The Rush: The Hell's Disciples MC (The Hell's Disciples MC Series)

by Jaci J

  “Then we both fall off.”

  That doesn’t make me feel good. “Seriously?”

  “Deadly.”

  “T.”

  “Not gonna let a goddamn thing happen to you.”

  My heart speeds up when T gives his bike the gas and pulls off, the engine getting louder and the bike rumbling harder.

  Being on the back of T’s bike is an odd mixture of pure sexual exhilaration and a bit of unsure terror. I’m scared I might fall and we both might die, and for some sick reason, that turns me on.

  The speed.

  The closeness.

  The vibration from the engine.

  The feel of T’s back pressed against my front.

  The danger.

  All of it’s a heady mix of excitement and terror.

  T hauls ass down the long highway, trees and the landscape blurring past us.

  “How fast are we going?” I holler, putting my lips near his ear so he can hear me.

  His shoulder comes up and he jerks. “Jesus, baby, don’t do that shit while I’m fucking driving,” he growls. “Almost had me dumping us. But we’re going fast enough to catch a couple of tickets if we pass a cop.”

  For some stupid reason, that just adds to the sexiness of the whole ride.

  And that is why I’ve tried to stay away from T. Just being on the back of his bike is making me recklessly stupid.

  The ride almost makes me forget about my inbox full of messages from Walt and Randal.

  He drives for a little while longer, my arms wrapped around him, until he slows, pulling into a gravel lot that’s surrounded by trees and nothingness.

  Pulling up to the old bar and motel, he cuts the engine and takes my hand, helping me off.

  My heart is pounding, my legs are shaking, and my adrenaline is off the charts.

  I step back once my feet hit the gravel and give him room to get off, and once he does, I’m on him like Velcro.

  On my tippy-toes, I grab around the back of his neck and pull him down to me, kissing him like some aggressive, overeager teenager.

  I’m wound up tight.

  Needy and wet, and so, so hot.

  I want him.

  Bad.

  His lips are soft, but his beard is rough and coarse. His hands are even rougher, sliding under my shirt and slipping around my waist to my back, pulling me against him.

  I can feel him through his jeans, his hard length rubbing against my belly.

  He groans, slipping his tongue into my mouth and devouring me.

  I know his room isn’t too far away.

  “T?”

  “Hmm,” he groans, sucking on my bottom lip.

  “Take me to your room.”

  He leans down, putting his shoulder in my stomach and putting me over his back. I’m shocked for a single moment. “T!” I shriek, grabbing his cut and holding on. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He doesn’t answer me.

  He just grunts in response.

  Walking me around the side of his club, he puts me on my feet, my body sliding down his when he gets me around the corner.

  His hands are back on me in an instant. Kissing me, his hands in my hair, he holds me hostage.

  I do something I usually wouldn’t.

  Dropping to my knees, I pull at the waist of his jeans, popping the button open and unzipping the zipper in a hurry.

  I’m acting like a damn animal.

  Frenzied and wild.

  I don’t ask for permission.

  I just slip my hand under the band of his boxer briefs and fist his cock in my hand. It’s hot, smooth, and huge.

  T twitches when I touch him, sucking in a deep groan. “Fuck, Bailey.”

  Jesus, I love how he says my name.

  Smirking, I take great pride and pleasure in making him groan just from my hand, and I aim to get more from him when I run my tongue up his shaft, swirling it around the head.

  It’s insanely heady to know I have this much power over him.

  Sucking him deep into my mouth, I drag my tongue back down his length before damn near gagging myself when I take his huge cock down my throat.

  I don’t know who this woman is, doing this out here on the side of a T’s club, but I like her. She’s bold and sexy, and probably a little bit crazy. She’s everything I’m not outside of the club.

  “Jesus,” T groans.

  He pushes my hair off my shoulder, his fingers tangled in the strands, holding my head still. He’s not forceful, but he’s definitely not letting me go.

