Maz

by Jessie Cooke

  “Oh Jésus, you’re killing me, baby.”

  “I love the way your tongue makes me feel. I love the way the stubble on your jaw scratches at my thighs when you rub your face between my legs.” She rubbed her clit harder and faster as she talked in a sexy whisper. “I’m so wet, baby. Can you hear how wet I am?”

  “I hear it, baby. Fuck…you’re so sexy.”

  “I wish your face was right here and that big, fat snake between your legs was in my mouth. I love sucking your cock, baby…did you know that?”

  He moaned and closed his eyes, picturing her with her lips wrapped around his cock. So sexy. “Yes, baby…I love the way you suck my cock.”

  “Mm…I wish it was in my mouth right now.” He opened his eyes again and she was licking her lips, like she was imagining the taste of him. He shuddered, stroking harder, faster, barreling toward the sweet release. He let his hand run over the wet head each time he reached the top, sending shockwaves racing across every nerve in his body. She was spread-eagled on her bed; the negligee was pushed all the way to the side and she was rubbing her clit hard and fast. She looked so good and his body was dying to feel her touch.

  “I wish I was inside you, baby. There’s no place in this entire world I’d rather be than inside you. You have no idea…how good…it feels,” he said, breathlessly, picturing it, imagining his cock spreading her open and drilling into her…and she taking it like a champ, the way she always did, begging for more, rocking into him harder and faster with each thrust. Her breaths were getting louder, faster, more ragged. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes were hooded and as soon as he mentioned being inside her, she slid the fingers that were on her clit down lower and shoved them into her pussy. He had a close-up view as she began fucking herself with them, adding a third finger and drilling them in and out as deep as they would go. He was about to lose control, but he wanted her to come too. He wanted to watch her gorgeous face as she reached her peak.

  When she moved the hand that was still resting against her breasts down and let those fingers begin to rub at her clit, he knew she was close. She fucked herself with her right hand and rubbed her clit with her left…and the whole time her eyes were focused on him and what he was doing. She started to whimper louder and buck her hips harder, and he imagined how tight her muscles had gotten just before she finally closed her eyes, dropped her head back, and let out a little cry. For several minutes he watched as one wave after the other hit her and she’d moan and whimper again, still rubbing at her pussy. Maz loved hearing how wet she was, and between the sounds of her wet pussy, the sounds she was making, and the sight of her being so sexy, his own orgasm was imminent. He growled and stroked even harder and it was only seconds later that he was erupting like a volcano…and it felt like the center of that volcano was at his core…hot and intense…just like Marissa.

  31

  Maz followed Bruf and Wolf into the chapter room and found a seat behind his president and SA, saving the one next to them for Manson. The room was filling up fast at just before eight. Dax was sitting at the center of a wooden table that looked handmade with the Skulls emblem carved in the center of it. He tapped a wooden gavel against it and said:

  “Everyone please quickly find a seat so we can get started.” While they waited, Maz looked around the room. There were pictures all along the top of the room, Skulls in various places, always in their kuttes, but the Harleys and the patches and the hairstyles changed like the hands of time in each one. He turned toward the back of the room and that was the first time he realized that there was a 1970s Harley, Electra Glide, anchored onto a wooden frame. It was tricked out with a lot of chrome and the gas tank had the Skulls emblem painted on it with flames shooting out of the eyes and the letters DOC etched in silver down the side. Doc Marshall’s bike. Damn. Doc was a bastard by all accounts…but a legend nonetheless. None of them would be in that room if not for him and his vision. “Okay,” Dax said, looking toward his brother. “Can you close the door, Gunner?” Gunner pulled the door closed and then took his seat at the table a few down from Dax.

