Savage: Iron Dragons MC

by Olivia Stephens

  When I come back towards the kitchen, I spot the candlelit table with the white linen cloth. The entire area next to the pool sparkles and glimmers. And sitting down at one of the chairs is Tank, a relaxed smile washed over his steely face. He stands when he sees me and pulls out a chair. Before I can begin to ask him the million questions on my mind, he does the answering for me. “My mother, before she passed, used to make me take her out on dates. My old man was never around, so she thought it was important to teach me how to be a gentleman—which includes cooking a lady dinner and setting a table.”

  I place a napkin in my lap and instantly dive into the tomato and basil soup. We spend the rest of the meal chatting about his mother and his life pre-motorcycle club days. He joined the club at sixteen, just a kid, right after she died of a heart attack. He’s nostalgic as he talks about the men who brought him under his wing and taught him how to ride. And when the last Apache president died in a crash, he was surprised the men elected him.

  It’s a softer side of Tank that I would never know was there. He doesn’t talk as if the club is full of violent thugs or heartless criminals. These men are his boys, his brothers, his friends. And the experiences they share, good or bad, has somehow shaped him into the person I’m dining with tonight—for good or for bad.

  As I finish my last bite, I softly say, “Your mother taught you well.” I say in seriousness, “I’ve never had a guy cook me dinner or even bring me somewhere as beautiful as this.”

  “I’ve never actually done it for another woman either, so I guess you’re my first.”

  “That’s surprising. I know Abe is always getting women who throw themselves at him. The Apache president doesn’t have the same problem?” I’m probing him, I know. But it doesn’t hurt to know a bit more about the guy seemingly wining and dining me.

  “No, I have that problem, if you want to call it that. But they’re not exactly the girls I want to show a good time to. It’s more of a one-and-done kind of deal.”

  I put down my spoon and look him into the eye “Is that what you plan on doing to me tonight, Tank?”

  He, too, places down his silverware and takes a long drink from a large champagne glass. When he finishes, he catches my glare, his face transforming into something darker and more sinister. “No, Sierra. When we’re done here, I plan on giving you the ride of your life, and this time, we’re both going to cum together.”

  I suddenly feel completely full, as I struggle to finish the soup without my hand shaking and my legs trembling under me. He devours the rest of his bowl, places his napkin on the table, and stands up. He takes my hand, forcing me to stand as we head out towards the pool area where a bedside cabana has been set up.

  As I watch the water ripple and sway with the light breeze, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls the tie that holds my robe together. I let the robe fall towards the ground without any protest. He stands before me, stunned, “You look amazing.”

  I don’t let him say another word before I reach towards his face and brush the strands of curls out of his bright blue eyes. My arm wraps around his neck, as I pull him down to me. Our lips part, as that taste of our skin on skin mix. He is frantic with his kissing, forcing my head to spin and reel around with him in a pattern I can’t figure out.

  As our mouths link, his arms frantically feel at my body. He explores every inch as if he has never felt it before. And as he grips my ass with the strong palm of his hand, I feel myself floating upwards into his grasp. My legs circle his hips, and he walks us slowly towards the cabana. My back hits the mattress first, followed by his body crashing gently on top of mine.

  He straddles me, giving me the opportunity to lift his shirt up and over his head. In the night sky, I can make out the spirals of the tribal tattoos that dot his shoulders and chest. There’s an arrowhead over his heart, the sign and brand of an Apache. My fingers trace the outline, as he watches me in wonderment.

  Tank kisses me again, a parting kiss, as he sets off on a trail down my body. He passes my velvety neck through the crevice of my breasts, his hands pushing my tits together so he can take in even more of the smell of me. He then heads south towards my stomach, tickling lightly with his tongue as he goes. When he hits my hips, I’m already gone. They rise to meet him, begging him to remove the panties.

  But he stops. He doesn’t throw or tear them off. Instead, he kisses at the extremely thin fabric. I feel him circle under me, going lower to my slit. I can feel the hot air of his breath linger on my velvety skin as I cry out. I can’t stand this tease.

  He speaks into my covered flesh as he asks, “Do you want my mouth on you?” I can barely get my “yes” out. But it’s not enough for him. “Beg me.”

  I pause, unsure of how to go on. I want him, no, I need him down there. Every part of my body is sinking further into this bed, waiting for him. As he waits for me, his fingers part my lips through the seam of the panties.

  “Beg me,” he tells me again.

  This time, I don’t hesitate. “Tank.” He inches the fabric down slowly. “Oh God, Tank. Please!”

  “Please what?”

  “Take me.” I reply immediately. “Go down on me… please!”

  “Whatever you wish, Sierra.” The way he says my name, the words brushing over my tickling skin, sends me reeling. It’s slow, deliberate, passionate.

  I feel his forefinger hook under the lace line of the panty and pull it down over my thighs and knees. He then parts my legs gently, as he positions himself in between. I look up and over my body to see him taking one look at my pussy, fully exposed for his own viewing pleasure. He pauses before lowering himself down. He takes a breath, sucking in the air around my legs. And then I feel it—the soft embrace of his tongue.

