Overdosed: Fury's Storm MC

by Zoey Parker

  We had been together for a year, and it still felt just as hot when we kissed as it did the first time. There was more to it than just that. There was love, and history. On that night, there was a lot of hope for the future, too.

  “Are you sure it’s okay to do this?” I asked, even while I pulled the sweater over her head and took her tits in my hands. She sighed, closing her eyes while I played with them. I pulled the cups down just enough to flick my thumbs over her nipples, making them stand up before my tongue found them.

  “Yes. I’m sure. And I need you.”

  I growled, pulling her to me for another kiss. She bit my lip, and I hissed through my teeth. All she did was make me harder. I pressed myself against her, grinding my growing erection against her hip. She moaned into my mouth, then slid her hand between us to rub it against my bulge. That wasn’t good enough, so she unzipped me and slid her hand inside. I gasped when she made contact with my aching cock, already hard and desperate to be inside her. She stroked slowly, teasing me. Building me up.

  “Keep that up and I’ll come before I’m inside,” I muttered, eyes closed.

  She giggled. “You’re a young man. I think you can handle it twice in one night.”

  She was right, but I pulled her hand away anyway. I wanted it to be with her, inside her. It was never the same any other way.

  We fell onto the bed. I ran my hands over her body—it would change soon. I could tell she was thinking the same thing as she unhooked her bra, and she sighed deeply when I buried my face between her tits.

  “They’ll get bigger,” she whispered.

  My cock jumped—they were already so full and firm. I couldn’t wait, and I licked my way over them before I moved further down her body. The flat stomach, but not for much longer. The hips, the thighs. I worked her pants down, caressing her soft curves. The lean, smooth legs. I parted them, licking further and further up the inside of one thigh until I was at her center.

  I didn’t waste any time, pulling the panties to the side and tasting her. She groaned, holding my head in place. I watched her move on the bed, hips rocking, head rolling from side to side. Her back arched when I sucked her tight little button, and it didn’t take much longer before she came with a shuddering gasp. I knew just how to get her off fast, or to take my time with it. One of the nice things about being together for so long.

  “Roll over,” I grunted. I didn’t care how it sounded. I needed her then and there. I wasn’t in the mood for a leisurely fuck. I wanted to be inside her, to make her whole body scream before she came all over me.

  “Mmm…I think we’ll make good use of this position in the coming months.” She winked at me, and I twitched when I thought about taking her from behind. It was my favorite position, and hers, too.

  She got ready like she always did, on all fours. Her pussy waited for me, glistening, and my cock throbbed when I got closer to her. I guided the head up and down her cleft. She moaned, moving her hips around, wanting me to touch more of her. “Greedy,” I muttered, and she laughed. Then I slid inside and the laugh turned into a moan. We both moaned, trying to keep it quiet for the kid’s sake but not able to be totally quiet. It was impossible.

  I slid back, then forward. Again. Again. The way she moaned, rolling her head in a circle, arching her back, was worth taking my time for. I watched and listened, thrusting slowly. Loving the way she loved it when I took her. She was totally in the moment, totally aware of her body and what she liked—and sex was never boring because of that.

  I couldn’t stay at that slow, sensual pace for long. My body took over. It wanted more, fast, hard. I sped up, going deeper. Hitting her at just the right angle. I reached for her tits, playing with them as I fucked her. She moaned even louder, the combination of pleasure taking her higher. I loved the way she got into it when we had sex. She forgot the “nice girl” she was to everybody else and turned into a wild animal, wanting to get off. She didn’t have a problem telling me what she liked and how she liked it, and when she covered my hand with hers and squeezed, I knew she wanted me to be a little rougher. I pinched her nipple, and she let out a high-pitched squeal.

  I held her hips, holding on as I pumped faster. Harder. Deeper. I needed to take her and remind myself she was mine. She was all mine, body and soul. Forever. I felt like a king, the way I always did when I was inside her. Like I could do anything.

  She grunted, whispering how much she loved it. I slapped her ass, hard, with the flat of my hand. She gasped, going stiff for a second with her back arched. Then she groaned, and I knew she loved it the way she always did. We had learned a lot about each other in a year, and she wasn’t the girl I first met. She found out she liked being spanked, having her hair pulled, having her wrists tied to the bed.

  She pushed back against me, more excited. I spanked again and again, and she shook each time my hand made contact. “Yeah…I love it…” she gasped. I pulled her hair back and she shuddered, pushing even harder. Riding me like I rode her.

  She went faster, and I matched her. Her grunts were louder, higher pitched, and I knew she was getting ready to come. I was ready, too, holding on for her. Just another few seconds. Everything in me screamed, wanting to be let go. My cock throbbed with each thrust as she got tighter…tighter.

  Finally, she shrieked, her body tensing. “Yes! Lance! Oh, yes!” She shuddered, gasping.