  “So, for the Westside brothers, I’m going to start with a rundown of what’s been happening here. As you know it all started the night that Kiera was raped and brutalized by three members of the Neponset Nikkas, a piece-of-shit street gang that suddenly decided they wanted a piece of what’s ours. Jammer went Rambo on them without checking in with me first, which I don’t like. But, in his defense, any one of us might have gone off the rails a bit. They seemed to be expecting that. Those three assholes were alone, and Jammer didn’t have any trouble finding them. What we’ve found out since then was that they were all slated for taking a hit from their own gang…they were ‘given’ Kiera as their last hurrah. Since then, I’ve had two meetings with their leaders. One of them, a guy named Dante, seems almost intelligent, but the other one, they call him Cracker…he’s fucking twisted and he’s not going to be satisfied until there’s bloodshed.

  “I almost killed him at the last meeting we had. The motherfucker had the nerve to threaten our families, talk about raping our women…he even mentioned the girls we board at the teen center. He’s lucky his throat didn’t get slit then and there…but every breath he’s taken since then has been on borrowed time. I don’t want any of them that show up today left standing and I want any left behind at that rundown meth lab they run to be hightailing it out of my city before the sun goes down…or I’ll deal with them as well. I want this to happen so quickly that Boston P.D. and the gang task force don’t have time to respond. We’ll clean up any mess they leave behind.” He looked at Gunner and said, “Gunner’s going to fill you in on the plan we’ve laid out. If any of you see any holes in it or have any suggestions, feel free to voice them. The only thing I ask is that we don’t leave this room until the plan is set in stone, and we’re ready to carry it out.”

  “The plan is pretty basic,” Gunner said. “With the Westside with us, and all our nomads in from the road, we outnumber the bastards three to one. They’re creatures of habit and every Thursday afternoon, they meet with the Aztecs and trade their shitty meth for cash.”

  “The Aztecs?” one of the men from California asked.

  “They’re an MC out of Watertown. They’ve been staying out of our territory for years, since Doc ran them out back in the nineties. But, when the Nikkas came in and started cooking and the Aztecs found out they could get their meth for half of what they’d been paying for what was coming out of New York and Jersey, they jumped on it. Hunter found out that they meet every Thursday, like I said. Both sides are so fucking paranoid that nearly every member rolls up with them when they go to these meetings, so, hopefully, it’ll be like picking fish off in a barrel.”

  “Where are these meetings?” Wolf asked. “Far enough out of town that we won’t have to worry about ten 911 calls as soon as we open up?”

  “Yeah,” Gunner said. “They meet up off of I-93 near a ski resort called Blue Hills Resort. Hunter said there’s an old logging road that’s closed to the public. They drive back about three miles from the main highway and do their meet-and-greet there. We’ll have to get there before they do because it’s quiet up there and they’ll hear us coming from miles away. We want to blindside them. There are lots of places to hide the bikes and it’s only about a fifteen-minute drive from here.”

  “And when they get there…?” Bruf asked.

  Gunner looked at Dax and Dax said, “We come out shooting and don’t stop until they’re all dead. Hunter says the Nikkas usually arrive at least thirty minutes before the Aztecs, so hopefully we can get this done before they even arrive. I’d rather leave them out of it…at least for now. Any cars the Nikkas bring will be brought back here by the prospects who will follow us up in the van, if they’re drivable. The bodies will be carried out in the van, any weapons, drugs, or cash that’s there will be taken as well. We’ll need to watch for hikers and park rangers, but if it happens as quickly as I imagine it will…we should be out of ther
e ten minutes after the Nikkas arrive. We drive the speed limit on the way down and follow all the rules of the road so if we pass the cops on our way back to town, they’ve got no reason to be suspicious of us. I really don’t want police activity if we can avoid it. I’ve had years here where they were more present on the ranch than we were.”

  “And then you married them…” Gunner said with a grin. He was close enough that Dax was able to reach over and pop him on the back of the head.

  “Moving on,” Dax said. “Anyone with any objections to this plan?” He waited a few beats and when no one said anything he said, “Anyone have any suggestions to help this run more smoothly? I plan on getting in and out of there without any casualties. I want this done, today.” There was discussion after that about weapons and more about strategy but when the meeting wrapped up an hour later, the basic plan was to forget everything both clubs had done for the past five years to stray away from their outlaw status…and show the bastards what that 1% patch really meant.

