CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC

by Claire St. Rose

  Andrew bellowed in pain, his hands going to Ironside’s face, his thumbs searching for the eyes. Ironside screamed, releasing his head to tear Andrew’s hands from his face. The two men twisted and squirmed, their hands battling for advantage, tearing at the other as they hissed and snarled, each realizing this was a fight to the death as they grasped each other’s throats, their arms locked straight, their legs still battling as they sought to destroy their foe.

  ***

  Honey lunged away from Peyton and stroked for the edge, wanting to get out of the pool before she drowned. Peyton grabbed for her as she hauled herself out, but she kicked her away and ran.

  Peyton pulled herself out of the pool, running after her prey. The gate slowed Honey enough she could catch her, grabbing her by the hair and dragging her to a stop as she turned, their feet tangling. They went to the grass in a ball, scrambling and rolling, kicking and screaming as they rolled and tumbled. Honey screamed in pain as she twisted, wrapping both her hands in Peyton’s hair. Peyton hissed, her face a mask of pain as they rolled, coming to a stop on their sides.

  “Remember the pit, bitch?” Peyton hissed. She released Honey’s hair with one hand and began to throw left after left into Honey’s side. It took several blows, but finally Honey cried out in pain, shoving hard against Peyton and forcing her to her back. She released Peyton’s hair and threw her own punch, a solid blow to Peyton’s cheek.

  Peyton cried out in pain, shoving Honey back before she could hit her again. Honey tumbled away, then sprang to her feet and ran.

  “No fucking way,” Peyton growled, jumping to her own feet and racing after her.

  ***

  Andrew threw himself back, giving up his hold on Ironside, but breaking Ironside’s grip on his neck at the same time. He tried to get to his feet, but Ironside was there, knocking him down. He scrambled back again, just getting to his feet as Ironside bulled in. Their bodies slammed together with a dull thud, Andrew digging in as Ironside tried to drive him back, each man pushing and shoving with their hands, trying to get under the other so they could lift them and drive them to the ground.

  Ironside screamed in agony as Andrew grabbed his cock and balls and twisted them hard. He tried to break away, but that only hurt more, so he grabbed Andrew the same way. Both men screamed in pain as they tried to tear each other’s cocks off, engaged in a contest of strength and pain tolerance.

  ***

  Peyton chased Honey as she ran toward a room. She burst into a room and tried to slam the door, but Peyton got her shoulder against it before it could latch. The women strained against each other, grunting and panting, the shouts, cries and occasional suppressed pistol shots from the battle raging around them ignored. This was the final stand, the place where only one club would walk away.

  Slowly Peyton forced the door wider, then wider still, before it suddenly burst open wide. She stumbled into the room, off-balance from the sudden release in resistance. As she recovered, Honey tackled her, driving her sideways onto the bed. They squirmed, Honey’s legs wrapping around Peyton as she pulled her in close.

  “You fucking bitch!” Honey snarled as they panted. She had Peyton tied up at the moment, but she couldn’t do anything with her.

  “Fuck you!” Peyton snarled in reply, straining again to break free of Honey’s hold.

  With a cry of effort, Peyton forced herself out of Honey’s grip, throwing herself back. Honey came after her, the women rolling off the end of the bed and thumping to the floor. The fall broke them apart, and they scrambled to their feet. Peyton fired a desperate left, trying to drive Honey back, but it had little effect. They crashed into the dresser, Peyton crying out in pain as the sharp edge dug into her ass. She went red with rage, the pain and anger finally overwhelming her control.

  Peyton screamed, more animal than human, as she began to swing wildly. Honey screamed in return, her face crazed with anger, pain and fear as she charged through Peyton’s wild swings, so enraged she didn’t even feel the punches any more. They went to the floor again, the two women intent on destroying each other. They would finish it here, in this room, when only one of them was left alive.

  ***

  Andrew broke first, shrieking as he ripped his cock from Ironside’s grip. Both men staggered a moment, reeling from the pain they had inflicted on each other, before Andrew turned and ran. Ironside gave chase as Andrew blasted through the gate, turned sharply to the left and went for the gun. He’d just slid to a stop to pick it up when Ironside arrived. Never slowing, he hit Andrew at a full run, lifting him from the ground as he powered through him, then drove him hard to the ground.

  The two men tumbled then bound to their feet and turned toward each other. They waded in, swinging wildly, willing to take a hit in order to deliver one. There were no rules, no surrender, no retreat, their humanity stripped away by their rage and pain until they were nothing but a pair of bulls fighting to the death.

  They stood, toe to toe, pummeling each other, Ironside slowly driving Andrew back as they punched and blocked, falling into a clinch, driving their fists into the side of their enemy before breaking away to punch again.

  His face bloody, Andrew fell back after another crushing blow from Ironside. He scrambled back, then leapt to his feet, needing to get some space. Ironside charged in again, hitting him hard, the two men crashing through the waist-high hedges that ringed the edge of the courtyard. Andrew cried out as the limbs ripped his flesh as they fell, then scrambled, kicking away from Ironside, trying to get to his feet before his opponent could attack again.

