BROKEN ANGEL: Devil's Route MC

by Nicole Fox

  He picked me up my legs, shoved them onto the bed so I was still on my face and my knees were propped on the mattress. He shoved my face forward, burying it in the covers as he grabbed my long blonde hair from behind. He pounded me hard and fast from behind, my ass and thighs shaking with each thrust. I pushed back into him, wishing there was somehow a way to get more of him into me, to somehow fill me even fuller.

  His hands grabbed my thighs again, his thumbs on my ass cheeks, spreading them lewdly. He began to rub me on my pink little hole. I knew what he was going to do next. It was almost instinctual. Normally, I didn't like that kind of thing, but with Kort, I'd suddenly never wanted anything more. He pushed a finger into my ass as he drove into me harder from me behind, and it was like I'd been riding a lightning rod dildo and a bolt of electricity had struck my insides.

  I clenched up around his cock as I screamed in ecstasy, my whole body contorting and shaking against my handcuffs. I grabbed at the air, trying to feel him with my hands and his finger slid inside me. I pushed back like a whore for him, trying to get more than just the barest amount.

  “You ready for the real thing, Lydia?” he growled as he pulled his cock from me.

  Was I? After all my years, I'd never done anything like that, not with any man or by myself. Although, I'd always been a little curious. And now, with my pussy figuratively on fire and Kort behind me, threatening to mount me, I wanted to be stuffed by him more than anything. Oddly, it was like there was nothing else that would ever bring us this close. This was my first time, and I wanted it to be with him.

  I nodded fervently into the cushion. “Be gentle, please,” I said, my voice coming out as unexpectedly urgent whine. “I've never . . .”

  “You've never, huh?” he said as he pushed his massive cock against my asshole. “Never what?”

  I didn't reply at first as he moved his hands to stroke my slit and toy with it. I just closed my eyes and moaned, knowing how exposed and at his mercy I was with my ass and pussy in the air like this for him. He scooped up some of my juices with his fingers, spread them on my puckered hole. “You have to say it, Lydia. You have to say it for me, or I won't do it.”

  I made a whining noise, secretly loving the humiliation he was making me feel. “Fucked in the ass.”

  “Beg me for it, then,” he ordered as he put the head of his cock against my back entrance and began to draw my hips onto him.

  It hurt at first. It felt like I was a virgin all over, and I was being torn apart for the first time. But it was such a good, intense feeling like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I cried out a little, panting into the covers. “Please, Kort, please fuck me there. Please.”

  He swatted my ass hard as he pushed deeper into me. “Good girl,” he growled as he released my hair and grabbed hold of the link between the cuffs, his fingers grabbing the chain tightly. “Now stay steady. This may hurt a little.”

  I gasped as he pushed deeper into me, stretching me around him. He'd been huge everywhere else, but here he felt awesomely gigantic. I cried out as he pushed deep into me, my whole body shaking from the intensity of it. I felt myself shake around his cock, and I began to cum before he could even start to fuck me. He slid out of me, then back in, then out. Over and over.

  Time seemed to stand still, the motions of the clock replaced only by the motions of the bed, the ticks and tocks nothing more than alternating waves of pleasure as my whole body seemed to explode because of him. He picked up his pace, swearing loudly as he started to pound into me harder, truly using me. I felt his balls slapping against my exposed pussy, each time like a light smack that sent my pleasure higher. I pushed back against him as his balls tightened.

  “I'm going to cum,” he groaned.

  “Please,” I cried out, shaking around his tool, as I came again and felt its warmth trickle down the inside of my thighs, “cum in me Kort.”

  He roared as he began to fill me, his cock seeming to grow inside, pulsing with each surge he sent a tingle deep inside me. We trembled and shook on the bed like it was vibrating, our calls weaving together like some lusty, sexy symphony that echoed throughout the whole motel. Then, as I felt him slowly wilting inside me, and his hands dropped from my body, I let out a long, low sigh of relief. I didn't know how much more I could cum after that.

  A moment later, the upstairs and next door neighbors pounded on the ceiling and walls, with additional screams for us to shut the fuck up. Laughing from their objections, he quickly had the keys for my cuffs out, and he undid both sides of the bonds. I rolled over to my side, and he flopped down onto the bed with me, pulling my sweat slick body against his, his hands roaming all over my breasts, stomach, and ass. I rolled over and draped an arm over his damp, tattoo-decorated chest and kissed him squarely on the lips.

  “Seemed to enjoy it,” he said with a grin.

  “So did you,” I replied as I scraped my nails down his chest and ran one fingertip around his nipple. I kissed him again, sucking his tongue into my mouth for just a moment. “God, that was amazing.”

  He grabbed a big handful of my ass and pulled me even closer as I dropped my head to his chest.

  “Round two?” I asked as I settled into his strong, dominating, masterful embrace.

  “Gonna have to give me a second,” he groaned. “Besides, the night's still young.”

  “It sure is,” I agreed, my hand dipping down between his legs and grabbing his cock. “And tomorrow's going to be a long one.”

