by Layla Wolfe
“Well, we asked Maddy. She said you can purchase salmonella bacteria from certain medical supply companies. It’s not often fatal. More than likely they wanted to prevent Harmon or Rizzoli from doing something—that’s what we’re trying to figure out. It’d be helpful if we had someone on the inside to gather proof. Maddy could tell them what to look for, certain lab equipment. I don’t want to endanger Bellamy by bringing her back there or anything, but now that she’s got a phone, can she contact anyone in there?”
Knoxie nodded. “I think I’ve got someone inside, don’t need to involve Bellamy. In the meantime, our best shot to take down those bioterrorist nozzles is, hate to say it, through the long arm of the DEA. I want to nail them for more than causing some down south slip’n’slide. I know we don’t work with the law, for good reason, but we can squeeze that swami until he pops, and there’s evidence all over the fucking place that he’s importing Sinaloa dope.”
“Yeah,” agreed Lytton, “a much more serious charge than assault by poison. But you never know. They got Capone on tax evasion.”
Knoxie said, “The cultists already have a bad enough image in the P&E community. The only people voting for their councilman candidate next week are going to be inside their walls, so an assault charge isn’t going to sway the election one shred. Let me go try and contact my informant.” Knowing he’d have use for Rafael later, he had pried his burner number out of the reluctant CI before cutting him loose. He and Rafael shared the same interests in taking down the same people. Knoxie stepped aside to make the call privately, but Speed waved an arm holding a socket wrench, so he had to go over.
The good-natured doofis said, “Hey, honsquelo. Heard you’re sending Maddy’s old friend Bellamy to help me.”
“That’s right. I hope you don’t mind, but she seems to be a good wrench when it comes to bikes. I’m sure she won’t be able to help much with the heavy equipment.”
Speed nodded. “That’s cool. They said in church we’re going to be protecting her. You can rely on me. I used to have a stupid crush on her when we were teens, but I’m over that now. Tess is my property, my old lady.”
Knoxie chuckled. As if the drop-dead gorgeous Bellamy would pick a cauliflower-headed goon like Speed. He wanted to punch himself, though, when he caught himself thinking, she’d choose me first. She should choose no one. That’s who she should choose while she got the pieces of her personality put back together. “I’m sure she’ll be safe with you, Speed.”
“I’ll give her her own set of tools if she doesn’t have anything.”
“We might be able to liberate some of her stuff within the next couple of days.”
Just as he spoke, Maddy’s cage drove through the open doors of the hangar. She liked to park her ragtop Camaro inside the hangar to avoid sun damage. Knoxie was stunned into silence when Bellamy unfolded herself from the car. She was one fine, long-legged colt, a bit on the skinny side maybe, having been probably underfed up at that nuthouse. But in Madison’s high-heeled boots, long black leggings, tiny jean skirt, and a bomber jacket, Knoxie would be proud to call her a back warmer any day of the year.
I need to knock this shit off. She’s a project, not a gash. And especially no one’s old lady. Not with the mental damage that had been wrought on her.
Knoxie made a beeline over, to beat Speed at his own game. “Bellamy. We’ve just finished setting up some digs for you. Let me show you.”
Luckily Maddy was distracting Speed. “Speed, June said you have Mom’s photo albums from the seventies. I want to scan some of those photos.”
“What photo album? I’ve got a box full of pictures of people in bell bottoms, puka shells, and moronic floppy hats, is that what you mean?”
“You didn’t need to help,” said Bellamy, as they headed for the inside staircase. “You’ve already done so much for me.”
“Screw it. You’re my responsibility now. Your new room has an awesome view out the valley away from Bihari.” He was instantly sorry he’d mentioned Bihari though, because she said,
“That’s one more favor I need from you. I want my Sporty back. How can we get my Sporty? And my other things, too, if that’s not too impossible.” Her voice became harder when she added, “If Shakti hasn’t had a public bonfire of all my things.”
Knoxie put an arm protectively around her once they reached the main hallway upstairs. Members came in and out of the kitchen and game room, and all without exception gave Bellamy the once-over. Knoxie shot them all daggers from his eyes, steering her directly to her new room. “I’ve thought about that. I’ve got a guy on the inside there. I think we can at least get your ride out of there.”
