by Brogan Riley
Dante
Her throat squeezes me and I lose control entirely. I’m a pumping wild need. My seed spurts down her throat. I push into her mouth three more times, wrenching in my whole pleasure.
I pull out and she swallows every drop of my cum.
It seems like I have a very eager and skilled wife.
I hook her under the arms with my hands and lift her off the floor. I carry her bridal style toward our bed and lay her gently on the mattress. I help her remove the clothes and bend her knees. Her greedy pussy glistens, pleading for my mouth. I sink my face between her thighs and run my tongue up and down her wet slit. Her smell and taste are like pure intoxication. Divine.
Mine.
I thrust my tongue into her heat as my thumb strokes her swollen nub. She spreads her knees even wider, pushing her crotch against my face.
I could live with my mouth between her folds. She’s so wet it’s like drinking from a fountain of decadence.
I kiss her pussy and lick her clitoris, forcing sweet moans from her throat. With my face covered in her arousal, I crawl on top of her and kiss her on the mouth. Her stormy wide eyes plead for the release so I push a finger into her heat. So fucking tight. Her eyes flutter as she chews on her lower lip. We kiss gently as I slide two of my fingers into her. She’s so fucking wet I feel insane. My rock-hard cock throbs into her inner thigh.
Fantasies enter my head. One day, I’ll shove a thick and long dildo into her pussy and fuck her in the ass. She’ll be so full and so stretched that she’ll pass out.
Her mouth emits a gasp as I slide three of my fingers into her drenched cunt. Her face sharpens and her thighs press against my hips. Pain paints her flushed face.
“Chantal?”
“I’m fine,” she gasps.
I fuck her slowly, enjoying the mix of pain and pleasure that gives her face an unearthly appearance. She throws her arms over her head as her eyes flutter.
I pull my fingers out and put her calves on my shoulders. I line my cock up with her entrance and bury it inside of her to the hilt.
“Fuck,” I growl as her hot tightness engulfs me and pulls me in even deeper.
I have no brain. My being centres on my hard dick stretching that velvety channel of hers.
I fuck her fast and hard until we both tremble in satisfaction.
Chapter 12
Hannah
The woman stares at me with the cold hatred of her fish-like green eyes. “What are you looking at?”
My throat pulses and I smooth a hand down my linen apron. “Nothing.”
She tilts her head as her eyes narrow and slide over my face.
I clear my throat and move back but something about her gaze causes me to stop.
“You need anything?” I ask.
My heart stops beating. I jerk my hand up and cover my mouth with my fingers. You stupid bitch. The ants don’t ask questions like that. The ants don’t ask questions at all.
She looks at me like she knows. Panic strangles my throat. I draw in a shaky breath. I need to calm down.
“Master L told me to ask you if you needed anything,” I say.
“Really?”
They’ve chopped off four of her fingers. They’ve whipped her, starved her, and raped her.
Yet she’s still alive.
She’s as mute as a gravestone each time they come over to her room to ask her questions. I know because I’m standing outside the room in such moments.
Her right ankle is cuffed. A thick long chain connects her leg with the hook protruding from the wall.
I clean up the mess she’s left and shove a bottle of spring water into her hand.
“You need to be careful, you idiot,” she says and flashes me a snake-like smile.
“Who are you?” It just slips out of my mouth.
She shows me a shush gesture.
I bow my head at her and leave the room. As I pass the great hall, the sounds of the sacrificial ceremony settle into my ears.
Four men, three women and their two victims—a young woman and a young man.
The young man’s pleas travel through the air, but the arachnids only laugh at his pain.
He is already dead.
I wish him a quick death, because I feel sorry for him.
One of the arachnids, a blue priest, starts moaning and chanting. His voice fills me with repulsion. The young man starts to wail, but laughter and chants muffle his suffering.
They say they worship an Egyptian goddess called Neith. A spider goddess.
I’d say they just want to indulge themselves in booze, drugs, and violence.
They say they want to weave the present and the future like a cobweb.
I’d say they just want money and power.
They say they’re the kings of earth, blessed by Neith.
I’d say they’re sick evil people who should die in agony. As far as I know, Liberator is of the same opinion as me.
The young woman starts crying, her tormented voice chasing me as I walk up the marble stairs. I pass one of the scorpions. Our glances meet. Fury blasts in his void-like eyes. He stops, grips my arm, and throws me at the wall. Dizziness fills my head and then pain explodes in my skull. Blood gushes from my nose.
The ants don’t look up at the scorpions. Ever.
Liberator, I’m running out of time.
I’m tired and clumsy.
Maybe I should throw myself at the electric fence.
No.
I want to live.
I still believe something good awaits me in the future.
Chantal
My husband puts the fork across the plate. “It was delicious,” he says.
“Liar.” I can’t cook. I will never learn it. It’s like a curse. I can hack into almost anything, but I can’t cook. “It was barely edible, that’s all.” It was healthy for sure—two chopped leeks with a spoonful of honey and two spoonfuls of sour cream.
He smirks at me and we watch an adventure movie for about fifteen minutes.