  Even as he began to stiffen in my hand, I knew I was right. Because, even though I realized I was beginning to feel something beyond just my intense physical attraction to this man, I knew I was going to have to betray him if I wanted Pops dead. It wasn't going to work any other way.

  I kissed Kort's chest again and snuggled up to him, sighing, just trying to enjoy this brief moment of happiness. It was going to be sad to have to let this one go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Kort

  With our destination so close, and both of us set on our goal of dethroning Joey Banks, we set out early the next morning. It seemed the air was electric with possibilities as I gassed up the car and we lit out of town, headed for the Warehouse, pushing ninety the whole way. I hadn't wanted to speed like this before with Lydia in the car, since I hadn't been sure of what she'd do with the cops if I was pulled over. At least I knew she was on my side.

  By late morning, the expanses of the plains had become dotted by trees. By early afternoon, the stands of trees had become forest of pines and evergreens that swept out as far as I could see. The air seemed heavier here, more humid the closer we came to the gulf. Soon, the pine trees were replaced by oaks and elms, Spanish moss hanging low from their limbs. We were in Louisiana, and you could almost hear the Jazz if you strained your ears enough, or smell the jambalaya and boudin cooking if you sniffed the wind.

  I pulled over to gas up the car for the last stretch of the drive. The Warehouse was in the middle of nowhere, and I didn't know how long it would be till I saw another station. I left Lydia in the car, unshackled, and went inside to pay. Soon as I was finished, I gave Xander a call to let him know I had Lydia Banks and I was going in. Of course, I didn't tell him about anything else I had planned.

  “Ready?” I asked Lydia as I climbed back in the car.

  Her lips formed a firm, thin line, pressed together so hard they were almost white. “I think so,” she replied.

  I grabbed her hand, squeezed. “We'll get through this,” I told her. “Together. Okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah,” she said, seemingly forcing a smile as she squeezed back. “Together.”

  By evening, we were within spitting distance of Joey's little fiefdom, his own private expanse of land where he lived like a depraved king, a place where the only law was his private whim. Here, where the woods bordered the bayou, and people lived on the edge of poverty, no one cared as long as you had money, and the cops could be easily paid to look the other way.

  We turned off the
main highway and took to the backroads, following the directions Xander had given me some weeks back. We threaded through the trees, over back creeks, and through a small, deserted town Joey Banks had bought and cleared out.

  The road leading up to the Warehouse was unmarked, and we took the turn in silence. Then the trees broke, and we saw Lydia's father's kingdom for the first time.

  “Jesus H. Christ on crutch,” she whispered in awe.

  “You said it, babe.”

  The Warehouse rose fifty feet in the air from the soil like a monstrous concrete monolith, its gray surface stained with water runoff. Each side was at least as long as a football field, maybe longer. No windows were cut into the sides, so it looked like some massive mausoleum plopped down on the edge of the Louisiana bayou.

  The Warehouse was Joey's point of import from all places anywhere. South America, the Caribbean, Central America, Mexico. Even Europe and Africa, some whispered. A private air strip crossed one edge of the land, and small planes came in and out all the time with their smuggled goods. One side of the compound even had docks, a place where smugglers could bring their drugs and guns up off the coast, then secret them away in the Warehouse and get them ready for distribution to the rest of the country. Finally, along the backside of the building, there were tractor-trailers lined up for bringing in and taking out goods, distributing overland to all forty-eight continental states.

  On the land side a perimeter fence stretched nearly twenty feet high, with razor wire strung across the top, split the Warehouse off from the world outside. A guardhouse stood next to the one entrance in, and it was always manned, day or night. People in our organization figured some of them were ex-military, private contractors just looking for an easy buck. Others were men who had been with Joey from the beginning.

  Banks shipped other items in and out, of course. He had to have something to make everything look nice and legal. But, shipping normal dry goods wasn't where he made his money. Far from it. And, over it all, swarmed armed men like ants crawling over a carcass. Men walked the security fence, worked the security gate, and there were even snipers on top of the building. How much money was this costing the old man each day? Private security like this didn't come cheap. Neither did the men who were needed to watch the security cameras that dotted the building, cameras I could see even from this distance. There must have been dozens and dozens, covering the whole landscape from every angle possible.

  “Never seen it before?” I asked as we slowly approached the gatehouse.

  She shook her head. “Think my mom would have wanted me raised in this kind of place? Hell no, I've never seen it! Just heard Pops talking to the guys about improvements and all that kind of stuff. I hadn't imagined it'd be this big!”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Makes the Branch Davidians down in Waco look like amateurs.”

  I pulled the Camaro up in front of the gatehouse, with its cross bar down across the road and spike strips laid out. A man with a big fiery red beard and arms as big as mine came out from the gatehouse and approached us with an assault rifle slung at his side. He wore camo fatigues, the kind you'd see in the military. He came around to my window as I began to roll it down, his hand on the rifle's grip.

