by V. Theia
“Do you want to come right here, Preacher man? Do you want to lose it in your jeans?” The bad girl was rubbing him so hard that he lost consciousness for a second, his vision blanking out and he seriously thought about doing just that, unloading his come in an almighty climax from a little hand job over his jeans.
He’d fucked countless times in this very spot and the alleyway around back, and found he didn’t want to do the same with Ruby, though it would be the easiest thing for him to reach under her skirt and discover with fingertips just how wet she was. Lips stroked her forehead, he drew away.
“I’m taking you home right now. I’m on my bike, follow me, beautiful?”
She nodded, reaching up she gave his beard a little tug, and a secret sexy smile before she moved out from under him, rounded her car and slid into the driver's seat.
It took fifteen minutes to ride to his two-story house. Only four houses on his street, he liked the open space and the feeling of security knowing that even from the neighbor's house they couldn’t see inside Preacher’s place.
He’d been aware of her high beams behind him the entire time as she followed him, his gut tightened watching her climb from the car, purse in hand she strode forward so confident he nearly swallowed his tongue.
She’d come home with him to fuck.
As Preacher unlocked his door, switching off the security alarm he ushered her inside with a hand on her lower back. Realizing with a start that this was the first time he’d brought a woman home. Hook-ups were for other places where he didn’t live, not for where he made rare steak and watched the game with his boys.
He wanted Ruby all over his house. Starting right here. Pressing her against the back of the door he clicked the lock in place shutting them into the darkness, he didn’t crush her lips this time, rather than, he tempted hers open with whispered dirty promises of what was to come, he tasted her breath and enticed her lips into opening for him. Desire didn’t come unexpectedly, he’d felt it for her for a long time, but it did barrage into his mind, filling all the nooks and space, crowding Preacher like a drunk person on a dance floor until it was the only sensation he had as hands moved over him.
“Strip.” He husked.
“Here? Now?”
“Right now. Right here.” He helped by slipping his hands into her jacket, pushing it off her shoulders, for the rest he took a step back and watched her disperse with each item of clothing. The hallway was midnight, the only light coming from down the other end from the kitchen window, he liked the atmosphere, the shadows it threw against her dark skin, another time he would blaze every light on to watch her, now he just waited until she was perfectly naked before him, standing proud, not at all embarrassed and why would she, he’d never seen a more perfect female form before. A pair of tits made for his mouth, and that pussy, my god, his cock rose eager ready to go home.
“What about you?” Her voice soft and husky, he heard the want there and was going to give it to her.
“You want my cock, baby? Take it out. Show me how you need it.” The belt and zipper wrenched open, greedy girl, he laughed and stroked a palm around her nape, squeezing gently, giving her a taste of the rough she liked and on cue she moaned angling towards him while she freed his length, it fell into her waiting hands, both began to pump him.
"All I want right now is to shove you into the nearest closet and have my cock deal with you because my brain is all out of blood."
Any more stroking and he would have blown in her fingers.
He dived low, testing out her creaminess, fuck, she coated his fingers as he slipped in easily.
“So, damn wet.”
“Please…”
“Oh, I will.” He had them down on the hallway rug a second later, flipping her over, she presented her ass up in the air, pumping it like she could already feel him inside her.
This first time was going to be fast, he had no choice, there was no blood left in his brain, he was all out of sanity as he positioned his cock after a fast donning with a condom where he nearly tore the thing in two trying to open it with his teeth.
Their breaths panted, she chanted please over and over until he thought he’d go mad with need.
And then he was pushed inside. Going in and in and he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The pace started at fast, her cry spurring him on as he got a hand on the base of her head, holding her in place.
“Keep still,” he growled, sweat beading his forehead. “And take my fucking cock. All of it, Ruby, stretch that little darling to accept every inch. Goddamn, you feel a size too small. So, fucking good. Am I hurting you?” His hips moved at a torturous pace. It was like he’d thrown himself into second gear, pistoning hard almost before she was ready to take that kind of beating, but shit, it felt good. So, good she melted under him, one moan merging into other, her spine undulating like she was boneless.
