CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC

by Claire St. Rose

  He stabbed the throttle. The rear tires chirped as the car flung them hard back into the seat as he plunged his fingers into her.

  “Oh my God!” she wailed, the sudden burst of acceleration as his fingers drove deep into her making her orgasm arrive in a flash. Just as she was peaking, his fingers disappeared, then the engine note changed and there was another swell of acceleration as his fingers plunged into her again.

  His face hard in contain lust, his eyes flicked between Peyton and the road as she cried out with an animal like wail of pleasure, her hips rising from the seat as her hand grasped his and held it tight as the speedometer swept past 100, then 110, the car still pulling hard as the wind roared over the open top. As the speedometer kissed 120 he lifted, bleeding off speed with the brakes, dragging the car down to a more reasonable speed before stabbing the throttle again.

  She didn’t come again during the second wave of brutal acceleration, but his fingers were whipping her into a frenzy of lust, caressing and teasing as she was pressed back into the seat.

  He lifted again, disappointed she didn’t come a second time, and pulled his hand back, returning to the business of driving.

  “Get us home,” she panted, her fingers still softly stroking her pussy.

  They drove for a moment, but he could think of nothing other than plunging his cock into her and fucking her until she screamed. They flashed past a sign announcing the Old Woman Creek National Estuarine Research Reserve. As they crossed the bridge over Old Woman Creek he saw a road that peeled off toward the lake. There were no lights on the road and he braked hard, slowing the car before darting off the highway and down the narrow road.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Fuck home.”

  She smiled, pushing herself up in the seat. “Oh, thank God! I didn’t know how I was going to make it.”

  The car rumbled down the narrow, bumpy road, the path making a hard turn to the left before ending. The powerful headlamps speared into the darkness, lighting a natural sand bar and the darkness of Lake Erie beyond. He turned the car off and killed the headlamps, the near full moon providing the only illumination.

  He leaned over and pulled her to him, kissing her passionately as he massaged her breast. He broke from the kiss with a sigh, opening his door and stepping out of the car, Peyton doing the same.

  “No,” she said as he tipped the seat forward so they get into the back where they would have more room. “Out there,” she continued, pointing toward the sandbar.

  He tucked himself away. Fucking in public had never been his thing, but he wanted her so bad he didn’t give a shit if they were seen or not, but the bar was so secluded and dark, it was unlikely they would be spotted.

  They hurried down the path, not wanting to waste a moment, stepping quickly but carefully down the rough foot path leading from the end of the road to the water’s edge. The bar was huge, much larger than they could see from the car, and he allowed her to lead him, letting her choose her place to receive him.

  She wanted to fuck him at the edge of the water as the waves rolled over them, but as she suspected, the water was too cold. She stepped back from the wet sand and led him farther down the beach to a large dead tree that had fallen. She pulled to a stop beside the log and began to disrobe, hanging her clothes on one of the broken limbs to keep them out of the sand.

  Just like the pit, the sand was warm and soft as he pulled her naked body strongly to his. After last night he had an idea of what turned her on, and he was going to use that against her. “You ready to get fucked?” he growled, holding her firmly, his hard cock pressed into her stomach.

  “God yes!”

  He pushed her roughly to the sand, standing over her with his muscles tensed, watching her as she sat, breathing hard and watching him. He retrieved the condom from the pile of clothes on the log and rolled it over his cock, then dropped to his knees and shoved her back. “I kicked Whiteshirt’s ass, and now I’m going to take what’s mine.”

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Take me.”

  He eased into her, her intake of breath at his passage making his blood run hot and fast. “I’ll fuck any man who tries to hurt you,” he growled as he pulled back and lunged into her with a single hard plunge. “I’ll fight fucking Satan himself,” he snarled, plunging into her again. “I’m going to stick my cock in Andrew’s ass as I beat the shit out of him. Would you like that?”

  “Oh, God, yes!”

  “You want to see me fuck up Andrew?”

  “Yes! I want you to fuck him up! I want you to fuck him up bad!”

  He grunted as he plunged into her, pushing in hard. “You want to hear him beg?”

  “Fuck!” she snarled, imaging Ironside on Andrew, pinning him to the ground as he beat him senseless to avenge Melissa. She grabbed his head and pressed his forehead into hers. “Fuck the shit out of me!”

  He exploded into motion, driving into her hard and fast. “I’ll kick the shit out of any man who tries to hurt you,” he snarled, feeding her fantasies, telling her what she wanted to hear.

  “Yes! Yes!” she gasped. Nobody had given a shit about her before and having Ironside swear his protection made her orgasm swell. She knew it was probably just words, but she loved hearing them just the same.

  He pulled out of her and rocked back to his heels as she scrambled from the sand and turned her ass to him. He plunged into her again, holding her hips as he pounded into her hard and fast. The night was cooling, but the humidity was high and he began to sweat.

