Wheelie

by Jessie Cooke

  “Wesley?”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “I’m afraid of what you think of me after last night. There’s so much more to the story...”

  He opened his eyes. She was looking up at him and he could see fear in hers again. He was getting tired of seeing that in her beautiful eyes. Those eyes should be full of joy, and he wanted to be the one that put it there. He kissed her forehead softly and whispered, “I don’t think any less of you. As a matter of fact, I probably think more of you right now than any man who has known you less than a week has a right to.”

  “Promise?”

  He smiled gently, kissed the tip of her nose and said, “Swear.”

  “I’ll tell you the rest of the story, but later, okay?”

  “Yeah, later is good.”

  “We have to be at the police station in two hours.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He closed his eyes again. God, he was tired. He felt her warm hand on his stomach then. He’d pulled off his shirt and pants before lying down, so he was just in his boxers. Her touch was electric and despite the gloomy circumstances they were still faced with, his cock was beginning to stand up and take notice.

  “We could get up, make coffee...” Her hand slid down to the top of his shorts and her fingers slid underneath the elastic, working their way all the way across, and back again. Goosebumps stacked up on top of each other and raced for position on his arms and legs. “Have some breakfast, read the paper, watch the news...” She dipped her fingers under the elastic far enough to skim the tip of his hardening cock. He felt it jerk in response. “Or, we could sleep for another hour or so and probably still make it in time...” She pushed her hand all the way down inside his shorts and he felt her fingers wrap around his shaft. Every spare ounce of blood in his body was suddenly accumulated in the skin she was holding. She squeezed him and began to move her hand up and down, excruciatingly slow. “Or, we could skip all of that and I could slide down under these covers and give you the best morning BJ you’ve ever had in your life.”

  Wheelie chuckled, but she wasn’t kidding. She knew there was no way he’d pick any of the other options, or he assumed that she did when he felt her lips on his chest. She kept her hand on his cock and continued to stroke it gently as her mouth slid down his hot skin toward his belly. She’d dived under the covers as promised and her lips were kissing their way across his stomach as her free hand was trying to work his shorts down over his hips. He lifted his butt up off the bed and helped her push them off. Then he went for her shirt, but she pushed him back and continued her kissing expedition, adding in a lick here and there and just for kicks, a nibble or two. She covered his entire stomach and then the tops and inner parts of his thighs before finally taking the head of his cock into her mouth. She rolled it around on her tongue, causing him to moan, and then she began sucking it in, an inch at a time.

  Wheelie pushed the covers back and opened his eyes. The morning sunlight was streaming in through the blinds and the sight of her with his cock almost all the way in her mouth was a fucking erotic picture. When she had him worked all the way in, so the head was touching the back of her throat, her tongue went to work on the shaft, and her hand moved down lower to massage his balls and tickle his inner thighs. She sucked, licked, scraped lightly with her teeth, sucked and licked some more, and made him feel like he was going to shoot off the bed and go right through the ceiling at any minute. She hadn’t lied when she said it would be the best morning BJ he’d ever gotten. It might well have been the best blow job he’d ever had, period, and he had been given plenty in his lifetime. He let her drive him crazy until there was no way he could hold back the orgasm any longer before pulling her head up by her hair. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

  “Fucking incredible, baby.”

  “Thanks. Why’d you stop me?”

  “I need you up here.”

  “Why?”

  “I need your mouth on mine. I need your tongue against mine. I need you naked with your nipples pressed into my chest and that sweet, wet pussy pressed up against my aching hard cock. I need to feel that tight pussy wrapped around my shaft. I need to fucking pound you until you come so hard that it threatens to render you unconscious.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” she said, like his words had already made her come. He let go of her hair and she stripped off her clothes, quickly. Seconds later she was on top of him, kissing him passionately, their tongues tangled in a sexy embrace while her breasts and his chest melded so tightly it was hard to discern where she ended, and he began. He reached down and cupped his arms underneath her ass and pulled her up slightly so that his cock could line up with her pussy. He lowered her slowly, just letting the head of his cock experience the hot, wet, tightness of that fucking velvet tunnel. His eyes rolled back in his head as he advanced it slowly, realizing as he did that they were skin to skin. He didn’t care and unless she complained, he wasn’t going to stop. He hadn’t fucked a woman without a condom since Sylvia and he doubted she had anything he needed to worry about. The idea that he could get her pregnant oddly turned him on a little instead of terrifying him the way it had in the past with other women. He was halfway inside of her when she suddenly pulled up her own hips, letting his cock nearly slide all the way out of her...and then she slammed her hips down and impaled herself on him. They both cried out.

  Bri held herself there for a few seconds before using her hands to push against his chest and sit upright. Once she was sitting up on his cock, she began to move. Neither of them wanted to go slowly any longer. There was no more teasing, just lots of touching, kissing, licking, and fucking. Bri bounced up and down on him and he thrust his hips up hard each time, burying himself in her so deeply that even air couldn’t fit in the space around his cock. It was the most incredible sexual experience of his life, and the orgasm that came with it would be the one he’d come to judge all other orgasms by for the rest of his natural life. He wanted this woman and he was going to figure this mess out that they were in so that someday when he looked into her hazel eyes and saw the lust there like he saw that morning, he could watch it mingle with joy as well and know that in part, it was because of him.

