Tonight, she’s mine.
I’m at least a head taller than her, and she can feel it as I hug her tight into me, my hand gripping her sleeve as she lets out a stifled groan into my kiss, her arms wrapping around my rock-hard abdomen.
“What the fuck were you thinking,” I growl between kisses as our lips part, “coming back into my life like this?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” she says back, swinging one leg over the log and pulling herself further into me.
My hands are all over her, exploring her body voraciously, and hers are fumbling across my muscles with as much desire, every second we’d spent together these past few days since the last time we fucked spilling over. We’re finally alone. Finally uninhibited. And I’m not going to waste a second of it.
Our seat becomes inconvenient, so I slide a knee to the ground, pulling her down with me and holding her up over me to cushion the fall. She nearly collapses atop me, and she just lets out a whimper of desire as I pull her close into me again, my hands grabbing her ass hard as I grind up against her.
My mouth is at her neck, sucking at the sensitive flesh with renewed energy. My hardened cock bulges in my pants, desperate to get out. Desperate for Cherry.
It doesn’t take long for me to work her blouse off, and as it falls to the ground, her fingers are already fumbling to unhook her bra for fear that I’d rip the damn thing off. She can sense my hunger for her, and all she wants is to goad it on — to be utterly taken.
Her bra falls aside and her breasts spill out. In an instant, I sit up, sliding my jacket off, and I have to work my t-shirt off between her groping at me desperately. I toss the jacket and the shirt to the ground and push Cherry onto it, using it to pad her against the dirt. It might be disrespectful to the patch, but to me, she’s worth it. And the only one who’d dare question me over it is putting her lips to my neck, wrapping herself around me.
She’s already kicked off her shoes, and I work her pants down with ease, her hips twisting to help get them off faster. She’s not wearing underwear. A grin spreads across my face as she lets herself lie there, totally exposed to me, practically panting for me to pierce her.
“Not yet,” I say, “I’ve got something else in mind for you.”
I bring my face down to her waiting, needy cunt and drag my tongue across her slit, slow and deep, and she lets out a long moan as her hands grip my head, getting a fistful of my hair as she presses herself up into me. Her taste is strong and it’s driving me fucking wild.
My tongue wastes no time in starting to stroke her rhythmically, and Cherry is gasping with each stroke. The stubble of my beard brushes against her skin as I move up and down, the tip of my tongue venturing deep inside her before playing around the outer edges of her pussy. I can feel her insides electrifying at its touch, her muscles tightening and her hips twitching as I explore her. Then my tongue moves up to her clit, and her knees jerk up as it strikes it relentlessly, swirling around the sensitive spot at the crown of her cunt.
I feel her legs wrap around me as I work with machine-like rhythm and animalistic vigor. “Fuck, don’t stop, Leon,” she begs me, “God, what even are you?”
I don’t answer, but get bolder and more intrusive with my mouth, stroking deep and ending at her clit each time. With every stroke, she anticipates it, but like a rolling inevitability, she nearly seizes up as I hit the golden spot. I start to feel her muscles tightening, faster and faster, but just as she starts to grip my sides hard, I withdraw, and her eyes spring open from the trance I’ve stroked her into. She looks almost hurt, wounded that I’d deny her, but as I undo my jeans and let them slide down, her pain turns to renewed lust at the sight of my cock.
Gripping her hips with my hands, I first pull her towards me and lunge forward to bite at her neck. She lets out a gasp as my teeth graze her skin, my fingernails running down her back as I suck at the nape of her neck relentlessly, meaning to leave a mark. Her squirming relaxes almost immediately, and she turns her head away to expose herself to me, inviting my assault, begging me to claim her.
I finally draw back and let her look up into me, looming over her and glaring into her eyes with unmitigated desire. For the briefest instant, I remember why we’re here, and the next, I toss the thought aside. Nothing will stand between us tonight.
