Claire felt so good against me. The lips of her pussy engulfed me and I wanted to come all over her. But not yet. My hands reached up and mashed her tits together. Claire lifted up, her pussy dripping onto me. She reached down and grasped my cock, guiding me into her warm hole. I squeezed her chest hard as she lowered down onto me until she was completely stretched and filled to the max.
This slut thought she could torture me—but I'd been with so many whores that I knew how to make them squirm. I pressed my thumb against her clit, rubbing her around. Claire rested her hands on my chest, lifting her ass into the air and slamming down on me. She wouldn't be able to control herself much longer.
“It feels so good...Cole.”
“Come around me, Claire,” I murmured. “Let me feel your pussy clench and quiver.” I flicked her fleshy bulb back and forth until she moaned my name.
Claire came undone, quaking on top of me, her legs vibrating. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said over and over again. Claire came back to me with an intensity, rocking her hips back and forth. “You're so deep inside me.”
My hands sneaked around Claire and grasped her ass, flinging her up and down on me. I watched her tits bounce while she whipped her dark hair behind her. My engorged cock couldn't wait much longer. This whore knew how to make a man feel good.
Claire bent down and kissed me, her breast pressed hard against my chest. Her lips trailed across my cheek and to my ear. “I want to feel you come,” she whispered.
The pleasure hit its peak and I detonated within Claire, unloading my hot cum. Claire arched her back and came with me, her pussy tightening, her eyes rolled back. We screamed at the top of our lungs until we had no breath left.
Claire collapsed onto me, her breasts spilling out against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her sweaty body and held her close. No chick had ever made me feel this way. I didn't want to just throw her away and move onto the next slut. All I wanted was another time with Claire. One more time to fill her up and make her moan.
“That was way too good,” Claire said, exasperated. She brushed her hair around and looked up at me. “Was that good for you?”
“God damn, baby, do you even need to ask?” I lifted Claire off and set her down next to me. “Where did you even learn how to ride cock like that?”
Claire bit the tip of her index finger. “I love the way you feel inside me.”
My flaccid penis was already coming back to attention. But I couldn't waste anymore time fucking around. I had MC business to deal with. I got out of bed and found my jeans, slipping them on. Claire rolled over onto her stomach and watched me dress. Her ass looked amazing. If only I had time to come all over those cheeks. Claire's feet were in the air, kicking back and forth. She looked so young. I could imagine Claire on her bed at home talking with boys with her best friend. I wanted to fuck that innocent look right off her.
“Where do you think you're going?” she asked, smiling.
I searched on the floor for my leather cut. “We have shit to do, Claire. I need you to set up the meet with Byron.”
Claire crawled on the bed to edge. She slipped a finger into the band of my jeans and pulled me forward. “There's plenty of time for that later. But I need you inside me again.”
This woman was fucking freaky. And I loved it. Taking her from behind and covering her ass in come wouldn't take too long...
Chapter Eighteen
Claire
Byron and I barely exchanged any words to each other on the phone. I told him we needed to meet and he agreed. I didn't even get a chance to mention Cole and the Black Widows before Byron hung up on me. He was still furious at me and I was still never going to come back to him. He was dead to me as far as I was concerned. But Cole needed my help and I was ready to do anything for that inked body of his.
Byron ordered us to meet him at the same overpass from last time. Cole was in no position to argue. After filling in Tank and Tater, Cole had them stay behind to clean up the massacre. We arrived at the overpass to a very different situation. The Fires of Hell MC was nowhere to be seen. Byron stood next to his bike all alone and with his helmet off.
Cole stopped me from getting off the bike. “Stay here. We don't know what Byron is capable of. If guns are drawn, I want you to fly out of here like a bat out of hell.”
I shook my head, kicked him away, and got off. “We're in this together now, Cole. I go where you go.” Cole looked a little shocked. Like he didn't know I had that much strength in me. There was a lot he didn't know about me.
Byron and Cole shook his hands and Byron completely ignored me. Byron got the first word out. “The same thing that happened to you, Cole...happened to us. Mexicans hit us hard but we were able to take out a few. We had a fucking deal with those motherfucking wetbacks.”
“Fuck,” Cole whispered. “How many you got left.”
“More than enough,” Byron replied, scratching his leather cut. His knuckles were bloody and ripped apart. I was glad I wasn't on the receiving ends of those fists. “I know your MC took a heavy hit but we need to band together.”
Cole nodded. “The Mexicans will try again to finish us both off. We need to strike them now.”
Byron's mouth stretched into an evil grin. “I got some intel from a cop that owed us one. Mexicans are holed up in a wetback restaurant, celebrating today's accomplishments.”
Cole slammed his fist into his open palm. “Thats it! We hit them while they're taking a breath. The streets will be flooded with Mexican blood.”
