Sandman's Awakening: Twisted Iron MC

by Liberty Parker

  Edge raises his hand like a damn school kid. “Sandman?”

  I unfold my arms from over my chest. “Yes?”

  “Y’all know the widowmaker is one of my favorites, but since I can’t use one, how about my next favorite, a souvenir?”

  By souvenir he means a toe or a finger. He keeps them in jars of formaldehyde in the zoo. Pyro fires up the small torch he carries around as a lighter in his pocket. “I’m ready to cauterize,” he declares with a passion in his eyes as bright as the flame burning.

  I have no idea what or why Edge gets like this sometimes, but I wouldn’t mind a souvenir myself. I’m going to have plenty of fun when it comes to this bastard; so I might as well let those two indulge. “Have at it.”

  Pyro whips out his pocketknife and begins heating it up while Edge grabs the five-inch pruning Fiskars from the table. Bobby begins to move his head the best he can and I can’t decide if he’s trying to shake his head ‘no’ as in begging for mercy, or if he’s just flat out trembling now. “Eh, I’ll leave Merc’s work alone. Don’t usually go for the toes, but I think I’ll take a little off this one right here,” he says, grabbing one of Bobby’s pinky toes. I almost cringe every single time he’s done this. “Yep, this one will do.” He clamps the Fiskars firmly around the little toe and more tears slip down Bobby’s cheeks. Edge looks up at him. “Such a shame we can’t hear you begging and pleading along with the screams you’re having to hold in. But your voice is annoying and I’m sure you sound more like a little bitch when you’re begging; so it’s probably for the best.” You can hear the snap through the bone as the pruning shears cut through, and Edge stands with an ugly toe in hand.

  Pyro swoops in behind him and presses the scorched, orange-tipped knife against the open wound. You can immediately smell burnt flesh and that’s all it takes for Bobby to lose his bladder and piss himself before his eyes fade and he passes out.

  Stitches rushes in and checks for a pulse as Pyro backs away. “It’s just from the pain. He’s still got a strong pulse, so no heart attack. I’m gonna get him set up on an IV saline drip, though. Goddamn this motherfucker stinks. You’re not gonna like my advice, Sandman, but I think if you wanna get the type of revenge in that you so desperately seek; tomorrow might be better. Not for you obviously, but it is if you want him to last longer than a day. It’s just a suggestion. If not, I’ll grab the smelling salts and you can go to town on him right now.”

  Fuck. With crossed arms I circle the chair debating, tugging the lower portion of my lip in with my teeth. If I get too greedy now and we wake him, I run the risk of any small thing potentially killing him faster than I’d like. “You think he’ll be ready physically by tomorrow to sustain more?” I pause and ask Stitches.

  “Nothing’s a guarantee, brother. I mean, God forbid, but anyone of us could drop dead on a dime from a number of things. And I know nothing of his previous medical history. I know you hate the thought of it, but maybe giving his body an overnight break will give you something fresh to work with tomorrow. I mean, all things considered, we barely drew blood. But, some people have a lower pain tolerance and this asshole seems to be one of them. It’s a natural response to pain which is what his body’s done.” Stitches gives me more information to ponder. “I’ll be here along with PeeWee overnight to monitor him. The clubhouse is only about a ten-minute ride from here. I will definitely call if anything changes. You just let me know.”

  Fuck it. He’s not going anywhere and I’m confident my face will be the last thing this bastard sees before he draws his last breath. “I’ll be back for round two tomorrow,” I lean in, telling him not giving a fuck if he can hear me or not.

  “Okay, let’s get some of this cleaned up and head back,” Rogue calls out.

  “What about the women we have handcuffed?” Stitches asks Rogue.

  “Have PeeWee check on ‘em. Give ‘em enough water to survive. I need some damn shut eye before I can even think of what to do with them,” Rogue orders. “You sure you’re good with your decision for the night?” He looks at me.

  “It’s just for the night and he’s secure here.” I wink at my Pres.

  He slaps my back and we all pile back into the vehicles we arrived in. We’re sweaty and gross. We might possibly have some blood droplets on us, but I presume our women would expect that at the least. They knew we were on a mission, and they will know to keep questions to a minimum. Knowing this bastard is caught should lift a brick house from Aria’s shoulders and I can’t wait to see her. “Anymore word on the girls?” I ask, looking at Edge.

  “Talia texted me good night about an hour ago. Said the others were hammered and passed smooth the fuck out.”

  “Oh geez, I just hope that Aria’s asleep and not hanging her head over the toilet once we arrive. I still need to shower, too.”

  “Well, I need to shower also but I’m gonna have to tip-toe around a sleeping baby,” Edge huffs out.

  “Get used to that,” Rogue interrupts. “Mercenary will take Mel once he gets there so cool your tits.”

