by Paula Cox
My chest leans into his while I press the clear plastic bag full of ice cubes to his face. He winces and adjusts, but I hold him in place. “Don’t be such a baby,” I tease. “It’s only a little bit of ice.” I can feel his breath on my lips. His eyes dart back and forth at mine, searching for something. I find myself squirming from how his eyes have locked into mine. I laugh awkwardly as I add, “Plus, the ice will help you get back that dark and handsome thing you got going for you.”
“Dark and handsome?” His bushy eyebrow arches up. “I’m guessing that’s a compliment.” There’s a large hand pressing into my back, sneaking just up under my shirt. The space between us gets a little tighter.
“I don’t know,” I quickly let out. “You’re not really my type. I don’t go for the muscular… tattooed… road worn look.” My breath has escaped me. The ice pack floats down from his face to past his lap. All that’s between us is a few gasps of air. I remember that kiss, that first kiss between us. It was so powerful that it knocked me out with one brush of his lips to mine. Could I do that again? Here? Now?
I didn’t have to answer my own question. “Mack! Fuck! Mack!” There’s a bang of a foot to the metal exit door. Both of us jump with me sliding quickly out of his lap. I readjust his shirt before running back towards where Ian still lays. Two EMTs stand in the light just above Ian. They take his pulse and place stethoscopes and machines to his body like well-trained machines. One of them records his stats into a walkie-talkie strapped to his shoulder.
Mack pushes past me, his arm extended towards the group. He shouts out orders, giving them details of what he knows about Ian. A few times I jump in with details about his age and background—just little tidbits about his life I’ve picked up. I should be focusing more on what they are doing, how they are calling into the hospital urgently and asking for the contacts for his wife and kids.
Still, I can taste Mack on me. His warm hand has left an impression on my skin. I watch him come together, to lose all signs of vulnerability, and all I can think about is just how much I want this man—blood, bruises, and all.
CHAPTER 11
“Tell me the truth, man. Is he going to survive?” I look back towards Anna who is slumped against the wall about twenty feet from the action. She looks exhausted, but there’s something else there. She licks her lips as she stares a hole straight at me with those piercing sapphire eyes.
“He’s breathing and his heart is pumping. We’re not going to know the extent of the damages until we can run a brain scan and check what’s going on inside for internal bleeding, but I don’t see anything externally that indicates he won’t be up and walking around in a few days.” My old detective friend grabs my arm as he pushes me towards the small lounge area, away from the others’ earshots. “Tell me the truth. Is what the girl said true? Are the Knights of the Dead riding again?”
I’m always cautious about getting the police involved. Detective Joey Chrissum knows his shit. He prides himself on walking the streets and shaking hands of the guys like me. He has more connections to the gangs and clubs than anyone else I know. And over the years, we’ve worked together on making sure it’s safe to ride and do business, as long as it lined his pocket a bit. Still, this relationship has its own walls, and I have to be careful with how much I let a guy like him in on issues like this. If I was going to take a man’s life or if there was going to be bloodshed, his position on the force was only going to do me so much good.
I jut out my jaw as I give him my controlled, subdued answer. “That’s the rumor, and the guy was wearing the patches.” This much was true. Between the punches and the kicks, I managed to make a pretty good mental image of him. I rattle it off quickly to Detective Joey in hopes he may be able to give me a lead. “Dark, slick hair with a scar in the shape of a giant arch under his left cheekbone. He was tall too, probably about my height and about fifty pounds heavier than me. Real beast of a guy. He wore a ring too—silver with a black skull on it. I think it made an imprint on my shoulder. Does that ring a bell to you?”
He slumps in the leather chair, grabbing a cigarette out of the box hidden in his breast pocket. Behind us, Ian’s stretcher is waiting to take him away. Anna leans over her old boss, or what’s left of him, and whispers softly, “It’s going to be okay, Ian. We’re going to get this taken care of, and I am going to find the guy who did this to you. I am so sorry this happened to you.”
“Who is she?” Detective Joey asks as I reel my head back towards him. “What does she and this shop owner have anything to do with the Knights?” More questions. I hate when he goes into detective mode. I am the one in charge here, not him. I called in a favor which meant that he owed me, not the other way around.
“She’s none of your business,” I fire. She may be the entire reason we are here, but Anna’s not getting linked to me.
“I’m only saying it because I recognize her. Domestic violence dispute some months ago. It’s hard to forget a woman like that. I don’t remember much of it. I see so many similar cases that they all run together. But if I remember correctly, the guy she was with was into some motorcycle stuff as well. When we read out his background, he was certainly getting a sheet on him for petty shit like stealing, a few bar fights, and reckless driving. He a Knight member?”
There it was—her and Riley’s history laid out for me. She had mentioned it a few times in the past on how he got involved with cycling, but we had brushed over the breakup. It explains why she’s been so hesitant with me, why she’s had to put up some distance. You wouldn’t blame a woman like her for being skittish to repeat her mistakes, especially when they just kept coming back to haunt you.
