Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books
Page 14
All outward signs of the rampage were gone. The bullet holes had been filled in and the furniture replaced. In Meggie’s opinion, the new desk in Christopher’s bedroom looked much better than the old one.
She stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, bored out of her head, afraid to remain too sedentary, fearing her thoughts would overwhelm her. He’d said to stay put, but there were other things to do in his room than read or figure out crosswords. He had a bathroom. She could shower. She lifted her head, gazed around. His room wasn’t filthy but it could be tidied up. She could do that, then shower. If he still hadn’t returned, she’d find him and demand he rest.
CHRISTOPHER LEANED AGAINST THE COUNTER, studying the wall of monitors, ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder and thigh. No motherfucking way Snake could’ve gotten on the grounds without being let in. The monitors were in perfect working order. He had grade-fucking-A visuals of the hallways, the perimeter outside, the board room, and his main supply room. Sinner had been on monitor duty that day. If he’d let Snake in, he’d paid for it with a bullet to the head.
But Sinner had always had his back, even when Boss was alive. On the other hand, Sinner had been Snake’s friend, too. But he was dead, so he no longer presented a problem. Rack was the VP now and Christopher knew he was grieving and also displeased he hadn’t been chosen as the new president, but he’d sworn he’d do whatever needed doing for the good of the club. Val patched in the same time as Christopher. What Christopher did, Val followed. He’d wanted Boss gone the moment they realized what he was up to. And Val fucking hated Snake. What did he have to gain by betraying him? Tex, the treasurer, and Guardian, the secretary, Mortician, enforcer, and Digger…fuck, who cared?
Out of his officers—Sinner, Mortician, Digger, Val, Rack, Tex, and Guardian—only Mortician, Digger, Rack and Val were still alive. Val had been off premises, making a run on behalf of the club. And Rack? Fucking Rack…
Shit. The entire infrastructure of his club was fucked up the ass, already in disarray before the shooting. Now…fuck. He needed to go into the rank and file, elect new officers, straighten this shit out. He needed to find the weak link. What the fuck was he missing?
All roads pointed to Rack, but those roads were too straight, too cleanly routed. Rack would have to be a stupid motherfucker to leave so much evidence if he was guilty. That left his boy, Val.
Christopher stiffened with tension. A chair scraped across the floor and he glanced in the direction. “You! Probate,” he called, not bothering to figure out the fuck’s name until he became a full-fledged member.
The dude jogged the short distance between the tables and the bar. “Prez?”
“Keep a eye on these screens. If a motherfucker ain’t a member, turn him the fuck away. If I find somebody ain’t supposed to be here…” He let the threat hang in the air and turned away.
“Um, Outlaw?”
He hadn’t gotten two fucking feet before the dude called him back. “What?”
“That girl? Should she be here?”
Christopher didn’t need to look at the screen to know what girl he was speaking off. Only one girl never, ever fucking listened to him. The blonde one with the gorgeous face and perfect little body. The bitch who was walking into the room, her hair damp, wearing the old fucking clothes good for only a garbage pile.
“Whatcha doin’ out here?” he asked at the same time she demanded, “Where have you been all day?”
“Around,” he snapped. “Which ain’tcha fuckin’ business.” He jerked her behind him and pulled her down the hall. “I told you to fuckin’ stay in my goddamn room and I meant it.” He reached the room and pushed her into it.
Squeaking, she stumbled back, flailing her arms to keep her balance. She righted herself at the last minute and opened her mouth. He held up a hand to shut her up.
“Don’t push your fuckin’ luck, Megan. You lucky you here with me instead of on the fuckin’ streets. If you ain’t listenin’ to me, Ima put you the fuck out and let you fend for yourself.”
Accusation turned to hurt. Her chin wobbled and her eyes filled with tears. With a frustrated curse, Christopher slammed the door shut and stalked to his office, his cock sending signals to his brain. His emotions toward her were going in a completely different direction. He wanted to fuck her as much as he wanted to kill her.
