by April Lust
That was when I realized just how far out of the loop he had kept me for all those years. Sure, I had worked for him, and I had raided many, many bosses’ hideouts for weapons, drugs, information, and whatever else Skull had needed me to get from them for him. But, in the end, when it came time to contact people who handled certain different businesses he ran—like his prostitution ring, his call girls, his gambling rings—I had no idea of who to reach out to. I didn’t know who did what.
That was where Mason’s men came in. In a few short weeks, we were able to start piecing things together. Then, of course, it was on me to meet with these other former employees of Skull’s to start working on making connections for Mason.
Luckily, Mason and Storm’s Angels had a reputation that got me in a lot of doors. A lot of people didn’t want to talk to me when I told them I used to work for Skull. They had all distanced themselves from each other, and that made sense. No one wanted to be associated with a ship that sank so violently. They didn’t want whoever had taken Skull down to come after them due to their association with him.
Once I told them I had moved on to work with another successful boss—Mason—and his successful organization, they were quick to talk to me and let me into their good graces. It also seemed like they were eager to get lined up with another successful boss who had a reputation for making businesses like theirs grow and expand.
Once I got in the door, it didn’t take long to start getting people on board. Mason’s business grew exponentially, almost overnight. Of course, with that kind of growth, we had both grown bolder with my assignments. More success meant more money, which meant a better life ahead for both of us and all of the members of the MC.
Which meant more wine instead of just whiskey all the time. I liked whiskey just fine, but if I were going to be living with him, we had to have wine, and Mason knew what I liked after a successful job. He would always greet me with a glass of wine when we got home.
“You know,” he said, putting an arm around me and walking me to the balcony, “we make a pretty good team.”
“What’s this we stuff?” I asked him, taking a small sip of wine, enough that he wouldn’t ask why I wasn’t drinking it. He hadn’t seemed to notice over the last couple of jobs that I hadn’t been drinking my wine. I would take a sip or two and pour it out when he wasn’t looking. I hated pouring it out. I hating wasting it and making it look like I drank it really fast.
“You know, I’m the reason you’re back on top, baby,” I told him.
“Yes, you are,” he said. “And speaking of which.” He turned around to face me and started kissing me, taking the wine glass out of my hand and putting it on the kitchen counter.
“We haven’t even made it outside,” I teased him, smiling against his kissing lips.
“Maybe we’re not going outside,” he said, picking me up.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and could feel his erection pressing against me already. I rocked my hips against him while he held me. I was already hot and wet for him, aching to feel him inside of me again.
He carried me toward the bedroom. I had my arms around his neck, and both of his arms were around my waist. We kissed as we walked, a slow, deep kiss full of passion and longing. The feelings grew stronger every time I finished a job for him. The more successful we were, the more excited we were afterwards.
Tonight, we had just successfully shut down a new boss who had been threatening Mason’s business for a couple of weeks, so we were ready to celebrate.
He set me down gently on the bed and pushed my sweater up over my head, pulling my bra off with it. I kept my legs wrapped around his waist while he grabbed and squeezed my full breasts. They were so tender! It hurt but it felt so good when he squeezed me and rolled my hardening nipples between his fingers.
I wondered if he had noticed that they were getting any larger lately. I hadn’t noticed, myself, but I kept checking every day. I was excited to give him my news, but first, I wanted to take him deep inside of me.
I arched my back and pushed my hips up so he could grip my jeans and open them. He pulled back and stripped my jeans off of me. He pulled my panties down and started opening his pants, as well.
I pulled his shirt over his head and ran my hands over the firm contours of his chest and abs. I saw his cock appear from his jeans and boxers, and he was inside me almost as soon I as saw him.
“Oh fuck,” I called out as he slid into me immediately and without warning, filling me completely with his rigid shaft. He pumped himself into me and grabbed my breasts again.
I arched my back again as intense pleasure rippled through my body. I pushed myself against him, driving him deep into me, greedily taking all of him inside me at once.
My whole body had become more sensitive over the last month. Every little touch sent me reeling, and tonight, I was already at the edge when he entered me. Then, I tilted my hips just right so his head hit my g-spot, sending pulses of pleasure through my body with every thrust. I felt myself tightening around him as he pushed into me deeper and harder.
I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down on top of me.
“Fuck me, Mason,” I told him. “Make me yours tonight, baby,” I whispered in his ear. He didn’t realize it but he’d already made me his. I was his forever. I wasn’t going anywhere.
I pulled him up and into me, pushing my hips down onto him at the same time. I rode the pleasure he created inside me all the way to ecstasy again and again.
