by Kerri Ann
I left her in my bedroom with a Bow’s T-shirt and one of my favorite band sweaters—the best white guy to sound like a brother. I can’t wait to see her walk through the kitchen with it on. Honestly, it’s really in my best interest to clothe the woman.
My place isn’t cold by any means, but it is cool. I’m sure she’ll make mention of it. I don’t adjust the temp as it’s perfect all year round, and the last thing I need to see through a threadbare white tee is her sweet budded nipples. I’d never eat a real meal again. She’d be my buffet.
Taking bacon and eggs from the fridge, I get to work on feeding us. Oubliette is my first house guest. If I have a choice, she’ll be the only one ever.
Getting to work on our food, I hear her start the shower. When my phone buzzes across the counter beside me, I turn it over. My smile dissipates and my frown returns.
Motherfucker.
“Yeah. Go.”
“Where are you, Pres?” Smart asks.
Not sure I’m gonna get used to that.
“Out. Why? You need a diaper change?” I’m pissy, but it’s not his fault. He has no idea he’s ruining my high.
“Well, we were out looking for Scarlet and I think we found her.” That doesn’t sound good at all.
“Yeah? Where?” I grind out as I crack two eggs into a bowl.
His voice is tentative. “She’s being walked out of the police station with guys in DEA jackets surrounding her.”
Tossing an egg at the window, I curse out loud. “What the fuck’d you say?”
“I’m sitting across the street on my bike watching her. I see her clear as day, walking in cuffs with three DEA motherfuckers.”
With my rage simmering under the surface, I try to beat the eggs in the bowl instead of smashing more against the wall. “Tell me.”
Explaining King down to the shiny brown loafers the fucker loves to wear, he and his pinhead asshole sidekicks lead Scarlet to a black van. When he’s done and the van is pulling away, I tell him to follow the fuckers. I want more info when he has it. As I hang up the line, frustrated and annoyed, I realize my frustration isn’t with him—it’s King.
Setting my phone on the counter, still seething, I step down the hall. Knocking on the door to the bathroom, I yell in, “I’m going out to the garage for a moment.”
“I’ll be out soon!”
“No rush,” I say as I start away.
Smacking the remote for the door, it rises slowly, allowing light in. Light or not, I need to pound on the heavy bag to reduce my stress. Pelting into the side of it, imagining it’s King’s face, I punch it over and over.
I think about all the things he’s done to my life. If it weren’t for King, I’d have my family, my parents, and my club. Instead, I have a presidency that shouldn’t have been mine. I’d always thought I would be a member of the Cruel Intentions. I’d grown up wanting that. My skin itches where my Bows tattoo rests—a daily reminder that it should be three reapers with crossed swords.
I can’t go back now, that club is gone. That family’s scattered and a part of someone else’s life—of Lucius Gueirra’s life. One with my brother, my sister and a club I adored. Pounding on the bag as if it owes me something, I push those thoughts away. I can’t be that man. I can deal with the now.
Continuing to slam my fists into the bag, I think of how someone like Obi shouldn’t have been subjected to what she was. That she should be living a life where she’s fucking the nice guy—the good guy. Not me. She shouldn’t be here. Not for a moment, not for a second. Our life, our club, and the danger that flesh trafficking brought to her door isn’t something she should’ve even known existed.
If I had a choice, I’d rather not have known it existed either.
Swinging my fists, my muscles work to the point of weakening. It feels right. The pressure that mounts on my shoulders feels like my body can’t hold up the needs of others anymore.
This is all on True. Fucker had to use his sister as a spy in the Horsemen, instead of letting us work it out the right way. Killing her caused this whole fucking mess. A mess, that as pres, is now mine.
Mine.
Now I’m president—the king. True and DG left behind dangerous business dealings I had no care to inherit.
No more.
No more will I be a part of that.
No more will the Bows.
No more young girls and women. Hit, hit.
No more dealing with the cartel.
No more drugs and mules. Hit, hit.
No more infighting with the other clubs. Hit, hit.
No more.
