by Hazel Parker
My entire body felt like a ball of tension as I curled up, trying to draw Fitz in deeper and deeper. His cock seemed even larger than the last time that I had been with him, and his thrusting was much faster than it had been on the couch. Maybe he’d just been self-conscious about getting my couch dirty, but he had no such qualms about being this way out in the sand.
“Oh, fuck, Fitz,” I said.
He went at me like so for much longer, somehow never running out of energy or needing to catch a break. He was pushing me closer and closer to orgasm, his rhythm uninterrupted and unbreakable. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get me to orgasm before I could do it with him.
“Baby…”
Just come twice, I thought.
I let go of the expectation that I would have my only orgasm in conjunction with him, and almost immediately, the tension built up. It took far less time than any of my other orgasms had for me to get to the edge, almost certainly because I now felt much safer and much more secure about what my future looked like with Fitz before.
And then, it hit.
“Oh! Ohhhh, oh, fuck, oh, Fitz, Fitz, yes.”
My fingers curled into him as I felt my sex pulse and swell from the orgasm. My entire body felt like the massage of a thousand hands.
And still, Fitz kept going.
“My...God,” I gasped.
He had transitioned from one orgasm over to building to the next with hardly any interruption. Then, without warning, he pulled out, flipped me over, and had my ass in the air. He slapped my ass on both cheeks before entering.
“Now this Fitz, I fucking love,” I said.
Fitz was past the point of communication, though. It was more akin to hearing a hungry lion growl as it ate—it wasn’t speaking in the normal language, but the meaning of the communication was self-evident. I lowered my head into the sand as I felt Fitz enter me. His hands wrapped around my hips, and he pulled me hard onto his cock.
Again, he had me surging toward orgasm. The process was not a slow one. But this time, I could feel his cock start to swell. The only question I had was if simultaneous orgasm would remove from him the ability to think to pull out.
But honestly…
Maybe I was so caught up in the moment, I just didn’t care. Maybe I’d freak out later.
No, I decided, I’d just take the Plan B pill as soon as we got back. I didn’t want this moment interrupted by some rational, logical decision to pull out. I wanted to feel Fitz come into me. I wanted to feel his cock surge, twitch, quiver, and unload everything he had in me. I wanted to drain him with my pussy.
“Give it to me, Fitz,” I growled when I fell into the decision. “Come inside me. Let me feel you come for me, baby.”
He grunted. He was past the point of thinking about the decision. His panting increased, and there was no part of him that seemed to be trying to maneuver into position to pull out.
“Keep at it, baby, don’t stop, don’t stop,” I said.
I felt my orgasm get to the point of no return. I begged him to keep pushing, keep thrusting, keep hammering away…
He came first, but I was only a second behind. I felt my pussy tighten and clench around his pulsating cock, unloading his seed into me. The sensation felt like something transcendent, unlike something I had ever experienced before. It felt, honestly, like the kind of thing that would bond us together for a very long time.
I didn’t know what happened first: me falling forward and off of him or him pulling out. But either way, we both hit the sand in rapid succession, on the verge of passing out from sheer exhaustion. But after a few moments, we both did the same thing.
We laughed.
We laughed.
And we laughed some more.
“Oh my God,” I said, giggling. “Can you believe this happened?”
“No!” Fitz said. “I can’t believe any of this happened! I can’t believe anything in the last month happened!”
“I mean, we hooked up. On the beach. In my place. On the beach again. You quit your job. You quit your job! And I saved your club. And...I don’t know what the hell is the sanest part of all that.”
“It’s going to make for a hell of a story when we tell people how we met.”
“You’re going to tell this story?”
“Are you kidding me? You wouldn’t?”
We briefly paused before we laughed again.
“This is so crazy,” I said. “So goddamn crazy! But here we are. Here...here we are.”
“It’s perfect,” Fitz said.
He took me up in him, cuddling my naked body and planting a kiss on my lips.
“You know,” he said. “Just to make one thing clear. Just because I quit Rothenberg doesn’t mean I would ever expect you to. In fact, I want you to go as long as you want. Don’t let anything I do affect what you do.”
“That’s sweet,” I said, petting his beautiful face. “But it’s more important for me to say that your involvement with the Saints won’t affect me. I’m probably going to avoid your parties, and I’m probably not going to help out quite like I did tonight. But I recognize that that world is a part of you, Fitz. It matters to you. I don’t ever want to be the person that pulls you away from it, because I care about you. I…”
I almost said, “I love you.” It felt too soon for that. Even for all that we’ve been through…
“I don’t just care about you. I love you.”
I gasped. So much for it being too soon.
“I’m completely serious, Amelia,” Fitz said. “Trust me, if anyone’s going to make a decision that is not rational, it’s me. But you saved the club and, by extension, my life. You came back to me even after my club acted boorishly to you. We put you through hell. But still, you helped me. You went so far out of your way to help me. I...I don’t know what to say other than I love you.”
“Fitz…” I said, smiling, feeling sheepish. “I...I love you too.”
“Do you?” he said, smiling. “It’s OK if it feels too early.”
“No, it’s how I feel,” I said. “I just didn’t want to say it too soon and scare you off.”
Fitz laughed.
“Ironic, the girl who is most known for saying everything that crosses her mind suddenly had a moment where she couldn’t say anything at all.”
“Hey! I said it!”
“With some goading!”
We laughed some more. We sure were doing an awful lot of laughing on the beach. I guess when you’d survived something of a near-death experience, all that you could do was laugh some more.
“Either way, it’s been said,” I said. “And I’m ready to act on those words from now until the end. What say you?”
Fitz kissed me, wrapped his arms around me.
“I say yes,” he said. “I say yes to us being together forever. I say yes to pushing through every fight and every argument. I say yes to never saying no to each other’s goals and dreams. I say yes to you, Amelia Hughes. I say yes to you now and forever.”
And I knew right there that they weren’t just meaningless words.
I knew, lying naked under a full moon on a Long Island beach, that he and I were destined to do this forever. We’d have our fights and our arguments, especially as they related to our respective jobs. We’d have moments where we got into it over money.
But Fitz had shown me that I didn’t need to judge him on what he did with his free time. I didn’t need to judge him on his job. I needed to judge him on the kind of man he was.
And Fitz? Fitz was the perfect kind of man for me.
That, I knew, would be true forever.
Epilogue
One Month Later
“You just have to go to this party, don’t you?” Amelia teased me. “I work all week, and now you’re going to abandon me?”
I turned to her, flashing a guilty grin.
“You know the deal, babe,” I said with a laugh. “Every other week, I go to the party to make sure that I keep face at the club.”
“They probably would,” I said, finishing my glass of water. “But for right now, with Marcel still recovering from his wound, he wants to spend a night in with Christine anyways. I think they have some, ahem, matters to attend to that they can’t at the club.”
Amelia came over, kissed me on the forehead, and refilled my glass for me.
“Matters that I will never tire of attending to with you,” she said. “Although it sucks for Christine that she can’t go to parties because of her addiction.”
“Yeah, in some ways, it’s for the best, though. Like Marcel and I don’t have to worry about chasing anyone because we have our someones. We can chaperone the prospects.”
“Oh, Lord, are those sort of like the first-year analysts?”
“Exactly, except we don’t even give ours names!”
“Oh, you’re so cruel,” she said. “Well, if you’ve got to get going, I’m not going to hold you up any longer. Go on!”
“OK, OK,” I said, standing up. “I’ll be back after two. I’d say don’t stay up waiting, but I don’t think you’re going to do that anyway. Miss ED.”
“Haha, that makes it sound like I have performance issues,” she said. “But thank you.”
I walked out of the apartment with a goodbye kiss, off to celebrate not just another peaceful week at the club, but Amelia’s promotion. She had gotten the promotion the week before, and we had celebrated accordingly then, but this was my chance to celebrate with the boys. Such a celebration would involve...well, probably a few beers and then a minor stumble back home.
I was old. I didn’t party like some of the prospects did.
But that was OK. I had everything in life that I wanted.
I had a beautiful girlfriend that I knew I would be with forever; we just needed the formality of time passing for us to make it official. I had a job that allowed me to shut my brain off, work on cars and bikes all day, and ride my motorcycle frequently. I had friends in the club who no longer called me “nerd” but instead treated me as one of their own. I had enough money in reserve to get by, and I would soon be moving into an apartment that would keep me close enough to Amelia that it only took a relatively short subway visit over to her.
We still had our quarrels, but they were mostly minor. Our biggest fight since we’d consummated our relationship, honestly, had been a philosophical discussion about if her boss, Ben, breaking up with his wife and his ensuing reaction was appropriate or not. She could still fight and have a mean streak when she wanted, but even then, it was more something that impressed me than something that I feared.
As I hopped off the subway and headed toward Brooklyn Repairs, I smiled at how we’d done such a good job building a true club in Brooklyn. The Las Vegas Saints had, upon completed negotiations, furnished us a few weapons and some advice on how to build us out. We, in turn, had generated leads in Chicago and Buffalo for potential new clubs. Neither had taken shape yet, but that only needed time.
I walked up, listening to the thumping music. I opened the door and smiled at what I saw.
Sure, there were plenty of women there. There was way more alcohol there. But the thing that caused me to smile was all the new prospects. We were growing to the point where we almost had to put a cap on new membership.
