Devil's Disciples MC (Box Set)

by Scott Hildreth

  A jolt of electricity ran through me – from my clit to my painfully hard nipples. I flinched in ecstasy while his talented tongue traveled in and out of my wetness, teasing my deprived – and freshly shaved – pussy.

  In a matter of seconds my body shuddered, expelling its first orgasm. Porter sensed it, burying his tongue even deeper into my cavern of desire. Having him feed off my sexual bliss was a huge turn-on and made the peak of that orgasm wilder than anything I’d previously experienced.

  I collapsed from the climactic release, catching myself before I face-planted onto the chair.

  “Holy shit,” I gasped. “You’ve got a talented tongue.”

  “Your little pussy was made for licking,” he said.

  I felt his weight shift and glanced over my shoulder just in time to see him unrolling an oversized condom onto his rigid shaft. Giddy with excitement, I turned away, hoping to have his penetration be a complete surprise.

  He didn’t let me down. Not really, anyway.

  I felt his weight against the chair. Immediately following, the tip of his massive dick pressed against my opening. My mouth opened wide as he pushed his size X dick against my size Y pussy.

  Then, the pressure went away.

  “What are you doing?” I whined.

  He sighed. “You’re too tight.”

  It was the craziest excuse I’d ever heard. “Don’t be a pussy,” I fumed. “Force it in there.”

  “Did you just call me a pussy?” he asked.

  He didn’t sound overly angry, so I pushed a little more.

  “I did,” I admitted. “Because you were being one. I might be little, but I’m a big girl. Fuck me like one.”

  It was all the encouragement he needed. After positioning the head of his throbbing cock against my dripping wet slit, he did just as I asked. Five seconds later, I was ready to grab his wife beater from the floor and wave it high in the air in surrender. And then…

  Pop!

  His entire length, or so I thought, shot into me. When it did, all the air shot from my lungs. I gasped in delight and partially collapsed tits-first onto what was supposed to be the back of the chair.

  “You’re freaking huge,” I exclaimed.

  He chuckled a sinister laugh. “That’s half of it.”

  I closed my eyes. Thank you, Jesus.

  I clenched my jaw. “Give it to me.”

  Slowly, he began to push his weight against me. Inch by satisfying inch, he entered me until there was no more space. the tip of his dick was bottoming out against inner flesh I had no idea existed.

  I caught my breath. “Is that all of it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Relieved, I let out a breath in preparation of what was to come. “That’s good,” I said. “Because you just ran out of real estate.”

  He withdrew himself slowly, and then pushed the entire length back in. When he was halfway in, I felt myself contract. I couldn’t help it. Having him inside of me felt magical.

  “Are you having another--”

  “You’re going to have to be quiet I’m having an incredible orgasm right now and I don’t want to talk about it,” I blurted. “I’m sorry, this is so perfectly oh my God...”

  I lifted my head and smiled into the living room’s abyss. When the tip of his dick pressed against the bottom of what I always felt was a bottomless pussy, I sucked a breath.

  “Don’t move,” I groaned.

  Micro-orgasms shot through me like miniature shock waves, one after the other. After being pleasured by no less than a dozen, the mother of all orgasms began to build within me. I had no idea if a man could sense when he was preparing to climax – because I’d never asked – but I could sense when mine were coming.

  And the one that was en route would tilt the seismograph at a nine-plus on the Richter scale.

  His massive chest pressed against my back. feeling his weight against me was oddly comforting. I allowed myself to collapse against his weight, feeling small and powerless, which was a place I loved to be when having sex.

  He kissed my neck. There were a few things that drove me bat shit crazy, and kissing my neck was on the top of the list. I moaned to let him know where I stood on neck kissing. Hearing that expressed satisfaction drove him to kiss and chew against my sensitive flesh from my shoulders to my earlobes.

  In a sexually-induced frenzy, and on the verge of a serious meltdown, my body tensed and released repeatedly.

