A Ride or Die Kind of Love

by Chelsea Camaron

  Reaching around her front with my right hand, I slide up her thigh. At her juncture, I slowly tease her pussy lips with my fingers. Spreading them apart, I circle her clit as she rocks back on to me, seeking more. I increase the pressure and the pace on her clit. My dick is hard pressing against her ass. She looks over her shoulder, down at my dick. Seeing the silver jewelry at the tip, she smiles.

  “Fuck me, biker. Take that big, pierced cock and fuck my ass.”

  If that’s what the hell the slut wants, who the hell am I to say no? The bitch wants it rough, fine. She’ll feel this shit for days. I push her head down onto the pool table. Removing my hand from her clit, I roll the condom on. I kick her legs further apart. Taking a few moments to finger her pussy, I use her own juices to start inserting my finger in her ass. Once she adjusts to the first finger, I add a second. With my other hand, I’m rubbing the head of my penis against her clit, letting the piercing apply that added sensation. She’s now rocking back rhythmically on three fingers. I remove my fingers and slowly insert the tip of my cock. I give her body a moment to adjust to my girth, as I inch in further. She’s tiny and there is no way I’ll be balls deep without hurting her. Her ass is tight and the lube from the condom isn’t enough. Once I’m inside her a good bit, I reach around with my left hand and massage her breast at the same time I begin rubbing circles on her clit. I tease the entrance to her pussy with my fingers. As I do, she rocks back engulfing my dick in her ass. It’s warm, soft, and so tight. I insert two fingers inside her pussy as I pinch her nipple. She rocks against me as I begin pumping both my dick and my fingers in and out of her. She’s clinching around me as her orgasm is building.

  “Oh, oh, oh…yes…I’m coming.” She screams out so loud Tank and his play thing stop fucking to turn and watch us.

  As she’s going through the aftershocks of her orgasm, she starts to raise her head up. I push it back down, as I remove my hand from her pussy and my dick from her ass.

  “I’m not finished yet. Bitch, stay put.” I say as I hold her down onto the pool table.

  Fast and hard, I thrust my dick in her pussy now. I set a quick, intense pace, ready to get off and move on. Within a few hard thrusts, I allow my mind a moment of wondering, imagining the face of a doll, I come in the condom. Finishing, I pull out. Removing the condom, I tie off the top, and toss it in the trashcan in the room. Adjusting myself, I zip up my pants. Looking over, I see Tank is finished as well. His girl, already sporting a pouty face, as mine is still bent over the pool table like she doesn’t know what just happened.

  Deciding I am done for the night, I grab my beer, and nod to Tank that it’s time to go. He follows me out of the room, leaving the two bar flies behind. They both call out to us. Rather than turn around and acknowledge them, I flip my middle finger over my head at them as we make our way by the bar towards the exit door.

  Even after my release, Doll’s face is still circling my mind. Damn, I can’t shake her. Fuck me. I throw an extra hundred on the bar for Tessie, like I do every week. She’s a devoted mom and dealing with my boy’s when we’re here ain’t easy. Nodding to Rex and raising my hand up, all the boys start making their way outside. We climb on our bikes and head home to rest for the upcoming job.

  Chapter Five

  One Opportunity

  Doll

  Today is a slow day at the office. Sass is serious about letting go of this lifestyle. She loves her dad and the family we have, but she really wants more. Full of mixed emotions, I begin to question what I want in the future. When my mom was alive, I didn’t spend as much time at the clubhouse or around the guys. After she died, my dad took me everywhere with him, so this is all I know.

  Settling down with a man sounds appealing, but playing domestic goddess does not. Kids are cute, but I don’t know about being tied down. I like the freedom to go off whenever I want, wherever I want, nothing holding me back. At twenty-five, I feel like I’m settling into myself. I don’t need the baggage of a serious commitment. I do need to get laid though. Damn, it’s been awhile and BOB is nice, but battery operated toys aren’t the same as a man’s warm breath on your neck as he’s thrusting in and out of you.

  The chiming bell on the front door shakes me back to reality. Looking up, I see a tall Latino man and a seemingly scared small woman.

