Satan's Property

by Celia Loren

  I smile a little. I am most certainly not worried about him. I meant how is he doing business-wise, as in, is he completely fucking up or not. But I guess I will have to be satisfied with Flint’s answer.

  “Liz will be coming over later for the barbecue,” he lets me know as he crosses into the lounge. I nod, and take the two large casserole dishes out of the oven, which I serve with a big platter of home fries.

  A chorus of thanks greets me as I place everything on the table, and Hollywood jokingly slaps me on the ass. I punch him on the arm.

  Around noon, the sweet butts help me set up the backyard for the barbecue. Cherish and I are friendly now, so they’ve all started to help out more. Sometimes I feel like the manager of the weirdest maid service in the world. We’re crushing up the ice in the coolers when I spot a giddy smile on Stephanie’s face.

  “What’s that grin about?” I ask.

  “I think that Twitch might ask me to become his old lady,” she reveals.

  “Steph! That’s amazing!” I squeal, wrapping her up in a big hug. The other sweet butts gather around, asking what’s going on. She shyly shares her news and we force her to tell us all the details. What exactly he has said, how he said it...she relays all the information to us and we collectively decide that all the signs are there.

  “Is it too fast, though?” she asks, a frown crossing her face.

  “No,” I reassure her. “If you know, you know.” Besides, I think to myself, I knew Rooster way longer before I married him, and that didn’t help anything. I give her shoulder another squeeze. “You guys are great together.”

  We finish setting everything up as the brothers start gathering out back. All the families arrive and the sweet butts drift to one side, away from most of the old ladies. Someone has brought a large kiddie pool, and Drifter has brought out a hose to fill it up with water. The kids gleefully start jumping in. Bethany waves me over to meet her youngest, a tow-headed girl who looks to be around eighteen months.

  “This is Emma,” she says as she hands the baby over to me. I wrap my arms around her and Emma grabs at my hair, which I’ve braided to one side. I untangle her little hands and pull the braid to my face, pretending it’s a mustache, making funny faces at Emma. She gurgles happily in response.

  “You thinking about kids?” Bethany asks. “Once the Devil’s Army is a support club, you can come back over here and hang out with us, bring the kids...”

  “Yeah, that would be nice,” I say with a forced smile. The old ladies seem to take it for granted that the Army is going to become a support club soon, but Flint doesn’t seem so sure. I’ve always put the thought of kids out of my mind. I would never want to bring up a child with Rooster. I bounce Emma on my hip for a while until she reaches back for her mother.

  I run inside for the spiked lemonade I made and serve it in two large plastic pitchers. I step over to the grill and find myself working next to Drifter. He’s wearing a tight white t-shirt and jeans. His dog tags are tucked under his shirt, forming a slight bump. His stubble has grown out into a short, light brown beard. We flip burgers and hot dogs next to each other and I make sure the condiments and toppings don’t run out. Every so often I feel his hand on my hip to guide me one way or the other, or his wrist brush against mine. His touch still causes a rush of heat to run through me, but I do my best to ignore it.

  After everyone has gotten their food, I help myself to a hot dog. I hear a loud splash and children shrieking and see that Kalb has launched himself into the pool to cool off and is now drinking the water. He charges out again and shakes himself off as everyone scatters.

  I look around and see a group of brothers congregating away from the party, near the stone wall at the edge of the property. I sidle over to Cherish. We’ve both been on our best behavior around each other, but I’m still a little nervous around her. She can always be counted on to know exactly what’s going on, though.

  “What’re they doing over there?” I ask with a nod in the direction of the group.

  “Shooting contest,” she answers, rolling her eyes. “They might as well just take their dicks out and measure them.”

  I laugh, but I feel my right hand starting to itch. My dad started teaching me to shoot when I was little, and he loved bringing me out in front of his brothers to show off my marksmanship. He was always so overprotective, so shooting with him was something fun and freeing for me that we could do together.

  I casually wander over with Liz and Tina. All the kids know to steer clear, though some of the old ladies stay with them just in case. The Sons are talking about the odds on each brother. I gather that the frontrunners are Bean, Hollywood, and Drifter. I hear bets being exchanged left and right.

