Unfuckinglikely. He lessened his grip on her.
“Besides,” she went on with a dull sniffle, “Ellen and Kiera stayed right by my side while Snake was there. If that was really Thomas I saw, he probably would’ve seen me–”
“Thomas? Your step fuckhead?” he snarled, unable to believe the pendulum of emotions between them. In thirty fucking minutes, there’d been a come so explosive he’d thought the top of his head would burst open when he blew his load; there’d been peace between them, happiness, jealousy, hurt, and anger. Now, there was nothing but bloodlust. “What the fuck fuckin’ wrong with you? You just decided to clue me ‘bout that motherfucker…Fuck me.” He sat up and gripped strands of his hair in pure frustration, then he shot out of bed and pulled on his jeans.
“Where are you going?”
Fuck him, the sound of her voice could bring him back from the dead. He drew in a deep breath. He had to take away the hurt so clear in her eyes. Oh fuck, yeah, he was going to teach that bitch, Ellen, a lesson. Bar her from the fucking club for three fucking months. He’d warned her not to fuck with Megan. Not to make her cry. Not only had she made her cry, but what he wanted to be a lighthearted moment between them was ruined because that bitch opened her fucking mouth and put ideas in Megan’s head. “First, I was shittin’ you ‘bout money. Whatever the fuck you want, you got. You wanna go fuckin’ shoppin’ the day after Thanksgivin’, we ride that mornin’ to go shoppin’.”
She was sitting up, listening closely, clutching the sheet to her chest and blocking her tits from his view.
“Second, Ima give Ellen a pass this fuckin’ time.” Not. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on that fucking bitch. “Third, Kiera and Ellen…” Jesus, but he never had to explain his actions to anybody, especially a girl. “Look, yeah, I fucked both of them. For the past few months. I just chose them bitches at random. You know? Like the Quick Picks for the lottery. They been hangin’ round the club for years. I bought Kiera and Ellen some boots. Fucked up when I bought you the same pair. But that was a mistake. I wasn’t even thinkin’. I ain’t never once sent them bitches shoppin’. If Ellen spent my fuckin’ money before earlier today, then I can go outside and a rocket’ll shoot from my ass to send me fuckin’ flyin’.” His shoulders drooped, suddenly so fucking tired. Anything good in his life had always went to shit. His…feelings…for Megan had to go because they didn’t make any fucking sense. He’d put a stop to that, but, first, he’d make something clear. “Finally, I ain’t ‘bout to tell you what I’m intendin’ for your ma’s husband. It ain’t gonna be pretty.”
“Don’t say that. His death would be on your conscience.”
Sad resignation filled him and he gave her a half-smile. “My conscience left me a long fuckin’ time ago. Sorta like my soul. If I ever had either.” Calmer, he walked back to the bed and sat next to her to brush a handful of hair behind the delicate shell of her ear. “For you, though, riddin’ the world of Thomas Nicholls would be worth another mark on my soul.”
She hugged him. “Get him, but bring him to jail. For me.”
To lie or not to lie. Fuck it. “Sure, Megan. Ima spare his life.”
Her smile almost blinded him. She breathed in a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She crawled onto his lap and kissed his nose, his eyes, his cheeks. “Make love to me.”
Make love to me. Words to put fear in his heart and stop his entire world. Love didn’t, DID NOT, fucking exist in his life. He’d never had it, never given it. Actually, feared it. Despite how tangled Megan had him, he didn’t want to give her false hope. Didn’t want to leave himself vulnerable to any emotion.
Fuck. He couldn’t even fuck another bitch because of Megan. No, this shit wouldn’t fly. Though sweet, she was a prissy cupcake princess and he walked on the dark side of the moon.
He hardened himself against everything Megan. “When we get to my ma’s house, Ima stay a day or two with you. Make sure safety precautions are in place.”
Her face crumpled and her eyes widened. Not that he gave a fuck. “So you’re taking me to your mother’s so I can be safe?”
He shrugged. “A little of both. Safety and the holidays.”
“Will you return for Christmas?” she asked, barely audible.
