and hard. “Partner, I believe we got us a bonus prize.”

  Gypsy’s first thought was to brazen it out. She said, “Oh, boys, you know I’m glad to have found you. Let’s finish what we started earlier,” and she began to undo the buttons of her shirt. As Boxer came at her and she saw the feral look in his eye, she realized that they didn’t want her to be compliant. They wanted it to be rough. Well, to keep them busy until Hacker arrived, she was prepared to do that, too. She would put up a struggle. Hopefully not so much that they’d end up injuring her, but she could risk some bruises.

  Gypsy was beginning to realize that she might do almost anything for Hacker.

  Boxer moved towards her and arched her eyebrows into a frightened look. Gypsy had never been all that much for acting, but Boxer wasn’t hard to convince. She said, “Oh, no! Please don’t tear my shirt,” and he reached out to the front of her beautiful white cotton shirt. Buttons flew as he ripped right down the front. She reached for his wrist and he slapped her hard across the face.

  The side of her face stung, and the shock sent her reeling. Shank was there to catch her as she fell. She turned her head and breathed hard on the hard bulge that strained the front of his blue denims. He grabbed her chin. Gypsy slipped and was falling awkwardly. Shank caught her hair. A shock of pain hit her as the whole of her weight was suddenly hanging from her scalp. She got her knees to the floor as Shank’s cock loomed in her face.

  She shied away from it, hoping that while he made her suck his dick, it would keep him occupied and prevent him doing worse violence. That still left Boxer, of course, but he was yanking her ass up, and tearing at her panties. It took him three goes to rip the gusset out. When her flesh was exposed, Boxer helped himself to a generous feel along her clit, her slit, her lips and her ass. She squirmed as he shoved his fingers up in her pussy and, treacherous female anatomy, it was soaking wet.

  Treacherous or maybe just self-protective. Boxer’s attention was certainly held at that moment. He worked his fingers up her, growling, “This little cunt’s as wet as a sump,” and, “horny little whore, she’s dripping for it.” Then he jammed his thumb up her ass. All the while, Shank’s cock was ramming her throat. She made noises of protest and Shank slapped her face. When he found out how much he liked that, the sound of the slap and the whack as his hand beat her flesh on his cock, he slapped her again, harder.

  He did that a couple more times as Boxer’s cock was engaging in her ass. Next time Shank smacked Gypsy’s face, she let the impact bang her teeth into his cock. Just enough for the fun to have gone down out of that game for him. Boxer’s cock was splitting her ass wide, dry without even spit for lube. She didn’t need to pretend, her ass was shaking to get him out, whether she wanted it to or not.

  Then a mechanical click echoed in the darkness of the decaying industrial shell and everything became still. After the click, Gypsy heard Hacker’s voic
e from behind her. “Boxer you can finish cumming up my personal sweetbutt’s ass, or you can get right on to explaining why I can’t see our money anywhere around here.” Then Gypsy felt a small ring of cold steel press against her temple.

  Shank said, “Well, if she’s your personal sweetbutt, how are you going to feel after I blow her personal head open?”

  Hacker said, “Not nearly as bad as you are, cause it aint my personal dick in her mouth. I doubt you want to blow your own dick off, Shank, but I can’t be sure. You are pretty fucking stupid.”

  There was a silence. Hacker said, “And since she is my personal sweetbutt whose throat you have your dick stuck in, I wonder what she would do if I asked her nicely to chomp your dick right off.”

  Gypsy bit on Shank’s cock. Not enough to draw blood, but nearly. Enough to show him that she would be happy to do it. The cocks in both ends of her were starting to wilt away.

  The pistol barrel moved quickly away from the side of her head and upwards. Her ears hurt from the hard, loud echo that the gunshots made in the cavernous warehouse. Something burned her shoulder. Shank fell backwards. Went down like a log.

  Gypsy turned, pulling her sore ass off Boxer’s cock. Shank lay flat on the ground, the gun smoking on the ground at his side. He had a startled look on his face. He also had a neat, red hole in the right of his forehead. A thick puddle of blood seeped out from the back of his head. Hacker’s gun was now up against the back of Boxer’s head.

  Hacker said, “Now, Boxer. Tell me about our money.”

  Boxer said, “It’s not here.”

  “No, obviously it isn’t. But it will be tomorrow. You’ll bring it here and then you’ll leave it, with a twenty percent vig. And then we’ll decide whether to consider you paid in full. Otherwise, by this time tomorrow, you’ll be meeting up with your bro where you can both become useful parts of a new freeway intersection.”