“She's a screamer,” he replied, almost sounding bored.
Last night rocked my entire existence in so many ways. How could something so monumental be boring to someone else? Hell, I hadn’t even realized anyone else had been around, much less within hearing distance.
I groaned as Dawg entered my ass again. I couldn't imagine anything dirtier than having someone take you like this. Ray grabbed my hair. His hot breath fell on my ear. My body ignited, preparing for whatever tawdry words he ripped from my darkest desires.
“Dawg here's been living with a constant hard-on cause of you coming around the club in your string bikinis, jiggling those perfect tits and tight ass. When I told them you'd be club property, he was the first to sign up to nail that sweet little ass.”
Dawg growled, as if hating the fact I knew this.
“Problem is, this pisses him off 'cause he's been chained to an old lady for damn near a decade and hasn't strayed once.”
Oh God. That didn't sound good.
“So he struck a deal. Tomorrow night, you're gonna go to his place and be a good slave for him and his old lady. The bitch has a mean streak in her, so I don't think it'll go well for you.” Ray chuckled. “I'm thinking a few of the old ladies will wanna work you over when they find out.”
I tensed. No. Hell no. I wasn't down with women.
“Bitch, you fuck who I tell you to,” Ray shouted.
Dawg slapped my cheeks when I struggled beneath him. I grunted with each thrust, wishing he'd be done already. A buzzing hum sounded. I groaned as whatever he'd put in me came to life. The vibrations jostled my arousal, awakening my need.
Dawg laughed. “Told you, fuckers. Any cunt can be conditioned like a bitch. We'll have our dump begging for it up the ass in a week.”
Shame kept me silent as the man fucked me in rhythm to the sensations spiraling from my pussy. I was almost at the edge when he stilled, grunted and I felt his release in my ass.
“You have a choice now, Harm. Take two more of the boys up your ass, or open your sweet mouth and take a load from us all.”
“Throat,” I ground out.
“On your knees, dump. Mouth open. You can close your eyes this one time.”
The men circled me, their dicks out. Each worked their cocks. I closed my eyes. My heart thundered in my chest. They were going to cover me with their...I'd have all of them in my holes, be filled with all their releases. Broken in by the Penetrators MC. Branded as their slave.
What had I done?
I was crazy. No sane person chose this. Mom could handle herself. She'd fucked herself over when she stole from them. So why was I on my knees waiting for too many dicks to count to spurt cum on me?
Because this had nothing to do with whatever she did. It was all about me. Them. And those fucking journals.
I'd never wanted anyone to know my dark needs. Now that they'd been uncovered, I was powerless to stop it—too overwhelmed by anticipation and arousal to walk away.
Grunts and groans filled the area as their releases fell on my tits, tongue, nose, cheeks, eyelids. Everywhere. The vibrator awakened in me as a new group of men worked their cocks. I watched through half-hooded eyes as I tumbled into my own release.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ray handed me over to a prospect named Squirrel and muttered something about church. I didn't know much about the Penetrators, but I doubted they were hauling their butts to Reverend Miller or Father Fernandez anytime soon. What little I'd learned about the elusive MC was from Mom, who didn't much care about anything—including me.
Squirrel was a lean, but muscled, man around my age, maybe a bit younger. Red tinged his cheeks when I caught him staring. I didn't think Ray and the other club members allowed embarrassment. Hopefully, the young prospect figured that out quick. Prospects were people who wanted to be in the MC. They pledged their time and did anything the full-fledged members ordered them to. In many ways, Squirrel wasn't much different than me.
“Pres said you should shower. I'll set some clothes on the bed for you. Church'll take a while.”
Right. Crimson crept up in Squirrel's cheeks again as he backed out the door. Hmm...maybe Squirrel hadn't had much experience with the ladies. Jolie's little brother used to act that way around me. My BFF teased me, saying I inspired many sessions between Mark's dick and his fist.
