GABRIEL’S BABY: Iron Kings MC

by Evelyn Glass

  I mean to arrange myself on his bed in some sexy way, maybe take off my clothes and lay a blanket over me like they do in the movies, or maybe get under the covers and strip naked and wait for him to join me. I stand near the bed for several minutes thinking about the best way to arrange myself. I’ve never done anything like this before. Sure, I fooled around with boys, but it’s always been the awkward spontaneity of teenagers, never a performance like this. I feel stupid as I lie down on the bed, on my side, staring at the bathroom door. I’m about to get undress and pull the blanket over me—which Chance has left crumpled up in the corner of the mattress—when I hear the shower cut off and Chance’s footsteps coming toward the door. This is my chance, I tell myself, my chance not to play by anybody’s rules but my own. It doesn’t matter if I’m scared; scared is better than numb.

  The door creaks open and Chance walks in with just a towel wrapped around his waist. If I had any doubts about my attraction toward him, they’re gone now. His chest is covered in scars, crisscrossed all over him, his bulging pectoral muscles overlaid with them, his flat sheet of abs stenciled with even more. Even his massive arm muscles have got a couple. All of them are old, pale. Most of all I notice the way his cock, when he looks at me even with my clothes on, goes instantly hard, pitching the towel up, an urgent throbbing tent of blue fabric.

  He offers me a cocky grin, or Chance’s version of a cocky grin, which is still somehow serious and deadly. “So,” he says, “You wanna thank me for savin’ you? Is that it?”

  He must just think it’s a joke, because he makes as though to go to the corner of the room, where the clothes are. But I don’t want him dressed! I leap across the room, startling him and myself, and then wrap my arms around his shoulders and lean in for a kiss. Pressing my lips against his, I reach down and grab his cock, the towel falling away. His cock is pleasantly large, and already rock-hard for me.

  Chapter Eight

  Chance

  I didn’t expect a sarcastic comment to get her over here like a horny slut, all gagging and moaning for me to fuck her. But I’m not about to turn down the piece of ass I was admirin’ so much last night. She starts kissin’ me, but I’ve never been the kissin’ type, so I just grab her and lift her off her feet. She makes that cute O with her mouth again, letting out a squeal of surprise. The T-shirt she’s wearing is baggy and so are the sweatpants. I ain’t interested in either. I toss her down on the bed. She bounces up and down on the mattress, giggling, but also moaning. I’m so fuckin’ horny right now I hardly know what sound she’s making. All I know is my cock is so hard it might explode if I don’t bury it in that perfect tight cunt. She doesn’t ask me to stop or nothin’, so I reckon she doesn’t mind if I take the lead.

  I’m so hungry for her I end up tearing her T-shirt away from her, ripping the fabric. I yank her sweatpants off so both of us are naked. She’s lying there, on her back, lookin’ up at me with that cute, naïve expression. I reach down and grab her by the hips, flip her over so that her legs are pointing straight down, her tits pressed into the mattress, her ass peachy as fuck with her legs like that.

  “Stay like that,” I tell her, hardly able to form words. Fuck, but I’m mad with lust. Don’t reckon I’ve ever been this horny in my life. She shivers, craning her neck and lookin’ at me with a face like she’s scared and wantin’ it at the same time. Her cheeks are all flushed.

  I lean over her, looking down at that perfect ass, a shadowed spot between her ass and where her legs are closed just beggin’ for my hard cock to slide into it. Pressing my hand down on her back—pushin’ her into the mattress, squashing her—I slide my cock inside of her. She’s damn tight, holy fuckin’ Christ, the tightest cunt I’ve ever slid into in my life. I feel her opening around my cock, actually fuckin’ opening like a fist going soft as I press into her. She gasps, but I barely hear it. All I know right now is the look of her tiny, peachy ass twitching and shifting as my massive cock slides inside of her. I’m shocked that she can take it all, right up to the balls, that there’s that much space in a cunt that tight. Her hole is hot around my cock, hot and wet, the sweetest fuckin’ feelin’ there is.

