John Reader said, “Could be.”
Ryder considered it. “Trouble at the Skulls top table may not be bad for the Blades.”
“Could be,” John Reader said.
Chapter 21
She was outside in the warm night air, sitting on the saddle of her bike, parked in the shadows by an outbuilding. Somehow, she needed to connect with the familiarity of the saddle, and the completely alien strangeness of her coupling with Ryder.
She saw him go into the clubhouse. He didn’t even stop or look around for her outside. Something had been building up and somehow it felt like this evening was the climax. It was maybe twenty minutes before he came out again. When he did, she saw that he was looking for her. She didn’t move. She waited for him to see her before she said, “Did you find Mary Ann okay?”
His steps toward her lengthened. She said, “She have what you need, Ryder? She give you her special gift?”
His eyes blazed when he reached her and her blood rose. She said, “I don’t suppose you got any left for me now. Not up to a second go just yet.” He grabbed her jacket by the lapels and pulled her off the bike.
“Maybe you could manage it if I sucked your cock. Would that do it for you, Ryder?” His neck muscles tensed. “Why don’t you make me, Ryder? Why don’t you shove your big, hard cock in my throat? See if you can shut me up that way. See if you can pump me full of hot biker fuel.” Her tongue flashed across her lips.
His lips tightened and drew back over his big white teeth and his nostrils widened. “Oh,” she pressed her hand on the front of his jeans and said, “Looks like you got your motor running. Mary Ann must not have finished the job for you.”
He grabbed her throat. “There you go,” she said between her bared teeth, “You are rising to the occasion.” She felt the urgent swelling at the front of his pants. The denim was stretched full and throbbing against her.
His voice grated, low and fierce, “Got any more?”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, Ryder, what are you going to do about it?”
He spun her and shoved her against the wall of the shed. She sighed as her hands slapped on the brick. His hand came up into her skirt and found her torn panties still hanging in ribbons, exposing her hot core. He grabbed greedily at her, rubbed at her wet pussy, and slid up between the cheeks of her clenching ass.
She gasped as his thumb burst into her tight little star. His fingers dove into her hot folds and she groaned, almost growling. He rubbed her at the base of her tingling clit, and her insides churned like bubbling lava. Nothing else mattered now.
Roughly, he yanked her thighs farther apart. As the hard bulb of his hot shaft pierced her, she bit her thumb and a rasp dragged out from her throat. He stretched her wide, and she shifted her ass up to let him farther in. His breath was hot in her ear and his voice was low and hard. “Big enough for you?”
Her fist thumped on the wall and her body clenched. Her back arched as her soft walls stretched around his fat shaft. He lifted her leg to spread her wider as he drove harder into her tight pussy. He yanked her hair with the hand not holding her leg in the air.
Her body flushed with sudden heat, her muscles shaking with uncontrollable need. The hard ridges of his shaft sawed into her, harder and deeper as his thighs slapped her buttocks.
She trembled as the mounting waves of need crashed through her. With his shaft buried to the hilt in her, his body pressed against her buttocks, and her thighs spread almost painfully, he said, “Think you can get your throat around it, little girl?”
Her eyes watered. She clamped them shut, bit on her arm and shook her head. She ached for him. Her whole body was hungry for him. Her ass stung as his big hand slapped her. “Let’s find out.” He hauled his thick cock out of her and pushed her to her knees.
Her face was wet from tears of pain-filled pleasure, and the slick head of him twitched angrily in front of her. “Is this what you want?” He pushed it in front of her trembling lips. Her breath was hot and hard. He didn’t give her time to answer but she started to nod as he yanked her by the hair and shoved it in to fill her hot, soft mouth.
His musky scent mingled with the unfamiliar tang of her juices. The head of his hard, thick shaft thrust along her tongue, and jammed against the back of her throat.
Her throat muscles stretched, and she had to fight the spasms of reflex as his velvety girth drove through her mouth and into her tight throat. He pulled her hair until her lips met his wiry hair and his balls lightly tapped against his chin.
She quaked as his hips propelled him in and out of her mouth, all the way to the tip and then back, right into his groin. She grabbed his hard, tight buttocks and clawed as she pulled him even harder into her. Pulses beat along and though him, one after another, and she took him all the way down. His heat exploded in bolts of thick, hot cum.
His sticky, salty sweetness filled her mouth and dribbled out of her mouth.
The way he held her afterwards, the way he stroked her with such strength and restraint, had to mean something. She knew right then that she would give Ryder anything, just so long as he wanted her enough to take it.
Epilogue
Drops of water echoed from the far end of the dark warehouse. Haughey moved uncomfortably on the steel chair. Ryder’s voice behind him was too quiet; he had to strain to hear him properly.