He. Did. Not. Give. A. Fuck. He really, really didn’t. Too much bullshit stood in their way—their age difference, their backgrounds, the annoying fact he’d killed her father. He stared straight ahead, unable to stay firm under her scrutiny. “Ain’t decided yet.”
“Will you send Kiera and Ellen away, too?”
Jesus. The returning despair in her voice made him want to reassure her, but he’d use her words against her. She’d set herself up for the response he thought best. “No,” he said, liking her jealousy but hating her sadness. “We need some kinda entertainment while we here.”
She drew in a sharp breath, hurt tightening her features. “I hate you,” she whispered in a wobbly voice.
His gut twisted. Somehow, he forced himself to continue. “You clued in ‘bout the deal, princess. Just cuz we fuck don’t mean I ain’t fuckin’ other women.”
Tears rushed to her eyes, spilling onto her cheeks. Christopher clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking, feeling lower than dirt. She laid on the pillow and turned her back to him. Her shoulders shook, so he guessed she was crying.
“You let me pop your cherry and that shit a big deal with girls.” And him, too. He’d never fucked a virgin before. Or no one like Megan. She was a dream come true and quickly growing to be his biggest weakness, as the past hour had proved. He scowled. “It mean you attached to me or somethin’. In your head, any-fuckin-way. Not in mine, though. A fuck a fuck.”
She scooted closer to that fucking wall Christopher was considering sending a wrecking ball through, but he didn’t want to think anymore. He didn’t want her to think. Or cry. Or dislike him.
Knowing he added insult to injury by drawing closer, he took his jeans off and pulled her body flush against his. His erection pressed into her back and she wriggled and jerked, trying to get away but he wouldn’t have any of it.
“You know you want me to fill up your hot lil’ pussy.” Nuzzling her hair and not giving her a chance to answer, he caressed her pussy with two fingers. She was slick with her cream and his cum, growing wetter with his steady rhythm. He grunted in satisfaction when she groaned, the scent of her desire drugging him with need.
She rolled onto her back and parted her legs for him. He kissed her deep, his tongue pressing against hers. His fingers circled, dipped, tested and spread her juices around her clit.
“You play with your pussy, Megan?” He inserted a finger into her, still knuckling her clit. She lifted her hips and ground against his hand. “Answer me.” He bit the lobe of her ear then sucked at the reddened skin. He increased the pressure on her pussy, coaxing more wetness from her. “You rub your pussy? Make yourself come?”
“Yes,” she admitted, arching her back, her breathing shallow and quick.
He inserted another finger, stretching her, opening her for his cock. He bent his fingers inside her, found the spot he wanted, and massaged her gently, her wail of release satisfying him. Keeping one finger against her clit, he rolled onto her and thrust into her in a deep stroke. She screamed, her entire body shaking, her pussy convulsing around his cock.
Involuntarily, her muscles clenched his dick. She didn’t yet know how to purposely use her body to give him pleasure. Sex was too new to her. Her movements sought rather than gave. She’d learn. Christopher would teach her. This was only her fifth time having a dick in her pussy. Still, she was sensitive to his touch, striving for release.
He pulled out of her and rose to his knees, his nostrils flaring. He lifted her hips and thrust into her, exploring her flat belly, his mouth watering at the beaded tips of her breasts. He held her hips in place to halt her wild movements, showing her without words the pace he wanted, the control he demanded. He drove into her, held her gaze, their eyes locked upon each other
with invisible bonds.
A sheen of sweat coated her flushed skin. He released her, stretched out over her, and covered her mouth, wanting to absorb those little noises escaping her throat. She kissed him back, kept him locked in the cradle of her thighs.
She squeezed her muscles and he groaned in a pleasure he’d never known before. Megan looked startled, a fact Christopher noted because she seemed to test her body’s control, clenching and releasing, studying his reactions. He curled his lip, slamming into her. Even if he wanted to hide how much she affected him, what her body did to his couldn’t be tucked away. She followed his movements, angling up when he bore down. Hard and deep, he pounded into her.