  Ironside struggled to his feet, wiping the blood from his face as it tried to run into his eyes and blur his vision. Andrew crabbed backwards, then got to his feet, his fists up. “Come on!” he roared, but then turned and ran.

  Ironside felt a chill. Less than a hundred feet away there was a body lying in front of an open door, clearly Andrew’s destination. He bolted after him, running hard. Andrew stopped by the body and grabbed the dead man’s pistol, tearing it from his lifeless grasp, and turned.

  Ironside arrived as Andrew began to bring the weapon up, grabbing his hand to force the weapon down. Andrew jammed his hand under Ironsides chin, forcing his head back, squeezing the trigger as they struggled. Ironside felt the heat of the discharge against his naked leg, the hot shell casing hitting him in the cock as it ejected from the side of the gun, but the bullet splattered harmlessly against the concrete walk, showering them in fragments of bullet and masonry.

  The two men grunted, straining over the gun. With two hands on the gun, Ironside began to twist the weapon away from himself. Andrew realized he was losing the battle of strength and released Ironside’s head to put his other hand on the weapon, roaring in effort as he tried to force the gun away.

  Slowly, inexorably, Ironside continued to turn the weapon, the two men’s shoulders against each other as they shoved, every muscle bulging as they fought for any advantage. Andrew slammed his head forward, their foreheads connecting solidly, both men staggered by the blow. Ironside shook it off and continued to turn the gun, their bodies pressing in tighter and tighter as they used every ounce of their strength in their mortal struggle.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you!” Ironside snarled, winning the war of strength. He released the gun with one hand and grabbed Andrew by the back of the head, pulling them together to trap the gun between.

  Andrew screamed in rage as Ironside pulled him in tight. He could feel his hands and the weapon crushing the tip of his cock into his stomach, but he could no longer tell where it pointed. His own fucking wrist was binding him up, so he pulled the hand out from between them and grabbed Ironside by the head, as well. They would finish it here, the gun caught between their cocks, in a final showdown of strength.

  The gun popped and Ironside felt the burn, gasping as he realized he’d been shot, but then the pain began to fade as Andrew’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

  Andrew released the gun and stepped away, looking at his sto
mach in shock. Ironside looked down at his own stomach, each trying to determine who was about to die. He had a black stain just below and to the left of his bellybutton, a flash burn from the weapon’s discharge, and his stomach and hands were covered in blood, but not his blood. Andrew’s hands where pressed to his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers, and there was a grisly hole at the top of his shoulder. He was dead already, the bullet passing through his lung and possibly his heart, he just didn’t know it yet.

  Panting, Ironside cleared the jammed gun, pointed it at Andrew’s head, and pulled the trigger.

  His battle with Andrew had felt like hours, but the war with the Saracens was still going on, which meant it had only been a couple of minutes. He looked around, trying to find Peyton. He saw nothing, but then heard a woman scream behind him. He turned and ran in the direction of the sound.

  ***

  Honey tried to close the bathroom door but Peyton crashed through it before she could get her back into it. Honey stumbled back as the door burst open, then tried to rally. Peyton turned and grabbed her hair with one hand, intending to pull her head down, but as Honey twisted, grabbing Peyton’s wrist, she hit her heel on the side of the tub.

  Overbalanced, she fell backwards, tearing the shower curtain down as she crashed backwards in the wall, then slid down, screaming in agony as her back hit the edge of the tub, Peyton falling in on her only adding to her pain. The women tumbled and rolled in the bottom of the tub, the slick nylon curtain preventing them from getting any traction, and as they twisted and spun in desperate battle, wrapped them tighter and tighter, preventing a quick escape. Bound, they came to a stop, and Peyton began to pound Honey’s head against the side of the tub.

  “Die, you fucking bitch! Die, you fucking bitch! Die, you fucking bitch,” she screamed as Honey’s head collided over and over with the side of the tub.

  ***

  Ironside burst into the open room. The room was a wreck. One of the lamps was in the floor between the beds, broken, a chair overturned, and the linens on one of the beds was strewn on the floor. He heard Peyton screaming in the bathroom and he charged in as Peyton beat Honey senseless.

  “Peyton!” he cried in relief.

  Ironside’s voice cut through the fog of rage and she stopped pounding Honey’s head into the tub. Honey moaned, moving sluggishly as Peyton fought her way out of the tangled curtain then the tub. She threw herself into Ironsides arms, holding him tight as his arm went around her, barely flinching as his gun coughed. She looked behind her, seeing Honey lying lifeless in the tub with a hole in her chest, but then turned away and pulled him in tight.

  CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

  “You’re bleeding!” Peyton cried. Ironside was mess. His face was covered in blood as was his stomach and hands, his chest a mass of cuts and scratches.

  “Not mine,” he said, pulling her in tight. She was covered in scratches and welts, her hair a tangled mess, but she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Is Andrew dead?”

  “Yes. Shot.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked, the sounds of the battle sinking in. “You’re not exactly dressed for a gunfight.”