After three in the morning, Christopher staggered back, nicely medicated with rum and beer. Both lamps and the bathroom light brightened his room. He stared sourly at the lump in his bed. He couldn’t see much of anything besides her blonde hair. He drank from the bottle of rum he was determined to finish, cursing her and the lights as he walked around turning each one off before undressing and climbing into bed.
She tensed. She was awake, was she? Let her fucking sulk. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. She inched closer to the wall, the movement so minute he wanted to howl in laughter. Did she really believe a fucking wall would protect her if he wanted some ass from her?
Christopher turned toward her, simultaneously scooting closer and pulling her into his arms. She wore something big. Something belonging to him from the feel of it. He pressed his erection into her back and buried his nose in the soft golden cloud of her hair.
His hand travelled along the indentation of her small waist to the flare of her slim hip. A tremble passed through her. He nuzzled the tender skin on her neck and she drew in a sharp breath.
He guided her onto her back and met her mouth with his own. At first, she lay in his arms as straight and as unresponsive as a two-by-four. He coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue into her mouth, groaning at the sweetness of her. He plundered her mouth, took what she offered and also what he wanted, his tongue dancing with hers, sliding his body onto hers.
She pulled her mouth away, breathing like she’d run in a marathon. “Wh-what are you doing?”
Christopher leaned back and shoved his T-shirt over her waist. “Fuckin’ you. Whatcha wanted all along. My dick in you.”
She gasped and tried to wiggle away. “Not that way. You’re being crude.”
He thrust his face into hers and glared at her. “That’s me, babe. Rude and crude. What the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout any-fuckin-way, Megan? Far as I know ain’t no other way to fuck you without my dick involved. Only thing missin’ is your mouth, ass, or pussy.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you a goddamn fuckin’ nuisance. I need to find somethin’ to do with you. Fuckin’ as good as anythin’.”
“No, please,” she started.
“You in my fuckin’ bed.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you!”
“Ain’t said shit ‘bout havin’ sex with you. I said I’m gonna fuck you. Say it. Say Outlaw gonna fuck me.”
Her lips tightened. “No.”
Her primness amused the shit out of him and he barked a laugh. Why was she there? Why was he allowing her to stay there? Was his caring for her atonement for killing her bastard father? Maybe. But that wasn’t the full reason. She wasn’t no viable asset to him, yet he allowed her to stay. He knew why. His attraction to her was unreasonable and dangerous, partly because she was Boss’s daughter and partly because he couldn’t afford—and didn’t want—emotional ties to a woman. He couldn’t deny the pull to Megan Foy went beyond sexual, though. That didn’t mean he didn’t want her to give him her cherry.
Loosening his hold on her, he sighed. Deeply. And turned over, reaching for his bottle to take another swig. He decided to fuck with her. Since his conscience was interfering with the business of his dick, he needed some entertainment. He took another swallow and sidled a glance at her.
“Lemme get this fuckin’ straight. If my ass said I wanted to have sex with you…” He paused to chuckle because the words ‘have sex’ coming from his lips sounded fucking funny. He cleared his throat. “If I said I wanna have sex with you, you woulda give me some pussy?”
Her eyes shot daggers at hi
m, but her cheeks turned cherry red. He took another swig then set the bottle aside. He pulled her against him and settled a hand on her breast, pinching her nipple and beading it. She pushed at his hand.
He nuzzled her neck and sucked on the tender skin there. “That’s it, huh? Okay, baby. Let’s have sex.”
“Make love,” she corrected in a small voice.
He stopped and raised his head. Unreasonable anger tore into him. This was the twenty-first fucking century. Bitches, even young bitches, couldn’t be stupid enough to believe in all that romance bullshit? Even Cinda-fucking-rella, here. She couldn’t be that innocent not to recognize a man like him didn’t “make love”.
“You wanna make love?” he sneered.
Not innocent. Fucking moronic because she nodded and added, “with you.”
Her fingers slipped through his hair and her touch jolted through him. He hissed in air, another entity he couldn’t name entering the battle between his dick and his conscience. She licked her lips and he groaned, bending his head to slant his mouth over hers. He delved into her hot recesses and brushed his fingers through her pussy curls. Her legs parted, allowing him to thumb her clit, tease her slick slit.