  There were at least forty men hidden among the trees and bushes along a beautiful nature trail only miles from one of the most popular ski resorts in the Boston area that afternoon. They were armed to the teeth with automatic weapons, handguns, and even a few old grenades that Dax’s guys found hidden down in one of their dungeons. Their bikes were hidden five miles down the road. The van had driven up, unloaded, and now was headed back down where the bikes were, and it would stay there until Dax called them back up. They would be in place to give the guys lying in wait a two-minute warning. Maz’s adrenaline levels were so high that sitting still and waiting felt like it was killing him. It had been a while since he’d had occasion to use his gun, except when they fucked around and shot cans up at the new property.

  He tried to pass the time by thinking about that now. Wolf had given each of his executives, his SA, and his enforcers, first dibs at their spot on the property. Maz had picked out a place that would offer beautiful views of the Sierra Nevadas and he planned on building a house with nothing but windows on that side. He already had the plans drawn up and when he was in New Orleans, his dad had made a few tweaks to them and offered him any help he might need. His next step, once ground was broken on the house, was to ask Marissa to share it with him. He planned on “patching her” as soon as he got back…asking her to be his old lady officially. He was going to plan a romantic evening out to do that. But ultimately…his long-term goal was to take a step even further than that. He wanted her to be his wife, legally. He wanted them to have a life, children…legitimate children. He had a pretty good idea that’s what she wanted too, but he was still a little nervous about taking the steps to get there. He wanted it to be perfect.

  “Two minutes!” Dax announced through his radio. The guys were split into five groups of eight and the leader of each one of the groups carried a radio. They all heard Dax’s announcement from the radio on Wolf’s hip, and guns started coming out as they prepared themselves. Dax had told them all, no fire until he gave the signal. If possible, they wanted to take out the Nikkas before the Aztecs showed up, but if that wasn’t possible, then the Aztecs were supposed to be spared as much as they could be…Dax didn’t want to trade one war for another.

  Maz lifted the Uzi sitting next to him on the ground. Still crouching behind a tree, he sighted it on the open area where Hunter told Dax they typically parked their cars for the meet. He could hear the rumble of the motors as the lowriders made their way along the dirt road. The closer the sounds got, the faster his heart raced. He looked down at his hands…at least they were steady. The sight of three cars rolling in on a cloud of dust caused his muscles to tighten and watching at least five guys step out of each car caused his breathing to quicken…but the sound of Dax’s whispered voice through the radio overrode everything except his ability to act.

  The bikers stood up and opened fire. Maz had no idea if he was hitting anything other than metal and glass even though the gangbangers were dropping like flies. He continued to spray bullets at the targets until the sound of Dax’s voice, this time louder and firmer, caused a ceasefire that was almost deafening. Each group chose one man to go out and survey the casualties and see if there was a continued threat. Wolf told his group to stay put and went himself. The sight of Dax told Maz he must have done the same. The men watched, some of them panting as they tried to control the adrenaline still coursing through their veins, while the other men checked pulses and surveyed the dirt road to see if anyone had slipped past the prospects. Maz heard the pop of a handgun on the far side of one of the cars. He saw Bruf with his gun in his hand, but not what he’d put the bullet into…he had to assume he was putting one of the gangsters that was still breathing out of his misery.

  Seconds later, the van rolled up and on Dax’s signal, things started happening quickly. Bodies were loaded into the van, weapons were tossed in after. The prospects were already taking off in the bullet-riddled cars, and whoever could fit, piled in with them for a ride down to their bikes. Maz jumped into one lowriding Chevy with Ash and Sledge and in minutes the prospect had them down to where their bikes were. So far, there were no Aztecs or cops in sight, but they were all sweating. Avoiding another confrontation with either side of the law was going to be the trickiest part of all of this.