  “Hi, welcome to Landing’s Storage. I’m Delilah. How can I help you?” I reach to shake his hand.

  “Lookin’ for Roundman.” He says, shaking my hand quickly while subtly squeezing the back of his companion’s neck.

  “Just a moment, may I tell him your name,” feeling apprehensive at his presence.

  “Delatorre.”

  Turning to my desk, I dial my dad over in the cave. “Hey Daddy. A Mr. Delatorre is here to see you.” I say into the phone. Dad makes a growl, which is his way of saying he will be right over.

  Smiling at my guests, I ask, “He’s on his way. May I get you some water, Mr. Delatorre and….I’m sorry, what was your name?”

  “Amy, my name is Amy Mitchell.” She stammers. Delatorre’s grip must have gotten tighter around her neck at her response, because she hunches her shoulders in a defensive manner. He’s obviously in control of her and this situation. It’s making me uncomfortable, but I’m here alone at the moment.

  “Some water would be fine, Doll.” Delatorre responds.

  Getting the water, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. How does he know to call me Doll? I told him my name is Delilah. Instincts are screaming at me that this is not a nice guy. Trouble is brewing and his name is in the thick of it.

  My dad stomps in. “Who the fuck are you?” He barks with agitation evident in his stance.

  “Daddy, this is Mr. Delatorre.” I interject watching my dad’s reaction intently. My dad is a master at reading people.

  “You may be a Delatorre, but you’re not Oscar Delatorre. He’s the only Delatorre I’ll meet with. I’ll ask you one more time, as my patience is non-existent. Who. The. Fuck. Are. You?”

  “Felix Delatorre, I’m Oscar Delatorre’s son. He’s become ill and I’ve taken over the business dealings.”

  “In my office, Delatorre.” My dad replies, pointing in the direction of his private door.

  He begins to guide Amy in front of him. My dad raises his hand in a stopping gesture.

  “She stays out here. No women in my office. This business does not relate to them, Delatorre.”

  He seems to want to argue for a moment, but stops himself. The cold stare he leaves Amy with is a harsh reminder to keep her mouth shut, act a certain way, of what exactly I’m not so sure. The look on my dad’s face lets me know this isn’t a welcomed guest. Amy sits down in the chair that faces my desk. Head bowed, she looks defeated, broken, and lost.

  “Can I get you anything, Amy?”

  For a long moment, she sits there, unmoving and not speaking. Then with a raspy, trembling voice, she speaks up.

  “Help me.” That’s all she says.

  Hearing a noise behind me, I look up. Before I can respond, the office door opens and the men walk out. Studying Amy, her body becomes rigid at Felix’s presence. Looking more closely, her face seems to have some underlying bruising that is still healing but clearly covered up by makeup. Why did I not notice this before?

  Grabbing a business card, I scribble my cell phone number down while trying not to be seen. Walking over to Amy, I extend my hand to her.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Amy.” She shakes my hand and I feel her trembling as I pass her the business card. I don’t know what exactly I can do for her, but I can’t miss this one opportunity I have to help her.

  Felix and Amy leave. My dad seems more annoyed than usual. I sense something big is going on. My instincts are confirmed when my dad calls a sermon in the cave for the Hellions. My heart is heavy with worry for our boys.

  Chapter Six

  One Mistake

  Doll

  Women’s intuition. That sixth sense. We often ignore it, and m
ake excuses for the nagging feeling of dread, danger, or doom. Sass and I are out at Booties, a nightclub here on Emerald Isle, not far from our condo. She’s determined to meet a regular guy. I want to cut loose, have fun, and not have a Hellion tagalong. Bad idea this was.

  There aren’t many nightclubs on the island, as it’s called, or even in town if we were to venture back over the bridge. Now having a few drinks in us, we’re both feeling comfortable and ready to mingle. We hit the dance floor. After a song or two, we’re joined by two pretty boys. Sass seems to really enjoy dancing and chatting with her new friend, Nick, leaving me stuck entertaining Alton, Nick’s friend.