I don’t want us in the seedy shit. The Broken Bows will be legit. I’ll possibly have a fight on my hands from the guys, but I’ll make this club right.
We’re taking ourselves off the market for the DEA.
And Magnus King? I’m taking him down. If he thinks he’ll fuck me over for it, he’ll pay. I have enough on him and his dirty workings that he’ll never survive.
The man may be a cockroach, but I’m about to stomp him out.
Chapter Twelve
Oubliette
After a steaming shower, I towel dried my hair as much as possible. Plaiting it to the side and peering at myself in the foggy mirror, the bruises are nearly nonexistent. The scars are internal. To me, I see his fingers, I see his face, I see his wide eyes.
Those eyes are imprinted on the back of my lids every time I close them. I’ve tried to keep awake to block him out, but even in my waking mind, Nock’s glare shocks me.
Flicking the light off and leaving the fan running, I leave the room.
Deciding to check out the house, as Lucius is in the garage, I take a tour. It’s not massive, but it’s comfortable in its entirety. There are two bedrooms—one that looks like it’s never been touched—an office that’s empty, a laundry room and the kitchen. That’s it, other than the living room I’m standing in. There’s great light in here. Any artist would be in heaven. Or a cat. Cat’s love light. Heck, my brother’s big dog would love this space.
Me? I notice the sophistication of nothing. Empty is beautiful. My condo is similar. I know guys think girls are clutterbugs, but I love simplicity.
Seeing a mess on the window and egg shells on the floor, I have to say I’m surprised. For a man who seems regimented, stark, and particular in his surroundings, an egg on the window is out of place. Grabbing a cloth and spray from the kitchen, I clean it up.
While I do, I hear Lucius in the garage. There’s smacking, banging, thumping, and grunting—he seems pretty pissed. I think it’s best if I leave him a bit longer.
On the counter, there’s a few eggs in a container, half beaten in a bowl, bread, and a package of bacon. I might as well finish what he’d started. Cooking up the eggs and bacon, I get to work on the toast while it fries up.
At some point, I couldn’t handle hearing Lucius’ melodic pounding further, so I turned on the stereo. Cranking the volume, music I didn’t expect blasts from the speakers. Old-school rap makes the windows rattle.
“Shit!” Scrambling across the room to the receiver, I turn down the volume as fast as I can. Once it’s at a rate tolerable, I start back on the food.
Moving with the beat, I enjoy music that I haven’t heard in a while. The food smells amazing, causing my rapidly starving stomach to grumble.
Walking to the garage door, hoping that he’s exhausted and starved enough that I won’t be a target, I decide that there are other ways to distract him—just in case. Pulling the sweater off, wearing only the white Broken Bows tee he gave me, my nipples are noticeable through the material.
With a deep breath, I open the door and watch him, the way he shifts, moves, and throws all his energy into a punch. I’m amazed by the strong man killing a heavy bag.
Deciding it’s best to inject humor into the moment, I say, “If you have that much energy, I can give you other things to do rather than kill a poor defenseless bag.”
Looking me in the eyes, his fire dissipa
tes. His dark skin has a sheen to it from the sweat, his soft soulful eyes are strong and direct. “Where’s the sweater I gave you?”
His body is drenched in sweat, the shirt stuck to the plains of his chest, perfectly showcasing his strong body.
“Inside.” I indicate with a quirk of my head. “How long do you feel like killing that?” Crossing my ankles and leaning on the doorframe, his smile-free face searches mine. His expression lights up the room. It’s easy to see that this garage—this workout room, has never had a woman in it. It’s built for one purpose. Not a car, not a bike, which is parked on the other side. Nope. This room is for clearing out the cobwebs in your head.
He wipes his face down with a towel. “How long have I been out here?”
“Long enough.” Smiling wide, I don’t dare tell him he’s been out here for over an hour. “But you still seem to have a ton of energy to expel.” Tapping the button for the garage, I giggle as it closes. “I’m hungry, and someone promised me a meal.”
