by Amo Jones
He turned to walk to the office where Twisted, Po’Boy, and other men were waiting for him, hopefully while they worked contacts and information to find whatever hidey-hole the assholes had taken cover in. A hand on his arm caused him to wheel around. When he stopped moving, the woman’s wrist was in his grip, and his other hand was at her throat. His brain noted how neatly his thumb and fingers fit over the bruises for that split second before he dropped his hold and took a step back.
“The fuck you want?” It took a moment, but he got his breathing back under control, eyes on the brunette all the time.
“What you are doing is dangerous.” She made a show of looking at his vest, then brought her eyes up to meet his. “Wildman.” The sound of his name in her mouth had him half hard in an instant, and in his mind he saw her on her knees again, chin lifted and mouth open while she waited for him to feed his cock between her lips. Her next words stripped that vision from him, leaving him wondering what had gotten into him in the first place. She wasn’t a toy, wasn’t a club whore, and wouldn’t ever be in that position again if he could help it. She continued, her voice pitched low, sultry and full of bad ideas. “It’s a game you didn’t intend to play, and you—” She tapped his breastbone with one stiffened finger. “—and your club are out of its depth.”
“Who the fuck are you?” The question burst from him before he could think, and he shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. You need to talk to the man at the bar. He can help you.”
Smiling with a fake shyness, she tipped her chin to her throat, gaze flicking up at him once before settling somewhere on his middle. “I’m no one.”
“You’re far from no one, darlin’, but what you aren’t is foolin’ me.” He pointed at the prospect holding up a piece of paper. “He’s got you, and we’ll have you home soon.” With a stiffened thumb shoved over his shoulder towards the office, he finished with, “I got things to do, and they ain’t you.”
Giving him a final long glance filled with a heat he didn’t expect, she turned and walked away, firm, round ass sashaying in a slow shimmy he knew without a doubt was deliberate. He didn’t know what game she thought she was playing, or what she thought she knew, but she didn’t know him or what he was capable of.
His previous clubs had been deep in a lot of shitty things, making plays that had gotten a lot of good men hurt. He’d learned, and now Wildman was part of an organization that wasn’t just solid, but the definition of solid, and he trusted his brothers in IMC to hold their own against all comers. His job was to make sure they had the right tools at the right time to ensure success.
He took a deep breath, blowing it back out steadily as she accepted the room assignment and tossed him a sideways glance on her way up the stairs. My job isn’t a thing to do with her. With that reminder, he made his way to the office, where hopefully good news waited.
“Get some rest, brother.” Po’Boy’s hand gripped his shoulder, giving him a firm shake back and forth. “You’re dead on your feet, and ain’t gonna be no good to us if you’re slow tomorrow.”
“Truth,” he said, yawning wide, jaw cracking with the strain. “I’m gonna hit the hay here if my bed wasn’t given away. You headed home?”
Po’Boy grinned, the expression sly and pleased. “Fuck yeah, I’m goin’ home. What I got waitin’ for me? Ain’t sleepin’ away from them if I don’t have to.” Wildman shook his head, knowing what was coming next. It was something Po’Boy worked into every conversation he could. “Coulda been gay for me, Wildman, joined in our puppy pile.” Po’Boy’s lovers were a woman named Crissy and the president of the CoBos, Wrench. Po’Boy had patched out of IMC not long ago, and now wore the colors of the CoBos. The dig came from an observation Wildman had made after witnessing the two men kiss, something he’d enthusiastically declared the hottest kiss he’d ever seen.
“Fuck you. Never gonna live that one down, am I?” He shoved at Po’Boy’s chest. “Get your happy ass home, then.”
“No you will not. Hell, brother, it’s my leverage over you. I got a hold on your heart, and I know you’re just waiting for me to act on that secret desire you got deep down inside.”
“I got nothing for you, deep inside or not. You’re an asshole, and I hate you.” He grinned and walked away, middle fingers on both hands lifted. “We’ll find ’em tomorrow.” He pushed himself to trot up the stairs to his room, pausing a moment before he eased the door open quietly, pleased when he found the bed empty. “Hell yeah.”