  They’re setting up beer cans on the stone wall as targets, and Cherish has come over to be in charge of setting up new cans when they’re shot down. The brothers are standing thirty yards away from the wall. I peer around the guys to check out their weapons. Everyone’s using a .38, I guess that’s part of the rules. Drifter’s holding a Beretta, the model my dad taught me on.

  Crow sidles up to Tina and snakes his arm around her, digging his hand deep into her back pocket. He sees me eyeing the guns as Liz and Tina laugh with each other.

  “You shoot?” he asks.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, with a little shrug. “My dad taught me.”

  “You any good?” he asks with a smile.

  “Well, yeah. I can hold my own, I guess,” I say.

  He nods, turning over the information in his head. Flint waves his arms for silence, and the first three brothers line up. There are five beer cans on the wall, and each one takes his turn shooting them down. The brother who hits the most moves on to the next round. After four rounds, Hollywood, Drifter, and a prospect named Watt are left. Flint draws another line in the dirt about five yards further back from the stone wall as Cherish sets up five more beer cans.

  Crow leans over to me as Bean takes his place at the line. “So, how many do you think you could get?”

  “Mmm, I don’t know, it’s been a while. At this distance, my dad would have been embarrassed if I got fewer than three. On a good day, I could probably hit all of them,” I say, as Hollywood shoots down three of the cans and groans in disappointment.

  “And is this a good day?” Crow asks with a gleam in his eye.

  “Wait, Crow, what—” I turn to him, realizing he’s not asking casually. He just winks at me and walks closer to the shooting line. “Crow, don’t!” I whisper frantically.

  Tina shakes her head after him. “He loves to bet on the underdog. You won’t be able to stop him.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, clenching my right trigger finger.

  I study Watt as he takes his place on the line. His lips are a thin line, and I can tell from here that he’s holding his breath. Bad idea. His muscles look overly tense to me. He still takes down four of the cans, though, and the brothers slap him on the back as he lowers his gun. He grins proudly, then steps back to give Drifter his space.

  Shouts erupt as Drifter steps to the line. He looks completely calm as he raises his Beretta and the crowd silences. I can’t imagine that this scenario feels tense to him after being in combat. His stance is good, relaxed. He pulls back the slide and raises his arm. Five shots and five metallic clinks ring out as Drifter hits each of the cans.

  Cheers and moans ring out from the crowd as he lowers his arm, depending on which way the brothers placed their bets. Cash starts exchanging hands and I see Crow cross to stand next to Flint at the line.

  “I’ve got one more bet!” he shouts, and the brothers quiet down and turn to him. “Hundred bucks says Violet can hit all five of those cans!” A short silence follows his announcement, followed by guffaws, which quickly turn into a heated discussion over my provenance as a club president’s daughter.

  Tina hoots and throws her arms around me as I blush scarlet, guiding me through the crowd to the line. The brothers eye me as I pass, and I overhear questions about my st
rength and the weapon’s recoil.

  “Wait, are we talking about her using a .38?” Hollywood asks in disbelief as I approach. “Look at her!”

  “Hey, I can handle it,” I say a little defensively, my pride rising to the surface.

  “She can use mine,” Drifter volunteers, loading his Beretta with a new magazine. I see Cherish stiffen at the end of the range, and slowly start to line up five new cans.

  “Alright, I’ll take that bet,” Hollywood says with a grin. Around me, I hear brothers adding on as they size me up.

  Drifter walks up to me and hands me the gun. The butterflies in my stomach dissipate as I feel the cool metal in my hand, its familiarity reassuring me. It does feel heavier than I remember it, though. I used to practice sometimes in my old backyard, but I haven’t held a gun in at least a couple months. As I weigh it in my hand though, I can tell that all the scrubbing and carrying laundry I’ve been doing lately has changed my body—my muscles feel stronger and tighter.

  I line up square to the wall and try to get a feel for this semi-automatic. Unlike Drifter and the other brothers, I can’t handle a .38 with one arm—its weight and recoil is too much. I shake my legs a little, relaxing them. I stand straight, but not rigid, like my dad taught me. The crowd starts to quiet down as they see me focusing.