  10

  Aria

  As I wake, the pounding in my head beats rhythmically like a drum and as I force my eyelids open, I realize my entire body feels like it’s been hit by a freight train. Looking over, I see Hawke. As I scramble through my hazy memories of last night I try to remember if I can pinpoint when he came back; but I can’t. One thing I do know though, is that he’s asleep and it looks like genuine, bonafide, he got some actual rest for once type of sleep. The realization smashes to the forefront of my mind; they found him. Bobby Kelson was found and, well, is no longer a threat if I had to guess by the depth of the slumber Hawke’s in.

  Not wanting to disturb him, I crawl my way out of bed and head to the bathroom. As I walk, the drumming in my head gets worse and my body aches in places I didn’t even know existed. Squatting down on the toilet to pee, I notice Hawke’s dirtied up clothes still on the floor. As I focus more, I notice there is in fact what appears to be some blood on his t-shirt, but it’s not soaked. I’m no dummy, I know what goes on. At this point, I’m just glad that Bobby’s no longer a threat to me or anyone else. Whatever had to be done is none of my business, and that’s the attitude I’ll maintain; or at least try my best to. Either way, I sure am happy it’s over.

  Knowing Bobby is no longer out there in the world, breathing and hurting women, lifts a weight from my chest I’ve been carrying since the day he stumbled upon me in the bathroom. I know the shadow of a man I saw in the restaurant was him, I just wish I’d gotten a better look at him and been able to assess the danger and get myself and my friends out of there before he had a chance to hurt one of us. As I go to wipe, my stomach turns and I comprehend that it’s not going to get any better anytime soon. Groaning out loud at the realization, I know I need to grab some pain reliever and water. The thought of putting anything in my tummy has me leaning over and vomiting in the tub.

  “Jesus, Aria. Do we need to go grab a priest and have him perform an exorcism on you?” Hawke sarcastically asks me.

  “Ha-ha, very funny,” I dryly state. I personally cannot see any sort of humor in this situation.

  “What do you need, Aria?” His joking manner turns to something more of a worry and concerned look. “Do you need to shower?”

  “I’m not showering in that mess.” I may be fucked up, but I’m alert enough to know the shower needs to be scrubbed before either one of us steps foot in there.

  “I’ll clean it up.” He scrunches up his face when he says this. I let a burst of laughter free then moan at the drums that are banging inside my skull. He can coat himself in someone’s blood, but apparently not all bodily fluids are tolerable. If I hadn’t allowed myself to fall for Harlow’s pestering, and Outlaw’s challenge last night, I’d find this situation hilarious.

  “Just rinse it out, as long as I’m not stepping in it I’ll survive.” I stand up and flush the toilet then head to the medicine cabinet. Hawke takes down the shower head, turns the wa
ter on and rinses the evidence of last night’s endeavors. “I’m never drinking again,” I announce. Shaking the pill bottle, I sigh in relief as two pain relievers pop out into my palm. It took all of my energy and effort to get those suckers out without my brain exploding and I need them... a-s-motherfucking-p.

  “The water is perfect, baby. You ready?” he asks as he begins disrobing.

  “I’m not in the mood this morning,” I say as the last article of clothing leaves his body.

  “What’s the matter, Aria? You wake with a headache?” And just like that the smartass has returned.

  “What I woke up with,” I drag the last word out, “was the need to remove a certain appendage from a certain man’s body.” I raise my eyebrows, waiting for him to clue into my meaning. His taunting me has only served to aggravate me when I already feel horrible physically.

  He grabs his junk and scowls at me. “You were being all cute this morning. Now, not so much.” He narrows his eyes further at me as he turns around and steps in the shower. “You coming or not?” he asks with the curtain firmly gripped in his hand.

  “I’m coming,” I pout and begin removing my nightshirt and panties, which I have no memory of changing into. “Did you change me last night?” I ask, kicking his clothes from my path as I make my way to him.

  “I don’t know. If I say I did, do I get to keep my dick?” He raises his brows at me as I step in and join him.

  “It’s a good possibility,” I answer him.

  “Then I possibly did,” he quickly replies. I roll my eyes at him and he huffs out a puff of air before telling me, “Aria, headache, stomachache, makes no difference to me, roll your eyes at me again and I’m gonna blister your ass. You know I hate it when you do that.” He turns me around to where I’m facing the back wall and places the shower head over my hair. Once it’s wet down he begins massaging the shampoo and my headache eases some as his fingers gently rub my scalp. As he starts rinsing the suds, he leans over me and I can feel his hot breath on the skin of my neck. “Roll your eyes at me again,” he challenges. “Please do, I’d love to get my hands on that ass of yours.”

  “Maybe tomorrow.” I lower my head as he applies the conditioner. I know what’s coming next and am in desperate need of the act. As soon as the ends of my hair have a generous coating, he lifts up my long mane and begins rubbing the soreness out of my neck. Ever since the first time we showered together, this has been his routine.

  “That feel good, darlin’?” Same question as every time. He knows the answer, but I always reassure him anyways.

  “Amazing,” I purr out as I lean further into him. “Your fingers are magical.”

  “In more ways than one,” the cocky fucker answers. He might be right, but that doesn’t mean I need to feed his already inflated ego.

