The Devil's Due

by Vivian Lux

  It wasn’t the best plan I’d ever come up with, but anything was better than walking home to Darryl’s evil hangover.

  Stepping over the threshold into the bright sunshine, I felt myself suddenly yanked to the side with a savage jerk. I stumbled, crashing into a warm, immovable mass.

  Chapter 2

  The blonde biker gripped my upper arm, hauling me around the side of the bar into the shadows. I barely had time to yell in fear before he had me pinned up against the baking bricks, his furious face inches from my own.

  “Are you stupid, girl, or just plain crazy?” he snarled, his voice low and menacing.

  The rage in his eyes made me shrink from him even as my own anger rose. He was taller standing, much taller than I had realized. His shoulders were broad and his grip on my arms was like iron.

  I wrenched my eyes from his piercing stare and looked more closely at the tattoos that dominated his muscled chest. Centered between his bulging pecs was a screaming skull, set off with tongues of orange and red fire. I stared at it, mesmerized.

  “Did you hear me?” He shook me slightly and I yelped.

  “You don’t understand,” I pleaded, “I have to get out of here.”

  “Riding with the Devils is not the way to go!” His voice was low and insistent. “We’re not a bus service. Do you even know what we do to women who want to ride with us?”

  I swallowed but faced him squarely, hoping that my words would be calmer than I felt. His nearness was doing something strange to me.

  “I can handle it,” I said softly, softer than I had anticipated. His grip on me loosed slightly and he trailed his warm hands down my bare arms. Despite the heat, I shivered.

  Still keeping me pinned to him, he lifted his hand. I cringed in spite of myself, steeling myself for a blow, or a slap of some kind.

  Instead he touched my forehead. Then he softly brushed my hair out of my eyes and smoothed it down. The rage went out of his eyes and was replaced with an unutterable sadness that brought tears to my own eyes.

  “What’s your name?” he asked gently.

  “Lainey,” I whispered, as if under a spell.

  “Lainey,” he repeated. He tilted my chin with his finger, drawing me deeper into his gaze. “Lainey, go home.”

  The tears that had been gathering now threatened to spill. I touched my cheek. “I can’t.”

  His eyes went right to the bruise, and I knew he could see past the concealer. He bent his lips to my cheek, kissing the spot with a tenderness I had never experienced before. His lips were as soft as I had imagined when I first saw him.

  I closed my eyes, shivering under the touch of his lips on my skin. That these feelings could come from someone so terrifying was confusing me. I wasn’t used to gentle men.

  Before I could stop myself, I turned my head to catch those soft lips with my own. I moved as if by instinct, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

  His hot mouth enveloped my own, parting my lips with an insistent thrust of his tongue. He smelled of whiskey, but under that was a sweetness that I could taste. I opened my mouth wider, trying to find the source of that sweetness, desperate for more.

  It was like honey in my mouth, his tongue swirling with mine. I had never been kissed like this before. The clumsy embraces in the back of schoolboy Chevys was nothing in comparison. My head was swirling, my thoughts delirious with the heady taste of him.

  His hands began to move over my body. Without a word, he lifted me up and pressed me into the wall. The rough bricks scratched at the skin of my back, but I didn’t care. All of my thought was focused on the feel of his warm, bare chest against my own.

  He held me there suspended, my back scratching against the bricks, my whole body supported in his strong arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist and flung my arms up on his shoulders, clinging to him like a child climbing a tree.

  With one hand, he sought and then found the zipper of my bustier, pulling the tab to allow my unencumbered breasts to spill free. I moaned softly when he broke his lips away from mine to take one of my soft pink nipples into his mouth.

  With one expert flick of his tongue, he had me moaning again as little darts of pleasure shot through me. I felt a flooding downward pleasure as a sudden rush of desire coursed along every nerve. When he lifted my skirt to explore between my legs, he found that wetness and pulled back in surprise.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I needed him, and I didn’t even know his name. I had never needed anything more than I needed him now.