I set all thoughts of church and hormonal men aside and found the bathroom. The clubhouse was an old barracks on the edge of town, which had been converted into a long series of walled-off bedrooms in one building of what Ray and Max had called the Compound. From what I'd learned tagging along with Mom, the building to the north was where they held meetings and partied. Mom had spent most of her time there, drunk or stoned. Usually both.
I'd never understood why Ray hooked up with her. It wasn't like mom was a sea hag or anything, but he was younger and I didn’t figure older women were a fad in an MC.
The water was hot and the showerhead pulsated warmth onto my weary body. Washing the remnants of my playtime with the Penetrators off seemed wrong. I wanted a reminder of what we'd done, yet disobeying an order meant punishment and I wasn't ready to handle another of those anytime soon.
Max had whipped my pussy and tits. My fingers explored the tender region between my legs as I recalled what all had happened. Was Ray really gonna mark me as Penetrator property? The possibility sent a ripple of anticipation through me. I didn't psychoanalyze shit, but I accepted a twisted part of me wanted that. Bad. Maybe because I was fucked up in the head. I craved attention. I'd always been a secondary thought to Mom, and didn't have any other family hanging around to rear me or whatever the fuck normal families did with errant brats.
I'd read somewhere it was normal for girls my age to explore their sexuality. I figured that made the most sense. I was about to explore the hell out of mine.
You've always got an out, Harmony. You say your safe word and it's done. Red is the word. You shout that and we let you go and go after your mom. You never see me or the other Penetrators ever again.
Ray's statement from last night resonated within me. I had an out. If I shouted that word they'd be gone, everything here a distant memory. An ache spread in my chest.
I didn't want them to be a distant memory.
Whatever Max and Fist had planned terrified the ever-loving shit out of me, though. Arousal pooled between my legs. Okay, that was a lie. I wanted Max savagely taking my ass. And the mere thought of Fist's mighty hands...
I swallowed and shook the thought off. I couldn't think about Fist right now, mainly because his plan really did scare me. By the time I toweled off and headed into the small bedroom, Squirrel had apparently come and gone. A short scrap of material barely long enough to cover my ass and be called a skirt sat on the bed along with a red bustier style top. While the latter supposedly had a built-in bra of sorts, I didn't trust that alone to hold in my breasts.
Unlike mom, I had tits. On good days I was a full C cup. Most days I was a D. I dragged the snug skirt on and donned the top. The hairbrush on the small dresser was a blessing, as was the small mirror behind the door. I smirked at my reflection. Yep, I looked like a well and truly fucked slut.
Squirrel peeked inside the room. “Everything good?”
“Uhm, I need panties. Oh, and a bra would be good. The ladies need extra support.”
Squirrel eyed the “ladies” like a starving man at a buffet. “Max said you get only what you're given. Penetrator dumps don't get panties.”
My girly bits tingled. Okay, then.
“He says you can call your girl, do a spa day. He and Pres want you waxed.”
The tingling heightened. I stared at Squirrel. He blushed deeper. I'd never been waxed.
“You and your girl have an appointment in an hour.”
I gulped. I didn't want Jolie knowing about all this. While my BFF wasn't exactly a prude, her morals swung more centered and to the right than mine. “She might be busy.�
��
“Call her. Otherwise, you'll go alone.”
Getting my girly bits waxed for the first time didn't seem like an activity I'd do alone. Or at all. I nodded as he handed me a phone. My phone. Confusion must've reflected on my expression.
“They sent me and Tag to get your shit.”
A man-boy named Squirrel and an unknown stranger—Tag—had gone through my shit. “Where is it?”
“Pres.”
Of course.
Too embarrassed to contemplate what shit they'd unearthed and brought to their mighty God, Ray, aka Pres, I punched Jolie's contact and turned away from Squirrel.
Pft. These men and their fucking road names.
“Girl, where the hell are you? I went over with a latte and gossip an hour ago and you were smoke. What's up?”
“I'll fill you in later,” I replied. After I figured out what the hell to say. “You wanna do a spa day? I'm gonna get the full treatment.”
While “full treatment” might require further explanation in most areas of the world, things in Pecan Grove required much less—mainly because there was much less in The Grove. We had one spa and everyone who gave a shit about their hairs and nails knew what a “full treatment” meant.