Byron still paid no attention to me. I kind of liked the feel of being a ghost. Byron was finally done with me. I was out of his grasp and didn't have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life, wondering when he was going to come and take me back.
“That won't be easy.” Byron sighed. “The entire Death Merchants MC will be there and it's going to be hard to surprise them.”
Cole paced back and forth, his boots kicking up dust. “We're going to need men.”
“And guns,” Byron added.
“I can supply the guns. We have warehouses full.”
“The Fires of Hell took a big hit but we still have enough men to take on The Death Merchants.”
Watching these two, you wouldn't know that they were hated enemies just a day ago. Byron used to speak about the day when Sacks County would finally be Fires of Hell owned. The Mexicans were a non-factor and the Black Widows were all that mattered. Cutting them to pieces is what Byron lived for.
Now there was a new enemy.
“Are we forming a truce?” Cole asked.
Byron's mouth twitched. He hated the idea of working with the Black Widows. But there was no other way. “Black or White blood will no longer be spilled until the Mexicans are eradicated.”
Cole produced his giant knife from his back pocket. He placed the sharp blade in his palm and sliced. I winced as I watched blood trickle from his hand. Byron produced an even bigger knife—almost a machete—and cut his own hand.
The two men slapped their red-stained hands together, the blood dripping onto the ground between them. They grit their teeth, squeezing each other's hand as hard as they could. Even as allies, they were still hated enemies.
Byron walked back towards his bike and snapped his helmet on. “Meet back here at eight. Bring all the guns you can muster. We'll ride out to the restaurant and hit em' when they're neck deep in alcohol.”
Cole nodded and Byron rode off, leaving a cloud of dirt behind him. I was dead to my brother and it felt freeing. I could finally be my own person.
Cole took my hand and led me back to his motorcycle. The red on the bike shined in the sunlight. I stopped in my tracks and dropped his hand. “Don't you think this attack might be too dangerous, Cole? Can you even trust, Byron?” I asked. “There's barely anyone left of the Rabid Dogs MC and you're going to throw them in front of a Mexican firing squad.”
Cole turned away from me and faced the overpass. “The Death Merchants need to pay for what they did. The
y need to pay for Blaze, Cash, E-Z, and all the others they slaughtered. Even if I was the only one left, I'd still go after them until every single one of them was dead. Tank and Tater would say the exact same thing. I don't want to trust Byron but I have no other choice.”
Cole turned around with tears in his eyes. This tough biker of mine was full of heart. How could I not fall for a man that would go to the ends of the earth to avenge the ones he loved?
Chapter Nineteen
Cole
Tater and I rode next to each other on our bikes while Tank drove the black truck behind us filled to the brim with every gun that Rabid Dogs MC owned. I forced Claire to stay back at the clubhouse until I got back. She pounded my chest with both fists, screaming at me about why she deserved to go.
All it took was for me to say, “I wouldn't be able to focus one-hundred percent if I knew you were in danger. I could get us all killed.” Claire stepped down and let me go. I hated to leave her behind but it was the only way to know that she was safe.
This raid on the Mexican restaurant was our last ditch effort. If we couldn't take out a substantial portion of The Death Merchants, there wouldn't be enough of us left to defend against a counterattack.
The thought of betrayal by the Fires of Hell lingered in the back of my mind. Byron would barely have to lift a finger to destroy what's left of the Rabid Dogs MC. We'd finally be out of his way and he'd have our entire gun supply. The only thing I could count on was our blood pact. Hopefully Byron felt the same way as I did about honor.
We came to the overpass to discover a decimated army of Blacks on bikes. There had to be only ten of them. I hated to think of how many members they lost when the Mexicans hit them. The Rabid Dogs MC knew their pain.
Tank opened the back of the truck to reveal piles of assault rifles, handguns, and machine guns. Byron laughed hard, his white teeth glaring at me. “Who would have thought the Rabid Dogs MC had this much firepower. You could take on a small country with all this.” Byron took out a M4A-1 rifle and cocked it. “Let's get to work.”
Tater and I helped pass out guns to all the Blacks. There were still a ton left after each Fires of Hell member took as much as they wanted. I knew the Rabid Dogs MC would never see those guns again. We were giving the Blacks everything they needed to rule Sacks County. Once the Mexicans were finally gone, we'd have an even bigger war with the Fires of Hell.
Tank rode with me and Tater's fat ass was right next to us as we followed behind the large sea of Black. All I could think about was not getting in one last fuck with Claire before marching off to my death. I should have been focusing on surviving but the thought of my hard cock piercing Claire's eager pussy was distracting. If only I could have made her moan my name one last time while coming inside her.
Tank put a fist into my side and I snapped back to reality. We were entering the far east of Sacks County. The Blacks owned this side but in recent years a big Mexican population had moved in. Little Wetback shops and restaurants lined the streets and not one Black was to be found. If we weren't careful, this virus could infect the entire county.