  Her muscles clenched around me, bearing down on me, and I lost it. I exploded inside her, groaning, my body going rigid while I came. I couldn’t think of anything for the first few seconds, just like always. It was enough to feel.

  When it was over, I immediately thought of her. Was she okay? I left her, and she fell on her side with a sigh.

  “Holy cow,” she whispered.

  “Are you sure that was all right?” I stretched out next to her, looking at her closely. Wondering if there was any way to tell if I had hurt the baby.

  She stroked my hair. “Relax. I already asked the doctor about it. He said we’ll be fine. As long as we don’t get too crazy, like weird Kama Sutra stuff. And even then, it should be okay.”

  “Good.” What a relief. I rolled onto my back, still trying to catch my breath. “Wow. If I had known how good it would be while you were pregnant, I would’ve knocked you up sooner.”

  “Hush.” She smacked my shoulder. “Your pillow talk hasn’t improved in the last year, you know.”

  “Come on. That wasn’t romantic? I was complimenting your performance.” She shot me a warning look, and I stopped.

  “What do you think—wedding before or after the baby comes?”

  “I don’t need anything big. We can do it before, so the baby’s parents are married and all that. I don’t feel like trying to nurse a baby and stand at the altar all at the same time.”

  “You’re sure? You don’t want the big wedding with the dress and the flowers and all that?”

  “Eh, we’ll work something out. You know the girls will go crazy.”

  “Erica’s dying for you to call her.”

  “I bet. She doesn’t know about the baby yet. She might have a stroke.”

  I chuckled. Life was too perfect. I had a family, my club, friends. How did everything change so fast in just a year?

  No. Quicker than that. The minute Gigi showed up at my door. I guessed I had Rae to thank for that. I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since the day she signed the custody papers, but I thought of her sometimes. She was still her daughter’s mother, and Gigi had all her good qualities.

  Jamie snuggled against me, and we talked about the wedding and the baby and getting a room ready for him or her. We even talked about moving to a bigger house. The sky was the limit.

  I held her in my arms long into the night, sure I would never want anything else for the rest of my life. I had it all.

  THE END

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  Chapter 1

  Kat

  “How was that, Miss Edwards?”

 
“What?” I shook myself. Great, I zoned out on another lesson. Ivy, one of my violin students, was looking at me expectantly. She was so eager to please.

  “How was it? I practiced really hard this week.” Sweet little Ivy was looking at me with big, round eyes. I knew how hard her parents pushed her, even requiring weekly progress reports from me. She was so earnest, only wanting to make me and everyone around her happy.

  “You did great. I can tell how hard you’ve been working.” I patted her on the back, watching as she packed up her violin. She reminded me so much of Sabrina at that age. Working hard, wanting to make me proud of her. We both gave up on our parents at an early age, knowing there was no pleasing them. One was gone, and the other was too tired to care.

  “Do me a favor this week,” I whispered conspiratorially to Ivy after writing up another glowing progress report. “Take a little bit of time to go outside and play.”

  “Play my violin outside?”

  “No,” I said with a smile. “Play outside. Have fun. Playing music is supposed to make us happy. It’s a beautiful part of life, but it isn’t all of life. Do you understand what I mean?”

  She nodded, but of course she didn’t get it. She was nine years old. She only wanted to make me happy by agreeing. I hoped she had a little fun sometimes.

  I waved to her mom, who waited in her car outside my house during every lesson. Why did I care so much about Ivy? I cared about all of my students, but Ivy especially. Maybe it was the way she reminded me of my sister.

  Sabrina. I’d been thinking about her during Ivy’s playing, just like I’d been thinking about her for weeks. Every day, she sat in the back of my mind, pulling at my thoughts. It had been five weeks, three days and two hours since the last time I spoke with her. She’d disappeared off the face of the Earth sometime after that. It had to be later that day, since we made it a point to speak every day and she didn’t call me the next afternoon. When she didn’t call, right on time as always, I knew something was wrong.

  I closed my eyes, still standing in the front doorway. I pictured her in front of me. Blonde hair, like mine, but with a natural wave that I’d always envied. Eyes a shade bluer than mine. A little shorter, more petite. She looked like a little china doll, with her porcelain skin. Always smiling, always happy.

  Not so much recently, I reminded myself. In the last six months, Sabrina had been caught up in things I didn’t understand. Why a beautiful, sweet girl like my sister would want to be hooked up with some of the people she’d been running around with I couldn’t understand.

  With every passing day, I’d become more desperate. The police didn’t seem to care very much, not after the first week or two. I knew they assumed she was dead, her body in a ditch or a lake somewhere. Once they found out who she’d been dating, or sleeping with or whatever they’d been doing, the police chalked my sister’s disappearance up to just another piece of club activity. They were satisfied leaving it at that and moving on with their lives, shaking their heads in sadness at the loss of another bright young person at the hands of that wretched club.

  I was not.