Seeming sort of sorry for that, he smirks and steps up to me. “I didn’t mean to be gone that long.” It’s a nearly nonexistent smile, but I can see his beard twitch. “Let me feed you, woman.”
Reaching out, he tweaks my nipple. Squealing slightly, I pull in a lungful of air as he grips my boob tight. He’s so intense, it’s crazy.
I’ve gone from being the captive—I’ve said it before—to a captive on my own terms. I’m here because I want to be. This isn’t by someone else’s rules. This is different.
But is it different for him I wonder?
Chapter Thirteen
Busta
I’m drenched, worn-out, and annoyed by King, but that’s not her issue. Deflating my anger, rolling my shoulders and tossing the towel to the side as she walks out, I pull the wrappings off my hands.
Standing there, wearing only my white tee that shows everything, I’m amiss. Her pert nipples call to me. They ask to be molested—to be used and abused. Seeing those soft, imploring, and questioning eyes, it changes my need to destroy, use, and abuse. I wish to make her smile.
As I pull at her needy nipple through the white tee, she doesn’t move. Covering her pillowy tit in my hand, her little intake of breath increases my need to pull her apart all over again. But then I catch a whiff of myself. Sweat is not sexy.
“Oubliette, I smell awful. I need a shower.”
“Hmm. A conundrum.” She smirks, training her eyes low. Gripping my shirt, she attempts to pull me closer.
I stay put.
Smelling her fresh from the shower, feeling her body heat close, I toy with the loose hair that loops near her ear. My blood screams in my ears as my cock engages its interest once more. Looping an arm under her ass and lifting her over my shoulder, I pop open the door from the garage to the house. Wandering in, music blasts me.
“Rap, huh?”
From over my shoulder, she pipes up, “Well, I didn’t search through your playlists, and I’m good with this.”
Setting Obi on the leather couch with a skin-slapping thunk, her naked pussy flies through the air. Momentarily it distracts me. Who am I kidding? Seeing it is more than a momentary distraction.
Hopping over the back of the couch, I push her knees apart and smile. “I’m hungry.”
Her breath hitches. “Well I cooked.”
“Not what I want to eat, Obi.”
Staring down at that sweet center, it calls to me. Like a starved man, I sink myself between her folds. Mewling and sighing, Obi grinds her hips upward to meet my mouth. Her scent, her taste—I won’t quit until she comes at least twice, then I’m sinking myself deep. Finding a particularly sensitive point on her body, I hold myself to trace it exclusively until she breaks.
Obi’s release is addictive.
“Lucius!”
Christ, even that’s something I could enjoy hearing on a daily basis. Her gravelly voice—in a dangerous and sadistic way, in a greedy way, I hope she keeps it. Yeah, I’m an asshole for thinking that, but I love the sound of her mewling underneath me. How her growl turns me on further.
Rising, tossing off my tee and throwing down my jeans, I seat myself within her. To hear her fall apart again so quickly, nothing else matters. I want every squeeze, sound, cry and scratch as she grips my body.
“Deeper, deeper!” she screams out with her fingers digging into my ass. Pulling me tight to her, I thrust harder. The way her body responds is perfection. After one moment, my body has become addicted to the feel of her heat. Rocking harder, holding her hips as handles, I move faster and faster, doing as she asks until my body releases the tension I’ve held in. If I thought I was sweaty before, I’m dripping as I toss all the power left within me into my movements.
Grasping me like a vise, Obi cries out as her climax stiffens her whole body. That’s when that’s it for me. Thrusting one last time, I come within her as if my life depends on it.
“Holy shit, that was better than the last round, Lucius.” Smiling, she lies back, sated.
I feel the same.
Sated.
Backing out of her body, I wince as her tight walls try to hold me in.
Oh, shit.
“Christ, Obi. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t put on a condom.” That’s a first for me.
Pushing herself up on her elbows, the shock on her face undoubtedly mirrors mine. “That’s unfortunate. Please tell me you’re clean. It won’t make it perfect, but better.”