  I take a deep breath and eye the cans. Thirty-five yards away, no wind. I bring up my arms to shoulder level and line up the sight with the first can. With another deep breath in, I squeeze the trigger five times as I slowly exhale, methodically moving down the line of cans from right to left.

  I blink when I finish, my arms still held out straight. As I lower the gun, a wild cheer erupts and I realize I’ve hit all five cans. I click the safety back on and hand the gun to Drifter. He takes it with a smile, his blue eyes boring into me, stirring up that familiar rush. Crow hits me from the side in a huge hug, and before I know what he’s doing, he’s lifting me onto his shoulders.

  I screech as I’m lifted into the air and the brothers gather around me. I see Cherish eyeing me from the wall with her arms crossed over her chest.

  “Crow! Put me down!” I demand, laughing, as he finally acquiesces.

  Brothers pat me on the back as I move back over to the tables of food. As the sun sets, I start moving the food back into the kitchen, but Stephanie shoos me away and tells me to go enjoy the party. I walk back into the lounge and am called over to the bar by Liz and Tina to do shots.

  “Oh, no! I have no tolerance, and I’ve already had three drinks!” I protest as Liz crosses behind the bar and pours out three shots of Jack.

  “Come on, we’re celebrating your victory! I’ve gotta get Flint to teach me to shoot like that,” Liz says as she raises her shot. “To you, Violet.”

  Tina and I pick up our shots and clink them together as a toast. We toss them back, and Liz looks around the lounge admiringly. “You’ve really turned this place around. Look at this bar! It really looks like the club headquarters now.” she adds. I smile and blush.

  I’ve switched around some of the furniture and deep-cleaned everything, I even polished the wood bar. All the liquor bottles behind the bar have been buffed and are sparkling in the low evening light.

  The Jack hits me and I feel a pleasant warm buzz spread throughout my body. The kids are gone now, and the party is just the brothers and the women—all people I know. My shooting skills are toasted a couple more times, and I drift happily from conversation to conversation. Most of the old ladies take off for home with the men that don’t live at the clubhouse. I see Cherish sitting on a bar stool, running her hand through Drifter’s hair.

  A pang of sadness breaks through my happy buzz and I decide to call it a night. I make a good ol’ Irish exit and drift quietly upstairs. I can hear laughter drifting down the hallway from someone’s room as I make my way to my bedroom and close the door behind me.

  My room feels empty and lonely after being surrounded by so many people downstairs. Sadness washes over me in a sudden wave as I turn on my bedside lamp and sit on the edge of my bed. No matter how much I like the people here, or how much they may like me, I’m still alone.

  My door swings slowly open with a small squeak. Drifter stands in the doorway, backlit by the fluorescent lights in the hallway so I can’t see his expression. I stand up and open my mouth to speak.

  “Don’t,” he says, closing the door behind him. “Don’t talk. I don’t want to talk. I want you. And I know that you want me, too.”

  My head spins as I stand frozen next to my bed.

  “Strip,” he growls at me, and I feel desire light up my body at the sound. I force myself to breathe. He’s right. I do want him, and I don’t want to think about anything else.

  I kick off my sneakers and pull my tank top over my head. I unzip my jeans and peel them off to the floor, kicking them to the side. I lock eyes with Drifter as I reach my hands behind me to unhook my bra. His face is composed, but he’s staring at me without blinking. As I drop my bra to the ground, I hear him inhale sharply. Good. His desire turns me on and gives me confidence. I tug my panties down my lean legs, then step out of them.

  I straighten and stand totally naked before him. His eyes rake along my body, and I feel myself getting wet under his gaze. Finally, he grabs the hem of his white t-shirt and pulls it off over his head, tossing it on the floor. The lamp casts dim light over his torso, shadowing his hard abs. He takes a few steps toward me, closing the distance between us, then stops. I reach forward and gently touch his stomach, running my hands up his chest. It’s a sweet relief to finally touch him like this. My gaze travels back up to his eyes, and I hear his breath coming hard and fast.