“Really? Why?” Her voice rose in a shrill shriek. “Harmony Griggs. Are you holding out on me? Do you have a man?”
Actually, I had quite a few. An entire freaking MC.
“By the way, the town's talking. Everything okay with your mom?”
“Why wouldn't it be?”
“Well...”
“Jolie.” I sighed her name. No good conversation with my BFF ever started with well. “Spit it out.”
“Penetrators have been all over The Grove looking for her,” Jolie whispered.
“Mom took off a couple days ago, I haven't seen her.”
“Shit, girl. You'd better lay low.”
“It's cool.” Or not. “Ray's cool.”
“Are we talking about the same man? The freaking President of the Penetrators MC? Did you know his road name is Killer?”
It was? Yikes.
“I know you've got a thing for that other one, but you need to lay low. You don't want to be on their radar.”
I suspected I engulfed their fucking radar. “It's cool, Jolie. You in for spa day or not?”
“Yeah, but you'd better have a good reason for holding out on me, and don't think I'm stupid. A girl gets a full treatment at Ricardo's Luxury Spa for one reason only—a man.” Jolie sighed. “What time?”
“An hour.”
“Seriously?” she shrieked. “Girl.”
She hung up, clearly beyond pissed. Girl code demanded at least a two-hour notice no matter what, especially when your girly bits were being summoned to the spa. I clicked off and turned as Max and Ray prowled into the small room. Their massive bodies sucked the air from the room. Hoovers had nothing on these guys. I swallowed and ignored the awareness their presence incited.
“Come here, Harm.” Ray's gravelly voice drew me toward him. I couldn't figure out how he chose what to call me. One minute I was Harm. Then slut. Or dump. “Heard you wanted panties.”
Squirrel was a freaking stool pigeon.
“Our pussy remains uncovered,” Max growled.
“Someone'll be by to check the spa's handiwork. After they're done with you, go hang at The Last Drip with your girl. Keep your phone close.”
I had mixed feelings about them dictating my day, but hanging with Jolie gave me time away from them. Time to think.
“Shit's gone down fast,” Ray commented. “You have until we pick you up later to make sure this is what you want. We agreed on through tonight, but I promised a checkpoint along the way, in case things got too intense and you needed to retreat. This is it. When we bring you back, there's no leaving until this finishes. Understood?”
Arousal consumed me. I nodded. Embarrassment crawled up my cheeks when Ray groped beneath my skirt. Approval reflected within his gaze as he plunged two fingers into my wet pussy.
“You'll have a session with Fist when you get back, assuming you don't chicken out.”
Bastard. I narrowed my eyes at him, but said nothing. I never chickened out. Ever.
CHAPTER FIVE
We barely made the spa appointment. I'd been a bit shocked when Squirrel handed me a set of keys and shoved me toward a sleek, black BMW. Jolie hadn't said much as we hauled ass the few blocks to Ricardo's Luxury Spa. We'd gone to school with the fashionista. He'd owned our hair and nails for over a decade.
I somehow escaped his scrutiny when I asked for the full treatment, probably because the request was so rare—kind of like spotting a white elephant in the wild. He'd clapped gleefully and shouted, “It's about time!”
There you go. Even the gay guy wanted my girly bits done up. Once we were spritzed and glitzed within an inch of our lives, we piled into the car and I headed toward The Last Drip. I didn't know why someone hadn't come around to check out the handiwork, but I sent a brief blessing up to the Fates for having my back since explaining why a burly biker was checking out the recent wax job to my BFF would get all shades of awkward.
The small diner slash coffee shop wasn't our typical hangout, mainly because Fiona, the owner, was a Grade A, certified bitch. The lithe blonde spent more time on her back than in her restaurant, not that I was one to judge since I was about to service an entire MC.
Whatever.
“You ready to talk?” Jolie asked.
I parked the car and sighed. We'd avoided my recent events as a conversational topic back at the spa because Ricardo had a motor mouth. Once you were in his domain, you rarely got a word in. “It's complicated.”
