Royal Bastards MC: Blayze's Inferno Los Angeles Chapter

by J. Lynn Lombard

  “Fuck, Xander, I’m coming.” I pant. We’re a mess of sweat, tongues and lips and I’m loving our beautiful mess. My pussy clenches around his cock, gripping it as I fly towards another orgasm. He drives harder into me, pushing me over the edge. I moan and grip his waist with my legs riding him hard. Xander grunts and my name falls from his lips as he finds his release. Exploding inside of me, I ride the wave of ecstasy only he can bring me.

  “Holy, fuck.” Falls from Xander’s lips. He’s still above me, holding himself up on his elbows. He gently kisses me and I breathe him in.

  “Hmmm…” That’s all I can get out. My mind is still mush and my body is relaxed. Xander grows soft inside of me and rolls off, pulling me with him. His strong arm wraps around my shoulders and I rest my head on his chest. His heart is beating hard against my ear, lulling me to sleep. For once in my life, I don’t think about tomorrow or the future. I think about this moment right here, right now.

  “Thank you, Xander. For giving me what I needed.” I drift off into a deep sleep, free from the nightmares plaguing my mind.

  Chapter 3

  Blayze

  The sun streams through the curtains of my bedroom window, waking me from a deep slumber. Capone and I are the only ones with rooms on the outer edge of the clubhouse. The rest of the rooms are deep inside, safe from anyone breaking in. We prefer it this way to keep our members and their families protected.

  Monica is still sleeping on my chest. Her breathing is deep and even. Memories from last night come back to me in my groggy state and a smile graces my lips. We finally went past the barriers we built around ourselves and gave each other something we both needed and craved. Love. I love this woman with everything I have and will let no one harm her again.

  A loud thump outside my bedroom door clears the fogginess of sleep from my brain. We’re still on alert and I let my guard down last night. When I’m with Monica, everything else takes a back burner, and I can’t be doing that. In order to keep her safe, I need to be aware of everything and everyone around me.

  “Monica,” I whisper. She moves and rubs her leg against my growing cock. “Don’t make a sound. I’ll be right back.” I lightly kiss the side of her head and climb out of bed. I find my boxers on the floor and slip them on quietly. Another thump followed by a loud crack sounds again right outside my bedroom door. I hurry to my dresser and grab my gun. With my finger on the trigger and my other hand on the doorknob, I unlock it and twist. Yanking the door open fast I aim the barrel of my .45 caliber Smith & Wesson at the temple of whoever’s making that noise right outside my door.

  “Don’t move, motherfucker or I’ll blow your brains out.” The guy on the other side of my door raises his arms and drops the baseball bat in his hands. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m trying to get the rat,” his voice trembles.

  “There are no fucking rats in here. I think you’re trying to scare my girl.” I click the safety off my gun. “Who the fuck are you and tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right here.”

  Stomping boots down the hallway draws my attention away from the trembling guy and Capone comes flying down the hallway. “Blayze, don’t,” Capone commands. “That’s Jezebelle’s kid. Apparently, the other boys dared him to chase a non-existent rat down this hallway to get him into trouble.”

  I lower my gun and glare at the kid. “This true?”

  The boy turns around with tears in his eyes, nodding his head. Now that I really look at him, he’s just a teenager. Tall and skinny with acne all teenagers get. “Yes. They made me do it. Told me if I didn’t, they would beat me up.” Jezebelle is one of the porn stars for Royal Bastards. Her and Derange, the Club’s Tail Runner, have had an on and off thing for the past few years. She won’t tell us who her kids’ dad is and we don’t ask.

  Staring into his brown eyes, I talk to him man to man. “Next time those boys want you to do something, remember this day. You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your ass then ask questions.” I put my gun on my dresser and check on Monica. She isn’t in bed anymore, but the bathroom door is closed. “Get out of here little dude.”

  “Yes, Blayze.” The hopeful look in his chocolate eyes pierces into my soul.

  “Stand the fuck up for yourself. If you know it’s wrong, don’t fucking do it. Don’t let those little assholes force you into doing something that could get you killed.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” He scurries off in the direction that Capone came from. Once he’s out of sight I relax and open my door for Capone to come inside.