He cleaned up quickly and crawled between the sheets, heels of his hands pressed against his eyes for a moment. “Fuck.” Their contacts were still looking for the missing men, but so far nothing had shown up. Without a target they couldn’t pull the trigger on another raid, which meant the women would have to be convinced they needed to stay in hiding another day. I’ll make it about safety for their families. He nodded, scrubbing at his cheeks with both palms, fingernails scraping through his rough beard. That’ll work.
Setting an alarm for four hours on his phone, he turned to his side and let his eyes sink closed.
She knelt in front of him, chin lifting to expose her throat, palms cradling her bare breasts for his inspection. Knees slightly apart to give full access, she’d turned her body into a gift meant only for him. Wildman walked around behind her and sighed in pleasure at the expanse of unmarked skin on display. “So beautiful.”
Trailing one fingertip across her shoulders, he watched the rising goose bumps chase his touch, muscles sliding across her bones as she flexed in tiny movements. “You want this?” He stopped in front of her again, hips squared to her shoulders, hard, bouncing dick inches from her mouth. “This?”
Wildman woke when a hand slipped around his hip, nails dragging across the skin of his thigh, fingertips plucking at his sac. Quick as a snake, he gripped the wrist and twisted to his back, already knowing what he’d see. The brunette pushed up on an elbow, head cradled in her hand. There was no smile on her face when she greeted him softly, “Hey, Wildman.”
He studied her in the low light, finding only confidence and determination in her eyes. Not a bit of shame, or fear, and that struck him like lightning because he knew in his gut she was here in his bed of her own wishes. Not because she wanted to wrest some secret from him, or because she thought him her new captor and wanted to earn her way into his good graces on her back, but because she’d found a hunger in her gut that matched whatever she’d seen in him.
The sense of ownership from the dream had carried over, and he found himself reaching out to grip her braid. She shifted at the silent demand, tipped her head back and gave him a view of her throat, that pale column still bearing some other man’s marks. A need to possess her rolled through him, and he asked the question from his dream in a voice gone to gravel and darkness. “You want this?”
Her mouth opened but no words escaped, just a whine as she breathed faster. He could see the pulse in her throat beating, pounding at her skin in an effort to escape. The idea of her under him like this, but with ass in the air, accepting whatever he gave her, stretched his patience to the limit. “You came to me, girl. Came to my bed. Now—” He used his grip on her hair to bring her close. “—you tell me you want this. Give me your words, because in this bed, with me right now, I gotta know this is something you choose.”
She blinked back the tears he’d drawn with his rough handling of her hair, staring into his face as she licked her lips, not in an effort to seduce but because he could see she suddenly wasn’t certain that she’d picked the right play. She nodded slowly, head moving only slightly.
Not giving an inch on the demand, he snatched her head down until her lips hovered just over his. “You have to say the words.” Head darting up, he bit her bottom lip hard, not enough pressure to bleed, but firmly enough so she’d feel it for hours. With a final hard twist of his teeth on her flesh, he released her and fell to his back on the mattress. “Not good enough.”
Breasts heaving, she lay beside him
for a moment before giving him what he’d asked for. Too late.
“Yes, this is my choice.”
Staring at the ceiling, he told her the truth. “Shoulda said that about half a minute ago. Go on.” He made a casual stirring motion with one hand. “Get outta here.” She sucked in a wet breath and he groaned at the image of her making that noise around his cock, mouth full of him as he fucked her face. “Dammit, girl.”
He flung the covers off, the December chill that crept against his skin not mattering to his dick, rock hard with wet trailing down the head. Hand wrapped around his cock, he stared at the wall as he gave himself a stroke, slow and hard, fingers following well-memorized movements. She was silent, and that pissed him off more. “If you don’t leave, then how am I supposed to take it? Huh? I asked and you didn’t answer, and now this is what you’ve left me.”
Her hand joined his on the next down stroke and he groaned again.