“I figured as much.” She bit her lower lip and side-eyed me. “This is Ray's ride.”
“Yeah.”
“Is that the complicated?”
“Part of it,” I whispered. “Mom took off, but I'm handling it.”
“Her mess isn't yours.” I'd heard the argument for years. My BFF always had my back, even against my self-destructive and often rash decisions.
She was the rock, my mental stability, when I sought an outlet for the dark within me. I'd shared some bits and pieces of what I'd tucked away. She didn't understand, and I couldn't blame her because I really didn't either.
The distinctive rumble of pipes broke the awkward silence. We tracked the sound. My vision tunneled to the string of motorcycles turning into The Last Drip's tiny parking lot.
“Girl, this isn't smart. Whatever you're into, turn around and get the hell out.” Jolie motioned toward the six bikers idling several yards away.
My pulse spiked as I looked at Ray, then Max. Fist and Dawg bracketed the two. I didn't recognize the other two bikers.
“I can't explain this right now. I need time.” I grasped her hand and squeezed. “You know I'm wired different. I need more than...”
“I know,” she whispered sadly. “Still, nothing involving the Penetrators MC is a good idea.”
“I'll be careful,” I promised. “Come on. I'm a few quarts low.”
Caffeine solved any crisis.
“You check in often, okay?” Jolie regarded the men. “I couldn't put my finger on it this morning, but you're calmer than normal.”
She knew me too well, recognized the restlessness which disturbed my every waking moment. The viperous angst didn't haunt me today, though. “I can't explain it.”
“Just be safe. Call me often. Trust your gut, girlfriend.” She patted my hand. “Let's go.”
Relief kept me silent as we exited the car. I could handle whatever was happening as long as things between Jolie and I were cool. She had my back, even if I didn't fully understand what I'd stumbled into.
Ray and Max both approached. Tension coiled in me. What would they do? How would they act?
“Hey,” Jolie sing-songed.
“Hey,” Max replied as his arm looped around my waist. All righ
ty, then. I relaxed into the possessive stance as Ray held the diner's door open.
We all trudged in. Fist and Dawg stayed outside with the two other bikers. I looked over my shoulder. Why weren't they coming in?
“They'll eat later.” Max’s voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Is that sweet pussy bare?”
He didn't just ask that.
“Answer me or I'll bend you over the booth and find out.”
Holy shit. “Yes.” I slapped his hand when it drifted toward my ass. “Don't grope me in front of Jolie.”
My eyes widened when his eyebrows rose. Oh yeah. Slapping the mean biker who you're indentured to probably wasn't very smart. “Sorry, sometimes the sass just builds up in me and I explode.”
“Good, I like when you explode,” Max whispered.
Uhm. Wow.
He and Ray chuckled as we were guided toward a booth. My BFF glared at Max, but said nothing. I took this as a positive sign because, while she may be old-fashioned, Jolie was very outspoken.
Max settled into the booth beside me, leaving Ray wedged beside Jolie. She sent me a wide-eyed saucer look behind a menu. We all ordered coffee and juice when the waitress, Beth, wandered over.
Even though it was just past noon, it was an unspoken law in The Grove that you ordered breakfast at The Last Drip until dinner time. The resident cook, Hank, did the best breakfast around. My stomach growled as the diner's scents assailed me. I gulped my water to abate my thirst, sucking until nothing came out. Max snagged my straw and settled it into his glass, which he set before me.
“Drink,” he ordered.
I drank. Jolie's eyes widened. I held my breath. My BFF didn't like bossy. Fortunately she kept silent, probably too busy reconciling herself to being crunched into a booth beside the Penetrators President, aka Killer.
My cell dinged.
I tensed as I read the message. Does she know what a dirty girl you are?
My pussy clenched. My heart pounded wildly. I tapped a response to the unknown number. No.
Go to the bathroom, dump.
This wasn't happening. Rattled by the flaring need burning my insides, I set my phone down, carefully locking the screen. I sucked down more water as Ray caught my gaze across the booth.
Taken by the MC Page 4