  Then, when I slide out of her, I can’t think anymore. I can’t think about anything. I look down at her ass cheeks, my abs pressing into them with each thrust. There’s somethin’ beautiful about that, the way they’re peachy one second and then flat and fleshy the next. I drill into her, not wanting to wait and take it slow, just wanting to fuck her as hard as I can. She moans, bouncing, but I can’t pay much attention to that. I’m too captivated by that tight ass, this tight, tight cunt. I fuck her harder, harder, so hard that the bed begins to scream like it’s gonna break, so hard that she buries her face in the sheets and cries out. She reaches back and grabs my hips, her hand clawing at me as I drill her tight cunt. I’m like an animal. I can’t think. All I see, all that exists, is that tight cunt and those ass cheeks. Propping myself up with one hand, I reach down and start massaging her ass cheeks, grabbing the flesh, bringing my finger near the hole and rubbing around it. Then she twists her body around, moves her hand to my finger, and gives it a nudge.

  This girl’s a dirty little whore…I push my forefinger into her asshole up to the first knuckle. She’s so tight I can feel my finger through the skin of her cunt, against my cock, like I’m jerkin’ myself at the same time as fuckin’ her. I can’t think. All I can do is drill into her. I slide all the way out once, aim, and then fall onto her with all my weight and strength, with so much force that the whole fuckin’ bed-frame just collapses, the legs snapping, sending us toppling down to the floor. But that don’t stop me. Nothin’ can stop me. I don’t know how long I fuck her, but all at once I feel the tip of my cock start to tingle like crazy, getting hotter the more I plunge balls-deep into this perfect cunt. I pound into her some more, and then the tinglin’ gets too much and I lean forward, pressing both my hands down on her ass cheeks, and come for the longest time I’ve ever come before, fuckin’ emptying myself into her hole.

  When I’m done, I stand up, dazed, and grab my towel to clean myself off. It’s only once I’ve wiped the come from my prick that I realize there’s blood on there, too, blood mixed with her fluids. Looking down at the ruined bed, I see that she’s sobbing quietly, head buried in the pillow.

  With the daze of the mad lust gone, I go to the mattress and kneel down next to her. It occurs to me that one of those bastards might’ve raped her, and it occurs to me, too, surprising the hell out of me, that seein’ her cry makes me feel like shit.

  “Becky,” I say, touching her shoulder. “Was it too rough—or what? What’re you cryin’ for? Did one of those men hurt you last night?”

  For a few minutes, she sobs into the pillow.

  I start feelin’ pretty bad about the whole thing, wondering if maybe I went in too rough on her. But the truth is, I was so fuckin’ horny I don’t reckon a tornado would’a stopped me. It was like somethin’ snapped in me, looking down at that sweet peachy ass. After a while, she turns to me and I see she’s smiling through the tears. She looks half-mad, the way the smile spreads across her face as though she’s purposefully tryin’ to freak me out. Then, she starts giggling. Once the giggling has stopped, she exclaims, “Julian won’t want me now!”

  “What’d you mean?” I ask. “The fuck you mean, Julian won’t want you? That’s a Capo you’re talkin’ about.”

  She points at the blood on the towel. “I was a virgin, Chance. I’ve never had sex before, well…until just now. Julian only wanted me because I was a virgin. He won’t want me now!” She says all this gleefully, like it’s the best thing that could ever happen.

  But already I’m on my feet, rage movin’ through me. I stare down at her, shakin’ with anger, wondering what sort of sick fucking game she’s playing. When I speak, I try’n keep my voice low, measured, but it comes out like the growling of a dog before it leaps. “Julian is a goddamn Capo. Let me paint a picture for you, Becky. There’s the boss, the Capo Ba
scone—the underboss—regular Capos, and then hitters like me, and then enforcers, and then the fuckin’ runts of the Family, the kids and shit. Don’t you fuckin’ understand? Julian is a Capo, which means he has every goddamn right to kill me if he ever finds out about this. And I’ve just walked into this motel like a fuckin’ cow to the slaughterhouse.”

  She just stares up at me, still smiling.

  “Stop fuckin’ smiling at me!” I break out, my anger taking hold of me.