“You can go harder.” Mother of god. His perfect woman. Pulling out to almost the tip, her walls squeezing tight to keep him inside her as if he would leave this warmth, silly girl. He leaned bodily over her, turning her head at an angle he licked her lips, and shoved forward without warning, impaling her deep and hard, his hand holding her throat, keeping her eyes on him as she cried out, her mouth a perfect rounded O shape. “Oh, look at you taking it, sweet beautiful baby, aren’t you? That’s it, feel how rough I’m giving it. You’re gonna come for me, Ruby. I need it more than I need my own. Open for me and let me give it to you how you need it, that’s it.” On and on, his thrusts didn’t stop, didn’t slow in pace, growing in tempo he fucked Ruby like a man possessed, lifting her into his dark slams, glorying in her intense moans, he wasn’t stopping until he shot off all his pent-up need into the sweetest fucking heaven.
He made her come.
He made her come hard.
And a lot.
She soaked his cock until her juices ran down her thighs, dripping onto the rug.
He was keeping that rug for fucking ever.
Preacher crushed on top of her, pressing his belly into her ass, not ready to separate them yet.
“I guess this means you like me, beautiful.”
Her back vibrated with her laugh. “You’re a needy asshole.”
“I am.” He nipped the back of her nape, felt her undulate and his cock stir. “Tell me nice things, pet me and call me pretty.”
She laughed again. A sweet sated sound he loved because he’d put it there.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“It’s not true you hurt the one you love. I hate myself and yet I’m the one hurting the most. - Hawk.
There was something to be said for the dirty insanity of Louisiana. After being here for nigh on three weeks Hawk could figure out why; the fucking heat. It wasn’t just dry humidity, that he could deal with, it wasn’t only the blistering sun at all hours of the day, even in the fucking shade, that was passable, it was the deep down to the bone unbearable scorching incessant insects the heat brought out in droves, that loved, absolutely loved chewing the hell out of his skin. He was wearing so much repellent he stank, not a problem, but he also had a thick film like a new layer of skin. He was oily and the little dickheads still preferred to suck on him. He swatted a mosquito on his nape, cursed the air blue. If he could shoot them without blowing off his own head, he would.
He wanted to shoot something in the face and as things were standing he was going to be that person.
He hated the south. It was too hot, too busy, and he was thinking of swimming with an alligator just for a cooling break.
Picking up the bottle of Corona, he drank half, scanning the bar on Lafayette boulevard. A complete shit-hole, but it was the bar of choice for the prez and his men. When in Rome. Hawk didn’t fit in at all.
Hawk knew ten minutes later he didn’t like the bar, its people or the fucking state when some ass-jockey with piercings in his eyebrows and nose bumped his shoulder, deliberately knocking over Hawk’s drink.
He stared at the smirking guy challenging him.
Wrong move. Really it was the wrong damn move. Hawk kicked his head back, his neck rolling, all the tiny bones keeping his head upright began cracking, noting the guy wore a vest from another MC from this area. He was too hot and irritated to let it slide.
So, the bar was Switzerland. They had those back at home. Different MC’s could circulate in the same joints, long as they agreed on no weapons, no fights no hassles.
He didn’t start this. He reasoned, feeling his fist clench hanging down by his sides. All his bones began to relax. Hawk always calmed when he was about to put the hurt on someone. This was his catnip and aphrodisiac.
Not his fault, when the noise between his ears cranked up like the death march.
His fucking music of life. He could salsa to this shit.
He didn’t know any more until ten minutes later, his lungs churning air, and blood not his own dripping off his hands, animalistic snarls coming out of him, he blinked and returned into the room, looking at stunned fearful faces.