The Fires of Hell turned down a dark alleyway with old beat-up cars parked on both sides. We followed and parked when we were out of sight of the main street. Tank pulled his shotgun from a holster on my bike. Tater was busy cleaning his pistol. The night air was cool but adrenaline and my leather cut kept me warm.
Byron signaled me over and hunched down. “Okay Cole, the restaurant is a block from here. We hit it from the front, spraying the windows, and then get the hell out of there.”
Byron's plan was a classic Fires of Hell move—hit it hard and run away. In the past few years, we had fallen to their guerrilla-style tactics. Byron's MC didn't care about finishing jobs, just creating as much chaos as possible. His plan with the Mexicans wouldn't guarantee us success.
“Why don't you guys hit the front and my guys hit the back?”
Byron shook his head. “Behind the Mexican restaurant in the alley is a bank. They have cameras covering the entire thing. You might as well deliver yourself to the cops with a bow taped to your chest.”
“We won't be able to kill them all. They'll escape into the alley to fight another day. What if we guard both exits of the alley. Fire on them as they try to get out.”
Byron sighed. “We don't have enough to cover all the exits. Besides, the Mexicans own that bank and could hold up in there if they wanted. I want minimal casualties. I know you'll agree that we both can't afford to lose anymore men.”
Byron was completely right. If Tater or Tank died, the Rabid Dogs MC would be done for. There's no way we could rebuild with only two members. It was essential that we all survived.
The group of us drove our motorcycles down the street in a line. We stopped in front of a little restaurant called Los Hermanos. Two large windows looked into the restaurant from the street. The entire Death Merchant MC was in there celebrating with beers and women. They had no idea what was about to hit them.
The line of Blacks and Whites drew their guns and pointed at the restaurant. The first shot went off, hitting the big pane of glass and shattering it. The rest of us opened fire, bullets raining down on the Mexicans. A few of them were quick enough to return fire. Blood sprayed the walls of the restaurant. Tank's shotgun burned in my ear with every shot.
One of Byron's men got hit in the head and fell off his bike, his gun chattering on the pavement. I looked back at the restaurant and aimed carefully, hitting one of the Mexicans in the head—brain matter exploded behind him, covering one of the cheap whores. Her screams of horror brought a smile to my face.
Another Fires of Hell member got hit in the shoulder and sped away. Byron yelled and we stopped firing. The restaurant was completely annihilated but there were still Mexicans alive to fire back at us. I wanted them dead. No, worse then dead, I wanted them to be tortured slowly for a thousand years. But if we stayed there any longer, more men would die.
Our bike engines thundered as we escaped into the night. The Rabid Dogs MC came out of the battle unscathed. The Fires of Hell lost one guy and another injured. The Death Merchants lost the most. We must have killed at least twenty of them.
I'd find out later that we got their President and Vice-President. A complete success. The Death Merchants would have a hard time coordinating revenge. And even if they did attack, they'd have to take out all the Fires of Hell first.
Chapter Twenty
Claire
Sitting in the empty clubhouse, waiting for Cole to come back was eating away at my nerves. I paced around the bar and pool tables, my fingers locked together. What if Cole was killed? Or seriously injured? I imagined him being brought in, his arms around the shoulders of Tank and Tater. They fling his bullet-ridden body onto one of the pool tables, blood pooling into puddles and pouring into the pockets of the table.
I shook the nightmare away and went to the bar for a drink. I picked up a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and poured a glass. I noticed something funny on the glass and looked closer to find a smudge of blood. Cole tried to shield me from seeing the massacre that happened here but I had seen enough. The corpses littered the floor, their dead eyes staring up at me. Just like Cash back in the basement. Was he still down there? Dead and lifeless. I didn't dare go down there to check. I couldn't face that monster again.
I left the blood-smudged glass on the counter and took the bottle of Jack instead. I sat down on one of the barstools and spun around. The first few tastes scorched the insides of my throat on the way down. As the alcohol warmed me up, the burning sensation subsided.
I wondered how why I was still here. I could leave at any point. Cole nor Byron owned me. I could go back to school. Have friends again. Become a normal girl. I thought about calling Heather to tell her that I was all right. But I had no idea what to even tell her. My story sounded ludicrous. I wasn't even sure I believed it.
What I did believe was that my heart was connected to Cole's. I barely knew the man but he
had a power about him. It wasn't just all physical attraction either. I would have left the first chance I got if it was only about the sex. Cole was the first real man I'd ever met. Someone that I could spend the rest of my life with.
But did I really want to live the outlaw life? This nerve-wracking feeling I was experiencing right now would only be just a taste. I could be living every day in fear that we would be killed by any one of the Rabid Dogs's enemies.
The bar rumbled as I heard motorcycles parking outside. Please be okay, Cole. Please be okay. I closed my eyes and chanted over and over again. I couldn't get the image of a almost-dead Cole laying on the pool table.
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