  19

  Dax sat at the table in the conference room at the police station. This meeting was unorthodox to say the least, but it did speak to the fact that the Southside Skulls was more than just a motorcycle club. It was becoming what he’d always dreamt it could be...a powerful and integral part of the community. The police chief and the sheriff both realized that they weren’t ever going to just go away, and that working with them was a hell of a lot easier than working against them. The only person at the table who had yet to realize that was Bart Kent, and judging by the way he was staring Dax down at the moment, he wasn’t even going to be willing to hear that side of the argument.

  “Okay,” Chief Hamilton said, “let’s get started. Is there anyone here who needs an introduction?” He looked around the table. There were a few faces there that Dax didn’t recognize, but they were in uniform, so it was apparent which side they were on...for now, at least. No one said anything, so the chief went on. “We’ve had three murders in the space of a week’s time, which means that we have an active serial killer working in the area.” Kent snorted, and the chief looked at him. “You have something to say about that, Mr. Kent?”

  “To call this animal a ‘serial killer’ gives him some form of notoriety. He killed my daughter and since then, he’s killed two people that were within her circle. I think it’s safe to say that whoever this killer is, he’s targeting my family.”

  “My family was targeted as well,” Dax said. Kent snorted again.

  “You mean someone from that weird commune you live on out there?”

  “I mean someone from my family. My club is my family and the members are my brothers and sisters. Buzz was my brother and Pamela, your daughter, was killed in my home. This bastard is targeting more than just your family. I would just like you to remember that.”

 
“Someone from your ‘family’ slit my daughter’s throat and left her to bleed to death. What I’d like for you to remember is that I won’t ever forget where she died. I won’t ever forget that if it wasn’t for this illegal, immoral, modern-day Manson family bullshit that you call a ‘family,’ my daughter would still be alive!”

  “That’s enough,” the chief said. “Pointing fingers is not what we’re here for. We have a lot of people to interview and limited resources...and with the rate and proximity of these killings, limited time. I know that my detectives and/or Mr. Kent’s team have interviewed most of you already, but I want to go over everything we have while everyone involved is in the room so that if there are still any questions they can be clarified, hopefully.”

  “I’d like to go on record as saying I’m not at all comfortable with this,” Kent said. Dax heard Sabrina sigh and out of the corner of his eye he saw Wheelie reach over and take her hand. If looks could kill, Bart Kent would have dropped him right then and there. To Wheelie’s credit, the kid returned the stare without even flinching.

  “Noted,” the chief said. “Now, let’s start with Miss Kent. Bart, if this is too hard for you...”

  “I’m fine,” he said. The chief looked at Sabrina then and before he asked her she said:

  “I’m okay too. I want to do anything I can to help find out who killed her.”

  The chief nodded and said, “Okay, so...she was last seen at her family home where there was a party taking place. Miss Kent, you were there?” Sabrina nodded, and he looked at Wheelie. “And you were there too, Mr. Anderson?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You spoke to Miss Kent?”

  “Yes. We had a conversation, shared a smoke...and we kissed.” Kent made a disgusted noise but everyone at the table ignored him.

  “You left alone that night?”

  “I left with my brother Buzz.” Another sound by Kent. The chief turned toward him and said:

  “Bart, if you can’t control yourself...”

  “I’m fine,” he said, again.

  The chief didn’t look convinced, but he looked back down at the file in front of him and said, “You told the detectives you went home afterwards...alone.”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t talk to, or see, anyone?”

  “No, not until the next morning.”

  “How did you find out about Miss Kent’s death?”

  “I was told by Dax over the phone.”

  “And why did Mr. Marshall think it was important for you to know about this murder? Did he know that you’d met her the night before?”

  “No. He didn’t call me because of who was murdered...he called me because when anything like this happens to the club, it’s something we all need to be made aware of. It’s not like murders happen out there every day.”

  “Even I’ll admit that they don’t usually shit where they eat,” Bart Kent said with a smug smile. Chief Hamilton shot him another look and then back to Wheelie he said:

  “So what did you do when you heard about the murder?”

  “Nothing. I would normally go out to the ranch for work, but Dax said the police were there and busy and we’d just be in the way, so he gave us all the day off.”

  “And what kind of work do you do, Mr. Anderson?”

  “I work on cars and motorcycles in the garage.” Kent laughed. Hamilton turned on him, this time angry, and said:

  “That’s it Bart, last warning. You don’t need to be here until after an arrest is made. I’m extending you a professional and personal courtesy by allowing you to be here, but I can ask you to leave at any time.” Kent didn’t look happy, but he kept his mouth shut. The chief went on, “Mr. Anderson, where did your friend Buzz go that night, after the two of you left the party?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I turned off toward my place and he waved goodbye and kept going. I just assumed he was going home.”