  He dropped me to the ground, but only for a second. He unzipped quickly, exposing his long, curved cock. I had barely had time to register its immense girth before I was in his arms once more.

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, my breath coming in quick pants, then gasped aloud as he surged upward with a sudden stroke, impaling me with that curved cock in one smooth motion.

  With my whole body supported by his strength, he began to thrust upward, slowly at first, testing me.

  A low moan ripped from between my lips, but he covered my mouth with his hand and shushed me. Bikers were talking not five feet from where we were, in low muttered voices of concern. Quietly, he began to move inside of me, letting me bite and suck at his fingers to suppress my wordless cries.

  When the voices died down, he began to thrust quickly and expertly, locking eyes with me. I lost myself in those azure depths. My whole world came crashing down to a pinpoint, then began to expand again as the slow fire of my pleasure raged out of control.

  The intensity of his groin pressing up against mine; his strong fingers kneading the skin of my buttocks; the rough thrust of his manhood inside of me; it all built steadily toward rapture. Squeezing my eyes shut to escape his predatory eyes, I bucked wildly against him, lost in a frenzy of my own need.

  From afar, the rolling thunder of faraway bike engines became louder. As the swirling eddies of my orgasm roiled within me, I cried out, only to be lost in the steady roar that announced the arrival of the rest of the Devil’s Due.

  The biker pulled out of me. Without a word, I dropped to my knees and looked up at him expectantly. He jerked himself furiously, desperate to find release before we were discovered.

  “Let me!” I mouthed soundlessly over the noise of the engines. Then I slammed my mouth down around that immense cock, inhaling the scent of my desires that clung to the wiry hairs around his base.

  He grasped my head in a frenzy. With two violent jerks of his hips, he grunted a low bass note that sounded all the way to my toes. I choked momentarily as the hot jets spurted into my mouth. They tasted clean, sweet even, and I swallowed eagerly.

  When the last twitch of his cock subsided, he pulled himself free and leaned against the wall, burying his head in his arms. I crouched below him, waiting, smiling. The roar of the engine suddenly cut out and we were left there to catch our breath in the desert silence.

  When he had regained his composure, he tilted his head to peer down at me.

  His eyes unnerved me. The intensity of what I had just felt for him had to be a fluke. I had never been fucked like that before, but still, he was a biker. I knew the part I needed to play. Men like him wanted girls like me to be eager little nymphos. So I swiped my finger across my lips, letting him see me suck and lick the last drops of cum from my face.

  He shook his head. “I can’t figure out if you’re pretending or you really know what you’re doing. But I won’t stop you.”

  He turned his back to me and walked away. Startled, I watched him go. His broad shoulders were tense with anger. I didn’t know what I had done wrong.

  I didn’t even know his name.

  Chapter 3

  I sat back heavily onto the ground. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d had something precious, only to have lost it all over again.

  Pick yourself up, Lainey. Get out of the dirt.

  It wouldn’t do for me to wallow. I knelt up and shimmied my skirt back down over my hips. I lifted my breasts and zipped them c
arefully back into my bustier. I dabbed at my bruised lips, remembering the saccharine flavor of his mouth on mine.

  A shadow fell across the packed earth. I looked quickly over my shoulder. A fat, balding biker, so fat I wondered how he could stay upright, stood there smirking down at me, like he knew exactly what had just happened.

  “Hey girl, get up,” he barked in a voice much higher than I was expecting. “Chapter President is here. He wants to see you.”

  I scrambled to my feet and dusted the dirt off of my thighs. When I nodded, he turned and headed back into the bar, certain that I would be following.

  When my eyes adjusted once more to the dimly lit bar, I was surprised to see that it was completely devoid of men. Only the three women remained, huddled in a booth in a corner, staring daggers at me as I passed.

  The fat biker led me back to a doorway that had been obscured in the shadows. He swung the door inward and motioned me to go through it, giving a little mocking bow as I did so. Then he let the door fall shut behind me without following.