  I felt his cock twitch. Then, I felt it swell.

  That little bit of movement was all it took. My pussy clenched him like a vise. He gave two quick full-length thrusts. His breathing began to sound labored. He gave two more thrusts.

  I arched my back and bellowed out my satisfaction for a job well done while the orgasm took control of my soul. My muscles seized. I pushed my weight against his, lifting the two of us from the surface of the chair I was quickly developing a loving relationship with.

  Then, he gave one last savage thrust.

  Amidst the smell of musky cologne, the climax came to a head, blasting my mind into outer space.

  Porter let out a blood curdling howl.

  When the screaming ended, I crumbled into a pile of very happy flesh. Porter came to rest at my side. Side-by-side we remained, silently admiring each other’s sweaty bodies.

  In the past, sex had been more of a mechanical act than anything. Insert dick and fuck hard – while taking time to pull hair, slap an open palm against my ass, bite me anywhere, or dig your nails into my flesh.

  When the sex ended, I always regretted the extremes I allowed myself to experience – all in hope of achieving an orgasm that was better than the last.

  Sex with Porter was the opposite. There was feeling involved. I felt the act on the outside. I felt constant bliss on the inside. The difference between what we shared and what I’d experienced in the past was vast.

  I had my doubts that I could ever go back to having someone simply fuck me. After thinking about it, I decided there was no freaking way.

  “If you leave me, ever, I’ll find you,” I said with a laugh. “I just want you to know that. I’ll be that crazy bitch that’s lurking outside your window with a butcher knife and a big rock.”

  He looked at me like I’d kicked his dog. “Where the hell did that come from?”

  “You ruined me.” I chuckled “I love how it feels to have you inside of me. I mean it. I F-ing love it. I was joking about the rock, though. Not the knife.”

  He grinned. “Really?”

  “No.”

  He shook his head, and then smiled. “That was phenomenal. For me, anyway.”

  “More than anything,” I said. “More phenomenal than anything.”

  “More than pecan pie?”

  “Any. Thing,” I clarified. “I have no idea how I’ll ever make it through life without that dick, or the guy that’s attached to it.”

  “That was some good pie,” he said. “I can’t believe I topped it.”

  I slapped my hand against his bare ass, and then wished I hadn’t. It was harder than I wanted it to be.

  “Stop it, or you’re going to get it,” he said.

  I didn’t know what getting it meant, but I knew I wanted whatever Porter had to offer. So, I slapped his ass again, only harder.

  He rolled me onto my back and kissed me deeply. The kiss took my mind where sex simply couldn’t. It was a place where nothing else existed but the two of us. A place where passion thrived. Where hearts faltered. Where a magical sense of belonging to something bigger than life took control of a person’s very being.

  It was there that I realized Porter was special.

  So special, that I could never let him go.

  94

  GHOST

  It had been eight days since Abby and I made love for the first time. In that time, I’d all but abandoned my brothers in the MC, only seeing them during our mandatory Wednesday meeting. Abby had become the most important element in my life. From what I could see, I
’d become an equally important part of hers.

  I was fascinated with my unquenchable desire to spend time with her. My mother had explained that when I found the love of my life I would know it. Although I hadn’t fallen in love with Abby yet, I had my suspicions that she was that woman.

  I opened the diner door and held it open. No less than fifty eyes ratcheted toward me. After Abby walked past, I released the door and sized up each of the men who seemed to be more interested in us than their food. Eventually, they all went back to eating their meals.

  “Does this place only serve Marines?” I whispered.

  “No,” she responded. “But a lot of them come in here.”

  We took a seat at an empty booth. A matter of seconds after were seated, a middle-aged man approached our table. He wore a buzz-cut, was built like Rambo, and possessed the ability to burn holes through solid objects with his glare. After warming my skin with his stare for a few long seconds, he shifted his eyes to Abby.

  “Has he been feeding you?” He looked her over. “You look like you’ve lost weight.”