  “But he went back to the ranch, didn’t he?”

  “I really don’t know, sir.”

  “Weren’t you the one that found his body on the back side of the ranch?”

  “Yes, but that was two days later.”

  “How did you know where to look for him?”

  “I didn’t know. It was just a lucky guess.”

  “Can I ask a question?” Detective Martin spoke up.

  “Of course,” the chief said.

  “If you assumed he went home that night, why would you think to look for him on the ranch at all?”

  “I knew everyone else was out looking for him in the city. I was just trying to...”

  “He was trying to help me,” Sabrina said. “I asked him to help me find Buzz.”

  “And why was that, Miss Kent?”

  “Because Buzz was the only one I knew from the ranch and my sister had just been killed there. I wanted to talk to him and find out what, if anything, he knew.”

  “But why ask Mr. Anderson to help you? He is, or was at that time, one of the prime suspects in your sister’s murder, and that was thanks in part to your report of them leaving the party together.”

  “I was mistaken,” she said, “about them leaving together.” Dax could see awe in Wheelie’s eyes as he looked at her and listened to her talk. He hoped it was just about how he was feeling and not that Wheelie had told her something he was grateful to her for not divulging. Dax tried to make it clear to his guys that telling the women in their lives everything was usually a huge mistake. There were just too many variables when you were dealing with emotions. It was something he still fought with his own wife over sometimes. He looked at her now, sitting next to him in full support despite having worked with a lot of these guys before she met him, and he felt overwhelmed with love. But still...there were some things about what they did she just didn’t need to know.

  “And you know you were mistaken now...how?” her father asked. Sabrina turned her eyes on him. Dax could see just by that look that the two of them were far from close, and the strain on their relationship was not just about what was going on right then.

  “Because he told me I was mistaken,” she said, almost smugly. “And because his DNA was not found on my sister’s body. And because his fingerprints were not found in that room...”

  “Right, in the room that was scrubbed clean?” Kent spat out.

  “Which brings me to another question,” the chief said. He looked at Dax then and asked, “Did you clean up the crime scene?”

  “No.”

  “So the absence of fingerprints in the room doesn’t seem odd to you at all?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said that I didn’t clean up the crime scene. That doesn’t mean the person who committed these murders didn’t.”

  Kent snorted, loudly. “So, he slit my daughter’s throat and then he puts on the gloves, rolls up his sleeves, and proceeds to disinfect the crime scene?”

  “Why not?” Dax said. “If this guy is someone that lives or works on the ranch, he would obviously not want his prints found in that room. Not only would that make him a suspect in the murder but a suspect in his own family.”

  “The MC?” the chief asked...or more like, reiterated what Dax himself had said.

  “Yes.”

  The chief sighed, either out of frustration or disgust, Dax wasn’t sure which. “Let’s move on to Buzz’s murder, shall we? Who was the last person to see Buzz alive?”

  “We have no idea,” Dax said. “After he left Wheelie he could have gone anywhere. Maybe he went to a bar or a club or something.”

  “Maybe, but like you said, we have no idea. What we do know is that the last time he was seen by witnesses, alive, he was with Mr. Anderson. We also know that the last time Pamela was seen alive while witnesses were present, you were there too, right?” Wheelie nodded at the chief, who was looking at him now. He was beginning to look a little nervous, and Dax didn’t blame him. Anything they had on Wheelie was speculation and, as Angel would say, “circumstantial,” but they didn’t have anything else,
so they wanted to keep focusing on him. “Where were you last night when Diane Blaine was murdered, Mr. Anderson?”

  “On the ranch.”

  “Doing?”

  “Just visiting. I was going stir-crazy in my apartment. I went to see if there was any work I could do. I ended up helping our new mechanic, Bubba, work on the engine of a classic car.”

  “This Bubba can vouch you were there the entire time?”

  “No, but Toolie was there too. He can.”

  The chief frowned. “But ‘Bubba’ can’t? Why is that?”

  Wheelie looked at Dax and Dax nodded slightly. “He wasn’t there the whole time.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When did he leave?”

  “Not long after I got there....”

  “Time, Mr. Anderson?”

  “I’m not sure. I got there around eight-thirty or nine, I guess.”

  “So he left sometime between eight-thirty and nine-thirty?”

  “I guess.”

  “When did he come back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know? You didn’t check the time, or...”

  “I left when Sabrina Kent called to tell me about Diane’s murder. That was around ten-twenty or so. He wasn’t there when I left.”

  The chief checked his notes again with his brows furrowed tightly. When he looked up, it was at Dax. The MC president felt Angel’s hand on his thigh under the table. He’d voiced his concerns to her the night before about Bubba. Dax had been doing his own investigation on the ranch, and Bubba was one of the guys whose time was unaccounted for during all three of the murders. When Dax asked him where he was when Pam was murdered, he’d simply said he was sleeping, alone. When he asked about Buzz, Bubba had first made a smart-ass comment about not knowing what time that was. That pissed Dax off and he made the man account for his entire day. Once again, however, there were no witnesses to where he was, or what he was doing.