That’s the liberty in my mind as I start to grind the tip of my cock into her, swirling it around her clit as she pushes herself up into me while I support her neck with one hand. “Turn around,” I say in a husk as I guide her hips, and she obeys, turning over to present her ass to me while she supports herself on my kutte.
“Do you want this?” I ask, pressing my bulging, dark crown against her lips from behind, and even that simple motion has her pressing herself back into me, but I hold her hips firm. “I want to hear it.”
“God, Leon, please,” she whimpers, “fill me up, I want all of you inside me!”
Without another word, I impale her with my cock from behind, and my crown crashes against that most sensitive spot inside her, and she nearly crumples to the ground under me as her honey floods my shaft. She tries not to yell out in ecstasy as I start bucking into her with abandon, and her teeth sink into the collar of my kutte as my hips work.
My cock pumps her like a piston, back and forth without missing a beat on each assault on the insides of her cunt. Her tightness is ecstasy for me. We share our warmth, and even as I claim her on the ground, I feel a closeness with her I’ve never felt before.
I pound into her furiously, her soft ass pressing into my pelvis as I go, and I have no plans to be cautious. I release all my inhibitions on her, and soon, I feel her cunt tightening even further around my manhood as she takes a sharp breath.
Then she lets out a piercing groan into my kutte as her orgasm bursts through her body, wracking her from her torso to her legs as I hold her up to keep her from falling over under me. I keep my pace, and I can feel her jerking and twisting under me as more waves of pleasure flow through her unimpeded as I keep my piston-like rhythm.
I feel my balls start to tighten as they slap against her wet cunt, and my fierce bucking starts to lose its regularity as my cock stiffens harder and harder, swelling up inside her.
“Don’t hold back!” I hear her beg as she feels what’s coming, “Come inside me, Leo — ”
Her word is cut off as she lets out a yelp and I release myself in her with a deep, husky groan, all the tension I’ve been holding back unleashing itself all over her insides. Long, hard shots of myself shoot up into her as I come, each one with a hard throb that makes her twitch each time.
I pull out of her, and the hot, pearly fluid spills out with me, the silence of the night accented by our heavy, exhausted breathing. Cherry turns over to look at me, shirtless and looming with my cock still stiff and wet with her honey, and a smile makes its way through her panting.
“So, strictly business tonight, right?”
I can’t hold back a deep chuckle, and I slap her on the thigh as she scurries up to get herself dressed again.
We’ve cleaned ourselves up, and half an hour later, the night has descended into staring at the docks through the pair of binoculars I’d nearly forgotten beside me. We hand it to each other from time to time, trying to scope out anything of value, but it isn’t until around midnight that something catches my eye.
“Why didn’t I notice that before?” I murmur to myself, and Cherry cranes her neck to try to see what I’m looking at, resting her hands on my shoulders and leaning on my back.
“Well, what is it?”
“That ship down there, I see someone moving around on it.”
“So? Have you not been seeing the people milling around? They’re shady old docks, that happens from time to time.”
“Yeah, but this one in particular. I can see the name on the side of the ship. It’s the Canary Islander. That ship hasn’t been in use in...well, years. It was deemed unseaworthy back before the union was busted. Yeah, I can see a
t least three people down there.”
I hand Cherry the binoculars, and she nods after peering through them for a few moments. “You’re right. Recognize anyone down there?”
“No — and that’s what worries me,” I say, squaring my jaw thoughtfully for a second. “I don’t like this. Come on,” I say, standing up and stowing the binoculars.
“What, are we just gonna leave now?”
“Naw, where’s your investigative spirit?” I say, giving a cocky grin as I pull my kutte back on and start walking towards the bike. “We’re gonna go pay them a visit right now.”
Cherry looks hesitant for a moment, but as I give a nod for her to follow me to my bike, she steps forward, picking up her shoes and heading after me.
“Good thing I think you know what you’re doing,” she half-laughs.
“That’s my girl,” I say as she clambers onto the back of the bike. As I rev up the engine, I feel her slip her hands around my waist as she considers what I’d just said.
“I think I like the sound of that.”