  I drop my hands and unbutton his jeans, slowly unzipping them and push them to the floor. I tug his boxers down over his ass and let them fall to the floor. His staggering erection springs free, and I can’t help myself. I wrap my hands around that thick, throbbing length as Drifter’s eyes bore into me.

  Holding his gaze, I kneel to the floor. I take in the sight of his gorgeous cock, biting my lip. It’s huge and enticing—I can’t wait to put my lips around it. But I want to tease him a little, first. I kiss the soft skin at the crease of his right hip and watch as his eyes close in bliss.

  Slowly, I lick from very the base of his cock to the swollen tip. He groans, and I eagerly wrap my mouth around him, taking as much of him as I can. I swirl my tongue around the ridge of his throbbing head, working my hands up and down the length of him. There’s no way I could take his entire cock into my mouth, it’s far too massive.

  “Violet...” he groans. I bear down, sucking hard as I tighten my grasp. “Wait, wait, Violet—” he says, looking down at me in wonder. But I refuse to stop, flicking my tongue across his tip teasingly. He buries his fingers in my hair pulls my head back, forcing me to release him. He’s breathing fast as he tugs me to my feet.

  He takes me roughly, pulling me flush against him. His dick presses hard against my stomach as he grips my ass and pulls me against his crotch. He spins me around, his hands running over my breasts and stomach. I moan and lie my head back onto his shoulder. His hand glides down over my torso, slipping into my panties and over my clit. He groans in satisfaction as he feels my wetness, circling that hard button with his deft fingers. He presses into me with two fingers, pushing against my g-spot with his thumb still on my clit.

  Cryint out, I grind my ass against his hard cock. He pushes me over the bed, ripping open a condom along the way—guess he came prepared. I bend at the waist, inviting him to take me. He grabs my hips, his member pressing against my slick slit. All at once, he slams into me. I gasp as his dick collides with my tender core, deep inside me. He withdraws slowly, then pounds into me again. It’s all I can do to keep from screaming as the pleasure overwhelms my every sense.

  Gripping the edges of the mattress, I press back against Drifter. I want more and more of him. He looses one hand and rubs my clit and I have to bury my face into the sheets as I cry out. He continue
s to fuck me, taking me in a way I haven’t ever experienced before...it’s so intense I can barely keep my eyes from rolling in the back of my head as I look back to see this beautiful man behind me. He slams into me with extreme passion, a man truly possessed, and the thought of having such an effect on him pushes me to the edge. I can’t hold back any longer. I come in waves that crash over me as I hear his moans crescendo, and feel him gush into me.

  I turn my face to the side so I can catch my breath and find my equilibrium. Drifter is still inside me, and he gently rubs the small of my back. I hear him breathe deeply and slowly pull out of me. He tosses the condom in the wastebasket as I crawl sleepily up to the pillow and lie down with a contented sigh. He crosses back to the bed and pulls the sheet over us as he climbs in beside me.

  I nestle into his shoulder and he wraps his arm around me. I lazily run my fingers over the fresh scar on his chest.

  “Am I allowed to talk yet?” I whisper.

  “Nope,” he responds, and kisses my forehead.

  Fine by me, I think. I’m too exhausted to talk anyway. My eyes feel heavy and my lids are drooping over them. I’m halfway between sleep and consciousness already.

  “I love you,” he whispers softly, and I try to open my eyes, but darkness pulls me down into a contented sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  I wake up as I feel Drifter shift beside me in bed. I blink awake and see him lying on his side looking at me. I smile back, surprised.

  “Morning,” he says.

  “Morning,” I smile.

  Something tugs at the corner of my sleepy mind. Drifter...Drifter...Drifter told me he loved me last night. Oh, shit! It’s hard to think about it with him staring at me fully naked like this.

  He wraps an arm around me and I feel his morning wood press into me. Well, thankfully it seems like he doesn’t want to talk about it, either. Without another word, he rolls on top of me and pins my arms above my head. He sinks onto me and kisses me slowly, working my mouth open against his. I feel his cock stiffening even more, I arch my back against the mattress.