He nipped her earlobe. “I ain’t makin’ love to you or no bitch, Megan,” he breathed, inserting a finger into her tight pussy but going only so far. “You want me? Then we fuckin’. Ima eat your pussy ‘til you come. Get you nice and wet.” He tore open her shirt and licked her nipple. “Then Ima bury my dick in you. No condom. No nothin’. Ain’t never had no virgin before. Ain’t gonna ruin it with no cum catcher.” She let out a sob but rolled her hips against his thumb and finger. He kissed her belly and continued to manipulate her. “When I come, Ima fill your pussy up.” Jesus. God. The thought had him rock hard and his balls were aching. He nosed her pussy, slid his tongue along her seam. “I put my kid in you–” He lapped her, digging his fingers into her hips. God, she was fucking delicious, sweet and musky. Her juices, a fountain of desire, was warm and wet, a temptation greater than Christopher had ever known. Her breath hitched and he tongued her faster. She grinded against his mouth, pulling at his hair, her legs trembling, her body jerking against him as she came hard.
He dragged himself up her body and kissed her again, driving his tongue into her mouth. Wrapping her in his arms, he rolled them until he lay on his back and she rested on top of him, her hair a golden curtain around them.
“You like the taste of your pussy on my mouth?” he asked when he pulled his mouth away from hers. She didn’t answer and he drew her lips to his again, giving her another deep kiss. “Do you?” he growled.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He palmed his cock. “Suck my dick,” he ordered, pushing at her shoulders. “Ain’t gonna take long. He already cocked and loaded.”
Confusion dented her glazed passion. Instead of explaining, he urged her down. When her mouth wrapped around his dick head, Christopher moaned. “Suck,” he breathed.
She started a soft sucking motion and he twisted his hands in her hair. He pumped his hips, his muscles tightening. Cum exploded from him and into her mouth. He held her head in place, his entire body jerking with the force of his orgasm.
Wetness slid down his cock and pooled on his balls and pubic hair. Breathing hard, he lifted his head to see what the fuck was going on.
“Swallow, Megan,” he growled, pulling his dick out of her mouth and frowning at the cum sliding down her chin.
She licked a bead of cum from her lips and Christopher’s cock jumped. Her eyes were wide and bright, her features resembling someone who’d lost a best friend.
He wasn’t going to regret this. He wasn’t. She was just another bitch who he’d licked and then had her suck him off.
Tears slipped out of her eyes, silvery tracks in the moonlit room. Christopher knuckled them away. Fuck. What the fuck was he doing? Her step fuckhead had molested her and he, Christopher, was damn near raping her. But he wanted her so fucking bad and, now, he’d had a taste of her sweetness. Only, her inexperienced mouth wasn’t the part of her he wanted.
He shot out of bed and yanked his jeans on. Club problems, hours of drinking, sexual frustration combined with his dilemma over Megan. If he said anything more, it would come out all wrong. He didn’t even know what the fuck he should say. Instead, he leveled a glare at her, grabbed his bottle, and sauntered out of the room.
MEGGIE HADN’T SEEN CHRISTOPHER IN three days. Not since they’d made out in his bed and she’d waged a war between his words and his actions. Her body—his skill—had won out. Then he’d left without a word.
She told herself she was happy, that she didn’t need to see him or want to see him for that matter. For the most part, she remained in the bedroom. She’d figured out how to work his stereo system even though the empty iPod dock made her long for the iPad she’d left behind. She tried to focus on the novels Christopher had bought for her, but every time she heard footsteps she remembered hiding beneath the bed while the place had been shot up. On the heels of waiting for gunfire to explode around her, she always expected Christopher to burst into the room. Or try to, since she’d locked the door the morning after he was released from the hospital and left in such a snit.