15
Cherry
The back streets leading up to the coast are only dimly lit by the moon’s eerie glow as we park the motorbike and start walking. There are lamp posts here and there, but most of them have long burned out, never to be replaced by the public officials who regard this area of town as a sort of lost cause. And the bulbs that remain with just a spark of life only flicker weakly, lending less light and more ominous atmosphere to our nocturnal mission.
We parked a few blocks away just off the road because the motorcycle engine is not exactly stealthy — you can hear it coming from miles away. Anyway, this time of night there aren’t a whole lot of vehicles or people passing through this area, so we’d stand out even in my much quieter rental. Not to mention the fact that both the local cops and the feds will definitely keep an eye out for motorcyclists at this point. They know we’re onto them, and if they’re smart they also know that we won’t give up just because they rattled the Club up a little bit with those interrogations. And we can’t risk blowing our cover, not tonight.
We’re going in to check out the abandoned docks where we heard suspicious sounds earlier, to find out what the hell could possibly be going on there. I mean, they are abandoned, so nothing should be going on there at all.
Leon and I are walking softly, keeping close together, our eyes peeled, searching for any hints of danger or discovery. I feel like I’m still glowing from our moonlit tryst earlier, but I try to keep my head calm despite the giddy butterflies flitting around in my stomach. It’s ridiculous how even in a high-stakes, gritty situation like this I am still so distracted by how much I like Leon. How intensely his touch affects me.
He makes me come alive like nothing else does.
And he takes me to places I’ve never been — even though we’re physically in the same town we both grew up in. It’s so strange to me how new and unfamiliar my hometown is when I’m traipsing through it with Leon. He gives me a new perspective on everything, showing me both the dark, terrifying underbelly of the city and the passionate, defiant camaraderie of those who fight against it. It’s just like a movie, and he’s the star.
Which might just make me the love interest.
Well, if that’s the case, I sure as hell hope I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t feel like one, not anymore. At Leon’s side I feel powerful, like an electric current is buzzing through my veins and heightening my senses. With one simple touch of his hand, I transform into a spy, a secret agent, an action heroine. I love it.
Gone is the Cherry LaBeau of New York City, the girl who holed up in her loft and dashed off shallow, insignificant gossip and fashion articles for a paycheck. Gone is the high-maintenance, high-life, high-rise Park Avenue princess who was afraid to get her hands dirty. I don’t resent that girl, and I know deep down she will always be a part of me, and I will look back fondly on those years I spent prancing through the Big Apple without a care in the world. But now there’s a new Cherry, and she’s one tough broad. She can run with the wolves. She fights for what’s right, even when it’s hard. She isn’t afraid of getting down in the mud and getting filthy when need be.
I like the new Cherry a lot. I think I’m gonna keep her.
“Shh, look,” Leon whispers, holding out his arm to halt me, then pointing up ahead a ways. I squint in the darkness to make out the movements of several black vehicles, glinting ever so subtly in the moonlight. Black sedans. The feds are here.
But that’s not all… there are several vans, too. Gray, nondescript, unmarked vans. They look for all the world to be exactly the kind of van your parents tell you to avoid as a kid.
“Let’s go closer,” I murmur softly. Leon shoots me an impressed look, then nods in agreement. He takes my hand and a thrill passes down my spine as he leads me onward, the two of us creeping along in the shadows of the trees and telephone poles.
As we sneak slowly and carefully closer, I’m able to make out something huge moving laboriously on the water, with long, tall beams. Leon stops me again and nudges me further off the sidewalk into a clump of brush across the street from the parking lot to the docks.
“Is that the ship?” I ask in an undertone, my heart racing. I still don’t know why in the world would there be a ship coming into the abandoned docks, but I know it can’t be for anything legal.
“Yeah. I guess it’s actually running somehow.”
“Don’t they have to, like, register that or something? You can’t just drive a big-ass boat up anywhere willy-nilly,” I hiss. Leon shakes his head and narrows his eyes, straining to look at the bizarre scene unfolding in front of us.