“Take it as me being lost in the moment. By the time I found my voice, you’d closed the door.” The mattress shifted as she crept closer to his side. “Gotta give me a minute to catch up, big guy.” Her fingers tightened around him and he let his hand fall away, giving her free rein of his cock. “Lord, you’re big everywhere, aren’t you?”
Wildman rolled his head to look at her with a smirk. He liked that she was willing to tease and play, had taken the initiative to turn things around after her false start, so he decided to reward her. “And you’re talking entirely too much.” He lay back on the bed and gripped her braid again, more gently than before, and steered her head down and across his body. “Suck,” he ordered, hips lifting with the word. “Suck me off.”
No argument from her before she gobbled him down, the wet and hot cavern of her mouth around him, lips tight around his shaft as her head started the timeworn bobbing dance between his legs. He groaned quietly, feeling his balls already starting to tingle. She quickly fell into the perfect rhythm of strokes from her fingers, suction from her mouth, and the teasing play of tongue all over him. Like a heartbeat, she took him with a steady pace, moans interrupted by gagging noises as he thrust up and fucked deeper and deeper, forcing himself into her throat for several suspended breaths at a time.
Her hips shifted and she rolled to her knees, balancing herself over his crotch with her elbows out wide. Experimentally he released her hair, giving control back to her and was pleased when she fought her own gag reflex to take him deeper than he’d pushed for so far. Fuck yeah, she’s outstanding. “Goddamned good, baby.”
Hands now free, he reached over and grabbed her apple ass, bringing her closer to where he lay. She was wet, soaked through, and naked as the day she was born—no panties, not even a string of floss up her crack to get in the way of his play. Came to me ready. Wildman smiled, knowing if she could see it she would have scrambled away, escaping as fast as she could, because his smile was without humor, filled with teeth and the promise of pain.
“You like a little rough play?” She made a sound in response, arching her back as he flicked a finger between her labia, coming close to her clit. “I’m gonna play, and if you want to stay with me tonight, you gonna take it, hear?” His mind argued for a moment, bringing up the image of her offering herself in exchange for the safety of the women at her back. I didn’t take what she offered then, and she knew I could. She wouldn’t be in his bed if she weren’t up for whatever he threw at her.
He lifted his shoulders from the bed and angled towards her. He wouldn’t be eating pussy tonight, not after where he’d found her, and knowing how likely it was she’d been taken unwilling, but he could play. Mouth to her hip, he tested her, teeth digging deep enough to bruise. She squealed but shifted towards the pain, not away. Wildman moved his mouth and bit again, harder, and gained the same result. An instant stiffening of her body, a wild sound far back in her throat, and her moving closer to him, offering even more of herself to his ministrations.
Middle finger to her entrance, he shoved inside and found a well of wet there. “Fuckin’ drenched.” Plunging in and out, he watched as the liquid began trailing down the insides of her thighs. Bitch is turned right the fuck on. “Wanna fuck now.”
As if he’d touched a cattle prod to her, she pulled off him and whirled, ass to the bed and head pointed away, making it easy for him to climb on top if that’s what he wanted. He watched her hips shift and sway, breasts bouncing with every hard breath, nipples drawn into tight peaks. He sat up and reached for a condom, hissing as he palmed his wet cock before rolling it on. Dark hair spread across the sheets, hands in tight fists up next to her head, her pale body was laid out before him, legs akimbo with knees bent, sex glistening wetly. “You get off on sex, or need the pain?”
“I need the pain,” she told him honestly. “Sex is good, but I need the pain.”
“You okay with being marked up a little? I don’t want no cops comin’ in and bustin’ down my door in a couple of days over bruises if you’re gonna freak out.”
Her hips lifted and he saw the lips of her pussy twitch, knew she’d just clenched hard at the thought of him bruising her. When she didn’t answer, he pushed, asking again, “Well? You good with it?”
“I won’t freak out. Just under my clothes, okay?” He nodded in agreement, because it was completely reasonable. They’d gone from zero to a hundred miles an hour in a few short minutes, but this familiar negotiation was calming. She told him she felt the same way with her next words. “Not my first rodeo.”