  She flinches away, burying her face in the pillow and cryin’ some more. I’m too angry to talk to her right now so I go into the bathroom and pace up and down like a caged lion, thinkin’ about the goddamn mess I’m in. It was bad enough findin’ a dead cop at the warehouse, but now I’ve gone and de-fuckin’-flowered a Capo’s woman. Course, I knew that she was promised to the Capo, but I had no clue she was a virgin. I sit on the edge of the toilet seat, thinkin’ how the Family is gonna have me killed, but not just killed. First they’ll cut pieces of me off, and then stuff those pieces all over town as I sit there, bleeding, and then, only when I’m begging for it…I close my mind to that. That’s a hypothetical I don’t wanna start thinkin’ about. I sit like this for a long time, fists clenched, staring down at the tiles. Blood has dried there from where it dripped off our bodies, trails of it.

  When I’ve calmed down some, I return to the bedroom. “Listen,” I say. She’s sittin’ up now, knees drawn to her chest, the blanket pulled over her. She’s looks vulnerable and cute as hell, with her hair all messy around her face, framing it. “I don’t wanna scare you, but you’ve gotta understand that it’s a big damn deal what we just did. It’ll mean we’re both fucked, if Julian ever finds out.”

  “I know,” she whispers. “But, Chance, Julian is, like, fifty. A fifty year old man, sweaty and disgusting. And he gave me to those animals in the warehouse, so he can’t care that much, can he!”

  “You made me fuck a Capo’s product,” I mutter.

  “Product?” Some fire comes into her eyes, lightin’ up her whole face. “What do you mean, product?”

  “That’s what you are to him,” I say. “That’s all you are, and that’s how the Family’ll see it.”

  “Are you really so scared of them?” She pouts.

  “I ain’t scared of nothin’,” I shoot back. “I just don’t wanna die, is all. Don’t mean I’m scared of it.”

  “That sounds like a bunch of big talk to me,” she says. “That’s all that is. Big, tough talk which means nothing.”

  I ignore that. Maybe ’cause she might be right. Maybe ’cause even a man who deals in death has a right to be scared of it.

  I see her twitching and writhing under the blankets after about a minute of silence.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  She nods. “A little, but it was nice, too.”

  “Come here, then. I’ll make you feel better.”

  Without waiting for a response, I yank her blanket away, revealing her cute cunt, a hole that gets me hard the second I look at it. Both of us are naked, but I don’t reckon a virgin can take a second pounding like the first I gave her. Maybe I feel bad about hurtin’ her, or maybe I just don’t wanna keep talkin’ about how scared I might be. Whatever it is, I find myself going down between her legs, grabbin’ her thighs and pushing her legs apart. I smell the tang of her, a confusing-as-hell smell which is sweet and sour all at once.

  “What are you doing—”

  Her words cut short when I bring my tongue to her cunt. I tease her at first, trailin’ my tongue in a circle around her clit, which is already red and engorged, like a little ball of fire-filled glass, the fire pressing at the edges, causing it to turn bright red. The more I lick around it, the crazier she gets, twitching and writhing in pleasure now instead of pain. Lookin’ up between her legs, I see she’s got her hands on her small tits, pinchin’ her own nipples like a real horny freak. I reckon Becky’s one of those virgins who’ve been repressed for way too long, and now she’s with a man who knows what he’s doin’, she’s going wild. I watch as she pinches her nipples until they turn white. Then I reach up with one hand, takin’ a cue from her, and take hold of one of her nipples between forefinger and thumb, all the while still lickin’ her.

  After teasin’ her for a while, I lengthen my tongue, makin’ it straight so the tip is a concentrated point, and then begin licking her clit as fast as I can, flickerin’ my tongue like a snake’s. This drives her crazy. I couldn’t hear her moaning during the sex ’cause her face was pressed into the sheets and I was too horny to hear much, anyway. But now, the sweet taste of cunt on my tongue, I hear her moaning, moaning which fills the whole room like a goddamn chorus. She arches her back, pressin’ with all the strength in her body so that her clit pushes against my tongue. I push back, just as hard, the result bein’ that the force of both of us is pushin’ against her clit.

  “Oh, Chance, oh, fuck!” She twists her body, hands fallin’ to the side, fingers clawin’ at the sheets like she’s falling and she can’t find her grip.