  As he plunged into her she returned to the pit, his words firing her imagination. She watched in her mind’s eye as the two naked gods rolled and tumbled, their bodies glistening as they strained, their giant hard cocks bouncing as their muscles rippled like pythons under the skin while they snarled at each other over their women. Ironside twisted, throwing Whiteshirt to the ground, locking him up in a hold as the men grunted and roared in combat until Whiteshirt went limp in defeat. They broke from their grapple and tumbled away from each other before they pulled Honey and Peyton into the pit with them. They threw the women to the sand before driving into them hard and fast. The men roared in pleasure as they fucked, their contest now sexual. Whiteshirt bellowed and she looked to the side as he sprayed Honey with his come while Ironside continued pounding into her, besting his foe in every imaginable way as Honey’s face twisted in disappointment.

  Alone on the sandbar she gave full voice to her orgasm, her hands digging into the sand as her orgasm, as deep and vast as the lake behind them, crashed over her.

  “That’s it, keep coming,” he growled, pounding into her as hard and fast as possible, intent on destroying her with pleasure.

  “Oh fuck!” she gasped, falling to her elbows, her arms and legs weak. “Stop! Please stop a minute!” she begged, unable to take the searing pleasure of his cock. He lunged in deep, then held himself there until her climax released her with a shudder. “Shit…” she gasped, trying to catch her breath. The orgasm hadn’t been as hard as the first one last night, but it was hard enough.

  “Oh, you’re not done,” he threatened playfully as he began to drive into her again.

  She struggled out of his grip and staggered to her feet, propping against the log and spreading her legs. The log was at almost the perfect height, held aloft by a thick limb buried in the sand. “No,” she smiled over her shoulder as she wiggled her ass. As he rose to his feet, his skin shinning as the moonlight caressed his magnificent body, her desire began to swell again. “I’m just getting started.”

  He stepped behind her, crouched, then shoved in deep. “Fuck…” he muttered at his passage.

  “You like that, baby? You like my pussy?”

  “Yeah,” he sneered, so deep in his lust he could think of nothing else. “You like my cock?”

  “God!” she gasped as he began to fuck her. “I love your fucking cock in my pussy!”

  He took her slowly, trying to regain some control, wanting to make the moment last.
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  She gripped the log as he thrust into her, noting its warmth, the wood worn smooth by years of rain and sun. He felt so fucking good, but she wanted more. She pushed hard back, gasping as he went incredibly deep, then quickly pulled forward. He popped free, but as he tried to reinsert himself, she turned and pushed him back.

  He watched as she mounted the log, a leg to either side, her feet just touching the ground as she stretched on her tiptoes. She lay forward, pressing her tits into the wood as she rested her head on her hands, smiling back at him in invitation. He stepped across the log, the warm smooth wood feeling delicious on his balls, Peyton rising up onto her hands as he slid into her.

  She began to flex her hips, then leaned forward again, lying flat on the log, the warmth of the wood against her skin as he plunged into her again and again a new and exciting experience.

  Watching her hump the log as they fucked, her arms around the wood as if embracing a lover excited him in a way he couldn’t explain. He began to drive into her harder, his orgasm beginning to bubble up within him, the log moving as it bounced gently in time with his thrusts.

  “Shit…shit…shit…” she began to chant softly. She could feel another orgasm welling up from deep within her, the slight movement of the log as they fucked on it amping her up.

  He shook his head, trying to fight off the climax pressing in on him. Standing astraddle the log, warm smooth wood caressing his balls with every stroke, Peyton’s soft mutterings of pleasure were sapping his control.

  “Come on! Come!” he barked, trying to drive her into orgasm before the final threads of his control snapped.

  The strain in his voice made her ache for her release, her body tingling as if a million tiny needles of pleasure danced over her skin. “Oh, fuck…” she mewled softly, unable to say more as her climax began to steal her voice.

  He began to growl and hiss, his control slipping as he pounded into her, fighting his rapture, battling to give her more, ever more, pleasure until he roared in pleasure and frustration as he was finally overwhelmed. He leaned over her back and wrapped her up, holding her tight as he threw himself from the log. He tumbled to his back in the sand, his cock still inside of her, and began to pound into her furiously hard as she sat on his cock, crying his pleasure to the world.

  The sudden tumble from the log, his incredibly deep penetration as they landed in the sand, his almost animal-like roar as he slammed his cock into her like an over-revved machin, caused her climax to explode over her. She began to cry out, adding her voice to his, her wail a rapid staccato beat as he pounded into her with tender violence.

  “Fuck!” Ironside gasped, gasping for breath, his chest heaving as Peyton fell back across him. “Do you suppose anyone heard,” he panted after a long moment.

  She remained quiet for several long moments as she tried to catch her breath, then giggled briefly. “They probably heard us in Cleveland.” She rose off him then turned to lay across him face down, bringing her lips to his for a long slow kiss. “I don’t care if the entire fucking state of Ohio heard us. That was fucking incredible.”