  Maz didn’t waste a lot of time gearing back up. He just started his bike, happy when he felt the rumble between his legs and gripping tightly onto his ape hangers as he pulled out onto the paved road behind the line of bikes already headed back down the mountain. They were about six miles outside of Boston when they passed a group of leather-clad bikers headed up on the other side of the highway. Their patches looked like silver shields with the face of an Aztec in the center. They garnered curious glances from them, but the center divider kept them on their own side. Another two miles and the sound of sirens filled the air. The men kept their bikes at low speeds and hoped the cops were too focused on going up the hill to notice the lowriders and how damaged they were as they drove down.

  Maz’s heart didn’t begin to slow down until they were in sight of the ranch…and he didn’t stop sweating until he was inside the Skulls clubhouse. Now, it would be a waiting game. Either the Aztecs would show up, or the cops. It was a given that they wouldn’t get out of this without some kind of fallout…but the worst was over, and no Skulls blood had been spilled. All in all, it had been an exciting, productive day. Maz wondered that night as he talked to Marissa and glossed over his day if there was something wrong with him for not even caring how many of his bullets had been responsible for ending a life. The way he looked at it was that he’d saved the lives of the women those men would ultimately hurt or the men they would ultimately kill. Maybe that was wrong…but it was the life he had chosen, and so far, he had no regrets.

  32

  Three Months Later

  “Riding on a Harley with a blindfold on is a little creepy.” Marissa was behind Maz, hugged up to him tightly. Underneath her helmet was a black, silk sleep mask that he’d made her wear.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re probably feeling a little dizzy and out of sorts. We’re almost there.” He took off again from the red light and Marissa felt her stomach jump. It was disorienting to not be able to see, but she wasn’t afraid at all. She trusted Maz the way she’d never trusted anyone before in her life and she knew he’d die to protect her. The ride took almost an hour and she was happy when she felt the bike roll to a stop. As soon as she pulled off her helmet she could taste the dust in the air and smell the refreshing scent of pine at the same time. “Can I take off the mask now?”

  “In a minute, baby.” He helped her off the bike and took her hand, leading her a few steps away from the bike. He still had hold of her hand, but she thought she felt, or sensed, him kneeling down below her. “Go ahead and take it off, baby.”

  She reached up and pulled off the mask. The first thing she saw was a frame…of a house. It was mostly made of rocks…of all sizes, shapes, and colors. The roof wa
sn’t on yet and there was no glass in the windows, but there were dozens of them. Marissa loved it right away, but she was still confused about why he’d brought her there. After a second, she looked down and saw Maz…definitely kneeling, on one knee, in the dirt. Smiling, and with a tickle in her stomach, she said, “What are you doing? What is all of this?”

  He looked at the house and then back at her. “First things first,” he said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans and taking out a little jewelry box. That tickle in her belly turned into a thousand butterflies. She was his old lady, and they had never talked about marriage, so she’d assumed that’s what she would always be. She was okay with that, more than okay, but when he flipped the box open and she saw the diamond ring, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Marissa Williams, will you marry me? Be my femme?”

  She had tears stinging her eyes as she said, “If femme means wife, then yes…I will be…Oh, Maz!”

  He was grinning up at her and she pulled at his hands, trying to get him to stand. He was much too heavy to budge, and he wasn’t ready yet. Instead, he took the little gold, diamond ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger. After he finished with that, he stood up and pulled her in for a kiss. It was a long, hot, deep kiss that she hoped they would share the likes of forever. When he let her go so she could breathe he said, “There’s one more thing.”

  “One more thing? You’ve done so much already, baby.” The month before, he’d taken her on a trip to the East Coast. They’d spent a few days in New York and a week in Boston. She got to see the ranch and meet the Southside Skulls and the little boy that Maz swore was one of his soulmates, Zander. Maz had been so incredibly cute with him that Marissa had thought of little else since then, other than the fact that she wanted to be the mother of Maz’s children. The little boy had made strides with Dax and Angel, learning how to be touched and even saying a few words, but Dax told Marissa as they watched Maz try to teach him to ride the bike he’d bought for the little boy…a BMX that looked like a miniature Harley…that he’d never seen Zander so happy. They were going to have a fabulous life together, she knew it.