Oops. Nah, not like he gave a shit how people looked at him. People’s opinions didn’t even register.
The hot copper scent of blood filled his nostrils, coated his lungs with every obscure breath.
In. out. In. out.
Air whipped from the AC cooling his temper, bringing clarity back to his brain, snatches of what he'd done coming back to him.
Bastards were lucky to still be alive, crawling away, but alive. Only just. Five had thought to attack him for no goddamn reason. They’d learned their lesson.
Knuckles cracked open, he flexed them, testing out the bones, bending unbroken.
“Goddammit, you demented fuckstick, you haven’t been here five shitting minutes and already causing hell. Get the fuck back to the clubhouse.” Hawk glared at Shark as if to say you ain’t my president to bark orders at me. The dark-haired man was fair enough as presidents go but Hawk had allegiant to but one, didn’t matter he was residing in a brother chapter of the Renegade Souls, he could give a shit for anyone else’s ruling, so what if he’d just caused a small bar fight in a town that didn’t belong to him. He met the boss stare with a vicious one of his own. “Fucking now!” Snapped Shark, two of his boys coming up to flank his sides. Hawk raised a brow. Silly little men. He sneered and grabbed his backpack. Screw this whole damn town. He was done anyway, their beer tasted like piss water and there was no pussy to be found that appealed to the sadistic tastes he had.
Because they’re not her.
Back at their compound, a smaller enclosed building than he was used to, it only housed four private flop rooms, tiny claustrophobic inducing closets really, taking a fortified breathe before he stepped inside, he tossed his bag on the bed, shrugged out of his coat and went to shower, he made it a fast one, watching the blood drain away, mesmerizing, he could poke his wounds and watch more blood fall, drip-drip-drip, he’d find nothing cathartic in it other than self-mutilation would buy into the lie he had some control over his own psychosis fixation.
He knew someone who would have a field day digging into the dirt of his dark mind trying to figure out what made him tick. Dig deep, baby, swim in my darkness.
There was no figuring out his shithole of a mind, that was the secret. He was unfixable. A functional sociopath was still a sociopath so he was accused. Fortunately for him, society housed many monsters.
He finished in the shower, taped his ripped knuckles, was finishing off when a knock on the door reared his head. Shark on the other side. Shrewd hazel eyes looking at Hawk, waiting for, what, an apology? When pigs shit out skittles, even then he’d give it a second thought. He didn’t start the bar fight, he only ended it.
“What’s it to be, slugger?”
“What?” He didn’t talk too much to the men here, preferring to keep to himself. He’d helped some in their auto-repair but other than that. His voice box felt rusty and underused. He fucking missed home.
“You in or out?” Ah that question. He didn’t have many options on his dance card, not since he killed a man in broad daylight seven months ago and that dead man was still hunted by the law, never going to find him. So, Hawk was lying low away from the only home he’d ever known. His skin tight, his head a fucking mess, he missed Armado Springs, missed his club brothers, there was no connection to these men, being away from his coping mechanisms was fucking him up more than he thought, his hair-trigger tonight proof of that. He should have, could have, walked away, but the need to make someone hurt, to hear the crunch of bones was a noise only he heard. Hurt before you're hurt.
A lot of fucked up people from his past had a hand in making who Hawk was today and he wouldn't send a gift basket to any of them, mainly because most of them were dead already.
“I don’t have any plans to leave.” He hedged finally and Shark nodded. He was wise not to reach out and clap Hawk on the arm.
He hated being touched but not for the reason someone would suspect.
Too many hands on him once upon a time. He did the touching now. With pain and fear.
“Good, son. We’re having some grub, you’re welcome to join us, that is if you can resist throwing a brother across the room.” Said lightly, the charm fell away from Shark’s eyes, he didn’t get the name because he was warm and cuddly. His warning clear.