  I pinch her nipple harder and then open my mouth and take her cunt in it, properly eating it so that my tongue is flat against her whole pussy, all of it, its taste fillin’ me all at once, a taste I find shockingly arousing. A taste which makes me reach down and begin strokin’ my cock as I eat her cute wet warm cunt. I eat her for a long time as she rides it, all the while makin’ my own cock harder and harder, and then she reaches down and grabs my head. I don’t reckon I’m that sort’a man, so I reach up and bat her hand away, tellin’ her without words that I’ll make her come at my own pace, not hers. She accepts this, choosin’ instead to stroke her belly.

  “Chance, I’m going to—I’m going to!”

  She stops for a second, the way women do when they’re about to come and they can’t talk ’cause they’re waitin’ for it to hit. Experience has taught me that women go the craziest if you just go nuts at this point, lickin’ faster, harder, squeezin’ with more pressure and just makin’ them feel like proper pleasure-lovin’ bitches. So I lick her faster, eatin’ her pussy, fuckin’ munching on it, and then her body shakes and vibrates and she releases her come into my mouth, squirting onto my tongue, a whole fuckin’ mess of the stuff all over my mouth. I keep lickin’ her, keep strokin’ myself. There’s somethin’ sexy as fuck about her come all over my tongue, and I find myself comin’ at the same time, pumping my arm as she squirts. She squirts for a long time, finishing long after I’ve finished, and then slumps back onto the mattress. I lean back, spitting her come onto the floor. No way I’m swallowin’ it.

  Then I stand up and see that she’s already collapsed on the bed, falling asleep.

  I tug the blanket up to her chin and then go to the corner and sit on her pallet, shakin’ my head at the fuckin’ mess I’m in.

  Chapter Nine

  Becky

  For the second time in a twenty-four-hour period, when I wake I feel like I’m in a dream. But this time it’s a dream in which Chance and I, for some bizarre reason, are married and have children and live in the suburbs. I have a clear image of Chance wearing an apron flipping burgers at a barbeque. Then, slowly, the dream fades and I realize how ridiculous the idea is. Chance is terrifying, intimidating, captivating in a strange way, but he’s not a man I can imagine standing at a barbeque flipping burgers. Then my stomach grumbles and I think perhaps the dream had more to do with burgers than with Chance.

  I lean up in the broken bed, my body sore, aching even more than it did earlier today. It’s evening, the New York autumn wind whipping at the glass, causing it to whistle. I clutch my belly, which is so empty it feels like it’s eating itself. When Chance walks in through the door holding two take-out bags, I almost throw myself at him and tear them from his hands. He’s found a green bomber jacket and faded jeans, with scuffed brown workman’s boots, making him look as gruff as ever. His black hair is damp with rainfall, and his eyes flit around the room when he enters, as though it’s impossible for him to enter a roo
m without first searching it. When he sees it’s safe, he comes to the ruined bed and drops onto the mattress.

  “Thought you might be hungry,” he says, not looking at me. Maybe he feels awkward for last night. I get the sense that this man rarely hangs around for the morning after, let alone the evening after. “Didn’t know what you’d want, so I got you one of everythin’.”

  I snatch the bag from him, nodding, and then rip it open. It contains a chicken sandwich, a beef burger, a chicken salad wrap, and a hot dog, with a soft-scoop ice-cream with little chunks of chocolate in it for afterwards. I’m so hungry that for the next twenty minutes I don’t even think. I just eat. I devour the chicken sandwich in four bites, the burger in five, and then munch down the rest as quickly as I can, even when I feel my belly getting full. Toward the end, spooning ice-cream into my mouth, it becomes a struggle. But the feeling of having a full belly is so welcome I don’t even care. Chance hands me a fizzy orange drink, which I gulp gladly.

  When I’ve eaten myself into a semi-coma, I place the wrappers beside the bed and lie back with my hands on my belly, feeling so full I could explode. Chance eats methodically, like a man completing a task, and then drops the wrappers on the floor and sits on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, staring at the wall. Once my food has settled, I try and figure out what he’s thinking from his pensive, serious face, but it’s impossible.