Her small luxury was having a bathroom at her disposal. Being able to take showers and wash her hair. She couldn’t stand wearing the same dirty clothes she’d had on since forever, so she rummaged through Christopher’s drawers and found T-shirts to wear to bed and during the day, along with drawstring pants that she had to roll up a gazillion times. She used twine she found at the bottom of his closet to tie around the waist. As for bra and panties…she went without.
Yesterday, she’d gone out into the main room for dinner. At first, she’d gotten a few stares, but they left her alone. Feeling isolated, she’d gone to Christopher’s office. Maybe, there, she could find peace, feel closer to her father—and Christopher. She decided to do the same thing today. Once she finished eating, though, she’d snoop a little and see what Christopher kept in the desk drawers. He had to have a record somewhere of her father’s final resting place. She should’ve looked yesterday. But she’d worried someone would find her. That was still a possibility this evening, she knew, one she was willing to risk because she’d sat in Christopher’s office for over an hour yesterday, just to feel close to him and her father.
Fixing a cheese sandwich and grabbing a soda, she mumbled greetings on her way toward the office. She noticed the light on and couldn’t stop her goofy grin. Christopher had returned. He was the only one allowed to go into that office. She swore she’d confess that she’d gone in his office, knowing she wasn’t supposed to.
Balancing her plate on top of the can, she pushed open the door. The food and drink slipped out of her hands and her greeting died on her lips, her stomach sinking to her toes. Christopher leaned over Kiera, bent over the desk, both of them naked. They looked up and Meggie stepped back, mute, frozen, her heart twisting in her chest.
Her gaze dropped to Christopher’s erect penis. A condom covered him but he was still huge, long and thick, and not nearly satisfied. He stared at her, his expression hard. Meggie’s stomach turned and tears rushed to her eyes.
“Would you get out so he can finish doing me?” Kiera snapped, tweaking her nipples. She twisted around and kissed Christopher, the meeting of their tongues very visible.
Christopher chuckled and pulled away from her. “Wait a minute,” he murmured. Unashamed in his nudity, he sauntered toward Meggie, sidestepping her lost supper. Grabbing her by the arms, he backed her out of the room and slammed the door in her face.
Meggie swiped at her tears then ran to Christopher’s room. The time had come for her to leave and forget about the conversation she’d had with Digger.
CHRISTOPHER BOUGHT TIME WITH KIERA by cleaning up the mess Megan had made. What the fuck had she been doing in his office any-fucking-way? Just half an hour ago, he’d been ready to fuck Kiera into oblivion. Now? Not so much.
Kiera’s eyes widened and her mouth tightened. “Are you shitting me?” she asked.
“No.” He grabbed his jeans and put them on. He’d lost most of his erection, but he still took care with the zipper.
She planted a kiss in the bridge of his shoulder. A tall girl, the top of her head reached his nose. She slipped her hands in his pants, gripping his cock. “Come on,” she breathed, nipping his nipple.
He pulled her hands out of his pants and shoved her away. “Get fuckin’ dressed, Kiera.”
“You have something going on with…with–” She jerked her head in the direction of his door, the place where Meggie had stood frozen, hurt. Not that he gave a fuck. He just needed to smooth this over with her so she wouldn’t be any trouble in the club. He’d hate to have to put her out.
“I’m givin’ you two bitches a fuckin’ choice,” he snarled. “You can be Megan’s friend and look out for her or I’m barrin’ you cunts from ever settin’ foot in here again.”
Christopher saw the wheels in Kiera’s head turning. She stared at him through her lashes, scheming. He wasn’t having it.
“If you accept my offer and you backstab me, I’m gonna bury you two.”
She blinked at his harsh tone. He ignored it.
“Meetin’s goin’ on here tomorrow. Megan gotta leave for a while.” He’d called Zoann but she’d help only if Christopher agreed to turn in his patch. He’d offered to drop Megan off and walk out of her life if Zoann allowed Megan to move in with her. Christopher had promised to pay Zoann’s mortgage as long as Meggie lived with her. He thought Zoann would be a good influence on her. He’d forgotten what a grudge-holding bitch she was. He’d hung up and decided to enlist Kiera and Ellen.