  He strolls in and sits in the chair in the corner of my room. His eyebrows raise at the messy bed and I internally groan. Fuck me.

  “Where’s my sister?”

  “In the bathroom,” I answer, sitting on the edge of the bed and slide my jeans on.

  “Didn’t I tell you to protect her at all costs, not fuck her?” Capone is pissed. The tick of his jaw is the only sign he’s showing, but I can see it in his dark eyes.

  I shrug. I’m caught and no point in denying it. “Can’t help who you fall for, Prez. We’ve been skirting around the attraction for years. And I wouldn’t change last night for anything.”

  “That’s the first time the two of you have been together?” Capone asks, baffled.

  “Yup,” I answer popping the P. I’m really uncomfortable talking to him about my sex life, but Capone is the type that doesn’t give a shit how uncomfortable you are. If he has questions, he will ask.

  “So, you two are a thing now? Do I need to remind you what she’s been through?” Capone leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees.

  Monica comes out of the bathroom and sits next to me on the bed. I drape an arm around her shoulders. She answers him before I can. “Yes. We’re a thing now. Both of us have been wanting it for a while but your overbearing big brother asshole ways have stopped me from taking what I want.”

  “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Remember about the meeting this morning, Blayze. Don’t be late. F.O.C.U.S. and some of the NYC members only have a few minutes.” Capone rises from the chair, crosses the room in a few quick strides and pauses at the door. “Blayze, I’m actually happy Monica chose you. Now, I don’t have to beat the shit out of her next boyfriend, since I’ve done that once before.” We chuckle remembering the night we got into a scuffle. Monica’s head ping pongs between the two of us and shakes it. We were both teenagers, drunk and had it out over her once before. He didn’t beat me up, but I let him think he did. Capone turns around and pins me with a glare in his black eyes. “Don’t hurt her.”

  “I swear, I’m not planning on it. She’s all I need.” I keep his gaze until he turns around and walks out the door, closing it behind him.

  “Did you really mean all of that?” Monica asks, staring at me. A genuine smile graces her full lips.

  “Every word, Bug. You’re all I’ve wanted and all I’ll ever need.” I kiss the top of her forehead and she stands up. “Now, we need to get to the studio before we’re late.” I swat her ass and she yelps. I rise from the bed and stalk over to her. The top of her curly dark hair comes to my chin. I pull Monica into my arms and she comes willingly.

  “Thought we had to leave?” Monica asks, wrapping her arms around my waist.

  “In a minute,” I answer, holding her close. She peers up at me through her long lashes. We stand in the middle of my bedroom, just watching each other. Something’s shifting between us and I’m powerless to stop it.

  “Let’s go. You know how those porn stars are when their producer is late.” Monica gives me a sassy smile that lights up her brown eyes.

  I kiss her gently on the lips, then release her to finish getting dressed. I slide on a clean, black Royal Bastards MC t-shirt and slip on my cut. Holstering my .45 caliber and putting my wallet in my back pocket, I turn. “Ready?”

  “Yeah, let’s make some porn.” There’s something off with Monica. I can tell the way her eyes aren’t lighting up with excitement.
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  “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Monica casts her eyes down to the carpet and fidgets with her Royal Bastards tank top. I know she’s lying. She only fidgets when she’s lying or nervous.

  “Bug, look at me,” I command. She sighs and lifts her eyes to meet mine. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m just worried,” Monica confesses.

  “Worried about what? Come on. It’s me and you now. Stop bottling up your feelings and tell me so I can fix it.” I reach her in two quick strides.

  “John. I’m worried how he’s going to react when he realizes we’re together.” The worry in her voice is evident. Monica doesn’t enjoy pissing people off or thinking anyone hates her. She’s suffered so much hate from Chains. Capone and I did what we could to shield her from his wrath. Now that he’s gone, our lives are easier but she’s right.