“Come for me, Megan,” he demanded. His balls were tingling. He wasn’t going to last much longer. “C’mon, baby.”
She whimpered and shifted, drawing his cum out.
“Fuck, your pussy good,” he snarled, holding her rigid, her belly heaving against his, her nails digging into his back. He poured into her and his entire body shook.
His ears ringing, he collapsed on top of her, breathing hard, surprised the top of his head was still attached to his skull. As he regained awareness, he felt the stroke of Megan’s fingers through his damp hair. The caress of her hand along the bridge of his spine. The softness of her lips against his jawline.
Just as his pulse began to slow, it sped up all over again. His heart seemed to burst open and fill up with Megan.
She squeaked beneath him and Christopher lifted himself on his elbows. Her awe and adoration was hard to miss and he swallowed, not fucking wanting this. Emotional entanglements hurt. They weakened. He still carried the scars of his grandparents’ meanness; the agony of Boss’s betrayal; the helplessness at his mother’s sadness. He gave a fuck about those things and he hurt because of them.
“Christopher?” Megan whispered, her voice hoarse and cracking after he’d fucked scream after scream out of her.
Fuck. Those eyes that seemed to see him so clearly probed into his soul now. On edge, he didn’t want talking. He slid down her body, lowering his mouth to her pussy.
Megan snapped her legs together, trapping his head between her thighs, the viselike grip nearly decapitating him. Or, at the fucking least, smothering him.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m ‘bout to eat your pussy,” he muttered, pulling her legs apart and sniffing the musky aroma of her arousal combined with his cum.
“You can’t possibly want to do that now.”
She sounded horrified and embarrassed. He tipped his head back to look at her face. Her look matched her tone, and he chuckled. Keeping his gaze on her, he ran his nose along her slit.
“What are you doing?” she squealed in outrage.
“What the fuck you think? Smellin’ your pussy.”
She wriggled her body up, but he wrapped his arms around her thighs and pulled her down.
She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God. Kill me now.”
He laughed at her theatrics.
She raised up on her elbows. “I need a shower,” she said with a prissy little sniff.
He licked the top of her mound and she shivered. “Don’t wanna smell soap, Megan. I wanna smell your just fucked cunt filled with my cum.”
“My God! Why?” she wailed, giving up her losing battle and plopping down on the mattress.
“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said gruffly, taking pity on her. “I promise you, you ain’t gonna give a fuck what condition your pussy in once I start lickin’ you.”
“Doubtful,” she mumbled. She stayed focused on the ceiling. “Just get it over with.”
Unable to stop his smile, Christopher pushed her legs open further and watched his cum drip out of her. He gathered the moisture up and worked it back inside her with his finger.
“Please, stop staring at that part of me.”
“What part of you?”
“There!”
He laughed harder. “Where the fuck there, Megan?”
“My vagina,” she snapped.
He laid his head against her hip and guffawed. “I guess my dick a penis to you, huh?” He didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard. “Ima give you lessons on the proper terms for our anatomy another day. Quick refresher. You got tits and a pussy or a cunt. I got a cock or a dick. Under-fuckin-stand? I ain’t fuckin’ vaginas. That shit borin’. Hot vagina. No. That shit sounds ridiculous. Hot pussy. Hot pussy much better.”
She giggled and nodded, her tension easing.
“Now, Ima lick your hot pussy ‘til you come for me.”
She squirmed but whispered, “okay.”
He spread her lips and swirled his tongue around her clit, sliding across her sensitive flesh. He licked the inside of her pussy lips, lapped at her juices. For all her fucking complaining, she pushed his head into her pussy and rested her feet on his shoulders, spreading herself for him like a porn star at a pussy contest. She rocked against his mouth, gripped his hair, and screamed his name before falling apart against his tongue. Her orgasm pushed more of his cum out of her pussy but Christopher had the remedy for that.
Before she came back to herself, he rose above her and buried himself inside her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, the kiss wet and open-mouthed, a complete possession on his part and a total surrender on hers.
Christopher rode her hard and fast, swallowing her whimpers. She came around him, their mouths still fused together, her body open and vulnerable to his driving hips.