  If anyone was going to find my sister, it would have to be me.

  I had visited the sheriff at least ten times before he sat me down and leveled with me. “You know, Miss Edwards, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but I think you need to hear it. The more time that passes in a case like this, the less likely it is that we find the victim alive and well.

  I couldn’t believe he could be so cruel. I shook my head resolutely. “No. If my sister were dead, I would know. Don’t you get it? I would feel it.”

  He’d looked sympathetic, but his tone was not. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard those very words come from the mouths of distraught mothers, fathers, spouses. I would know if my loved one was gone. I hate to break it to you, miss, but there’s no such thing as a sixth sense. You know how every one of those cases ended up? I don’t think I need to tell you that every one of those victims was long since deceased.”

  I’d put my hands over my ears, refusing to believe it. How could he be so cruel? He didn’t know me, or Sabrina. He had no idea what we’d been through together.

  “I’m not telling you this to hurt you, Miss Edwards. Believe me. I only want to help you get accustomed to the idea. It may come time for you to move on with your life. You’re a young woman. I’ve seen too many grow old before their time because they refused to move on. The sooner you get used to an idea like this, the better for you.”

  I hadn’t cared what he’d said then, and I still didn’t care. Forget him, and the entire jaded police force in my crappy little town. I’d always believed I lived in a nice place, full of good people. Now I’d started to see the underbelly, and I couldn’t go back to being as naïve as I was before. There were nice people, but they were willing to look the other way as long as what was happening didn’t directly affect them.

  I left the doorway of my house, finally, going to the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea. I’d barely been holding it together, just going through the motions of daily life. I had to see my students if I wanted to make any money. It wouldn’t do any good for me to lose my house on top of everything else. It had long since been paid off, one of the few things my parents actually managed to get right in their short, pathetic lives, but the taxes were brutal. If Sabrina was sick somewhere, needing help, she’d have to have a home to come back to. I’d already cleared out her little apartment, her landlord threatening to throw her things out onto the street if I didn’t come to get them. So much for compassion.

  Her things were now boxed up in her childhood room. I’d locked the door after bringing them home, telling myself the time to unlock the room would be when Sabrina came back to me. That room was heavy, always calling to me. Reminding me it was still locked up, as it had been for weeks since Sabrina missed her rent payment not long after disappearing. It taunted me, an ever-present reminder of my sister’s absence.

  I sat alone in my quiet little kitchen. How many meals had we prepared here, together? I’d taught my sister to cook in this room. I’d washed her skinned knees and kissed them after putting Band-Aids over her boo-boos. We’d shared cup after cup of tea, talking about boys long into the night.

  Then she’d moved away. I knew the time would come though I’d always dreaded it. Her sweetness was still firmly intact, but there was a headstrong streak in her that made me worry for her safety. I had that same streak of course, so I knew how tough life would be for her if she didn’t learn to listen to reason. I wanted to spare her the same mistakes I’d made, the pain that resulted from them. She was determined to live her life on her terms.

  Never was this truer than when I’d gotten word that Sabrina had been in the company of one of the members of the Crooked Souls Motorcycle Club when a few passersby saw her. That was the last confirmed sighting the police had. She had vanished sometime after that.

  I’d refused to believe it when she first told me she’d been hanging out with the club. Not my sister. She was too smart to be caught up in that mess. The club had been in our town for as long as I could remember. Always hanging around the fringes, like a family secret nobody wanted to bring into the open. There had been rumors about them for years, and whenever something bad happened—a disappearance, an accident, a burglary—the club was immediately suspected.

  “How could you associate yourself with them?” I’d asked. We’d been right here, in this very kitchen.

  “I’m not with them. I’m with him,” she’d insisted.

  “Don’t play word games. You know what I mean. He’s part of them, for life. A man doesn’t devote his life to a club like that on a whim. It’s a full commitment. He can’t walk away.”

  “He’ll leave if I want him to. I know he cares about me.” Sabrina’s blue eyes had been full of hope. I’d been too scared to pity her, though. I always knew her lack of a father figure would be trouble someday. The little she’d known of our father had been of a reckles
s, selfish man whose love never came for free. My baby sister would spend the rest of her life trying to earn the love of a man like him.

  “Sweetie.” I’d been almost desperate by then, struggling to make her see my point. “There are so many good, honest, hardworking men out there. Why not find one of them instead? Or take a break from men for a while. You’re only eighteen, you have your whole life ahead of you.”

  “You’re right, I’m eighteen. And I can do what I want.” She’d pushed her chair back from the table, storming toward the front door without another word. I’d called out to her, going so far as to follow her out to her car. She’d driven away without a backward glance.

  Still, she had called me the next day. Just as always. I knew better than to address the subject so directly after that. We had still exchanged tense words over her involvement with the club, but I always backed down. I was afraid she’d do something to really show me who was the boss, like marrying that loser. And then where would we be?