Detective Joey stands to his feet as the last EMT leaves. “I should be getting to the hospital and checking him in. You know the routine on how to handle that, so have a guy there to check him in. In the meantime, if you decide you want some help from my guys, you give me a call and we’ll work something out.” He brushes past me, our shoulders touching lightly as he goes outside to his unmarked car. The rest of the medical team follows after him. No lights, nothing to indicate they have any work to do. The metal door slams shortly after they’re out of sight, leaving Anna and myself alone again.
“Where are they taking him? Should I go, or…?” Anna’s inexperience in this type of thing gives her away, but there’s a sweetness to her caring about someone like Ian. A tough girl like her with her guard constantly up doesn’t let many folks in, but the ones she does care about, she seems devoted to.
I turn back towards her, walking impossibly slow. My body still aches from the earlier fight. “No, you shouldn’t. That’s the dumbest thing you can do right now. You let that guy go. I get why you did it, but you should have let me deal with him.”
“Deal with him? You really think you were in any condition laying on the floor like that? I know it’s hard to believe, but I am not a killer like you. I don’t just take some guy’s life unless I have to.” Like you. I hate how she says that with such certainty of my past. She has no idea what it’s been like for me, to grow up like this. I love my position in the club, but it means I have to do some pretty damn terrible things from time to time. I’m not proud of that.
“Whatever,” I growl at her as I come even closer. “That doesn’t matter right now.” I have more pressing things on my mind than that punk that got away. I put my hand out towards her, touching gently at the outside of her elbow. Her skin is as soft as ever, milky and fresh. She doesn’t quiver or shy away from me. If anything, her feet shuffle slightly towards me.
“Let’s wash your face,” Anna says after a short beat. She takes my hand as she leads me towards her old tattoo booth, the first one in the building. I sit myself down in one of the tattoo chairs, my arms resting on the leather upholstery and my feet up on the rest. It reminds me of the dentist, but less torturous. Anna turns her back to me as she grabs a black microfiber towel from a dolly and places it under the faucet of warm, steaming water.
“You
wash down all your clients?” I ask as she stands over me. Gently, she places a corner to my forehead. The sting of the warm water sets a shooting pain through my temple, but I try to ignore it. I’ve had worse beatings than this. I know that this is the good part when my face is numb and my bones haven’t started to ache or swell. Tomorrow would be hell, but right now couldn’t get any better.
“No, not exactly,” Anna replies, “I only do this for the ones that I like or the ones that get the crap beat out of them for me.” She blushes as she continues to wipe the dried blood from around the top of my head and through the curls of my hair. “Maybe you should take off your shirt. I see a little stain where you’re probably bleeding.” She looks me over in a way that is anything but innocent.
I strip down quickly. My skin feels more raw without the t-shirt clinging to the spots where I took the most kicks. Anna looks just as shocked as I am at the sight of all the bruises and slashes. The damage runs deep and she carefully presses that towel into the cuts from the tip of the man’s boot and a spot where the buckle of my pants jammed itself into my skin.
“Does it hurt?” Anna asks as her hands knead tenderly into the area right around my belt.
I don’t lie when I respond, “No.” The air has been sucked out of me with every inch she travels down my waist. The cloth has become cold, but her touch makes up for it. My whole body feels as if it is firing up like an oven ready to bake.
The cloth moves to my side farthest away from her, and her tiny frame has to bend over my torso to reach. I take one look at that ass, round and firm in her black shorts. With her standing on her toes to reach me, I can see the curve of the muscles in her thick thighs slightly jut out. The girl has no bad angles. My hand rests on her backside. When she doesn’t push me away, I get even more adventurous—my fingers tracing the inside line where I can feel the material of her thing thong connect to the inner panel.
I swear I hear her let out a moan, but she doesn’t give herself away that easily. She continues to wash along the line of my body, rubbing and patting at me like a good little nurse. When she's done, her head swivels up towards me and she asks with a voice heavy and tempting, “Should I go lower?” All I can do is nod and swallow hard.
She drops the towel to the ground and takes the lever under the chair so that it turns towards her. I go from an incline to sitting up in seconds, but I am directly facing her in time to see her lower herself to her knees. Her hands press my thighs open before reaching for the silver hook of my zipper and, line by line, she pulls it down. My belt comes next, just as slowly, and with one quick motion, she pulls my pants, underwear, socks, and shoes off without any warning.
I brace myself for what’s coming next. I’m no virgin—far from it. Groupies going down on me is part of the perks of my job. We call them spare chicks, the girls you throw away when you’re done with them. Anna is the opposite of that type. She doesn’t look to me with a smile that says “watch me go…” Instead, she closes her eyes, softens her face, and presses her lips to the tip of my cock, as if she is tasting me, savoring me, like a wine connoisseur at work.
She takes her time covering the length of my growing, pulsating cock with sweet, soft kisses. I can feel her tongue slither out occasionally, darting for small laps of my skins. Each little hit of her mouth sends ripples down my skin and pops up the hair on the back of my neck. If she’s teasing me, she’s doing a hell of a job getting every cylinder in me to fire on high. It’s taking all of my power not to force that mouth open on my cock.