“I’m comin’, Megan,” he growled. “Take it, baby. Take all of it.”
“Yes, Christopher,” she whispered, her breath fanning his skin, the sound of her voice pushing him to another powerful release.
He collapsed next to her, panting. Not speaking, Megan curled against him. Once he got his breathing under control, he drew her into his arms and realized she’d already fallen asleep.
Christopher kissed the top of her head and smiled, truly contented for the first time in his life.
CLOSE TO TEN THE NEXT morning, Meggie awakened to find Christopher’s spot empty. He’d awakened her before the sun rose to make love to her again. Spooned against him, he’d widened her legs and then pushed into her. Though she’d been half-asleep, he’d coaxed an orgasm out of her right before she’d felt the warmth of his seed spurting deep inside her.
“Go back to sleep, Megan,” he whispered, kissing a spot behind her ear and withdrawing from her.
She’d groaned and swore she heard his bark of laughter as she drifted off.
Now, the sun shone through the window, sparkling on the sheets tangled about her body. Sex and musk and leather hung in the air, and her nipples responded to the smells. She wished Christopher was there with her to take her again, but he wasn’t and she didn’t know his whereabouts. Maybe, he’d gone to Kiera and Ellen. Or one of the other girls she’d seen hanging around. She didn’t know their names and they looked at her as if they’d gladly kill her, although Christopher never let her far out of his sight whenever they mingled with the others.
The thought of him with another woman sent panic through her and a wave of jealousy so intense she thought sure she wouldn’t survive. This was Christopher’s life, though, and he’d made it clear he wouldn’t change. He’d made it clear they had nothing more than sex between them. He might’ve been taking her to his mother’s house but, then, he was coming back to Kiera and Ellen.
Meggie splayed her fingers on her belly. What was she thinking? Suppose she really did end up pregnant? Then what? She didn’t have a job, hadn’t even graduated from high school yet. She blinked at the ceiling, at loose ends. In Seattle, she had school and she had Farah and Lacey. She had homework. She knew her place, knew the fine line she walked between life and death when she was at home.
But here? What was she supposed to do? She wanted to help Christopher because she knew, without being told, he had a lot of responsibilities and a lot of people who presented themselves as friends but Meggie suspected we
re really enemies. And this wasn’t a frenemies type of thing. No, this was life-or-death, end-up-with-a-real-knife-in-the-back type of situation.
Rolling out of bed, she headed for the shower. After she dressed, she’d go to the main room and find someone to hopefully give her something to do with herself, if Christopher wasn’t available.
An hour later, Meggie followed the low hum of voices. She’d checked Christopher’s office, knocked on the door with the ‘Board Room’ placard on it, found the main room empty, and the parking lot cleared of almost all the motorcycles. Stepping back inside, she listened and then heard the voices and the clang of pots. The sounds took her through the small kitchen, where she kept her chocolate milk and supply of Milky Ways, through another door to a huge kitchen where she saw two Probates whose names she didn’t know, another mountain of a man with a silver beard, a bald head, a hoop earring and a patch over his left eye. His road name had to be Pirate, she decided. He looked like one. The only thing he needed was a peg leg and he’d be set.
Food was laid out on the counters and Pirate paused in chopping onions to direct one of the other guys to peel a mound of potatoes by thrusting his chin and pointing the huge knife he held. The kitchen had big appliances, almost like the ones behind the counter in the school cafeteria. There were double ovens and double sinks on each side of the room.
Just as Pirate looked up and saw Meggie, a revolving door swung open and a line of barely-dressed girls walked out. Some of them carried bags filled with more food. Others carried the ingredients for cakes while a couple carried paper plates, plastic utensils, and stacks of Solo cups.
“Megan, right?” he asked her.
She nodded, disconcerted by the presence of the other women in broad daylight. Usually, she only had to contend with Ellen and Kiera during the day, not a dozen or so women who looked like centerfold girls and were more than happy to display their bodies even in the kitchen.
She forced her attention back to the man she’d named Pirate. “And you are?”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 18
