by Penny Dee
Sensations cartwheeled through me like a scattering of fireworks, and I arched my back with a moan. He was thick, hard, and almost too good to bear.
“I love being inside you,” he groaned, rolling his hips into me, every beautiful inch of him driving me toward unimaginable pleasure. “How the fuck am I going to last when it feels this fucking good?”
“Come in me,” I panted, my mind dizzy and drunk on him. I wanted all of him. Every delicious part of him inside me. I wanted to feel the pulse of his masterful cock as he ejaculated into me, filling me with the most intimate part of him. I knew I was getting carried away, but I didn’t care, because in that moment all I knew was him. All I wanted…was him.
In response, he thrust my arms above my head and growled when I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in deeper into me.
“Fuck…Taylor…” He moaned, kissing me hungrily, his body thrusting into me. “I’m going to—”
A primal roar ripped from his chest, his throat straining, the veins on his neck bulging as his orgasm overpowered him. He thrust into me one last time, and I felt the throbbing of his cock as he filled me.
Breathlessly, I let go, aroused not just by what he did to me physically, but aroused beyond belief at what was happening, and I came with him, my body tightening around his orgasm as pleasure claimed every cell and fiber of my being.
I shuddered beneath him, my nails pressing into the hard muscle of his shoulders as I got lost in my ecstasy, my mind blinded in a sweet haze. When I finally melted beneath him, he covered me with his rock-hard chest and buried his face in my throat, his teeth grazing my slick skin.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he murmured.
I could feel the warmth of his breath and the gentle thump thump of his heart against mine, and emotion like nothing I’d ever known bloomed in my chest. I closed my eyes, sinking further into my contentment, intoxicated with it.
I’m falling for him.
My eyes flicked open.
Wait. No. What the fuck am I doing?
I shifted beneath him and he rolled off me with a satisfied sigh.
But with the heat of our passion gone, the stark cold winter of my reality slipped in, bringing all the bad, uneasy feelings with it.
Needing a moment, I slipped from the bed and made my way to the bathroom, Bull’s cum now sticky on my thighs.
After taking care of business, I stood at the sink and stared at myself in the mirror and asked myself again...what the fuck was I doing?
BULL
With Taylor finally in my bed, the sexual tension and pent-up frustration was gone. Replaced with the most amazing sex of my life. It also gave me a brief but blissful reprieve in the relentless pursuit for my arch nemesis.
The latest intel on Gimmel Martel suggested he had set up a secret distribution vein for a new supply of cocaine. It was possible he had found a new supplier while hiding in the murky depths of his exile. Anything was possible when you had cash. That was another good reason to dry up each and every one of his income streams.
According to our source, Martel had a truck passing through our county once a month, heading to various locations throughout the country.
We found one of the trucks on a quiet stretch of road between Destiny and Humphrey, heading toward the I-55 highway.
At first the driver took a little convincing to stop. Riding in front of him and forcing him to slow wasn’t going to work. He showed us that when he nudged the back of Cool Hand’s bike and almost sent him off the road into a ditch.
Same with Tully and Hawke when they tried the same maneuver.
He was prepared to rundown anyone who got in his way.
Which told me he didn’t want us getting our hands on that truck at any cost.
So Yale and I pulled over to the side of the road, and Yale climbed on my bike before we took off in a plume of dust and rocks to catch up to the others.
We roared past the other Kings until we were lined up beside the passenger door. I had no fucking idea if this was going to work. And if I was a betting man, I would probably hate our odds. But Yale was crazy enough to try, and because I was more determined than ever to stop that fucking truck, I was willing to let him.
The trick was to get my bike close enough to the truck and keep it there. Of course, the driver tried swerving us off the road a few times, but he had so many Kings buzzing around him on their bikes, he spread himself too thin trying to keep us all away from him.
While he was preoccupied with Cade and Ruger on the other side, I lined us up and a seven-foot Yale was able to grip onto the door handle and get himself onto the step.
Once he was inside the truck, the driver didn’t stand a chance, and the truck came to a shaky, screeching halt.
I pulled up behind it and unlatched the back doors, swinging them open with the help of Maverick. Inside, there were crates stacked from floor to ceiling with the words Coffee Beans stamped on the outside. I hauled myself up, and using a tire iron I found secured to the wall, cracked open one of the crates. They were jammed full of plastic bags. Taking my knife from the sheath on my hip, I stabbed several of them open, and watched little brown coffee beans spill from the wounds.
Fuck!
The last time we hijacked one of Martel’s trucks, he’d hidden his coke in a secret compartment of the crate. But a thorough search of these crates revealed nothing.
Motherfucker!
I carved my hand through my hair and thought about our next move. There was something on this truck. There had to be.
Ruger joined me in the back and we started to unload the crates, handing them to the others.
“Let’s get every one of these crates out and split them open. There’s something in here, and we’re going to tear this truck apart until we find it.”
It turned out we didn’t need to search for long. We were only a few crates in when we saw it.
The black abyss behind the wall-to-ceiling crates of coffee.
“Fucking hell.” I looked over at Ruger. “You better call Bucky.”