Hawk shrugged. Shark took it for his answer, turned and left him alone. He could hear them all in the main area. It made him think of his own club. If he was missing Snake then he seriously needed some brain re-tuning because that idiot was annoying, always amused, who had that much to laugh about was what Hawk wanted to know.
A ping from his phone alerted to a message.
And god in hell his whole heart just seized up in his chest seeing a name.
She never messaged. Not in a long time. Not since he ignored her on his birthday. Women didn’t like being ignored, he knew it was the simplest way to get her to leave him alone without being a dick to her.
Gia. Right there on his phone screen. Bold as brass like she had a right to be in his shit. She could take all the rights she wanted with him. In his darker times, those weak moments she was the one he wanted to reach out to and bring her into his shadows, keep her there until it swallowed her up and the monsters had their fill.
Close it out. He told himself. Don’t fucking engage. He didn’t need to see anything she had to say. What if it’s an emergency and she needs me? His heart thumped out of sync.
It was no big deal he’d wanted to fuck Rider’s baby sister since she was seventeen. With her tiny tits poking out of her shirt and that sweet baby innocence in her large eyes, he’d wanted to throw her on the ground, mount her and show her what it was to satisfy the hunger of a deranged motherfucker leaving no skin left untouched by his come. She’d be dripping before he was done.
No big deal. He was a fucking animal then and now for wanting her. Rider would slice him from navel to eyebrows if he ever caught the flavor of some of Hawk’s darker thoughts about Gia.
His little bit of a thing was an addiction he shared with no one. And she wasn’t his.
He had a damn nerve wanting her. Someone should punch him in the face until he caught some common sense, or knocked into a coma where she'd be free of his deviant dreams.
His neck prickled. A tension only she brought boiled under his skin.
Fingers shaking, he plonked his ass down on the edge of the bed, a scowl marring his overgrown hairy face, the beard scraping his chest. He could give a shit about his appearance, it ran low on his list of priorities, loyalty to his brothers and staying alive ranking highest, but when he thought about the type of man Gia deserved, the man who would worship her, he was not a scruffy bastard with so many mental illnesses they stacked ten deep. He'd be a good man, a kind man, the type of man to deserve Gia.
Hawk was a piece of scum to want to stab his filth into her. He felt guilt even thinking of her in his darkest moments when he was weakest and she crept in to taunt him with everything he couldn’t have.
Not goo
d enough.
Leave her alone.
He’d left her a-goddamn-lone for near ten years.
His thumb scrolled to open the text message. I can handle it was the single biggest lie he’d told that day. Feeling every punch of his heart against his ribs.
His cock awoke, alive and hurting. He almost had to pop open a button on his pants when his thoughts descended into how wet and tight she’d feel. Just how soft she'd be ... all over.
His own personal siren nightmare. What else could it be when his body only sparked alive when it was her. She made his lungs work, his heart beat.
It was a goddamn disease is what it was. Both brows pinched together, ready to delete without reading when he saw;
G: 9:57 - Hi, Hawk. Ambrosio said you were out of town for a while. Everything okay? Hope you’re good.
Hope you’re good. He read that sentence ten times. Hope you’re good.
Good was for normal men like Rider, who had found some slice of happiness for himself with that girl of his. From what he heard she was shaping up to be a worthy queen for the Renegade Souls.
Zara still made his scalp itch. It was instinctual, and not at all personal to the smaller woman. He’d saved her for Rider, it was also instinct, knowing how devastated Rider would have been had Hawk walked away and not killed Hades.
She’d done nothing to him and still, he was afraid of even talking to her for fear of seeing his shit mirrored back at him. She'd hugged him and he'd wanted to vomit all over the floor. Not her fault and all to do with him, he was a fucking basket case.
He wasn’t good. He was a goddamn cruel bastard.
And far from doing good. If he could manage to be steady he considered it as an okay day, a manageable day.
About to close out the message without reply, his thumb had a whole different idea. Cursing under his breath. What the hell. Send it, not like it mattered.