  “You’re incredible,” he murmured as he placed his hand behind her head and pulled her down into another kiss.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  “How many?” Peyton asked softly.

  “Ten,” Ironside replied as he coasted to a stop at the bar and poured himself a drink.

  In the month since the Knights had walked into the trap at BKS, the two clubs had mauled each other repeatedly. It had been almost ten weeks since Peyton walked into his life, and it had been by far the bloodiest ten weeks in club history.

  Two weeks prior, Whiteshirt and Ironside had been attacked in their homes on the same night. Ironside and Peyton had been making love at the time of the attack, and the dozen or so shots breaking the bedroom windows had scared Peyton badly. Nobody had been killed or injured in the drive-by shootings, but that had removed the gloves on the war. The Knights had hit back, arriving late one night and breaking into Andrew’s home in an attempt to kill him while he slept. He hadn’t been home, but they had left their calling card in the form of smashed furniture and destroyed walls. There had been no more attacks after that, until today.

  The Saracens’ mole was dug in deep, and despite several efforts, the club hadn’t been able to uncover who it was. The only thing they knew for sure was it was one of the club girls or old ladies. The women were in constant turmoil, backstabbing and fighting among themselves, and had split into two camps, those who thought Peyton was the mole for the Saracens, led by Honey, and a group who had accepted her as Ironside’s squeeze, soon to be old lady, and an asset to the club.

  Ironside had just arrived back from the BKS. The test was only supposed to last a couple of hours, and when there was no word long after the shoot should have completed, and nobody was answering their phones, Ironside and ten brothers had ridden to the studio to investigate.

  When they arrived, Ironside had been horrified at what they found. The mole had leaked they were shooting some trial footage, and while there was no proof who had performed the hit, there was little doubt it was the Saracens that had arrived and killed the three brothers on security, the production crew, and the two actors.

  “Do you know how they got in?”

  “No. They either left the door unlocked or the Saracens had a key. There were no signs of forced entry. It looked like they just walked in, gunned everyone down, and smashed the place up again. Michelle and Rick were still in the bed, and from the way it looked and the position they were in, I would guess they were actually fucking when it went down. Damnit!”

  Peyton grimaced in sympathy. She could understand how that could happen. Ironside had given her a tour of Black Knight Studios. The converted warehouse was a warren of rooms with moveable walls and overhead lights and camera rigs that would allow the Knights to shoot all manner of videos. They were still repairing some of the sets, but they had several different bedroom and living room sets, a bathroom with a working shower, a cave, a dungeon with jail cells, a jungle that included a stream and plastic plants, a beach complete with sand, water and waves, and an office. The warehouse also contained the rooms they used to edit the raw video and housed the servers they were going to use to host their videos on the web. It would be easy to sneak up on someone because there were plenty of walls and doors to hide behind, and none of the windows were actually windows, but frames for various backlit scene panels that could change the sets from a cabin in the woods to a high-rise in Manhattan.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Change the locks, first. After that? I don’t know. We’re at a severe disadvantage here. They seem to know every move we make, and hitting back hasn’t deterred them at all. If anything, it’s only made them bolder. They killed seven civilians today. Seven! We can replace the equipment, but when word gets out we’re not going to be able to hire anyone because everyone will be afraid it could happen to them.”

  “Which is why they did it,” Peyton pointed out.

  “Yeah, probably. This has to stop. I don’t know how many men the Saracens have lost, but we’ve lost twenty-three, almost half our brothers.”

  She leaned in to comfort him, taking him into her arms. He had been feeling the weight of his office and she felt helpless. Despite her efforts, she hadn’t been able to find the mole. Even Honey, the bitch she was, had checked out, and that had pissed her off most of all. She had been so sure it was Honey, and deep down she still suspected her, but she had intentionally let slip a juicy bit of information she knew would get back to her. Not only did the Saracens not go for it, they went in a different direction entirely and followed the real information.

  The only saving grace was the Knights were mostly a legal operation and didn’t have cargo that could be intercepted, unlike the Saracens. That made it harder for them to fuck the Knights, but when they did, it usually involved blood, like today.

  “I know it’s hard, Baby, but you’ll get through it. We�
�ll get through it together.”

  He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her in snuggly, smiling as she bent to give him a quick kiss. Just having her near, knowing she was there for him, made him feel like he could handle any problem or bear any load.

  “We’ve got to find this mole. Losing the equipment is one thing, but the killing…that’s something else. We’re starting to lose key people in our bars and clubs over this.”

  “I wish I could help. I’ve tried, but just when I think I get a line on someone, something happens that removes her from the list. Every single woman had an alibi for at least one piece of information that got passed.”

  “I know. Whiteshirt and I have tried, too, but we can’t get anywhere either.”

  ***

  “This can’t go on,” Ironside said later as he and Whiteshirt sat in kirche, the room feeling empty without Dolch’s presence. It was late in the day and the only four people left in the clubhouse were Ironside and Whiteshirt, and their two women.