  “Is that right?” My heart rate kicks into high gear. Suddenly, the headache and my stomach turning is pushed to the back of my mind.

  “Umm-hmm,” he hums. My skin instantaneously breaks out in tiny, prickly bumps, up and down my arms. He pulls back and runs his hands through my hair, his other hand holds up the sprayer as it soaks my body. I can feel his hands follow the path of the conditioner, as it travels down my back, mixed with the water. My pussy clenches, I feel wetness coating the inside of my thighs and know it’s my core leaking out lubricant in preparation for intrusion.

  “When you touch me like that, my body comes alive and the need to feel you inside of me courses through my entire being.” He pushes my hair to the side and over my shoulder. His tongue begins making a path down my spine and my legs spread of their own volition. “You undo me,” I verbalize as he grabs the globes of my ass cheeks and spreads them wide.

  “Your pussy is glistening,” he says before he swipes me from hood to opening. He inserts his tongue inside of me and fucks me with it, soon my hips are thrusting back into his face. I throw my head back when his thumb begins manipulating my clit. My legs shake and my body hums as he works me to the point of explosion. “Hawke, I need you inside of me.”

  “I am inside of you.” He demonstrates his point by pushing two of his thick digits inside of my slit. “Your pussy is always so hot, like an inferno of the blistering heat inside of you.” He places his head back inside of my thighs and sucks my clit into his mouth until it extends to the point of no return. The sounds that leave my throat is not something I’ve ever heard before. It’s as if someone else is inside of me, controlling my movements and sounds and I’m just a third party enjoying the ministrations.

  “Fuck me, Hawke. I need to feel you pounding away inside of me.” These are things I haven’t been bold enough to voice out since my rescue. He used to love my dirty words, they’d amp him up and cause him to lose all control.

  He stands up and grabs my hair in his hand at the base of my neck. “You want me to fuck you, Aria? Is that really what you want?” I nod my head to answer yes, suddenly feeling shy about voicing what I want. “Say it again, Aria. Say it out loud, baby, and I’ll give you what you ask for. But only what you request, understand?”

  Sandman

  This is what I need. Her. Always my baby girl, my Aria. But this isn’t all about our pleasure, something clawing inside of my chest wants to slay her. I want to open her wide open and make her step outside of her normal comfort zone. “Say it,” I demand of her. If I wasn’t trying to control the beast clawing in my chest, I’d say fuck it and just take her. Not sure what happened to my foul-mouthed woman from just a few seconds ago, but I’m determined to get her back.

  “F-fuck me, Hawke,” she stammers out.

  “You don’t sound sure about it being what you want.” The dominant side of me begins roaring his ugly head, demanding the confidence in herself to reemerge and take control back of this introverted side she’s switched to.

  “I’m sure, Hawke. Please take me, own me, make me come.” Instead of responding, I line my cock head up to her opening and slam home. “Yes,” she hisses, throwing her head back. My hips begin a vigorous routine, pumping my cock in and out of her, I bend my knees to ensure I hit that spot deep inside the walls of her pussy. She clamps then unclamps my dick, an attempt to keep it hostage, then allow it to enter her again. Looking down to where we’re connected, I can’t help but admire the tan of my skin compared to the peach color of hers. She’s smooth and flawless, whereas I’m rough and calloused. Tattoos coat my skin, nearly every inch of me's covered with permanent art laced in ink, while hers is only ever decorated in red from the smack of my palm. My hand grabs her waist as I daydream about how my brand would look right there at the base of her spine. I’d be able to admire it while taking her from behind. My dick grows harder with that thought. “Can you handle more?” Not sure why I’m asking her, I’m gonna give it to her anyways. It’s as if I can’t help but taunt her with my words.

  “Yes. More,” she cries out. I pull her hips out further and begin slamming in and out of her harder and faster paced than I was previously. I need to feel in control. I need to demolish the image in my brain of another man’s hands on her. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about since seeing Bobby’s face again yesterday. Fucking bastard will not ruin us, we didn’t let him the first time around. There’s no way in fucking hell I’ll allow this motherfucker to come between us now. He brought us together, he’ll never tear us apart.

  “Play with your clit, baby, or I’m gonna come without you.” I watch her shudder with movement as she slides her hand down her front. “That’s it,” I encourage. She slides her hand further and grips my balls within her embrace. She begins rolling them and swiveling her hips.

  “I’m there, Hawke. Need you to coat the inside of me with your come. Mark me, claim me.” Those words always seem to be my undoing. She knows it and uses it against me. I roar out my release as she screams out her orgasm. As we come together, her body deflates and she falls back against my chest.

  “How’s your head, baby?” I ask, reaching back and grabbing a rag and her body wash.
Applying a good amount, I rub it into the cloth, smothering it together until suds appear. Since she’s leaned back into me, I begin rubbing it up and down her stomach and chest, making sure to pay special attention to her breasts. Her arm comes up over her head and ends up wrapped around the back of my neck. She arches into the rag and I count the tiles in front of me to keep my dick under control.