  “He has a name,” she said in a snide tone. “It’s Porter.”

  I felt as though she was introducing me to a member of her family. One who was angry about her decision to bring me into his diner for lunch. Nonetheless, I put on a smile, stood, and extended my hand.

  “Porter Reeves,” I said. “Pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

  “I was an enlisted Marine,” he barked. “I’m not a Sir.”

  “Geeeooorge,” Abby said. “Be nice.”

  He looked me over as if we were preparing to fight. He cocked his head to the side. “This is as nice as I’m going to get,” he responded, directing his comment to Abby, but keeping his eyes locked on me.

  “Sorry,” I said in an apologetic tone. “Ma’am and Sir. It’s habit.”

  “The military, a Boys Ranch, or upbringing instill such habits.” He looked me dead in the eyes and shook my hand firmly. “Which is it?”

  Through that handshake, he let me know what Abby meant to him. Any mistreatment of her would be dealt with harshly. As a reassurance that he had nothing to worry about, I held his gaze and returned his firm grip.

  “Upbringing,” I said. “I was raised in Montana by two women. My mother and my grandmother. If I wasn’t polite, I got my ear twisted in a knot.”

  He released my hand. “Damned fine country, Montana. Been fishing there a few times.”

  I grinned. “I grew up on a hundred and sixty acres. We had four ponds and a stream that ran through it. I’ve pulled many meals out of those ponds.”

  He pursed his lips and shook his head lightly. “A fresh stream trout on the grill is about as good as it gets.”

  I nodded. “I’ll agree to that.”

  George sat across from Abby and gestured toward the seat next to her. As directed, I took a seat at her side.

  He lowered his chin and looked Abby over. “You look tired.”

  “I am. We were up all night,” she said. “Talking.”

  His eyes shot to me. One eyebrow raised. “Talking?”

  “We talked,” I said with a nod.

  It was true. We had talked. While we were having sex.

  His brows knitted together. That look of disbelief remained locked on me for a moment, and then he shifted his gaze to Abby. “Talking?”

  Abby rested her forearms on the table’s edge and returned George’s glare. Locked eye-to-eye, they stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time. Then, Abby drew a long breath through her nose and leaned against the back of the booth.

  She crossed her arms and exhaled through her teeth. “I’m not going to do this with you, George. I’m thirty years old. You are well aware of how many men have tried to take me on a date in the last six years. Of those, how many have I gone out with?”

  He stared.

  “How many?” she demanded.

  “None,” he said. “That I know of.”

  “That’s right,” she huffed. “None.”

  He glanced at me and then at her. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “After six years, I’ve found someone that likes me because of me. And, it just so happens that he’s honest, genuine, funny, and has a big heart.” She said, her voice laced with attitude. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to get us a few menus, I’d like to eat. I’m so hungry I feel like I might pass out.”

  “Up all-night talking made you hungry?” He shifted his eyes to meet mine. “While you were talking, did you wear protection?”

  “Yes, Sir. I did,” I responded. “Always.”

  His jaw tightened. His muscles tensed. I prepared to block the punch I was sure he would throw.

  Instead, he gave a sharp nod. “Let me get a few menus.”

  While he stomped to the back of the restaurant, I moved to the other side of the booth and let out a sigh. “That went better than expected.”

  “Basically, I have two dads,” she replied.

  I motioned toward the kitchen. “Does he always walk like that?”

  “All the time.”

  “So, he’s not mad?” I asked.

  “Oh, I think he’s mad,” she said with a laugh. “But he always walks like that.”

  “What’s he like?” I asked.

  “He’s just like he is right now, all the time,” she replied.

  “No,” I said. “What does he like. What does he do in his spare time?”

  “Well, he likes to go up north and hunt. And he likes to fish. Oh, and he likes fast cars. Old-school fast cars, not the new stuff.”