  The guys are nice enough and cute in that preppy, country club way. Both are dressed in khaki’s and pastel polo shirts. Real men wear pink and all that bullshit. Give me a break. I want a man in jeans, a t-shirt, boots, and sporting some ink. If you’re too much of a pussy to go under the needle for the opportunity to be completely creative with the canvas known as your body, then you’re definitely too pussy to be with me. The collared shirts and sports coats, they just don’t do it for me.

  When we left the condo tonight, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was around. Here at the club, hours later, I still feel like something isn’t right. Looking around me, everyone and everything appears to be like any other night out, business as usual. I’m probably overreacting because we went out without a prospect or a member. Rarely do Sass and I go anywhere without a man with us. Not that I need a man, I’m perfectly capable of changing a tire and all that, but my dad insists the Hellions look out for us at all times.

  Suddenly feeling claustrophobic, I decide to leave the dance floor and head to the bar. The club isn’t very big. Entering, you find a doorman table for keeping the ID’s of the under twenty one people. Once past the doorman, it’s open dance floor space. To the right is the bar with a few of those gambling machines, to the left are a few table and chairs. Off in the corner is the DJ set up on a platform. Straight back leads to the restrooms and stock room.

  Alton follows me like a trained puppy, as I reach the bar. Rolling my eyes, I can’t help but think, ‘man up son. If you want me, make a move because right now, you’re boring the shit out of me’. I order a beer in a bottle, not on tap. This late in the evening, the kegs have been changed out, and the newer keg hasn’t been on ice as long. Warm beer is piss beer. Beer on tap that is crispy, ice cold is refreshing, but if it ain’t cold I don’t want it. Alton orders a razzle dazzle. Really? Ugh, there was a brief moment, and I do mean brief, where I considered sleeping with him tonight. Scratch an itch so to speak. Ordering a mixed drink and making a face at my beer; damn, you might as well have ordered a martini pretty boy.

  “What is a razzle dazzle exactly?” I ask because curious minds want to know and all that.

  “Vodka, cranberry juice, lime juice, mint leaf, and blueberries.” Alton answers with a proud smile.

  “Trying to hide the liquor taste?” I ask as a statement as much as a question. I’m so dumbfounded that a man would order a chick drink.

  “It’s very good and you don’t taste the alcohol.”

  “What about a simple beer? Like a Bud? Or hell, have a Corona with lime? You don’t drink Crown and Coke, or Jack and Coke do ya?”

  “No. Beer never has been a taste I could become accustomed to. And liquors, whiskeys, bourbons, are all good, but not for me if you can taste them.”

  What the hell? If he can’t choke down a real man’s drink, he sure as shit doesn’t have any ink hiding under those clothes. We finish our drinks with little more said. Sass comes over to whisper that she’s going home with Nick. Lovely, now asshat Alton is going to expect to go home with me. I’m over this night. Everything has felt off today, and it’s not getting any better.

  Alton, being the gentlemen that he is, wants to escort me home. Having taken a cab here, I wasn’t left with many options, other than to offend pretty boy and call another cab or let him drive me home. Not feeling threatened by Alton, I choose to allow him to drive me home.

  Something is still nagging and pulling at me in the back of my mind. This all feels wrong, going out was a mistake. Letting Savannah go home with Nick was an even bigger mistake. He may be sweet, but he’s not her type, even if she doesn’t know what her type is at the moment.

  We arrive at my condo. Alton walks me to the front door like any well-mannered, southern boy would do. He leans in for a kiss. I’m not sure why exactly, but I allow it. Waiting for a spark or something, I continue to kiss him. Nothing. No spark, no flame, no fireworks; hell, I don’t even get the tiniest amount of friction. I’m so dead to Alton, a boy scout couldn’t start a fire. He tries to advance the kiss. I pull back. Looking at him, the façade slips, and his irritation with me shows.

  “Delilah, you know you want me. Why be a prude now?”

  “Prude? Want you? What the fuck have you been smoking? I danced with you a few times, we talked, had a few drinks. That does not entitle you to have something more, douchebag.”

  He grabs me a little too firmly, pushing me into my front door.