  I stood in the tiny gray storeroom, trying to slow the rapid beat of my heart as I surveyed my surroundings. Dust motes danced frantically in the single shaft of light that pierced the gloom. I heard scraping sounds and the occasional barking laugh. The filthy window looked out onto the back parking lot, but was so obscured with years of grime and cigar smoke that all I could make out was moving shadows that milled outside.

  I was alone, but from the look of the growing throng outside, I wasn’t going to be for long.

  The door swung open again, and the fat biker beckoned with a wide leer. I squared my shoulders and stepped through to find the bar transformed. There were risers set up all around me—so everyone can have a clear view, I realized.

  Sitting draped across one chair was an imposing figure that was surveying the scene like a king on a throne. The air of authority dripped from him; even the most grizzled and tough-looking bikers seemed to defer to him. I followed his gaze to a table that had been set up in the center of the bar and draped with a cloth and swallowed nervously.

  I knew what that was for.

  “They tell me you want to ride with the Devils,” the imposing man boomed out.

  I stepped closer to him and lifted my chest, letting him see what I had to offer.

  “Yes,” I said firmly, battering down the part of me that wanted to run for the door.

  The bikers had started settling into their chairs and every single one of them was looking at me like a dog looks at a particularly juicy piece of steak. I’d thought I knew my way around men, but I was starting to think I was in way over my head.

  “Yes, she says,” the president declared, turning to his comrades so that they could laugh along with him. “And why is that?”

  I spoke the truth. “Freedom.”

  A murmur of approval rose up from the crowd and I allowed myself a tiny smile. The president nodded slowly.

  “We usually don’t take girls so young, but Cade here,” he motioned to the corner, “has vouched for your... enthusiasm.”

  The blond biker stepped from the shadows to accompanying hoots and catcalls. His furious eyes locked onto mine and my stomach dropped to my toes. I didn’t want him here. Not after what we had shared and how vulnerable I had allowed myself to be. How dare he look at me like that—like he knew me!

  I forced myself to look away from the heat of his stare and refocused my attention on the president. Cade’s fury had robbed me of the power of speech, so I nodded silently and waited.

  “Well, girl, you know what they say. You got to give the Devil his due. You want to ride with us, you gotta pay your way.”

  The room fell silent. I could hear rapid, excited breathing, murmurs of appraisal, the sound of legs shifting and chair creaking as the bikers collectively grew hard at the thought of my soon-to-be-naked body.

  The president leaned back in his chair, covering his mouth with his hand to confer with the tattooed man to his right. The man nodded and the president cupped his hands to shout:

  “Wyatt!”

  I turned to see the man that stood up. He tall and deeply tanned, with the ropey, rangey muscles that come from a life of hard work. I thought his hair was closely cropped to his head, but when he stepped into the light, I could see that what I’d thought was hair was actually a black tattoo that snaked up the back of his scalp and curled around his ears to his face.

  “Wyatt, you lucky dog,” the president called. “It’s your turn!”

  Wyatt’s tongue darted out of his mouth like a snake.

  “Don’t worry, girlie,” he snarled. “I ain’t gonna hurt you.” He stepped forward and lifted me easily on to the table, as if I weighed no more than a feather, then moved his face close to my own. “I’m jes’ gonna make you scream.”

  Chapter 4

  A roar of approval went up from the bikers as he stepped back and undid the heavy silver buckle of his belt.

  “Git down here,” he ordered, and I slipped down from the table to land heavily before him, bruising my knees on the hard concrete floor.

  I knelt there, blinking, as he unzipped his fly and let his massive cock spill free. I know what to do now, I reminded myself. How many blowjobs had I given to enthusiastic recipients over the year? I licked my lips and opened my mouth, preparing to take him in.

  He grabbed my head with his massive hands and thrust forward. I windmilled my arms to keep my balance as he shoved that thick, choking cock deep into my throat. Gasping and reeling, I grabbed hold of his thighs, pushing futilely against him, but he was as unmovable as a mountain. All I could do was let him fuck my face, his hot member hardening quickly as it slid in and out of my lips.