“The Skulls have always had excellent legal representation. What’s wrong? They’re bullshit charges against Iron and Jam. I’d have thought you could just make them go away.
He tried to turn in his seat to look at Ryder. He was tied too tight. The light in his face made it hard to concentrate. “We thought so, too. We had the judge squared away.”
His head turned from side to side as Ryder paced behind him. Ryder said, “So, what’s the problem?”
“He’s not going to hear the case.”
“Why the hell not?”
“It’s been listed for Judge Sage.”
Ryder stopped. Jesska’s father. Haughey said, “Ryder, you got the Blades’ say-so for this, for having me tied to a damned chair? Seems like you’re flexing your muscle when it ain’t your beef.”
Ryder leaned down and spoke next to Haughey’s ear. His voice was low, strong, andsharp as glass. “How the Blades feel about you leading their men into that trapis their affair. Standing out in front, that was me you put in the frame. You almost handed me over to the feds, Haughey. That’s my beef.”
Ryder spoke over Haughey’s head, straight to Bear who was in the darkness.
“Didn’t I say that I hate guns? Ugly business. They’re noisy, they jam and go wrong, and they’re always empty when you need ’em most. Add to that you never know where the fuck they’ve been. When you lift a gun from a gun show or a guy on the street, what kind of company are you really taking away with you? What other names are you dragging along behind you? Military kit is the worst of all. A fuckin’ AK? Man, that could have been used by child soldiers in Sudan. Or even used on them.” He paced some more.
“Those are all good reasons to hate the whole business of guns, but they ain’t why I hate them. Really, I hate them ’cause they’re so damned impersonal. Where’s the fun of killing someone from across the street?”
He grabbed Haughey’s head and twisted until he felt the crack. He looked up at Bear, “Simple, silent, swift, and yet so satisfying.” Haughey’s wide-eyed frozen expression didn’t change as Ryder let go and his head lolled down onto his chest. Ryder sauntered to the door, and Bear followed. “When they got to go, send ’em off the Ryder way.”
They shielded their eyes as they stepped out into the sun. Ryder said, “Only testimony he’ll be giving now is at his autopsy.”
Ryder climbed onto his Harley as Bear swung his leg over his own bike. “No need for the old family-style cross-cut two-shot, the bespoke Versace. Too noisy and too messy.” He slipped the key into the lock, and put his thumb over the switch. “People have come back from a bullet right through their brains.” T
he Harley engine made a crackling growl as Ryder wound the throttle. “No-one’s yet made a miracle recovery from the patent Ryder spinal snap.”
The Lost Daughter
Jackson Sage remembered the stained bare wood of the table as he nursed the last of a tepid beer. He’d become used to finding his father in places like the biker bar. The bare wood floor was dull like the tables. It was worn and decorated with smears, gouges and dark stains that could be spilled alcohol. They could as likely be bloodstains. The grunge out of the juke-box was at a volume just below stun.
The apocalyptic thrash metal had his blood pumping. A girl flashed him a look as she climbed up onto the big table next to where Jackson and Karl sat. Karl was indifferent as the brunette with big hair and a lot of black makeup thrust her hips around. She had on a black leather jacket and a practically invisible pair of sheer black panties, along with the high-heeled spiky boots that she stamped on the table.
As her foot tapped, her eyes fixed on Jack’s and she curled her finger. His body tensed to rise, but with an effort he smiled back to her and shook his head. He was here to talk to his father, and it was important. Her bottom lip pushed out, but then she gave him a smile back as she turned away.
A peroxided friend climbed up to join her. She moved, catlike on the beat in heels, stockings and a necklace.
Jackson had come to tell Karl, his father that the Marine Corps had accepted him. That he had enlisted and he would be leaving before the weekend. He planned to continue his studies during his tour of duty. He said that he would either complete his college degree during his tour of duty or after. “Depending on how I’m able to progress at officer candidate school.”
Karl’s eyes didn’t move. “Quantico’s tough. But you’ll do okay.”
Coming from Karl, it sounded like respect, but Jackson couldn’t ever be sure. He thought about what his father had told him. Karl could and did greet any news, whatever its source, with a dousing of wastewater. Karl covered everything until it stank.
The girls on the next table pulled up a big biker to join them. The two girls ground their hips into the biker’s pelvis and over his thighs, hard and slow. They bounced and pressed their soft bodies together. The biker’s grin spread right across his face.
The girls worked their way around and over, then up and down the biker’s jeans.
Karl greeted the news of his son’s enlistment with just the bucket of cold water that Jackson expected. Karl’s face carried no expression as he heard it, and no more when he announced that he was going to prison.
The two girls knelt around the front of the biker’s jeans. Their wet mouths met and their pink tongues flicked each other and they giggled as their lips and tongues met. Jackson forced himself to concentrate on what Karl said.