“Yeah. No whore’s touched this without a layer.” It may seem casual to say, but it’s true. Not one has. I’ve always been careful. Then again, I’ve never lost my head in a woman’s body.
Lifting off the couch, squeaking out from underneath, Obi grins, then kisses my lips sweetly. “I’m taking another shower.”
“I’m joining.”
“What if I don’t want you there?”
Lifting her up to stand, I laugh. “Not giving you a choice, sweetheart.”
Pulling down the tee until it hits her knees, Obi grips a bare nipple of mine and yanks it, causing me to bend down toward her. “I have a choice. But I choose to have you there, Lucius. Remember that.”
Petting her head, with her sweet blonde sex hair sticking up, I kiss her sweetly on the forehead. “Remembered.”
Pointing to my beard as she walks away, her little fairy growl chimes out, “You have a little something there.”
Chapter Fourteen
Busta
The outcome of this can have repercussions in my life for a long time to come. I came inside her. Fuck. I’ve never been so foolish.
Hitting the floor of the bathroom for the second time in less than two hours, she strips off the borrowed tee. Starting the water, bent over, pulling up the diverter, I stand behind her, inspecting that perfect ass.
Turning tail down the hall behind her with a fresh erection starting, I resign myself to the idea that she’s mine. I don’t care how, or how long it takes, but Oubliette will be mine for good.
Fuck. If I’d ever heard one of the boys talking like that, I’d have busted their balls for weeks.
Fuck it. I’m Pres now, right? It’s only acting, but a certain amount of privilege comes with the status. I can make the rules mine. I can change anything and everything to suit the new club I wish to create. Thing is, I want the club to be better—not just be a new dictator at the helm. Yeah, the Bows have been the bad guys, and we need that fixed. That’s in my mind first and foremost. But she’ll be beside me as I take down King and create the Broken Bows that should’ve been long ago.
Watching her bent over to start the water, I find myself thinking what it would be like to sink myself into her ass. Gripping her thick hips, holding her as she screams my name. That would be pure perfection.
Placing my hands on her bare ass, I massage and grip the globes tightly. Dipping a finger within her cheeks, I rub against her entrance.
“I want to be here,” I growl. She probably won’t agree, but I have a driving need to touch her everywhere. Movin
g my fingers between her sweet cunt from behind, I drag the lubrication along her ass.
It feels nice, I won’t deny that.
“Who said anyone has, and that you have the right to it?” Her tone is sultry.
Pushing against the barrier, I swirl my finger gently against it. Her body stills, then relaxes at my touch. But still, she doesn’t outright say yes or no. I won’t force her.
Reaching back, she moves my hands off her ass. “I need a shower, but I can easily go to the spare bathroom I found down the hall if I need to.”
Laughing deeply, I switch tactics. Reaching around to her nipples, I pinch each of them as my cock buries itself between her warm cheeks. “I’ll leave you today, Obi, but we’ll have that conversation again.” Rubbing myself along her body, she’s trying my resolve and my control as she pushes her hips back to meet my strokes.
Obi rises to her full height. Not much of a change really from bent over, but she steps within the shower, leaving me and my hard-on alone.
“On second thought, you can use the other bathroom, sir.” Closing the door with a smirk, using it as a barrier between us, she laughs. I laugh in turn.
Since I left my family, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve laughed. True joy has been missing in my life. Death, destruction, and duty. None of those have happiness associated.
Honor and trust don’t ask for humor, or for my joy. Obi doesn’t ask for it, and I guess that’s why it’s easier to be happy around her.
I’m not about to let her rule me either. I slide the door back. “I’m not using a different bathroom in my own home, woman. Shift over, I—”
With a loud ding, the doorbell rings out.
Who the fuck would drop by here?
All I know is that it better not be King. I’ll kill a DEA agent today if it is.
Don’t mess with a man and his ass.
“This isn’t over, woman. I’ll be right back.” Closing the glass door, I leave the bathroom with a heavy thunk of the door. Putting on my discarded jeans, I know it’s him.
It has to be. No one else would show up here, and he’ll pay for his arrogance.