  It dances on my outer skin, tracing lines around my vulva. But it’s not just the tip, it’s the entire tongue streaking across me from top to bottom. When it makes its way to my slit, I hear him murmur to himself—a sign that he’s found out my secret. I’m already sopping wet.

  One hand quickly joins his mouth, parting the skin for him like an open door. When his tongue is in, the fingers linger, finding my clit underneath the thin layer of skin. As soon as he hits it, I’m no longer in control. My hips rise and then fall back to him as he pushes down to keep me still. He goes in again, this time holding onto me as tightly as he can.

  His tongue replaces his finger on the clit, as he flicks lightly at the little nub. It moves with his mouth, back and forth. He then inhales and kisses it, taking it into his mouth just as he had done with my own tongue moments earlier. The sucking is too much, as I reach down to his head to pull him away. But his arms are too much for me as they slam my hands back down into place.

  I feel the pressure of a finger enter my slit. His hands are rough, but they feel perfect against the sensitive folds of my insides. It smoothly finds its way in while he continues to tease at my clit. A second finger enters, stretching me even more. Every part of me feels as if it is being ripped away, and I love it. He begins to speed up, pushing those fingers harder and deeper as his suction only grows tighter against my skin. I grit my teeth as my toes curl, my back arches, and the fire within me sparks.

  “Tank!” I call out his name, as I explode onto his hand and mouth. My skin tightens and relaxes quickly as it pushes out all of my orgasm. I struggle to keep my head from spinning as he continues to push into me. This time, his tongue does all the action as he goes in for a taste of what my body has made for him.

  Tank eventually comes up from air, as I can see just the top of his head bobbing a bit by my knee. I pull him up by his neck as he takes my mouth into his. I’ve never tasted myself, but my salty sweet liquids mix with his own taste, and I’m completely overwhelmed. I push him away and look at him in his night sky eyes. “Fuck me. Please, Tank. Fuck me.”

  Chapter 11: Different in the Daylight

  Sierra’s hand reaches down between my legs, finding the zipper to my pants easily. The sound excites me more than anyth
ing in this world, as I realize it’s finally my turn to get what I want. Her begging from before, along with her massive orgasm all over my face, has already gotten me more than ready to go. And as I pull my pants off my hips, I reach into my pants pocket and pull out one of the few condoms I keep for times like this. It slides on over my straight and hard cock with ease.

  I pause to look around at the cabana’s bed. This isn’t right. I want to fuck her, that’s true. But I don’t want to do it here. I want to be in total control for this. I reach down and grab at her from behind and pull her into my chest so that her head rests upon my shoulders. I hold on tightly as I carry her quickly towards the wall. Her back slams against the cold cinderblocks, and I watch as she just manages to reach for the sides of red-painted shutters.

  Even though she’s wet and ready, my cock still manages to surprise her with just how big and wide it really is. I hear her cry out in a mix of pain, wanting, and fear. It’s as if she’s practically asking me, “How are you going to fuck me with that thing?” Even just entering her makes her face twist, as if she feels as if she is about to explode.

  She’s tighter than the average girl I take on, for sure. Her little pussy is practically untouched and new. It’s like opening a present that’s all mine for the taking. But I hold back, knowing that she needs to take this slow if we’re going to go long enough for both of us to get off again. The first few strides are decadent, as it simply explores her curves. I pull almost completely out, as both of us sigh heavily.

  After a few moments, I see Sierra get comfortable with this. Her head rolls back and a soft, sweet moan comes through her lips. I hate that. I shock her by diving deep into her waiting pussy. My hands guide her curved hips down and out so that she circles around in midair. I can tell she’s never had anything that big inside of her, and it only makes me strike into her pussy further. Her hands practically pull the shutters off of their hinges, as I dig into the folds of her hot, wet pussy.

  The moment is taking over both of us, transporting us out of this terrace and into our own world. Both of us are clawing, screaming, crashing as I guide it all with my shaft as my helm. Every push is more exhilarating, and every pull back makes her cry for more.

  Both of us seem to have our bodies in perfect sync, as my spine curls over her. She leans forward enough so that her nose presses against my nose, our lips touch but do not kiss, and our eyes never part. She cums first, at least I think she does. Her arms hold on tighter, as she lets go of every bit of her mind for one perfect moment of ecstasy. And every part of me goes weak, as I follow close behind. My own body shakes and trembles, as my cum spills into her opening.

  We look at one another again as we finish. Her lips part gently, as if she wants to say something important. But I don’t give her the chance. We linger there, each holding on to one another as we try to come back down to earth. I pull out of her and then lower her down enough to hitch her supple legs into my arms in an easy cradle. She holds onto my neck, as I walk her through the terrace and back to the bedroom from earlier.

  I place her down on the yellow comforter and pull the sheets around her bare body. I then settle into the empty spot next to her, snuggling my head into the pile of her hair taking up the pillows. Neither of us have said a word since we both came together. I am speechless, totally unable to think of anything right to say if I could. But as she turns sleepily to my side, she murmurs, “Thank you…for helping me.”