  I work him with my mouth, using my tongue and lips like a weapon, making him jerk, swear, and beg.

  The man fucking begs me.

  “Keep sucking or stop so I can fuck you. I wanna come, baby. Bad.”

  In and out, I suck him off until he’s pulling me off his cock and twisting me around so my back is to him.

  “You ready?” he asks, his voice gritty, needy.

  He doesn’t give me the chance to answer.

  Good thing I’m more than ready.

  12

  T

  I’VE GOT BAILEY bent over the railing of the porch, her pants somewhere behind us, and her panties wrapped around one of her ankles. I’m crouched down behind her, both hands on either ass cheek, spreading them wide, and my tongue in her dripping wet cunt.

  She’s sloppy fucking wet, making a mess on me and her goddamn self, that shit running down her thighs and my chin.

  She’s tastes good.

  Addictively good.

  She’s come on my tongue once, and I need one more before I bury my cock inside of her.

  “Fuck, Tyler,” she moans loudly, pushing her ass back against my face, and I’m a nasty motherfucker because I’m eating her cunt and her ass like it’s a goddamn dessert, enjoying every fucking second of it. “Shit. Shit.”

  Her legs are shaking, her chest and ass pushed out, and her back bowed. “Please don’t stop,” she begs, her hands wrapped around the railing, her knuckles damn near white from holding back.

  I could do this shit all day.

  “Come for me, Doll,” I grunt, slipping two fingers inside of her tight pussy and curling them.

  She tightens around them, rocking back against my hand and face.

  Dragging my tongue from clit to cunt, I love how she shivers, her legs getting weaker the longer I go.

  Finally, she goes quiet. The only thing I can hear is her labored breathing, and I know she’s about to come.

  I growl, curling my fingers and circling my tongue faster until she’s losing control and spasming around my fingers, rocking back harder, chanting my name like a goddamn prayer.

  I fucking love that shit.

  I don’t give her time to recover. Grabbing the condom from my pocket, I tear open the packet and jerk my briefs down to get my cock free. Sliding it on, I grip the fucker, heavy and hard, and push in the head. My knees damn near buckle from the contact. She’s warm and wet, and it’s fucking heaven.

  “Deeper,” she demands, shoving her ass back, wanting for more.

  “Yeah.” Pushing in a little farther, I groan when she reaches between her legs and slides her hand along the underside of my cock, trying to get more, but I pull out until just the head is inside of her. “That enough, baby?”

  I’m having a fuck of a time not going balls deep, but I’m enjoying teasing her more.

  Looking at me from over her shoulder, she barks out, “Fuck no,” sounding desperate. “I want you inside of me all the fucking way.”

  I slide a little deeper and pull one hand from her hip to reach up and under her shirt, exposing her plump tits, palming one and squeezing it roughly.

  I’ve fucked in some crazy places—this not even coming close to the craziest—but something about having Bailey out here, out in the open where anyone can watch, makes me crazy fucking jealous. But there’s no one out here watching us. It’s the idea that someone could be that makes feel insanely possessive. I don’t want anyone but me seeing he
r this way.

  This shit is mine.

  “Please, baby.”

  I give her what we both want.

  Slamming into her, I shove her against the railing, my balls smacking against her pussy when I start to pound.

  “Yesss,” she groans, utterly satisfied.

  I’ve fucked a lot in my life, but it’s never felt like this. Nothing like how I feel about the woman I’m fucking.

  She’s juicy and tight, and that shit makes my balls tighten and swell, ready to burst.

  “Fuck, Bailey. Fuck.”

  Whimpering, she pushes back, taking more. “Right there.”

  I give it to her right there, right where she wants it.

  I give it to her hard and fast until we’re both coming.

  I swear, I damn near lose my balance, my head light and my vision blurring when I nut inside of her.

  Bailey’s clenching around me and moaning, her ass shoved back as far as it can go.

  “Jesus, T.”

  “Yeah, baby, I know,” I groan, moving slowly in and out of her until I’m completely spent.