Karl’s gravelly voice scraped as he said, “My number’s been pulled and I’m getting the ticket to hard time.”
His face didn’t move as he waited for Jackson to take it in. “Likely a ten to fifteen.”
“What did you do, Dad?” Jackson kept his voice low as he tried to hold his emotions in check.
“It isn’t anything that I did. Someone better placed than me did something. Someone who doesn’t have to take the rap.” Karl took a pull on his whiskey. “Not while there‘s someone ready to fit me up for it.”
As Jackson began service for his country, Karl would serve time as an example of its corruption. Jackson peered into down into his glass and wondered about his future. Turned over his past. What his father had called his ‘heritage and traditions.’
“It’s a stitch up job. I didn’t do the thing that I’m charged with. I may have done other things, but I had no part in this.”
“Can’t Laughlan prove that? You pay him enough.” Laughlan was Karl’s lawyer.
“That’s not how it works, Son. Not this time. The law is just how some men get what they want.” He saw his father’s bitterness almost spill from a dry rage into a brimming frustration. “Rich men for the most part, or men who made the right connections. Men who’ve done the right deals and favors, that’s who the law works for.”
Karl seemed on the verge of self-pity. It shook Jackson. He’d seen a lot of things he hated in his father, but this was a whole new downhill slope. “I’m out of position in the favor circle. Nope, somebody else did this thing, but this time it’s not going to be him who picks up the tab. It’s going to be me.”
Jackson had gotten next to nothing in the way of love or affection from his father, and he didn’t feel like he had a whole lot to give back, but still this deal stank. The law should act on what men have done, not on deals made in back rooms, hidden away from view.
Remembering lawyer Laughlan and his sad preacher eyes, Jackson knew two things now. He knew that when he completed his tour with the Marines, he wanted to be a lawyer. And he knew that he meant to be a better lawyer than that man.
Karl had never been much of a father to Jackson, but he had always seemed ready to be less of one. Always had some fresh disappointment ready to hand. This time, maybe it wasn’t his fault. Or maybe there was a whole other side to the story. Jackson didn’t know what to think.
He’d been trying not to look, but the girls on the next table shouted as the three bikers slapped their asses and beat their hips against them. The brunette had a hand in her hair and her mouth in a helpless ‘O.’ Her eyes didn’t look so helpless as she winked at Jackson. Her tongue flicked across her red lips.
Now Jackson’s mind as well as his body wanted just to say ‘Fuck it’ and get up to join the party. The blonde had turned and her drooling face was just a couple of feet from his. Her hands banged on the table and her mouth twisted as she gasped. Her eyes were wide on his and her face trembled.
Jackson couldn’t stop himself from smiling back to her. His father’s life was one that Jackson was determined not to follow or repeat. Damn if he didn’t live it against a vivid backdrop, though.
Every day of Jackson’s life seemed to draw some new low out of Karl, some unexpected trough that the ragged scraps of their dysfunctional family would be drug through. Over the noise of the five-way fuckfest and the grind of death metal, Jackson barely heard him say, “Hey, Maryette.”
Without looking up or even thinking, half sullen, half joking Jackson said, “Kind of a name is ‘Maryette’?” When he lifted his face from his bourbon he regretted saying it.
Her big, green eyes were right on him. Green, like the shade he saw in the mirror every morning. The recognition made a thud deep inside him. Maryette was raven-haired and curvy. She had the face of a smart, eager student and the body of a hot and horny suburban housewife. What stayed with Jackson, though was the look in her big, slow eyes.
She stood with one hand on the back of Karl’s chair. Her dark eyes were framed by her hair that fell to the collar of her open shirt. The glistening tops of her butterscotch globes heaved inside the shirt.
Her long fingers drummed on her tilted hip. The weary scorn in Maryette’s soft green eyes would follow Jackson for a long time.
Chapter 2
When Jackson left the bar, Maryette was outside by the doorway. Her scent reached him before he saw or recognized her, but as soon as he registered it, his senses went into overdrive. Before he saw her, he knew it was hers.
From the shadows her voice was sultry. “Maybe you don’t need to be so hard on your father, Jackson.”
“He tell you to come and say that?”
“No. He told me not to talk to you. Period.”
He turned to see her face, lit by the red desert sky in the frame of her dark hair. Her eyes shone at him with purpose.
What does she know about it? he wondered. Could be she knew Karl better than he did. Hell, that wouldn’t take much. Jackson hardly knew his father at all, but she knew nothing at all about him.
Hard Core: Biker MC Motorcycle Club Menage Steamy 3 Story Bundle Set (Hot Tales From a Hard Road Book 1) Page 14