“No, I didn’t expect it was.” He was poised on the mattress. “Lift your legs, hands behind your knees.” She complied and he smiled at her, chuckling when her pupils dilated wider, blackness edging out the ring of grey. Without another word, without asking permission or any kind of fucked-up shit like that, he took his dick in hand and lined up with her entrance. No turning back now. The first tearing plunge inside her pulled his balls up tight and he bent his head, teeth latching to one tit, biting down. She was wet through and through, and that helped him slide deep, but he didn’t give her any time to adjust or stretch, forcing himself on her. Her legs bounced up and down distractingly, and he reached a hand back and slapped her ass hard. “Wrap ’em around me. You’re allowed to fuck me back.” Her heels hooked behind his ass and her pussy lifted, hips tilting up. The next stroke was easier, his cock sliding deeper, the next even more slippery. He bit down again, overlapping his teeth with the bruise he could already see forming, wanting to leave her linked rings as evidence of his possession.
He’d worked up a sweat by the time she tightened down around him, offering a breathy warning. “Gonna come.” He set his teeth in her earlobe, pushing a hand far underneath her.
She’d stayed wet through everything he’d done to her, rivulets of her fluids running down the crack of her ass. He rolled his finger in it, covering his skin before he took her ass deep, hooking his finger around the ring of muscle and pulling hard. “God,” she cried, head tipping back and he couldn’t stop himself. He fit his fingers of his other hand over those bruises on her neck and gripped tightly, her pulse thudding heavily against his thumb. Her eyes rolled up in her head and he gave her a sip of air before clamping down again. She stiffened as she came, mouth open in a soundless cry, and he plowed faster, hips beating at hers as he fucked her apart underneath him.
As if struck by the same lightning that had flashed through the sky at their meeting, he followed her over, finger still deep in her ass as he propped up on his other hand and stared down at her. She had overlapping ornaments of bruises on each breast, deep enough to bring blood to the surface in places, her shoulders bore his marks, and now his bruises completely covered the ones some asshole had left on her. His cock pulsed and he ground himself against her, coming hard, filling the condom in a flood of heat and satisfaction. Fucking mine.
A pounding on the door startled him from sleep only minutes before his alarm would have gone off, and Wildman called out an acknowledgment. That kind of wake-up call meant they had news, and th
at was good, because the sooner he could wipe the assholes off the earth, the happier he’d be. The brunette was a heavy weight on his shoulder and he stared at her, shocked she was sleeping so peacefully.
The blanket gaped slightly and he slowly shifted it to her waist with one finger. He stared, fascinated by the marks on her skin. Mine. He snorted a quiet laugh at the ridiculousness of that repeating and futile thought. If only.
He swung his legs off the mattress and stood, eyes still on the nameless woman stretched out in his bed. He’d been married twice. His first wife hadn’t stuck; eventually she’d been turned off by what he needed. She’d said all the right things in the beginning, begged sweetly for his attention, and he’d been blinded to how she really felt, excited at the idea of sharing the dark desires that roiled though his imagination. Having grown up poor, raising her brothers and sisters almost singlehandedly, she’d been looking for security and thought she’d been willing to do anything for it. She’d been wrong. The more he’d exposed himself, the more she’d withdrawn until it was clear they weren’t compatible. In the end, neither of them had gotten what they’d wanted.
The second had been taken from him, death and destruction something he was uncomfortably familiar with. Killed for another man’s ambition, she’d been carrying his child. Even vengeance had been stripped from him by circumstance and had put him on the path to come to Louisiana, and here.
This woman? Someone who’d been abducted and held in terrifying conditions, clearly paying with flesh for whatever sins her captors felt she’d been guilty of? And she’d still met him thrust for thrust, begging for his mouth, his teeth, her voice rising and falling with the cries of pleasure she didn’t even try to stifle.
Real, all of it. Nothing forced or faked in what we did last night.
She’d be perfect for him.