  ***

  I drift in and out of sleep, not wanting to be too far gone. As soon as the sun rises, I’m supposed to meet up with Guzman’s men and my boys to coordinate the handover. I pull the digital clock over to my side so I can watch the minutes slowly pass. While I want to savor this rare moment where a woman I actually enjoy is spread out on my chest, I just can’t get business off of my mind.

  In days, maybe weeks, Abe will be coming after my territory. If that little punk thinks he can set me up and start a war in my name, he’s got another thing coming for him. I’m fucking Tank, the leader of one of America’s hardest, baddest MC gangs out there. Our roots go back to the Vietnam War, and it’s certainly not going to end because a crybaby wanna-be can’t get his shit straight and keep well-enough alone.

  Tomorrow, I will ride back with Sierra’s arms wrapped around my waist. My only Aztec princess. I plan on holding her up to him as the girl he couldn’t get even though she was one of his own. That alone should set things in motion. He could never resist a fight over his own, foolish pride. Now this stretched beyond bad blood and turf breeches. I had something he wanted—something he was never, ever going to get.

  The clock flashes five thirty. I slowly remove Sierra’s tan arm from around my chest. I move a pillow under her arm so that she can snuggle up to that while I’m gone. This should only take an hour or so, but I still don’t want to be caught sneaking out. While she has no business with these men, I still can’t help but feel that I am crossing some line I shouldn’t.

  I walk out to the terrace and retrieve my clothing. Manuel is going to hate to clean up the mess we left. I make a mental note to leave him a couple hundred more when we head out. It was only fair. The guards, on the other hand, are just switching posts when I pass them. Neither says a word to me, which certainly doesn’t please me. Didn’t I say “No one in or out?” I’ll have to deal with that later.

  My bike is gassed up and ready for me to ride, as I trace my trail back towards the Guzman fortress. As I commanded, the remaining men are waiting for me. They slowly make their way to me as they sip on their coffees and wipe the sleep out of their eyes. While we may be tough, none of us are used to beating the sun to work.

  As we make a huddle, they wait for me to speak. I know it’s got to be good to justify the danger I’m about to put them in. “Apaches! There’s a war a brewing. Abe, our former fourth-in-command, thinks he can start a war. But I’m a step ahead of him. Our mission is to move an extra hundred kilos of stash.”

  A murmur of assent and disbelief goes up. Everybody starts to get antsy at what I’m asking. I hold my hand up, silencing them in an instant. “I know what you’re thinking—that we can’t possibly do it. But Guzman has made us a deal. Drugs sold in exchange for men. We get this done and we won’t only be secure for when the Aztecs strike, we’ll also make history as the baddest club out there with a reach far bigger than our past brothers could have ever dreamed of!”

  My rally cry stirs something up, as each of the men slowly stand up a bit taller, a bit prouder. Together, we turn to watch Guzman’s fortress gates open up. We walk our bikes in while the gunner car follows behind. The men load up in silence, neither of them wanting to ruin the moment.

  A cry goes out, causing everyone to turn immediately. One of the guards, a young kid no older than sixteen, points towards a pillar nearby where we are standing. Guns are drawn, men shout in a mix of Spanish and English. I manage to walk towards the spot just in time to see Sierra with her arms above her head, tears streaking down her eyes.

  Chapter 12: Theft

  “Sierra?” He stares at me, boring a hole into the top of my head. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demands.

  That’s a good question—maybe one I should’ve prepared an answer for before I left the villa. But I honestly don’t have an answer for him. When I woke up this morning, it was to the sound of Tank leaving. I watched him through thinly parted eyes as he slowly crept off of the bed, careful to distribute his weight so I wouldn’t wake. Then, he was gone without even closing the door completely.

  As I lay there, my brain spun. I was here in Mexico with Tank, but not to be his sex doll and companion. I was supposed to be here to help him figure out what had happened to Carmen. He had already gone to a meeting with someone with knowledge earlier, but he failed to tell me what had come of that. Didn’t I have a right to know what was going on?

  So I snuck out. My body ached deliciously from last night’s lovemaking. I slipped out of bed and quickly found the clothes Tank’s man had
left for me outside my door. To my surprise, when I was ready to sneak out, there was no one around. I had thought this place would be guarded like a fortress. Considering Tank and the Apaches had one of the largest drug networks in all of Texas, it only made sense to me that there would be at least a man or two at post. But there was no one there to stop me.

  In the faint light of the rising sun, I watched as Tank slowly drove through the back alleys, his bike leaving tire trails for me to follow. It led me to this fort in the middle of town. There were a few guards here and there watching the streets, but no one seemed to pay me any mind when I slipped in the side with a group of other women carrying straw baskets and metal pots of food. Just another servant girl going to work, I suppose.

  I managed to make it just in time to hear Tank’s speech to his men. They looked at him like vultures as he talked about war and Aztec attacks. It all reminded me why I promised myself that I would never, ever get involved with a motorcycle club man. The blood thirst, the lust for anything violent was way too much to handle. And I had somehow found myself in the arms of the warlord himself.