“See those big, black cars? That’s all the legality they need. A couple of feds to pave the way and keep the public out of their business, and even the nastiest crime boss can get his work done right under the citizens’ noses,” he replies quietly, clenching his jaw tightly.
Then I see something even stranger. It looks like the ship is pulling in and starting to unload a series of massive, heavy-duty containers, big enough to hide elephants inside.
“What the hell?” I mumble. Leon squeezes my hand.
“Come on,” he urges, “let’s go closer. If that’s what I think it is…”
His voice trails off as he pulls me along behind him. We both crouch as we bolt across the road and into the parking lot. I’m grateful that we’re both dressed in pretty dark clothing, so we don’t stand out too much in the shadowy lot. Either way, there’s not a whole lot to hide behind here, so this leg of the journey is considerably riskier. If any of those people on the docks just happen to turn around and look directly our way, they’d catch us. My heart is pounding, but somehow I still feel relatively calm. Leon makes me feel safe, even in the most dangerous of situations. We’re still a few hundred yards from where the black cars and creepy vans are parked, but I know we are essentially inside the lair of the beast right now.
There’s a dilapidated old green dumpster nearby, and Leon pulls me beside him several yards to hide behind it. I try not to gag at the musty smell, deciding it will be better for now to just… breathe through my mouth. But at least we have some kind of cover here, and we can still poke our heads around the side of the dumpster to watch what’s happening on the docks.
The vans are driving up close to where the ship has pulled in to a stop. Feds in black suits and sketchy workers in black hoodies and baseball caps stand on the docks awaiting the containers to be unloaded. I watch with bated breath as the first of these giant boxes is opened.
And my jaw drops.
I was afraid it would be filled with weapons or drugs or something. But what I see now is so much worse. Filing slowly out of the container is a huddled mass of human beings, trudging out and dragging their feet. They all look exhausted, their heads hanging and their bodies thin, dressed in ripped, stained rags. They’ve got to be immigrants, being shuffled into Bayonne for what? Hard labor? Servitude?
“Oh my God,
” I breathe, starting to shiver.
Leon’s chest is heaving, breathing hard. I glance up at him to see the mingled horror, fury, and despair on his handsome face. His hands are balled into fists and he looks like he might run down to the docks and start swinging at any moment.
“It’s exactly what I feared,” he murmurs, swiping one huge hand down his face.
“Who are they? Where did they come from?” I question, tears tingling in my eyes at the sight of their bare feet and battered limbs. Some of the women are crying, and the men have distant, far-away looks on their faces.
“From all over, I’m sure. Wherever the price of human life is cheapest,” Leon snarls.
There are multiple containers, at least three from what I can tell. And sure enough, all of them are opened to reveal similarly-disheveled, malnourished, world-weary people inside. The men in suits stand by, emotionless with their hands behind their backs or crossed on their chests, like they’re simply statues-for-hire planted strategically along the docks to guard this illicit deal. And the men in hoodies guide the miserable people down the docks and into the backs of the vans. It’s a horrifying sight. I know they aren’t bringing these people here to give them a chance at a better life. They aren’t rescuing them. They’re herding them like cattle.
Probably to be used much like cattle. Used up and tossed aside.
I tear my eyes away from this heartbreaking procession to land on another sight which chills me to the bone. There are two men overlooking the whole thing with nonchalance, one of them smirking and gesturing jovially to the other. One is in a sleek black suit and tie — and I recognize him after a moment of squinting and wracking my brain.
Agent Doyle. Of course that bastard is involved.
And beside him, talking and joking with gleeful abandon, is an old, potbellied man in a tacky white suit and red tie. He oozes wealth, the kind of exorbitant, obnoxious wealth that indicates he has no intention of spending his money responsibly. He looks like the epitome of greed and selfishness, like a pig in a silk jacket and a salt-and-pepper toupee.
Saved by the Outlaw: A Bad Boy Romance Page 12