  He grinned as he dropped the magazine on the gun then slammed it back in. No matter how bad it got, he could always depend on her for a smartass comment, but with only three rounds left, there wasn’t a lot he could do. “We’re going to hole up here until this is over,” he said as he moved through the room and closed the door.

  The door had barely latched when he heard the bang of a door being kicked in. “Behind the bed!” he urged, pushing her down as he joined her crouching in the floor, his weapon pointed at the door. There was another crash, nearer, and she gasped for breath.

  The door burst open with a crash, and he jerked his weapon skyward as he recognized Hammer.

  “Fuck! I almost shot you!” Hammer gasped, his weapon going down and away. He looked at the battered and nude Ironside and Peyton as they rose from behind the bed. “Do I even want to know?”

  “I’ll tell you later. What’s going on?”

  “The Saracens are scattered to hell and gone. We’ve divided up into five teams, two on each floor and one on the entrance to the courtyard. We’re going room by room, trying to root them out.”

  “How many dead?”

  “I don’t know. Several. When you disappeared, I thought you were dead.”

  Ironside held up his gun so Hammer could see. “I’ve only got three. Do you have any extra?”

  “I’m down to my last magazine. Just stay in here. With only three, you’re not going to be much help, and if you come out behind us, you’ll probably get shot.” There was a flurry of muffled gunshots, then quiet again. Hammer grimaced. “They’re really dug in. We’re trying to hurry this up before somebody realizes what they’re hearing and calls the cops.” Hammer stepped out. “Leave the door open so we know we cleared the room. I’ll pass the word you’re in here.”

  He stepped out and a moment later they heard the door of the next room being kicked in.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” Peyton asked, turning his head toward her. He’d stopped bleeding, but she could see a cut in his eyebrow.

  He pulled her hand away. “I’m fine.”

  She pulled his lips down into a kiss. “I was so scared!” she whispered.

  “So was I. When I got back to the clubhouse and everyone was gone, I thought I’d lost you.”

  They looked at each other before he pulled her to him for a torrid kiss and she moaned as her hand went to his cock, gripping him firmly as their tongues danced. He pulled back from the kiss, already hardening as he pushed her back onto the bed.

  She scooted back in the bed as he crawled in, his eyes hard as he tossed his gun to the side. There would be no love-making here, only fucking, their anger, pain and fear morphing into lust unlike anything either had experienced before.

  He plunged into her, his hard swift insertion making her gasp. She ached from Honey’s blow in the pool, hurting as if she had already endured a long, hard, fucking, and the ache excited her even more. She looked at him, covered in blood, sweat and dirt, his face twisted in pleasure as he drove into her hard and fast, she could imagine him as a Viking, returning victorious from war and claiming his spoils.

  “Fuck! I’m coming!” he bellowed, driving into her hard and fast, unable to stop his plunging hips. Peyton was everything he wanted in a woman. Covered in battle scars and dirt, she was by far the most desirable woman he’d ever known, and she was his. Nobody, not the Saracens, not the fucking devil himself, would take her from him.

  She closed her eyes, her orgasm building, rising higher, until it exploded over her as she called out her release. Never had Ironside come so quickly, his excitement, the sounds of shattering doors and occasional gunshot, the cries of angry men as they fought around them, whipping her into a frenzy.

  He collapsed onto her, holding her crushingly tight as he continued to fuck her hard and fast. She shuddered out of her orgasm, gasping for breath. He’d fucked her right through their orgasms, his need for her washing over her and winding her tight. He was a lover of breathtaking skill and endurance, he was hers, and nobody would ever take him from her.

  “Fuck!” he snarled, the first tickling of another orgasm welling up within him. He pushed up onto his hands, driving into her as hard and fast as possible. She dragged her nails across his chest, the light scratches searing lines of pleasure. He cried out in effort as his muscles began to burn from the sustained hard fucking, but unable to stop.

  She pushed at him, shoving him off of her. He rolled to his back, pushing his gun out of the way. She swung her leg over him, settling as she steered him into her again. “Fuck,” she gasped as he plunged in deep. She began to move rocking her hips hard and fast, watching his face twist in pleasure. He’d come for her. He’d come for her and again fought for her, battling Andrew to protect her and avenge Melissa’s death. He grabbed her sides and bega
n to slam her down on him, bellowing with the effort.

  She saw two Saracens through the open door, running across the courtyard, running for freedom. There were several pops of gunfire and the men went down. There were a couple more pops, closer, and someone cried out in pain. She could hear the sound of running feet above them and the cries of angry men.

  “Fuck!” she cried, the word long and drawn out as her orgasm rose within her like a great wave. They were fucking in the middle of gunfight, the danger amping her up. They could die any moment, their lives snuffed out in an instant, but they we’re living, and loving, and fucking to their last breaths.

  A shadow appeared in the door. Ironside grabbed the gun on the bed and fired, three quick shots as the man’s gun came up. Another orgasm, the hardest one yet, slammed into her as Ironside dropped the gun and roared as he splashed into her again. Even as he fucked her, he was protecting her from harm, the sudden rush of danger as she climaxed pushing her rapture to unmatched heights. She screamed her orgasm to the word, a throat-rending cry of pleasure unlike any she had experienced before.