There were sixteen of them chained to the walls, their ages ranging from early teens to mid-twenties. They were dirty, dehydrated and very, very frightened. A few were unconscious, passed out from exhaustion and starvation. I knelt down next to one of them, a girl who couldn’t have been any more than sixteen. Her skin was bruised and scratched, her wrists and ankles purple and green from being bound for God knows how long. Christ, what has happened to these girls? She woke up and stiffened with fear when she saw me.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I tried to reassure her, but the fear in her eyes told me it would be years before she believed it. “Whatever hell you’ve been through, it’s over now.”
When I pulled out the knife on my hip she started to cry.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, cutting the zip-tie that held her bound wrists to the metal shackle above her head. Her arms went loose, and with a whimper she collapsed onto me.
“You’re safe, I promise.” She clung to me. “But I need to help your friends, okay?”
After freeing the other women from their shackles, I stormed to the end of the truck and jumped off. Cade had the driver at gunpoint. “You better call Bucky and tell him to get his ass over here fast. And tell him he’s going to need back up and some ambulances.” I indicated to the driver. “But get him out of here. Tell Bucky he ran off. He knows more than what he’s saying and I’m going to get it out of him.”
We took him to the abandoned drive-in theater where Scud Boney had lived out his final moments only a few weeks earlier.
At first, he was a tough guy. A real smart ass. But by the end of it, he cried like a baby and told us everything. His job was to pick up the cargo from a warehouse in Oregon and bring it here. He’d been with the girls for days, denying them food and water, and indulging in his own perversions with his choice of them whenever the opportunity arose. Apparently, he had a thing for the younger ones.
“But
so what…” He spluttered, blood and mucus spilling from nose and mouth. “I’m not the worst they’ve seen. And not the worst they’re going to see.”
That bullshit deserved another up-close-and-personal moment with my fist. Repeatedly, until he was unconscious. Now it was my turn to indulge. In payback.
Some may have called me psychopath and sick motherfucker in the past, but I don’t enjoy other people’s pain. I actually thrive in peace. But I want what’s best for my family. My club. And to ensure order reigned in my town, sometimes I needed to inflict a bit of chaos on someone’s ass.
I didn’t get a hard-on over hurting someone.
Even when that person was a child trafficking, raping piece of shit. I didn’t enjoy the karma I was dishing up to his face.
It was a necessity.
My job as president.
Eventually, Ruger stepped in. “He’s done.”
With my chest heaving, I stepped away. “Take care of him.”
I looked down at my bloody knuckles. They didn’t hurt, but later they would hurt like a bitch.
I walked away and climbed on my bike. I was desperate to feel Taylor beneath me. To feel her tenderness calm the raging darkness in me. But I was going to take my rage for a ride and let it dissipate in the wind before seeing her. Because I wasn’t going to touch that beautiful body of hers while my mind was black with so much rage and hate, and lusting for revenge.
TAYLOR
Ten Years Ago
“My cock is so big you’ll taste it in your mouth while I’m fucking your pussy.”
Bradley Anstead, legendary corporate bad boy, leaned forward and planted a kiss on my bare shoulder. His dark eyes sparkled with cocaine and the lascivious thoughts crawling around inside his liquor-soaked brain.
He was going to fuck me. And he was going to fuck me good.
Or so he kept telling me.
“And you better believe I’m going to fuck you hard, pretty girl.” He grabbed his groin. “And I’m going to fuck you deep.”
Fighting back the urge to gag, I faked a smile and took a mouthful of champagne from my glass. It was good champagne. Cristal or Dom Pérignon. And the glass, too. It was some stupidly overpriced crystal from Europe. It was worth squillions. Or so Bradley had told me. Same with the Basquiat hanging over the fireplace, and the Louis the XV chaise by the window overlooking Central Park. They were all opulent belongings. All ridiculously over the top. All his.
Bradley Anstead was a mascot for young, corporate success.
Rich. Good looking. Successful.
Cruel.
He also had a thing for girls in knee-high boots. Like the ones I was wearing.
But he also had a lust for something he wasn’t ready to admit.
Something he knew would cause his cold-hearted and emotionally vacant father to look at him with that air of disappointment he always seemed to have saved for him.
Bradley had a reputation for ruthlessness in the business world, and as a ladies’ man in his circle of wealthy, successful friends. He was a corporate megastar. And his sexual escapades with women were legendary.
But he also had a secret.
A secret urge he couldn’t control.
A secret urge he hated himself for.
Because it was an urge he couldn’t resist. A secret desire. A need. An overpowering lust. And it frustrated him that he wanted something so badly, something his family and friends would never accept.
It was something he couldn’t face up to, and it made him angry that he wanted it so bad.
His lack of self-acceptance was frustrating. It made him mean, more aggravated. More cruel. The first night he indulged, it was with a nineteen-year-old, wide-eyed cowboy who was new in town. He brought the naïve young man home and dazzled him with his magnificent Manhattan apartment and expensive things.