  “Alton, no, I don’t want this from you. Go home, you need to leave.” I state firmly as a warning before things get out of hand.

  He makes no move to loosen his grip on me. My adrenaline kicks in. Fight or flight mode begins as my mind races for what to do next. Suddenly, his lips crash down on mine, hard. He’s trying to pry my mouth open. When I don’t yield to him, he bites my lip, drawing blood. I begin trying to push him off me, when I hear a voice.

  “I believe she said for you to leave.”

  In shock at the interruption, Alton pulls away. “Who the hell are you?” He asks. My veins run cold at the man standing in the breezeway. He should not be here. He’s not someone who should know where I live.

  “The person who is going to make sure you leave Miss Reklinger alone.”

  “You’re a damn tease and not worth the hassle.” Alton says, stomping off.

  Waiting for Alton to get around the corner, I’m in a stare down with my unwelcomed guest, who is now only a few inches away.

  “This is none of your concern. I had everything under control, Mr. Delatorre. Why the fuck are you here?” I ask, wiping the little bit of blood off my lips.

  “I came to return this.” He says handing me back the business card I gave Amy. “And to inform you that Amy is none of your concern. You need to be aware, I can find you easily.”

  Not knowing what to say, I stand there with an uneasy expression on my face. Felix Delatorre is walking away. The man carries himself with such confidence you know he means every word he says. He’s tall, over six feet, and he clearly works out. His cockiness is what’s most alarming. He comes across as the man who owns the world. This can be a dangerous attitude to have. And raises the question, can he back it up?

  Tripp

  Separating the trucks doesn’t make me comfortable. We’ve had two cars following us from the beginning. Since they are making no serious attempt to hide themselves, my instinct screams to deviate from the original plan. Sending the code to split the group early is not a decision I’m a hundred percent comfortable with, but it’s the best one to make. The trucks are spaced out in half hour intervals to keep distance between the loads and not draw attention. Now we are switching our directions. The routes were planned to be different, but the break off was not intended to occur this soon.

  Checking in, I let Roundman know we will be delayed. Something in this doesn’t feel right. This is not at all how any of our previous dealings with Delatorre have gone down. I rub my hand on the back of my neck, trying to work away the tension radiating throughout my body.

  “You straight, Tripp?” Tank asks as he’s changing gears.

  “Yeah, I’m alright. Shit feels off though. Not our typical run.” My phone rings before we can talk more.

  “Crews,” I answer.

  “The caddy followed you on the break off. Stay aware. He’s closing in on your six. Do you want me t
o send extra wheels?” Conductor states with his normal firm tone.

  The tail watched who has the double up on back up, damn it. Tank and I decided to stick with only one of the additional cars and let the others have two each. We have Slice, Tank, and me. Slice being our additional car, while the other two trucks have two cars with them. They’re clearly following the truck with the least man power. Calling one of our cars, I find out the Cadillac SVT has four men inside, the other small car has three men, leaving the three of us against seven. The odds aren’t bad, but shit isn’t good either. We’re armed, but it’s drama we don’t need following us home.

  “No, call Slice. Tell him to back off us, and circle around. We’ll be at the truck stop in Lumbee. If they follow us in there, we’ll chat. Slice is to make no moves, just wait and watch. Understood?”

  Finishing up my phone call, Tank is already making the appropriate turns to get us to the location. He pulls the truck up to the diesel pumps and stops. I ready my glock. Tucking the pistol in the waist of my jeans against my back, I exit the truck as Tank is prepping his weapon and logging the miles and hours. Sure enough, as planned, the caddy pulls in behind us. What’s surprising is the boldness of the car, as it parks directly behind our rig. Glancing over my shoulder, I’m aware of Slice arriving. He’s parked out of sight from the caddy’s location. If things go wrong, he’s close enough to step in and help while Tank leaves.

  I nod to Tank making him aware, the shipment comes first. He’s not to exit the truck. If these boys want to fuck around, he’s to pull off and leave Slice to back me up. The other boys will catch up and cover him. Knowing there is a risk, but also knowing this is my job, I approach the vehicle. Aware of my weapon, but not showing any signs of being armed I tap the window.