Bellamy’s mouth was tight as Knoxie opened her door. “Yes. If he took his spite out on my bike, I’m burying him.”
Knoxie had to smile. Already she was sounding like an old lady. He shut the door behind him as she marveled at her room. She put a hand to her chest. “All mine? At Bihari I had to share a bed with two other ashramites. Shakti had the space, all right. I think he just liked the idea of us sleeping together.”
“Who wouldn’t? Here, check out this view.”
Knoxie stood behind her as she looked out the window. Her smile threatened to split her face in two. He eased the bomber jacket from her shoulders, draping it over a chair with respect as though it were a cut. Then he lifted her hair from her neck and fingered the wooden beads of her locket necklace.
“This needs to come off.”
“What? Oh. Yeah. I sort of forgot I had it on. No, why am I lying? Just on the drive over Maddy asked me to take it off before coming in here. She said if I want to work down in the hangar, brothers aren’t going to like me wearing some dude’s picture around my neck.”
Turning her to face him, Knoxie took her chin into his fingers. “Then why is it still on?”
She looked down, to the side. “I…couldn’t bring myself to?”
“You’re asking me? Think. Be more self-aware, Bellamy. Examine your own motives instead of just accepting them. That’s something I had to work on, too, coming out of the Persian Gulf with PTSD. I just impulsively did shit on the spur of the moment without wondering why. I wound up in a lot of hard scrapes, in a lot of tough spots. Once I started slowing down and figuring out why I did things, good stuff started happening.” Now it was his turn to look into the distance. “Sort of. Anyway, let’s do it. Take this off.”
Bellamy closed her eyes when Knoxie first lifted the odious pendant. But as he drew it over her head, she opened them. She looked ahead with dead, steely eyes, as though it pained her to lose her precious locket.
“I know it’s not easy,” Knoxie said. He’d been told he had a syrupy voice, his Texas drawl wrapping around the minds of his listeners, and he used it strategically now. “But if you really want to be rid of this assmunching faker, you’ve got to walk the walk.”
Bellamy recited. “I’ve got to talk the talk.”
“Right. You hear me. If you’re truly determined to lose those dysfunctional leeches, you can’t have this symbol around your neck.” Knoxie lifted the wooden jewelry as quietly as possible, placing it on an ancient two-drawer file cabinet that served as her nightstand. He replaced the weight of the necklace with his hands lightly draped on her shoulders. She seemed to be struggling to bring her eyes up his throat to his face, to look him in the eyes, so he kept talking. “You’re making great progress, Bellamy. Look, already you’re here with real friends, real supporters. I’ll see about getting your Sporty—and your sister—out of there.”
A grin flitted across her lips. “You’ve done so much for me, Knoxie, and you barely know me.”
“I know you well enough by now.”
“Still. Parts of what I’ve learned the past seven years I still hold valuable. It’s not all garbage. One is the teaching of karma and debt. I owe you.” When she finally raised her eyes to Knoxie’s, she slid a palm down the plane of his stomach, grasping his cock that was already halfway plumped.
It surged to life fully in her hand. She was not an expert at cocksmanship, squeezing his prick callously, but Knoxie was so aroused by her delicious sprite-like reality, he was beyond ready to get up on her.
“I want to please you,” she stated. “That’s the only way I have to repay you.”
Knoxie gasped when she pressed her torso to his. His hand automatically went to her waist, squeezing the flesh and bones there. He was embroiled in a massive inner struggle. The last thing he wanted to do was take advantage of a vulnerable, powerless girl who had already been victimized. On the other hand, he would love nothing more than to lift her, spear her on his cock, and pound her up against that beautiful picture window.
His hands encircled her ribcage, lifting her little, round breasts. He breathed, “This isn’t right. You need to heal.”
She smiled like a mechanical doll. “Haven’t you ever heard of sexual healing?”
And she dropped to her knees. Knoxie was a goner.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
BELLAMY
I don’t know what came over me, I really don’t.
It was probably gratitude. An overwhelming feeling of gratitude washed over me when Knoxie said he’d go get my Sporty for me, and possibly even my sister.