“Damn, that feels good,” he moaned above me as my muscles clenched around him.
“Let me know when you’re close,” I whispered into his shoulder, burying my face to moan while he rocked himself deep into me again and again.
I held onto him for dear life as I fell over the edge of that precipice time and time again that night, climaxing with almost every thrust. I’d never felt pleasure like he was giving me before. I didn’t know if I was just that much more sensitive lately or if he was just that much harder tonight.
It didn’t matter which. I thrust my hips against him and started working him as my body quaked beneath him. My thighs shook, and my insides quivered, flooding with ecstasy as I couldn’t control myself.
“I haven’t stopped coming,” I told him. “Holy shit, Mason.”
“I’m close, baby,” he said.
I rammed myself down onto him and started rocking my hips. I wanted to feel him inside of me. I tightened my grip on his hips and his shoulders and kept going until I felt him growing hard enough to explode inside of me.
He started to pull back, but I protested.
“No,” I told him. “Let me have it.”
He pushed himself up and looked down at me.
“Really?”
“Yes, baby, let me have all of it.”
He’d already given it to me once before, when I wouldn’t let him stop, just like I was doing now.
Then, it happened. He erupted inside of me, filling me. He flooded me completely. I let go of him and let him start thrusting inside me again so he could empty himself into me.
“Give it all to me,” I called out. “I want it all.”
He pushed deep into me and held himself there. I felt his cock jerk inside me as he let the last of his climax flow into me.
Then, he collapsed on top of me. I kissed his shoulders and his neck. I kissed his lips, and he slid off of me, letting himself slide out of me at the same time.
He rolled over onto his back.
“That was intense,” he breathed.
“Yes, it was, baby.” I kissed him again and started to slide out of the bed.
“Where are you going?” he asked me.
“Nowhere. I’ll be right back.” I left him panting on the bed as he came down from his ecstasy.
He was right. It had been pretty intense. I’d never felt him erupt inside me with such force before. He really wanted it tonight.
I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and some ice. I poured him a nice, full gl
ass of whiskey. He knew what I liked. I knew what he liked, too, and he always liked whiskey no matter the situation. Well, tonight was a big deal, and he didn’t even know it yet.
I walked back into the bedroom with the glass in my hand.
“Is that for me?” he asked, sitting up on his elbows.
“It is,” I told him. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
“What’s it for?” he asked.
“Well, tonight’s a very special occasion,” I started, sitting down on the bed and handing him his glass.
“Okay?” He took it cautiously, unsure of what I was about to tell him.
“Tonight, I have to tell you something very important, Mason, and I need you to listen very carefully.”
He took a long drink from his glass, downing most of it in one gulp. When he finished and looked back at me, I put a hand on his leg.
“I’m pregnant, Mason.”
I thought he was going to explode. His eyes bulged out of his head, and a smile spread wide across his face. He grabbed me and embraced me.
“That’s awesome, baby. There’s going to be a little mini version of us running around soon. That’s excellent news,” he said.
We sat up all night after that talking about our plans for the future and what we were going to do.
We started looking for a house. He started talking about marriage, and he said I was absolutely out of the business from that point forward. Our lives were moving faster than I knew how to keep up with, but at least we were doing it together. At least it was us. We were becoming a real family, with a real home.
THE END
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REVENGE BABY: Blacktop Chaos MC
By April Lust
THE BEST REVENGE IS KNOCKING UP MY ENEMY’S DAUGHTER.
He said to stay away from her.
But I’ve never been a good listener.
My old prez did me wrong…
So I’m about to do his daughter oh so right.
I did what I shouldn’t have.
Touched what I wasn’t supposed to.
But godd*amn, it felt good.
I can still hear Vivian’s moans in my memory.
It still gets me hard.
Even though I’ve been kicked out of the club.
Even though I’ve been warned to stay away.
That sh*t is like a drug to me.
I have to have more.
And believe me – I’m gonna.
Because I’m coming back to take my revenge on the man who gave me the boot.
It won’t be enough to hurt him, or shame him.
I’ve gotta leave a lasting mark.
And I’m gonna put it right in his daughter’s belly
Chapter 1
Vivian
Big Hill, Texas
I haven’t had the dream of teaching elementary school my whole life. But it sure feels like I have.
The seed was planted in high school. When I was a sophomore, our class took a field trip to a local homeless shelter. The shelter staff had somehow found out I was the top student in my English class and was interested in books, so they let me read stories to the homeless kids.