How was that from going from struggling entity to something of a powerhouse?
I looked around the room. Biggie and Uncle were hitting on a couple of women in the corner. Niner stood by himself, his arms crossed, looking out over the room. Prospects ran the drunk gamut from apparently sober to so drunk that they were mumbling to themselves on the ground. I didn’t want to interrupt the game of Biggie and Uncle—they didn’t need my help, anyway—and so I headed over to Niner.
“Nice party, huh?” I said.
Niner just nodded. He was never one for words except in situations that absolutely called for it, but at some point, I was determined to learn more about him as part of my efforts to become more integrated into the club.
“I’ll bet you didn’t do this much in the NYPD.”
“Nope,” he said.
I bit my lip at that introduction. I knew that his time in the NYPD wasn’t the smoothest of careers, but I wasn’t sure what else to open with. It wasn’t like I knew exactly what else to talk about with him.
“So, do you see anyone you want to go for?” I said.
Niner didn’t say anything for the longest time that, at first, I thought that he was ignoring me. I started to look around the room for a prospect I knew, or maybe even to start a conversation with Uncle or Biggie.
“There.”
I followed the direction that he pointed in. He pointed to a woman in a black dress, black heels, with olive-colored skin. I wasn’t focused on her looks at this point, but I could definitely say that she was objectively beautiful.
“So why don’t you go for her?”
Niner just looked at me, gave a short laugh, and turned away.
“I have my reasons,” he said.
I looked at her and looked back to him. There was clearly something that I was missing, but this also most definitely was not my fight to take on. So I patted him on the back and started to walk away.
“Oh, Fitz!”
I turned back to him, surprised to hear him shouting for me to come to him.
“Yeah?”
“Marcel,” he said. “Is he coming?”
I shook my head.
“Still recovering. Spending time with Christine. Why?”
He waved me over. He opened his phone, pulled up something, and showed it to me.
“It’s Kyle,” Niner explained as I looked at the photo with a warning to “Stop While Ahead.” “I think he’s getting tired of us being around.”
Well, we handled one would-be conqueror. What’s another?
“Then I guess Marcel’s and Biggie’s family feud ain’t over yet, huh?”
Niner just chuckled.
“It’s just getting started.”
Niner
Savage Saints MC – New York
~
Hazel Parker
Niner – Savage Saints MC Series © 2020 Hazel Parker
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1: Niner
Chapter 2: Carrie
Chapter 3: Niner
Chapter 4: Carrie
Chapter 5: Niner
Chapter 6: Carrie
Chapter 7: Niner
Chapter 8: Carrie
Chapter 9: Niner
Chapter 10: Carrie
Chapter 11: Niner
Chapter 12: Carrie
Chapter 13: Niner
Chapter 14: Carrie
Chapter 15: Niner
Chapter 16: Carrie
Chapter 17: Niner
Chapter 18: Carrie
Chapter 19: Niner
Chapter 20: Carrie
Chapter 21: Niner
Chapter 22: Carrie
Epilogue
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NINER
Prologue
Lane “Niner” Bentley
I hated parties.
I loved being around a brotherhood again, even if I didn’t know everyone else in the club that well yet. I loved the danger of facing down an enemy and engaging in a chase. I loved the tension that built and the release that came from fulfilling the cat-and-mouse game with said enemy.
But I absolutely hated parties.
And yet, I couldn’t avoid them.
I was happy when I got the opportunity to join the Savage Saints. But the loud music, the excessively stupid conversations, and the overflow of alcohol were all enough to drive me over the edge. I already tended toward the introverted side of things. Now I had to act like I enjoyed these things.
Fuck that.
I checked my phone, standing in the corner, content to play the role of quasi-bouncer. As the sergeant-at-arms, I had access to club email and the president’s email as well. I tried not to abuse the privilege, especially since I knew what it was like for someone to abuse power, but it was still good to have from a security perspective.
Most days, the emails bored me.
Not tonight.
I opened an email from an anonymous sender comprised of mostly gibberish. I looked at the photo with a warning to “Stop While Ahead.” It could have only come from one source.
Kyle Stone, the brother of the president and vice president of the club.
Family drama can’t ever end, can it?
I made a note to myself to tell Marcel, the president, when he entered. But unfortunately, he wasn’t there, and that meant that I couldn’t occupy myself—something that Fitz, one of Uncle’s friends and someone that I literally never would have befriended without the club, took advantage of as he approached.
“Nice party, huh?” he said.
I just nodded. I hoped that people would get the hint that I wasn’t very much interested in conversation. Unfortunately, most people had the awareness of a blind squirrel, and Fitz was no exception to the rule.