  The easiest way to win a man over was to have something in common with him. If there was one thing I liked almost as much as fucking, it was driving a fast car. The rumpity-rump of a carbureted engine with a racing cam in it was music to my ears. As he made his way back to the table, I grinned and cracked my knuckles.

  “Watch this,” I said.

  George handed Abby her menu, and then held mine in front of me. When I reached for it, he pulled it away.

  “One hair. Just one,” he said through his teeth. “That’s all you’ll have to harm on her for me to hunt you down and put my thumbs through your eye sockets.”

  “George!” Abby shouted.

  “That’s all I’ve got to say,” he said. “I made my point.”

  I reached toward the menu and paused. “What’s your recommendation?”

  “Depends on what you like,” he snapped. “I can’t decide for you.”

  “I was taught to eat what’s put in front of me,” I responded. “Just send me whatever you think your specialty is.”

  “I’ll have the Abby and a glass of water,” Abby said, handing her menu across the table. “I see you’ve got it on the menu now. Thank you for that, by the way.”

  “If you didn’t abandon this place, you’d know it was on the menu,” George grumbled.

  “You named something after her?” I asked.

  “Best sandwich on the menu,” George gloated. “According to her.”

  I raised my index finger. “Bring me your specialty and one of those, too. I’d like to try it. Water to drink, please.”

  “Isn’t that cute,” Abby said. “Porter’s going to eat an Abby.”

  George took a step away from the table and crossed his arms so violently air shot from his lungs. “We don’t allow sexual innuendos in the diner,” he said though clenched teeth. “They’re inappropriate.”

  “So’s dropping the f-bomb, and you toss it around like you’re saying hi,” Abby responded.

  “Your food will be up in a minute.” He turned away with a huff.

  When he was out of sight, I looked at Abby. “Jesus. You’re being rude as hell. Are you trying to piss him off?”

  “No, I’m just trying to let him know this is real. That it’s not a fling, or whatever. Throwing it in his face is the best way to get him to accept it, believe me.”

  I shrugged. “You know him better than I do.”

  “You a
sked me what George liked to do with his time, and then you said watch this. You didn’t do anything. What was that about?” she asked.

  “I was going to say something to him, but I never got a chance,” I explained. “I will, though.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “I was going to tell him about my Mustang.” I reached for my phone. “I just finished building it.”

  “An old one, or a new one?”

  “Old.”

  She smiled. “I love old mustangs.”

  “I wondered if that was the case,” I said. “Based on a comment you made in one of your videos.”

  She squinted. “Which one?”

  I had yet to talk to her about it. After getting to know her more, I really didn’t see much value in it.

  “The gym rat video.”

  “You saw that?” She covered her face with her hands. “You’re not mad?”

  “I was. I’m not now.”

  She lowered her hands. “I was just…it was parody, or whatever.”

  “I figured as much,” I said as I scrolled through the photos on my phone.

  “What about that video made you think I liked Mustangs?”

  “You mentioned Gone in Sixty Seconds.” I selected a photo from my gallery and handed her my phone. “The star of the show was Eleanor, the sixty-seven Mustang.”

  She chuckled as she accepted the phone. “Eleanor wasn’t a Mustang. Eleanor was a sixty-seven Shelby GT500. Eleanor is my all-time favorite--”

  I cleared my throat and nodded toward the phone.

  Her eyebrows raised. “What?”

  “Take a look at the picture.”

  She looked at the phone. “The screen’s black.”

  “Zero-nine-one-seven,” I said, giving her the unlock code.

  She unlocked the phone and swiped her thumb over the screen. When she saw the photo, her eyes went wide.

  “Holy F-ing Moses” she screeched. “It’s her!”

  “Exact reproduction,” I said with a smile. “Built it from the ground up with my bare hands.”

  She took another look. “Oh. My God.”

  “Four-link suspension, a stroked four-twenty-eight, six-speed, roll cage, the whole enchilada. Almost nine hundred horsepower. Drives like a dream.”