  She goes to move, but I stop her. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?”

  Groaning, I shake my head, eyes closed. “Don’t fucking move.”

  She laughs softly, making it worse.

  Swear to God, I came so hard, my dick has grown feeling and got sensitive. Every little move, every time she clenches around me, I feel that shit go through my whole body. But she’s so tight and warm, I’m not ready to pull out yet.

  BAILEY

  I’ve had sex with T twice now.

  Twice.

  I feel insanely proud of myself, and also, incredibly stupid. I did exactly what I said I didn’t want to do, and everything I secretly wanted to do.

  I’m conflicted.

  Clearly.

  A huge part of me wants this, wants him, while another pretty big part of me knows I shouldn’t.

  There’s just something about him that screams, “I can and will break your fragile, sensitive girl heart!” It’s the way he looks at me, the way he touches me. It’s in the way he carries himself and the things he says to me. All of it an elaborate mixture of potential heartbreaking disaster.

  But then, there’s also something about him that screams, “I’ll fuck you hard, and then love you even harder!”

  The man is a hurricane, a natural fucking disaster. And here I am, in the eye of the storm, standing here like an idiot while everything gets destroyed around me.

  We’re sitting by the fire outside of his club, me on his lap, watching his brothers and women drink and hang out. He’s bullshitting with the guy next to us, his hand on my stomach, flat and pressed firmly against my skin, holding me tight to him.

  T and the guy next to us our talking about guns, openly and freely. Either they don’t care that I hear them, or they think I’m not listening.

  “I can hear you,” I whisper, putting my lips near T’s ear when the guy answers his cell phone. He just presses his lips against mine, kissing me roughly.

  “Yeah? You gonna tell people my business?”

  “Well, no…”

  “Then I’m not fuckin’ worried about it,” he replies, wrapping a piece of my hair around his finger, tugging on it playfully. “I trust you.”

  He trusts me?

  “Or maybe I’ll collect all your secrets and use them against you later to blackmail you.”

  One of his thick, dark brows quirks up, the one with the little scar cutting through the middle. I love that stupid scar. “Really? Blackmail me? For what?”

  “Dick. Maybe I’ll still want some when you’re done with me.”

  Throwing his head back, he laughs loudly. “When I’m done with you? You think I’m gonna wake up next week and think, ‘I’m tired of this bitch?’ And what, drop you like a bad habit?”

  I turn my head, not looking at him for fear of seeing something I don’t think I’m ready to see.

  “Hey.” Grabbing my chin, he turns my face back to his. “It’s been a year, baby. A year of me doing nothing but workin’ to get you here, with me. There’s not a chance in fucking hell of me dropping you.”

  “Okay,” I mumble, feeling slightly embarrassed for even needing to hear him say those words. I didn’t even realize I needed them until I was headed right for them, and he was giving them to me whether I asked for them or not.

  “Okay?”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  T abruptly stands up, taking me with him. The guy next to us chuckles, watching T walk away with me over his shoulder.

  He takes me inside and sets me on the bar, his hips wedged between my legs. “Yo!” he shouts toward the door, the one I’m assuming leads to a kitchen. A second later, a man in a patchless leather vest walks out.

  “Hey, man.”

  T doesn’t look at him, he looks at me. “What do you want?”

  “What?” I ask, confused by his question.

  “Food,” he clarifies.

  “What can I get?” I ask, running through potential ideas.

  “Whatever you want.”

  Whatever I want, huh? A Porsche? A pony? “Grilled cheese and fries?” I ask instead, suddenly really into the idea of a grilled cheese.

  T turns his head and looks at the guy. “You heard that shit, prospect?”

  The guy nods eagerly, a little bit of apprehension on his face. “Yeah, I got it,” he confirms, walking off.

  “Sex and a grilled cheese. How did I get so lucky?” I laugh, and then laugh even harder when T squeezes both of my hips, making me jerk. He doesn’t stop until someone standing next to us clears their throat.