The way the kids all gathered around me in reverent awe, how they pointed at the pictures and tried to sound out the words I was speaking, the way I could make them jump and laugh by reading in a fast and hypnotic tone of voice—these details all merged into one of those great occupation epiphanies. I knew what I wanted to do with the rest of my life and what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I’m twenty-five now, and I’ve been going to school to officially become a teacher. I’ll be finished next semester, and for now I’ve got a steady course load. I pay my bills by tutoring fellow college students in the evenings, and it’s something I really enjoy. The look on a person’s face when they smile and look up at me in sudden understanding is still pure magic and worth every bit of the struggle.
Right now it’s winter time in Texas, and every day feels like a miracle. I love my apartment on campus where I sit at my little desk with its delicious smell of musty books and a single lamp lit against the chill.
I drink mocha coffee from a chipped inlaid Chinese cup that I found when I was poking around in a murky little shop on the Boardwalk. The cup has a bird painted on it, and its plumage is an orange sunset set against the sapphire skies and a quaint bridge that leads somewhere to the distance of the Orient. That cup has always held a strange fascination for me. I like to turn it over in my hands, thinking of the future and meditating. The color of the skies reminds me of a lover’s eyes I hope to look into one day.
But tonight, I’m in the library. There’s a gentle, late rain, the drops shimmering in the reflected light of the lamps scattered over the campus. Even in the quiet of the library, I can still hear the water softly tapping against the panes. I’m tutoring an Economics major named Mitch who is having a tough time with algebra.
I’m still cold despite the heated room, so I take my long, light brown hair out of my hairclip and let it fall across my shoulders for warmth. I look up and Mitch seems to be looking at me strangely.
Almost as if he’s suddenly interested in more than just algebra.
It always takes me a moment or two to get it through my head that someone might desire me. I used to be so gawky and awkward-looking when I was a kid. But at about my senior year, things started happening. I grew taller and more graceful. My braces came off and my face cleared up. I stopped wearing my glasses and opted for contacts instead. And I noticed I got more attention, and that people acted much nicer to me.
But still, deep inside, that same geeky kid from years ago is trying to claw her way to the surface. Sometimes I think that if I were smarter, I’d be bitter. It’s not like anything about me has changed besides my looks.
At that moment in my nostalgia, I feel a hand fall gently on my shoulder.
“Miss Grayson? Vivian Grayson?” The creaky voice belongs to Mrs. Eggert, the elderly head librarian. She narrows her eyes, like she’s ashamed to be speaking in a place of silence and quiet.
“Yes?”
“There is a phone call for you in the lobby.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Eggert. I’ll be right there.”
I turn to look at Mitch. He looks disappointed. “I was really getting this, you know,” he says, though I’m not sure if he’s being entirely truthful. “No one has ever been able to explain it to me and have me comprehend it like you can. Do you think you’ll be long?”
“I’ll be back in just a few. I promise. Until then, take a look at the next lesson.” I smile, as if to lessen the blow.
He looks hopeful again. As I turn around, I can’t help but smirk.
In the lobby my steps ring hollowly on the marble floors. I pick up the receiver from the returns desk.
“Hello?”
I frown. There’s nothing there—no voice, seemingly no one on the other end of the phone.
“Hello?” This time, my voice lingers in the air and I shiver. My ears are met only with dead silence.
I hang up the phone, feeling more than a little unnerved. I’ve always been a somewhat shy, wary person. I guess I’m a little naïve and frightened of the world around me, or maybe at least of people’s intentions.
Perhaps this would make sense if I told you who my father is. His name is Steel Grayson, the infamous leader of a renowned Texas motorcycle club, Blacktop Chaos.
You would think I’d have grown up knowing what it was like to be friends with guys in a motorcycle club. But my dad was super protective and for the most part, he kept me away from that scene. It was as if the men weren’t allowed to speak to me. Heck, most of the time, they didn’t even dare sneak a look in my direction. Without question they obeyed my dad’s commands. I could see the fear and awe in t
heir eyes, and I guess I was proud, in a perverse way. But I always felt that the club—the whole biker mentality—was something alien to me, something I didn’t quite understand the workings of. Besides, Dad never talked about the MC when we were alone. He’d always ask me about school, making sure to remind me that I wouldn’t get anywhere in life without good grades.
After the unsettling phone call, I return to Mitch. The sight of him makes me giggle. He’s sitting with his elbows on the desk and his head in his hands, his fists full of great tufts of black hair. Gritting his teeth at the material, he looks up at me and says one word:
