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

by Jaci J

Her tits are out, and I’m having a hell of a time looking at her eyes.

  “You told me to pick one,” she retorts, cutting the last piece of material from the shirt.

  “Figured you’d just put it on, not hack it up.”

  She slips it on, the only thing is covering her tits are the words Steve Miller Band, just barely. Tugging on the frayed hem, she smiles at me. “Like it?”

  “Liked it better off.”

  She stops in front of me, placing both of her hands on my chest. “It’s because you like looking at my tits.”

  “Like sucking on them better,” I growl, sliding my hands under the cut-off tee, cupping her tits under the fabric. Her nipples pebble against my palms, the round, perky fuckers perfect for my hands.

  She licks her lips, dragging her tongue along the bottom one, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

  “You tryin’ to distract me?” Leaning down, I kiss her lips. They’re soft and sweet, pliable.

  “Is it working?”

  “I can think of something better.”

  Her eyes flare and she bites her lip, knowing what I’m thinking. “Yeah?”

  “Turn around. Put your hands on the dresser,” I growl, moving her away from me a step.

  “What?”

  “You fucking heard me.”

  She does what I tell her. Her hands find the dresser, her back to me. Grabbing her hips, she jerks, surprised by my touch.

  I tug on her hip and she bends for me, her ass in the air.

  Her ass is round, perfectly fucking firm. My palm connects with the plump flesh and Bailey sucks in a breath. “T,” she moans.

  “Bailey …” I tease, smoothing my hand against her ass cheek, the skin turning pink under my palm.

  She relaxes, her back curving and her shoulders slumping.

  I lift my hand quick and hit her again.

  “Shit!” she yelps, her body tensing.

  “Too much, Doll?” I ask as I lean down, my mouth at her ear.

  She shakes her head no.

  “Good.”

  “You like putting your hands on me?”

  “Like putting my mouth on you better.”

  I see it in her eyes, the smirk lightening them up. She likes my words.

  Hand hovering over her ass, ready to lay into her once more, someone knocks on my door.

  “Fuck,” I growl, my hand connecting with her ass. “What?” I shout at the door, my hand slipping down her ass and between her thighs, pleased when she spreads her legs wide.

  “You’re up in ten!”

  “Yeah!” I holler back, slipping a finger into her wet cunt.

  “T…” she moans softly, her voice hitched.

  “I got five minutes. You ready?”

  She whimpers, and I get to work.

  I finger fuck her until her legs are shaking, she’s breathing hard, and she’s coming all over my hand.

  “Jesus, T,” she huffs, sitting down on the bed.

  “We’re not done,” I warn her, putting both hands on the bed next to her head, my lips inches from hers.

  “You’re crazy.”

  “’Bout to get crazier.” Getting off the bed, I reach down and grab her shorts from the floor.

  “Is that possible?”

  “Get dressed and come see.”

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  I laugh, taking her hand and helping her up. “Good. Should be scared.”

  “Why?”

  “Got a fight to get to.”

  “A fight? Like, a real fight?” she asks nervously, stopping a few feet from the door when I reach into the drawer of the desk, pulling out a stack of hundreds.

  “Blood, spit, and fists.”

  BAILEY

  “You’re gonna need this,” T tells me, handing me a rolled-up stack of hundreds and a shot full of clear liquid from the table set up outside.

  “For?” I eye him and the shot glass. Sniffing it, I shrug before tossing it back. The alcohol burns on its way down—vodka.

  T smirks, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head in that sexy way he does. Chest bare and muscles on display, I lick my lips as I look at his body and his tattoos. The man is unbelievably sexy. Stupid hot. Unfairly fine.

  “Knock that shit off,” he admonishes, grabbing my jaw and tipping my head back. “We’ll finish what I started later, yeah?”

  “Depends,” I breathe, feeling his cool minty breath against my face as he chuckles darkly.

  “On?”

  “If you win or lose.”

  Leaning in, he captures my lips in a rough, quick kiss. “I never lose.”

  “Says the guy still fighting for me.”

  “Hardest fight of my life.”

  “Worth it, though.”

  “We’ll see,” he grumbles, kissing me quickly again.

  I shove him away from me and smile. “I hope you get your ass kicked, hard.”

  “Only thing gettin’ it hard is you, Doll.”

  “Might be getting it from him.” I nod at the guy in the ring. “Hard.”

  Dragging his lip through his teeth, he taunts, “Put your money where your mouth is, baby.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  Nodding down at the roll of money in my hand, he grins. “Then you better hurry up and put that money on the other guy,” he tells me, walking away from me backward.

  “How much?” I holler, unrolling the money and counting it dramatically. “Two thousand on the other guy?”

  “Put a hundred on me.”

  “Fifty,” I call back as he disappears into the crowd around a homemade ring.

  Standing a few feet back at the edge of the crowd, I turn when a man walks up next to me. Tall, tattooed, and bald, he eyes the ring in front of us.

  “Bettin’, pretty lady?”

  “Nineteen fifty on the other guy.” I laugh to myself, handing the man the money. “Fifty on T.”

  The guy looks at me, his brows raised in surprise. “The other guy doesn’t stand a fuckin’ chance,” he tells me, like I fucking care.

  I look at him. He’s wearing a leather Disciples cut and a pair of thick barbells in his ears. He’s big, but not nearly as big as T.

  “I like my odds,” I counter.

  The guy shakes his head like I’m stupid. “T’s got his hands full with you, yeah?”

  “He wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “These guys like their challenges,” a pretty petite blonde demurs, stopping next to me.

  Her name is Ellison. Rock’s old lady.

  “Especially T.”

  The guy takes the money and walks off, his head still shaking.

  “I like you,” Ellison tells me, her voice light and soft, bumping her shoulder into mine.

  “Gotta keep T on his toes.”

  “And he’s been fucking dancing on them since meeting you.”

  “Is there any way I can get closer?” I ask her, trying to look around a couple of tall guys in front of me.

  Hooking her arm through mine, she pulls me around a large group of men drinking near the front of the ring.

  There’s a guy inside stretching out his arms, his hands wrapped in gloves.

  T’s standing outside the ring, Rock and another large man next to him. I watch as T takes a bottle from Rock, tossing back a long, hearty swallow before catching my eyes and winking at me from over the bottle.

  Being the drunk, hot mess I am, I lift the tee I snagged from T and flash him my tits. The cold night air nips at my nipples and they pucker against the coolness.

  T’s eyes darken and he licks his lips.

  My thighs tighten and my skin prickles.

  I’m hit with that rush only T can give me.

  “Nice tits,” the guy in the ring shouts, breaking the moment.

  I roll my eyes, not bothered, but Ellison sighs. “Shit.”

  T’s head swivels so fast, his head damn near snaps, his eyes narrowing on the guy. “Let’s do this,” he growls, walking t
hrough the opening and into the ring, his fists smashing together.

  His hands are big and strong, big enough to wrap around my bicep with room to spare. I know what he can do with those hands. He’s going to snap that guy in half.

  “You need to stretch,” Rock calls after T. “Or at least take a couple more shots.”

  “Fuck that. Let’s go.”

  The guy in the ring grins, jerking his chin up, ready to go.

  I know this is all fun and games, and according to T, they do this at every party. The club has an ongoing bracket, fighting amongst each other, but the look on T’s face is anything but friendly and fun.

  “He’s going to kill that guy,” I tell Ellison, my head shaking.

  She laughs. “I fucking told you, and you just made it sweeter for him.”

  “Will they stop it before it gets too bad?”

  Ellison shakes her head, pulling me toward a picnic table when people start to crowd in. “It’s usually a knockout.”

  “Does Rock fight?” I ask, climbing up on the table to see over the crowd.

  “Oh, yeah. Expect some good D from T when he’s done.”

  I look at her.

  She laughs again, the sound sweet and musical. “Testosterone and adrenaline.”

  “Jesus.”

  “You’ll be screaming ‘Jesus.’”

  16

  T

  ONLY THING SWEETER than winning is celebrating it with a piece of ass, and that piece of ass is so much better when it’s Bailey’s.

  Shoved up against the bathroom door of the club, her legs wrapped around my waist, I drill into her. Dripping with sweat, panting, and my body pumping with adrenaline, I hammer into her against the wall.

  Her pussy is tight and hot, wrapped around me like a fucking fist, squeezing the shit out of me.

  The sex is amazing, best I’ve ever had. But it’s more than that. It’s fucking her, it’s Bailey. It’s the way I feel when I look at her. The way I feel when I’m inside of her. The way I feel when she says my name.

  I’m rough with her, hands all over the place, squeezing and griping. Teeth, sharp and hungry. Body, hot and hard.

  She takes everything I give her, fitting me fucking perfectly.

  Her hands scratch at my back, nails dragging along my skin as she bites my shoulder, teeth sinking into flesh.

  “Baby,” I growl, hands kneading the soft flesh of her ass as I bounce her up and down on my dick.

  “I know,” she moans, her head falling back and bumping against the wall.

  Burying in my face in her neck, the sweat from my forehead slick against her skin, I breathe her in. She smells sweet and soft, like clean skin and a touch of something flowery. She smells like Bailey.

  Dragging a hand from her ass to the tee she stole from me, I push up the material and pull my face from her neck only to bury it in her tits. Big and heavy, I love the way they feel in my hands—soft, yet firm, plump and perky. Nipping at her nipple, I watch her back bow, pushing it into my mouth, silently begging me for more. I give her exactly what she wants.

  Rocking into her, I pick up the pace, her legs tightening around me.

  “Ahhh…” she groans, her eyes meeting mine. “I lost,” she pants.

  “But I won.”

  “Twice.”

  “Like I fucking told you, Doll,” I growl, bottoming out inside of her and holding her there. “I always fucking win.”

  “Yeah?”

  Grabbing her neck, my fingers around her throat, I bring her lips to mine. “Yeah. Always.”

  “We’ll see,” she huffs, kissing me back.

  “Yeah, we fucking will.”

  I continue to fuck her hard, showing her exactly how I won.

  _______________

  “I need a drink,” Bailey laughs, leaning into me as we walk out of the bathroom. “And maybe to sit down.”

  Spinning on her, I put both arms under her and pick her ass up fireman style.

  Carrying her through the club, people slapping my shoulder and congratulating me as I pass, Bailey giggles, her face in my chest. “I hope to God they’re happy you kicked that guy’s ass and not you tapping mine.”

  I laugh at that. “It’s both.”

  “Good thing I don’t embarrass easily.”

  “Good thing, because these motherfuckers are family, and nothing’s private around here.”

  “Do you tell them about me?”

  “Every fucking detail,” I chuckle, putting her ass on the bar top.

  “They better be good details.”

  “I was just telling them how good you suck dick, and about that trick you do with your tongue,” I tease, taking a beer from the prospect behind the bar.

  “I’m going to start charging for that shit,” she muses, lips pursed.

  “That shit’ll make me go broke.”

  “More than my dancing did?”

  “Yeah, baby, more than watching you dance for me did. This mouth,” I growl, grabbing her jaw, “could bring a man to his knees.”

  Turning into my hand, she kisses my palm. “Good. Start handing it over.”

  This girl. Jesus Christ.

  “You spent your money tonight.”

  Bailey frowns. “I know, and I lost.”

  Grabbing her waist, I pull her toward the edge of the bar and step between her thighs. “Good. Never bet against your man.”

  BAILEY

  “Who the fuck’s idea was it to play beer pong?” T asks, looking around the small group standing around me. “The fuck is this, a goddamn high school party or a fucking biker bash?”

  I raise my hand.

  This was my idea, and I’m damn proud of it.

  Tonight has been amazing. More fun than I can remember ever having. Lots of laughter and alcohol. Good food and great people.

  “Seriously?”

  “You scared to lose?” I retort, looking him up and down, sizing him up.

  “T, scared?” Bish chuckles, head shaking.

  He’s tall. He’s muscular. He’s hot.

  Like T.

  But aren’t they all?

  They’re all hot.

  Not traditionally, or editorially. Every one of T’s brothers are good looking in their own way, and Bish is no different. But that doesn’t mean I won’t kick his ass at beer pong too.

  “Me?” T pounds his chest like a gorilla. “Me? You think I’m scared of you, little girl?”

  Remi rolls her eyes, standing next to me at the other end of the table.

  T’s at the opposite end, next to Bish, and he’s looking at her too.

  She leans into me. “He’s all talk.”

  “Hey!” he shouts, pointing a big finger at her. “Who’s fuckin’ side you on, woman?”

  “The winning side, obviously.”

  Bish’s lip curls and his eyes harden on the both of us before he nods at T, and then back at me. “Okay, little girl, let’s do this shit.”

  Clapping my hands, I lean over the table and grab the ball from the middle. “I’m first.”

  T cocks his head. “Yeah? Why you figure you go first?”

  “Who sucks your dick?” I toss back.

  Hands up, he steps back from the table, a smile stretched across his lips. “She’s got me there.”

  We’ve danced.

  We’ve drank.

  We’ve eaten.

  And never once has anyone treated me like what I am—an outsider.

  The Hell’s Disciples are good people, fun people. People who’ve accepted me like one of their own tonight. I’m home here.

  At the end of the table, my hips flush with the metal, I hold the ball up and aim.

  The ball lands in one of their cups with a little plunk, beer sloshing against the sides.

  “Drink up!” I yelp, arms crossed proudly over my chest.

  T jerks the cup from the table and tosses it back, chucking the cup over his shoulder when he’s done. “My turn,” he growls at me.

  I laugh.

&n
bsp; I can’t help it.

  So big. So bad.

  T takes the shot, the ball landing in the cup with another solid plunk.

  “As you said, baby, drink up.”

  Taking the cup from the table, I down the brown liquid, tossing the entire thing back in one quick swallow. Slamming the cup back on the table, I smirk. “My turn, baby.”

  I take my shot and land it.

  T drinks, frowning at me from over the rim.

  “Go,” I urge, trying not to smile.

  T takes his shot, and being the poor sport that I am, I smack the ball from the air, batting it away from the cup it was about to land in.

  I’m not letting him win.

  “What the fuck!” he shouts, pounding both hands on the table. The cups rattle, a couple tipping over. “You trying to get your ass chucked in the pool again, baby?”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  From somewhere, I hear T’s sister laugh. “I love this bitch.”

  “Don’t fucking encourage this shit,” T growls, stalking around the table.

  Like earlier, I try, but fail, to dodge him.

  I don’t really want to dodge him anyway.

  Wrapping two arms around my middle, he doesn’t toss me over his shoulder, but he does bury his face in my neck and bite the skin below my ear, growling, “You’re a fucking shit.”

  “I know,” I sigh, laughing softly.

  “Fucking trouble.”

  “Since the day you met me.”

  “You were sweet back then. Now? A goddamn savage.”

  “I’m an angel,” I purr, settling into his hold, interrupted by my phone vibrating from my jean short’s pocket.

  I try to ignore it, but it vibrates again.

  I don’t want to, but I say, “T?”

  “Hmm?” he hums, his arms still wrapped around me.

  “Where’s the bathroom?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  “That’s okay. Just point me in the direction.”

  Pulling his face from my neck, he looks down at me. “I’ll have Remi show you.”

  “Okay.”

  I can work around her.

  “Yo, Remi, show Bailey where the bathroom is, yeah?”

  She agrees, grabbing my hand, pulling me through bodies toward the old restaurant turned club.

  “I like you,” she tells me, holding the door for me. “You’re good for T.”

  Her words trip me up. I look up from my phone, from the text from Walt. He’s back in town and wants to see me.