I had never toyed with men for any reason other than protocol. Shakti had commanded me to manipulate a man’s genitals on many occasions, and I had. It was just part of the ongoing therapy. Whether the person gaining insight and enlightenment was me or the guy, it didn’t matter. Maybe I was just balancing his chakras. It didn’t matter.
Today I wanted to pleasure this big, strapping man who had become my protector. It was the least I could do. I was starting to like Knoxie Hammett—a lot. I couldn’t remember liking a man this painfully since I was a teenager sleeping up in Coyote Buttes. There was one boy during those years, a Brian Sicily, I was hugely attracted to. It was frustrating as hell that he was the one boy who showed zero interest in me. I put out like a champ in those days. The girls of Coyote Buttes all did. It was the thing to do, to gain the interest of boys, and sadly for us, to get beer and food.
Brian Sicily was the only boy who didn’t attempt to get into my pants. Maybe he wasn’t even a Coyote Buttes sort of boy, because he actually went to college and wound up working in some civil servant job in Cottonwood. But it always made me feel unlovable, unattractive, and undesirable. Brian Sicily had no interest in me, but I’m pretty sure he at least made out with Maddy.
That feeling had really stuck with me. It got worse living at Bihari because I knew none of those men were interested in me as a person, romantically. The sex was all routine, part of a ritual. Now? I wanted more than ever for Knoxie to want me as an individual, because of who I was. I could maybe draw him in by giving him pleasure. It’s a normal human need, pleasure. And Knoxie deserved it, for helping me selflessly, without expecting anything in return.
Plus, he was banging hot.
I had never felt washboard abs like that. Bihari men were flabby, soft, even the men who worked in the fields. They got farmer tans. Shirtless, they looked like they were wearing a white T-shirt, their pasty arms red below the sleeve line. Knoxie’s abs were corrugated like cardboard, hard as granite. His leather belt was worn, the pewter buckle heavy. I was an expert at unbuckling them one handed. With my other hand I massaged his long, thick penis. I could tell he wore boxer briefs by the freedom of movement the cock had under his tight 501 jeans. I squeezed the hell out of that fat prick, and my pussy actually clenched with need. I didn’t know it could do that, but I rolled with it.
His beautiful topaz eyes drooped at the corners. His nostrils flared and his breath rapidly feathered my cheekbone. “This isn’t right,” he said in that erotic announcer’s voice. “You need to heal.”
Couldn’t this be part of the healing process? “You ever heard of sexual healing?” I taunted him, then kneeled as I took his cock out. He didn’t exactly protest as I lifted the heavy, hot limb into my little palm. I halfway expected him to have a cock piercing, what with his lower lip pin and eyebrow hoop. But the veined, pulsing cock was piercing-free, and I used the glistening droplet of precum at the slit to slide my thumb around the glans, admiring it. I could see how he’d become a well-known porn star. I could admire something like this from a detached, appreciative angle.
As I sank the big cock down my throat, I was immediately stabbed by jealousy. What a weird emotion to feel when sucking cock. I was speared with envy to imagine another woman doing exactly what I was doing, even an actress from the “cum factory” who was being paid for such a delicious treat.
He was Brazilian waxed, probably to appeal to moviegoers. I couldn’t even gulp his cock down to the base, it was that long. I was overwhelmed by his intense masculinity. His virility made me feel more feminine, more submissive in a traditional, empowering way. I snaked my tongue around the width of the prick with every plunge of my mouth. I used my thumb to massage my saliva down the thickness of it, rubbing that sensitive spot underneath.
This sort of “zipless sex” was efficient, satisfying, and useful, I had been taught. Why did I now feel it wasn’t enough? I wanted more. More, more! I was filled with vindication when Knoxie groaned so deeply it resonated through his penis, vibrating my lips.
And yanked himself away from me.
“Oh, God!” he groaned, striding to the window, panting.
“What the fuck?” I cried. I wobbled over to him again on my knees—some kind of slut begging for a piece of it. Knoxie was gripping his erect dick with his fist, but making no attempt to put it away. Hooking my finger beneath one of his belt loops, I jerked him to face me again. “I wasn’t done, Knoxie.”
“Yeah, well, you would’ve been in another ten second—aagh!” Knoxie snarled as though I were hurting him. Which, looking back on it, maybe I was. I was so inexperienced. There wasn’t much oral sex up at Bihari. I was taking from my teenaged Coyote Buttes experience when I would give knob jobs under a smelly sleeping bag, choking for air.
Now I had a delectable piece of man candy in my mouth, and I wasn’t about to let him get away. I hoovered him with precision if not finesse, backing him up so he rested his ass on the windowsill. Running one hand up the flat plane of his belly, I found the nipple jewel and tweaked it, making him gasp and jump. Unbelievably, his cock plumped even more in my mouth as I sucked and tweaked. The tight shininess of it let me know he was about to explode. My mouth watered even more, wanting to gulp his seed.
“Bellamy,” he gasped weakly, making a feeble effort at pushing me away with his palm against my forehead. “You can’t be doing this. I’m supposed to…protect you…you need to—agh!”
Sweet, hot jism flooded my mouth. I was rewarded for my efforts with a few healthy splashes of semen, which I swallowed gratefully. Squirming my tongue up and down the underside of the pulsing dick, I lapped every drop. Knoxie had frozen stiff when the orgasm hit him, fine tremors running up the backs of his thighs. Every time I’d pinch his nipple he’d gasp and jump. His dick didn’t even begin to flag when he succeeded in pushing my forehead away from him.
I sat back on my legs with satisfaction, gulping one last mouthful of delicious seed. I admired the pulsating penis jutting from his 501s. With one hand lying flat on his belly like a thin piece of tissue and his head thrown back as he panted, he was the picture of masculine potency. I panted too from the exertion of my exuberant hummer. For once, I lived in the moment. I was blissful to just be kneeling there admiring this living Roman statue of a man, his tattoos seeming to breathe on his stomach and arms.
When Knoxie caught his breath, he glared at me. “You shouldn’t have done that!”
I nodded at his erection, purplish and angry. “Your cock says otherwise.”
As though he’d forgotten it still pulsated there, Knoxie grabbed it and shoved it back into his jeans. “That was wrong, Bellamy. You can’t keep acting like you’re up in Jonestown still, like you need to service me. That’s not how things rock down here.�
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“It isn’t?” Walking down the hangar hallway just now, I’d seen a “sweetbutt” blowing a biker brother—the guy who sang backup in a Philly Soul group, Gollywow. I had the feeling that old ladies tried to turn a blind eye to these activities. “Isn’t that what all these girls are here for?”
“Of course not,” said Knoxie, then looked confused. So he buckled his belt and reached out a hand for me to take. “Look. I don’t want you to see me that way. You don’t need to service me. You don’t need to pay me back. You’re paying us back by repairing our rides. Fact, why don’t you get down into the hangar and let Speed show you the ropes?”
I grabbed handfuls of his thin T-shirt. “But it’s not an effort for me, Knoxie. You’re absolutely delicious. Raw, built, you’re like a movie star.”
Knoxie looked modestly at the floor. “Maybe a C-list porn star.”
“God, no.” I plastered my tits to his chest and looked up adoringly at him. “An A-list film star. You’re like one of those brooding western types. You should wear a cowboy hat.”
“I’m getting nowhere going that route. More sensible if I work for the club. Now, look, babe. We can’t be getting into any emotional baggage between us, hear me? I’m your protector, your guard. Although I have to go to Nogales tonight, so Lytton will be your guard until I get back. But there can’t be anything between us, hear?”
Stung, I pulled back and folded my arms. “I wasn’t proposing any huge love affair, Knoxie. I was simply saying…nothing wrong with a little zipless sex now and then, right?”
Knoxie was curious. “Zipless?”
“Right. It doesn’t have to involve any huge emotional investment between us. Not at all. Is there an emotional investment between your brothers and the sweetbutts? Exactly. Why can’t I just be your personal sweetbutt? I won’t do it with anyone else, so you don’t have to worry about VD.”
Knoxie chuckled. “Yeah. You’ll get crotch crickets from some of those guys.” He was more relaxed now, not as concerned about the renegade blowjob. “My sweetbutt? We’ll see about that. I’m damaged goods, Bellamy. You think you were run down and totaled by those twatwaffles? Shit. You’re looking at a guy who turned forty with nothing to show for himself.”