  “Don’t worry about that pencil dick motherfucker. He gives you any trouble, you kick his weasel dick ass.” I brush Monica’s hair from her face. “What did you see in him anyway?” I genuinely want to know. I could never figure out what she saw in him. With his brown hair slicked back, always wearing white wife beater tank tops, a pair of stone-washed jeans and several gold chains around his neck, he’s a wanna-be thug trying to be king shit in Venice Beach.

  “Honestly? He was the total opposite from you. He filled the void of not having you with me. Trust me, I never let him touch me, but made him want me. I feel horrible for leading him on these past few months and his obsession is borderline creepy.” A smile forms on my lips. “What the hell are you smiling for, Blayze?”

  “He is totally opposite from me. I can’t help it. I’m the king shit who has the girl.” Pride fills my voice. I lean down so our lips are a hair’s breadth away. “Now, let’s show him who you belong to.” My mouth crashes down onto Monica’s with an unforgiving force. She moans and opens her lips. I slip my tongue inside and devour every inch of her hot, wet mouth. My cock stirs to life behind the confinement of my jeans. Monica breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. Her full breasts rise and fall with every inhale and exhale. I can’t help but look down between the valley of her tits. My mouth waters, craving to suck, lick and nibble on each one until she’s compliant from my touch.

  “We need to go.” Monica’s voice is husky with want and need.

  I grab Monica’s hand, adjust my aching dick with the other and together we leave the sanctuary of my bedroom. I lock the door behind us and settle my arm over her shoulders, pulling her next to me, showing the club she’s mine. They already knew, but now it’s official. Monica is mine.

  Chapter 4

  Monica

  The ride on Blayze’s bike over to my studio in Venice Beach was cathartic. With my body wrapped around his, we fell into a groove. A quiet understanding that this is where I’m meant to be. I’m supposed to be on the back of his Harley. I’m meant to be by his side. No matter what. And to me, that means so much.

  Blayze pulls into the parking spot in front of the non-descript white-washed building, puts his kickstand down and turns off his bike. We sit in silence for a few moments. My arms wrapped around his waist, my head resting on his cut. I hate wearing a helmet, even if it’s a half-helmet but the California laws tell me I need to. And if I got onto any bike without one, Blayze would have a fit. I’ve tried it before when I used to ride.

  When we were teenagers, Derek taught me how to ride without Chains knowing so I could escape the hell I was in. Chains was an old school President who thought a woman in an MC meant she spread her legs when a brother wanted and to fix them food when they demanded. It was hell living there, but I had no choice. Mine and Capone’s mother was in too deep with Chains, she couldn’t leave. She did a lot of shady shit in the MC and even made Chains think Capone was his. When the truth came out that Capone wasn’t Chains’ son, it was too late. Everyone respected him and followed his words. When war broke out inside the club, only a few sided with Chains and the rest went with Capone. He sent me away to stay in Detroit to keep me out of harm’s way, but Chains found me through Steam, the Savage Saints MC, Detroit Chapter’s President. Bits and pieces of that night are still missing from my memory. The only thing I remember is the slice of their blade on my skin and the pain from their fists raining down blows on my face and body.

  I haven’t been the same after that dreadful night. I was seeing a man named Blayde. He was a newly patched in member of Savage Saints, Detroit. We had a big fight after some guy made a pass at me. I didn’t want violence and Blayde scared the little shit so bad, I think he pissed himself. We went back to my apartment, fucked and then had a huge fight. I was projecting my feelings for Blayze to Blayde. I missed him terribly the year I was in hiding. Blayde fit the bill for a badass biker to fill the void of not having Blayze. Little did anyone know, while I was in hiding, I was getting information for Capone to use against Chains. He set me up as a stripper for Deadly Sins Club and found out Steam, the President of Savage Saints, Detroit had the mayor in his back pocket. I kept that secret for a long time. It ate away at who I was. The secret about Blayde’s best friend, Kayne’s father’s death, tortured my heart and soul.

  Blayze taps me on the leg bringing me back to the present. “Bug, are you ready?”