I suspected it started off intimate. I imagined he poured him a glass of Cristal or a Dom Pérignon, just like he had with me. Or perhaps it was something a little more unexpected, like a glass of rare Cognac or a drop of ridiculously priced Absinthe.
It might’ve started off nice. But the night ended terribly for the naïve, small-town cowboy. By the time the sun broke over the city the next morning, he was tied to Bradley’s bed, spread-eagled and beaten, and very much dead.
The following evening, his broken body was found next to a sewer grate in a rain-soaked alley in Brooklyn.
Yeah, I knew Bradley’s secrets.
Alex always vetted the men I’d be spending time with.
It was important to know what turned him on.
And it was vital to know what he was capable of in case I had to protect myself.
I’d spent time with a few bad men.
I drained my glass.
But I had a feeling Bradley Anstead was going to be one of the worst.
I sat up with a rush, my heart pounding and beads of sweat coating my skin. I glanced around me and tried to catch my breath, my body trembling, my mind racing with fear. It was dark. Shadows crawled through the room, the only light being a slant of moonlight coming in through the window. I was desperate for daylight, for the sunshine to chase the shadows away. But the clock on the bedside table read 3:08. The sun wouldn’t be up for another two hours.
I looked at Bull sleeping soundly beside me, his big body relaxed among the sheets, his beautiful face soft with sleep. Naked, his skin radiated a warmth like I’d never known. Even in the coolness of the morning, it filled the space beside me with heat.
I wanted to wake him. Desperate to feel those strong arms wrap around me. To protect me from the past and my fear of the future. Because if I were a betting woman, I would bet everything I owned that my past was about to destroy us.
Feeling haunted, I pulled back the bed covers and walked to the window, the cool morning air giving me goose bumps as I padded barefoot across the wooden floors. Outside in the silvery night, a waxing moon looked lonely in the clear sky, making me feel nostalgic. Making me feel regretful.
The sob left me before I could stop it. It came out of nowhere, and worried I would wake up Bull, I slapped my palm across my lips. I couldn’t let him see me this way. Because if he asked me now, I would tell him everything.
Everything.
And I would lose him.
I wiped my tears away and stood as still as a statue in the moonlight.
I had to face my past and fix this.
But how?
How did I face it and still protect Noah?
How did I fix this without destroying Bull?
When he came up behind me, I was immediately engulfed in his heat. He said nothing. Instead, he reached out and touched me, his fingers whispering across the nape of my neck and across my shoulders. I shivered beneath his touch as it pulled me further away from the echoes of my dream, grounding me with its familiarity and comfort. I softened against him, then moaned when his lips found the tender slope of my neck.
Strong hands came around me and pulled me against his powerful body, and I sagged into him, my lips parting with a moan, my body aching to feel him inside me.
I turned in his arms to meet his lips with mine, and the kiss was warm and needy. I needed this. I needed the physical contact to keep the phantoms of my dreams at bay.
With a growl, he lifted me up and carried me to the bed. Lying me down gently, he crawled over me and without a word, thrust deep into me.
Light and pleasure lit up behind my eyes. The sudden intrusion was all and everything I needed. The hardness. The length. The girth that stretched and filled me with so much man. The thrust of every inch into me. They pulled me further away from myself, and further into him.
He kissed me with so much passion and loved me with so much more. When I struggled to come, he slowed his pace, his pelvis grinding, his thick beautiful cock stroking into me with exquisite slowness. He took his time, knew what I needed, and he stoked that fire until I came beneath him with absolute abandonment.
But he didn’t wait for
me to come down from my high. Instead, he hooked my leg over his powerful shoulder and held me closer to him by my ass, so he was as deep into me as he could possibly get. The change of position put my clit in direct contact with the root of his pelvic bone, and it only took a small amount of friction before I was coming again.
He stole my cry of pleasure with a demanding kiss.
“That’s it, little bird…” He moaned against my lips. “Hearing you come makes me so fucking hard.”
I shook against him. Trembling and high, my body throbbing with pleasure. I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. But Bull showed no signs of stopping. He had stamina. The strength to keep going for as long as it took. And it was like he knew that I needed this. Knew that the only thing he could do was fuck my fear out of me.
So that was what he gave me.
And I surrendered my everything to him.
Gave him full reign of my body. And he kept loving me like that until the sunlight breached the tree line outside, and I couldn’t take any more. Until I was spent. My bones liquid. My body soft.
When he knew I was done, he came with a deep, smoky moan, his eyes closed and his face wrapped in a mask of pure ecstasy. And I watched from the pillows, spellbound, as he kept pumping his release into me, his body trembling, his beautiful cock filling me with all of him.
Afterward, he wrapped his body around me protectively, and I fell into the deep, warm abyss of sleep.
Whether he knew it or not, he had exorcized the demons from both my body and mind until all I knew was him.
TAYLOR
Autumn said she didn’t want a bachelorette party. That strippers weren’t her thing and penis straws were creepy because they were thin little plastic sheaths with balls.
But Chastity decided she was having one whether she wanted to or not, and went right on ahead and organized a tamer, daytime version for her. “If that girl thinks she’s missing out on penis straws, then she’s got another thing coming.”