  It’s a woman.

  He groans when he looks at her.

  The woman is beautiful, and blonde.

  “What do you want?” T questions, staring at her.

  His face doesn’t give anything away.

  A slow, pretty, but icy smile spreads across her lips. “You’re not going to introduce me?” she asks, looking directly at me.

  She’s gorgeous.

  Everything I’m not.

  Tall. Blonde. Thin. Perfect.

  A sinking feeling starts in my chest, crawling down into my stomach and burrowing there, making my mind wander. Who is this woman? An ex? Someone current? And who the hell am I to be worrying like this? I don’t give a shit. The only thing I care about is making money and bettering my life, I remind myself.

  Neither of them say anything, so I decide to end the stalemate. “I’m Bailey.”

  Her smile instantly melts into something friendlier and more cordial. “Oh, good,” she giggles.

  Good?

  “I’m Sam, Tyler’s sister,” she tells me, and I instantly relax.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you. Ya know, put a face to the name. I saw you when you were here the other day, but briefly.”

  “Sorry about that.” I felt like an asshole for ducking out that night, but I couldn’t hang around, not when I felt I shouldn’t have been here in the first place.

  Sam lifts a slender shoulder, pushing her long silky hair over it. “Don’t worry, I get it.”

  I hope that’s true, because that was a horrible first impression. “I hope so.”

  She laughs. “Girl, you’d be shocked at the disgusting things my brother has brought around. If your quick exit was the worst, then let me tell you, you’re a fucking queen.”

  T groans, lip curled. “Shut the fuck up, yeah?” He turns his head and hollers, “Yo, King! Come get this bitch before she blows this shit for me.”

  I laugh softly.

  Sam laughs loudly.

  T doesn’t laugh at all.

  A giant, scary man walks up, his eyes narrowed when he looks at Sam. “The fuck you do now?” he grumbles, snatching her off the stool next to me like she’s a sack of potatoes.

  For a moment, I’m horrified, and maybe even a little scared for her, until she socks him in the gut and puts a per
fectly manicured finger in his face. “I didn’t do a damn thing, so fuck right off.” She marches off, the giant biker hot on her heels. At this point, I’m not sure which one I’m more scared for—him or her.

  “Get the fuck back here,” he shouts at her, “before I beat your fucking ass!”

  She laughs even louder.

  I look at T, but he’s looking at me. “Is he going to hurt her?”

  “Fuck, hope he does. Big ass mouth,” he mutters.

  “T, seriously.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he lifts a brow. “Fucking serious. That pain in the ass has a big goddamn mouth.”

  Now I really am worried.

  Getting off the bar top to go find her, T grabs me around my waist, stopping me. “Jesus, Bailey, relax. That motherfucker wouldn’t lay a hand on her out of anger. He fucking knows better.”

  “He knows better?”

  T gives me a knowing look, a look that tells me more than his words do. “He’d be meeting the barrel of my .45.”

  “Seriously?”

  He looks serious.

  “I’ve got a lot of shit to teach you, Doll.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Means it’s about time to give your ass a little biker education.”

  13

  T

  BAILEY IS ON my bed with her two grilled cheese sandwiches in her lap and a goddamn box of nudie mags she found in the bottom of my dresser spread out in front of her. She looks damn proud of herself too.

  Flipping through the pages, she stops and holds up one and looks at me, amusement in those dark eyes of hers.

  Standing in the middle of the room, fresh out of the shower and a towel wrapped around my waist, I stare back at her. “Yeah?” It’s some chick with small tits, a seashell in her hand and a beach blanket under her ass, smiling through the picture at me.

  “Is this the type of woman you like?” she asks, turning the picture back around to look at it. “Because she doesn’t look anything like me.”

  She’s right. The bitch has blonde hair and no curves. She’s also got a bush the size of a small afro between her legs while Bailey doesn’t.

  “I’m not into that bitch.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Because she’s not you.”