All I can do is just sit back and enjoy the show. I’ve been reduced to the man in the chair, and I hate to admit how much I actually love giving over some control to her. This is certainly not my usual way. By now, I’d be ordering her to the ground so I could open those thighs of hers. But foreplay with Anna is like fucking for the first time—everything feels that much more amazing.
I grasp at the tattoo chair armrests, my fingers digging in the leather. The chair leans back slightly as she finally opens those pink lips around the top of my cock. It’s only a few inches, just enough to feel her teeth pass carefully over my skin, but it’s fucking fireworks. When she bobs up to smile at me, I practically let out a gasp that gives me away, but instead, I force the air inside of me to stay. I’m going to need it if this is what is in store.
Anna goes in for another inch this time. The middle of her tongue puts pressure on the backside of my dick. Another bit pushes in, my hips doing a little bit of the action. And then another until she practically chokes back the entirety of my long, stiff member. It rests in the moist caverns of her mouth until she shoots back up for air, spiraling her tongue around me. Anna’s lips curl at the top—this is exactly what she wanted.
Part of me thinks she’ll just stop. Most girls are like that, only going as far enough to show me that they can do it. But Anna is certainly unlike the rest of them. She goes back for more, going farther and faster each time until she becomes a machine bouncing up and down my cock with lips that pull in just enough suction to make me feel as if she’s sucking out all the warmth of my body through that insane mouth of hers.
Her cheeks fill with my cock while her eyes close softly as if this is nothing to her. Her hands press on the side of my legs, giving her leverage to help her move speedily down me and shoot back up for air. All I can manage to say is her name, “Anna… God… Anna…” Over and over again. My fingers have somehow managed to find their way to her hair, pulling tangles as they go. They drift down to her tank top, and as she rests for a second, I manage to lift it up and over her head. Her black, strapless bra comes next, giving me the first glimpse of those perfect round tits with the nickel-sized, pinched nipples.
I’m close, so close that I know if she goes back down on me with those exposed breasts, I am going to lose it without experiencing all of her. I can’t let that happen. I need to feel her from every angle of that body of hers. My hands hook under her armpits to lift her to stand. Reaching forward, I tug her shorts and panties down so they slide towards her knees. She steps out of them, her lifting legs giving me a brief show of her shaved, peach colored pussy.
I pull her in close, giving her permission to straddle me. She takes her time, positioning herself just so that she avoids the bruises and the cuts, but I couldn’t care less. I lift my hands towards her head, pulling her forehead so that it touches mine. Our lips brush slightly as I ask her, “Are you ready for this?”
I don’t let her answer. My hands press her hips down so that she falls directly onto my erect cock, waiting for her landing. The gates open up and a flood of warmth gushes over me. She doesn’t go in all the way on the first try. I’m a big guy working with a petite little body here, but she goes in again, knowing it will only get better the more we work at it. Her flesh opens up itself around me, making space for more. Finally, I feel her pussy take me all in from tip to base, and it’s time for me to take over.
I close my eyes as I whisper up to her, “I’m going to fuck you now. Hard.”
My hips fly upwards, bucking her up like a bull to its rider. Anna throws her arms around me, struggling to hold on. Our bodies press as closely as they can with her head resting on my shoulders. My cock digs deeper into that cunt, pushing for something unknown. I hear her cry out something unintelligible. It’s rough, raw, and raging, but she loves it. Eventually, she finds my rhythm with her own hips and ass. With each of my pushes, she dances in a circle around me. As I come out, she moves the opposite way, making her way in a circle around my cock.
I don’t stop to enjoy it. I want her to follow me, to let me lead her, and she willingly obeys. She keeps up while I pick up the pace to breaking speeds that are timed with my racing heart. I focus on one thing, and one thing only—her cumming. I want to show her what it’s like to give herself to me. I push her forward so that I can see her. Anna’s head dips backwards towards her shoulders, her mouth opens wide, and her hands come together around my neck. Fingers dig into my skin as she cries out franticall
y, “Mack! I’m... I’m… there…”
She doesn’t need to finish her thoughts. I can tell by the way her body stops and then sways slightly that she’s experiencing it. Her face is completely flushed from the orgasm, making her look as beautiful as always. She runs her hands through her hair before opening her eyes. Her hips rock forward and then backwards again. This crazy chick wants more, and luckily, it’s my turn now.
I grab at the back of her thighs, positioning her so that I can drive the rest of the way. Locking her in, my own hips lift off of the chair and directly into her dripping, stretched pussy. She screams out again, her head dipping into my chest. From how she’s reacting, it’s as if she’s never been fucked so hard and as deep as I am taking her. Eventually, her legs wrap around my hips, giving me a better angle to plow right in.
It’s sinful how good it feels to peel back her layers, to explode right into her like a man unleashed. Every part of me aches with the sensation of knowing she’s mine and that I have full control of every inch of her body from the inside to the out. My spine curls as I struggle to hold on to that feeling. Everything disappears around me like a daze I can’t shake. I know that I am moments away from cumming, so I do the only thing that feels right. I kiss her. My lips push hard against her so that our teeth mesh together. She holds on even tighter than I am.