  I swirled my tongue around him, flicking it along the tip and he backed off slightly, allowing me to regain some control for only a moment. But then with a snarl, he threw me back onto the table.

  He yanked my skirt up above my waist and bent his head to my already bruised pussy. I gasped to see that tattooed head between my legs, the grinning skull laughing up at me as Wyatt slowly licked the whole of me, from the base of my ass up my bruised and throbbing slit, all the way up to my suddenly awakened clit.

  I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t ready to be so turned on. But his tongue was darting in and out of me, drawing a gasp from me each time his head bobbed between my legs. I could feel my body responding to him and I tentatively placed my hands on his bald head. The skin felt smooth and cool under my hands. I hesitantly guided him to concentrate on my buzzing, needful clit, and he paused for a moment to grin wetly up at me.

  “You can scream if you want to, girlie.”

  His voice rumbled through me and my body responded as if commanded. It wasn’t the slow-burning fire that it was with Cade. This sensation ripped through me like a tornado.

  I screamed out loud as the orgasm shot through me, arching my back and grinding myself against that evil grinning skull. I screamed again, grasping for the tablecloth, desperate for something to hold on to. I felt like I was falling and flying all at once, and the sensation was terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

  When I screamed a third time, I heard the president laugh. “Somebody get in there and quiet her down!” he ordered.

  My open mouth was suddenly filled. Another biker had jumped in and leapt catlike onto the table to kneel in front of me. He had unzipped his fly and his wide, thick cock was suddenly thrust into my throat. I choked back my screams of pleasure to gag on this new challenge.

  Wyatt’s head was still between my legs, showing me no mercy. I arched my back and bicycled my legs, trying to get away from the intensity of the sensation, but he held me firm, pinning my thighs to the table. I felt a finger slide inside of me, rough and calloused against my softness. It was thick and long, larger than some of the cocks I had been with before, and I gasped in pain he shoved it inside of me.

  “Oh, that ain’t nothin’ yet, girlie.” Wyatt lifted his head and stood up from my legs. “Jax, get your co
ck outta her mouth, I need to fuck this little pussy.”

  I gasped for breath, choking and sputtering at the sudden rush of air once the cock was taken from my throat, but I wasn’t allowed respite for long.

  Wyatt lifted his shirt and dropped his pants. A hooting cry went up from the onlookers surrounding us and he climbed up on the table, his cock rock hard and wickedly curved. He lay on his back languidly, crossing his arms behind his head and looking up at me. “Whatcha standing there for, girlie? Get on there.”

  It looked so big. I had no idea how it would fit inside of me without splitting me in half. But my body was responding without any input from my brain.

  I slid up in between his legs and closed my lips around the wide tip. The bikers called out encouragement as I slurped my tongue around the head, wetting it with my saliva. Wyatt’s evil grin faded and he closed his eyes, grunting faintly.

  I brought my head up and spit, then worked my hand up and down the shaft, making sure it was wet all over.

  “She ain’t playin’ around,” I heard one of the bikers yell lustily, and I smiled. Then I knelt up above Wyatt, running my hands up my smooth torso and cupping my small round breasts.

  “You ready?” I whispered.

  Wyatt had had enough of my teasing. He gripped my hips and pulled me down.

  “Fuck!” I shouted as he impaled me with that wicked cock.

  “Jax, shut her up,” Wyatt gritted, and Jax leapt back onto the table, standing above me. He tangled his hands in my hair and pulled my mouth back onto his fat, waiting cock.

  I bounced slowly up and down on Wyatt, easing myself past the point of pain. It burned to be stretched so wide, but I found to my surprise that I liked the sting of it. I started to ride him in earnest, sliding up and down that slippery shaft as I bobbed my head up and down Jax’s cock. He tasted of sweat and smelled like leather.