  “What can we do ya for?” he grated in a thick accent as he came to a stop about four feet away from the window, far enough away that I couldn't surprise him by slamming the car door open.

  “Got someone your boss would probably like to see,” I said as Lydia shifted around to be able to see past me.

  “Oh yeah? Who might that be?” he asked, slightly amused as he hunched down and looked in through my window. His eyes widened in shock. “Holy shit!” He grabbed a walkie talkie off his belt and hit the button. “Got a car coming up. You aint't gonna believe who's in it, either. Lydia fucking Banks.”

  I glanced back at Lydia and gave her a wink. She didn't return it, though. Her face had gone almost ashen with bad nerves.

  “The prodigal daughter?” crackled the voice back. “Xander came through, then, just like he said he would.”

  “The one and only, Mr. Maxwell,” Red Beard said.

  Mr. Maxwell? I shook my head a little, trying to remember who was who from what Xander had told me before I got sent to retrieve Lydia. The man on the radio, if I remembered correctly, was Tyson Maxwell, Joey Banks' second-in-command, his right hand man.

  “Send 'em on up, then,” Tyson replied over the radio, his voice full of static. “I'll let Mr. Banks know she's returned.”

  “Well,” Red Beard said as he put the radio back on his belt, “y'all heard the man. Let's get y'all on up there.”

  “Right,” I said, nodding as he went over and pulled away the spike strips from the road, then went into the guard house and hit a button that raised the crossbar from the roadway.

  I pulled through the gatehouse area and drove up the road to the main structure. There was a large parking lot area, not much more than an expanse of packed and reinforced earth, off to the side and I pulled the Camaro around and found a spot.

  “Ready for this?” I asked Lydia again.

  She swallowed, clearly nervous. “Yeah,” she rasped, nodding. “Let's go.”

  We climbed out of the car and headed up to the warehouse. I wanted to put my arm around her, to reassure her that everything was going to be fine, but I didn't know who was watching. I didn't want to give anyone the impression that we'd been sleeping together. Somehow, it just seemed that might give them more leverage.

  “What's your plan when we get in there?” Lydia asked as we got closer to the front entrance.

  “Plan?” I asked with a shrug. “No plan, yet. No one knows anything about the way the Warehouse works, so I don't have one.”

  Lydia stopped in her tracks and just looked at me. I stopped and turned to her.

  She leaned in closer, her eyebrows narrows. “You mean you fucking dragged me half-way across the country, and you don't have a fucking plan yet?”

  “Well,” I said, grabbing her shoulders, “you're the starting point of the plan. It's just going to take some time. That's all.”

  She shook her head. “Fine, Kort, fine.” She brushed my hand from her shoulders, wiggled away from my grasp, then started back up the path. “Whatever.”

  I thought she knew that I hadn't had a concrete plan once I got in – we were both playing this thing by ear. She was the biggest stumbling block to getting to her father. She knew that. “Lydia,” I growled as I came up behind her. I went to grab her shoulder, but as I did, the metal double doors of the warehouse clanged open.

  A solidly built man in his late forties, early fifties, came out. He had a jaw line beard and dark, slicked back hair with hints of gray at the temples. His clothing was plain, run of the mill jeans and a t-shirt. A gun holster with a 9mm in it was tucked at his side.

  “Lydia!” the man boomed boisterously as he came down the little path towards us.

  “Uncle Tyson,” Lydia replied, her face surprised as he swept her into his arms and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Lydia, baby girl,” Tyson said as he hugged her tight. “Damn it's been a long time! I'm so glad Xander could find you and send you along home.”

  “Yeah,” Lydia said, patting his shoulders, clearly a little uncomfortable at the hug. She pulled back. “This here's Kort.”

  Tyson looked her up and down again, a gleam in his eyes that I didn't quite trust, or like, before turning to me. “Kort?” Tyson said. “You Xander's man he called about just now?”

  I cocked my head to the side. “Yeah. I'm the one who went and found Lydia for him.”

  “Oh?” Xander said, looking back and forth between me and Lydia. “Xander said you picked her up from him a little while ago, that he had business and couldn't drop her himself.”

  I clenched my fists. The motherfucker was trying to take credit from me, trying to get me in on a lower rung, probably so he could look better for Joey Banks, have something to hold over his head during future negotiations. Lydia
caught my eye and shook her head, tried to get me to drop it.

  I shook my head. “That's not how-”

  “No worries, though, son,” he cut me off with a wave of his hand. “We'll take care of you, I guess, like Xander asked us to.” He turned back to Lydia and put his hand on her lower back in a possessive gesture, began to guide her up to the doors he'd just appeared from. “Now, come on up, baby girl, your pops has been waiting for you forever! He can't wait to see you!”

  I grumbled silently to myself as I followed them inside the building. The twenty by twenty room inside was stylized like normal offices, with a Louisiana twist. Just in front of the door was an empty reception desk with a small potted plant on the desktop. A big, stuffed gator head sprouted from the wall over the heavy reinforced double doors on the opposite side of the room. One glance at those doors told you that it was the portal to the true Warehouse.