  “Yeah. I guess.” I sigh, slipping off his bike and removing my helmet. I fluff out my hair and tuck my helmet under my arm. I watch as Blayze climbs off his bike. His lean, muscular legs flex with every move. A wanting sensation tingles between my legs from watching him. He smirks as he removes his helmet and places it on the handlebars of his bike. Together we walk into the building.

  The dark, dirty hallway always gives me the creeps, but I feel safe with Blayze next to me. I brush off the eerie feeling settling deep in my stomach and continue until we reach the concrete stairs at the end of the hallway. The thump of the bass vibrates through my body as we reach the top of the stairs and head toward my studio at the far end of the hallway. That can only mean John is here early and already producing.

  I insert my key and open the door. The bass of the music vibrates the walls. Moans, groans and grunts come from the back of the studio and I quickly walk in that direction. John knows he’s not supposed to be directing without me. This shit will end now. He’s out of here.

  I open the door to the bedroom and it hits the wall with a loud thud. In the middle of the room is a king size bed with crimson sheets and two naked people fucking. There are no cameras or the boom mic set up. John’s skinny ass is bare, his hips thrusting into the woman on all fours in front of him. He grunts and groans with every thrust. I can’t see who’s below him but she’s not moving very much, like she’s just waiting for this hideous act to be over with. I don’t blame her.

  I walk over to them and grab John’s slicked back hair, yanking him off the bed. He lets out a surprised squeal and hits the ground with a thud. The woman scurries to the other side of the bed, trying to cover herself. Blayze gives her a blanket to cover her body with. I don’t pay any attention to her because my focus is on this little fucker messing with my business.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” I’m seething with anger.

  “Monica, what are you doing here?” John looks at me with confusion. He scoots back on the hardwood floor until his back is against the wall and can’t go any further. I hope he gets splinters in his ass.

  “This is my fucking studio and those are my girls. What in the hell are you doing fucking one of them?” I step next to his skinny body and put my boot on his fingers splayed on the ground. His knuckles crunch under my weight and I smirk. I’m done with the questions.

  “Ouch. Stop. Ok, I’ll tell you.” John howls in pain. I release his hand and he holds it against his chest. “She’s not one of the girls. I swear. I’m interviewing her for a scene.” John snivels.

  “You thought an interview required your pencil dick to do all the talking? Are you fucking kidding me?” I stand above John, waiting for him to make a move. I’ll kick this little
shit’s ass. “In case you couldn’t tell, she wasn’t enjoying herself at all. Now, get the fuck out of my studio and don’t come back. We’re done. This partnership I’ve been forced into with you is over.”

  John stands up on shaky legs. His limp dick makes me laugh. “What the fuck are you laughing about?” He snarls, trying to intimidate me.

  “You. You’re a sorry piece of shit. A real man makes sure the woman is enjoying herself. A real man doesn’t use his position to stick his dick in a woman. A real man has a bigger dick.” I know that last jab will send John over the edge and he doesn’t disappoint me.

  “You little bitch. You’ll wish you never said that.” John comes at me fast. He tries to grab my throat but I counteract his move and send my knee into said little dick. He falls to the ground howling in pain. I bring my foot up and connect with his face, sending him on his back. Blood runs down his face and drips onto his chest.

  “Get the fuck out now.” I squat next to him and yank his hair back so he’s looking into my eyes. “You’re done in this industry. I’ll make sure you never work again.” I release his hair and his head hits the floor with a final thud.

  John balls up his fist like he’s going to hit me. Blayze steps behind me and I rise from my crouched position, standing next to him. “Try it, motherfucker. I’ve been itching to pull the trigger on your sorry ass.” The distinct sound of the safety clicking rings in my ears. John’s eyes grow wide with fright and he scurries around to get his clothes.

  Once he leaves the studio, I take a seat on the director’s chair in the corner and take a few deep breaths. Blayze comes over to me and rests his hands on my knees. “Bug, you OK?”

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat and straighten my spine. “Yes. I’m good.” I look around the room and spot the girl in the corner. She’s curled up in a ball against the wall. Her blonde hair is messy and I can’t see her face because it’s buried in the blanket Blayze gave her. By her appearance, she can’t be older than eighteen and that’s a strong maybe. “What did she say?”