Dante pats his lap. “Come here.”
I rise to my feet in an excruciatingly slow movement, causing him to emit an impatient growl. I roll my eyes for fun, jump into his lap, and throw my arms around his neck. We kiss slowly.
“I love your cooking,” Dante says, his voice husky.
“Really?”
His hand slips under the waistband of my tracksuit bottoms and he touches my clitoris. He massages it in circles, jolting me.
“I want to fuck you in the ass,” he rasps into my ear as his hand slides under my top and he squeezes my tit.
“Ah, this is what it’s all about.”
“No, I love your cooking because I love it. I want your ass because I want it.”
“Alright.”
“You want it?” Dark excitement coats his voice.
“Yes.”
I know he’s been dreaming about driving his cock up my ass. His finger stretches my tight hole regularly.
He’s been waiting patiently and I feel like I’m ready.
I slip away from his lap and shake off my tracksuit bottoms. Sliding down my panties, I sway my hips seductively as he exposes his hard cock and strokes himself up and down. His eyes never leave mine.
I chew my lower lip as my eyes flick over a drop of precum that shines on the tip of his cock. He gives his thick shaft a squeeze, his hungry eyes sweeping over my mound.
I step out of my panties and lower to my knees. I know he loves me on all fours. His wild growl says it all.
I feel him kneel behind me and run his finger up and down my wet slit. My body shivers in anticipation. He slides a finger into my pussy and fucks me gently as his other hand strokes my ass cheek.
My shoulders dip. I spread my knees wider. Dante slaps my ass cheek playfully. The delicate stinging sensation forces a moan from my mouth. My pussy clenches around his finger. I need him to wreck me.
Dante pulls his finger out and circles my tight hole with the wet tip. His cock slides into my
pussy, stretching me.
“Fuck,” I gasp at the deliriously pleasant sensation.
My channel engulfs his massive erection. He goes deeper, slamming the head on my cervix. I mewl. His finger slides into my tight hole and I start panting.
“Tell me, Chantal.”
“I want you to fuck me in the ass, Dante.”
He growls and slides two of his fingers into my tight hole. I yelp at the burning sensation. His fingers feel foreign inside me but then he starts pumping them in and out. I moan at the decadent fullness. It’s like my ass is sucking his fingers in deeper and deeper. It’s like he’s assaulting my tightness and opening me up.
A loud knocking on the window makes me freeze.
“Chantal,” a male voice rumbles.
I jerk my body forward. Dante’s cock slips out of me and I jump to my feet. My heart jumps up into my throat. Dante puts his dick back into his jeans.
“It’s Jake,” I squeak as I rummage around the room to pick up my clothes.
“Jake?”
“My older brother.”
“Ah, that Jake.”
Jake has been away, doing a job for our allies, the Devil’s Tears MC. He must have returned merely a moment ago.
I slip into my tracksuit bottoms and hurry over to let him in. I open the door and my eyes roam over him. He’s standing with a wide grin on his unshaven face.
“What?” I snap as I step forward.
“Nothing,” Jake says as he shoves a bouquet of white roses into my hands and hugs me. “Congratulations on your marriage.” He walks in, no forces his way in, shoving me aside just like when we were kids, and he shakes hands with Dante, handing him a bottle of moonshine. “So, you’re married.”
“Are you envious, Jake?” I say, standing beside my husband.
“No, why would I?” Jake says. “Your kleptomania is off our parents’ heads at last.”
“Shut up,” I say, raising a finger in a threatening gesture.
He pats Dante’s shoulder. “She steals from everyone, you know. Ask Priest or Santi. Or Nate. Or our club girls. Her bedroom has always been like a dragon’s treasury.”
Heat pours over my cheeks. “That’s not true.”
A few bandanas or a few hair bands or a few bucks is no theft.
“Sit down,” Dante says as he discreetly picks up my panties and shoves them into his pocket.
The men settle themselves at the round table as I wash my hands and then take two glasses out of the glass cupboard. Jake opens the bottle and fills them with the golden liquor.
“To happy marriages,” Jake says. “Mike’s twist on the old Munroe’s recipe.”
Dante raises his glass to him. “To happy marriages.”
They clink glasses and gulp their moonshine and then have two more rounds. Dante and I go to the kitchen to prepare something to eat.
“My brother is very handsome, isn’t he?” I thrust my chin out towards the doorway.
Dante widens his eyes. “I don’t know.”
He is. As handsome as a male model—dark hair, grey eyes, and a killer smile. Our club girls swoon over his perfect muscles and the ink on his arms each time they see him.
“I’m just proud of him, you know,” I say.
Dante doesn’t pay attention. He puts on his interrogation expression. “Why is he wearing a cut with the Shadow Wolves MC’s logo?”
“What?”
“They are dead. All of them.”
“They kind of… aren’t.”
The men never talk much about our allies. That’s club business. I know things because I’m a hacker, but normally the club members’ daughters are not supposed to know that stuff. My dad probably tells my mom a lot, but I’m sure he keeps the bloodiest details to himself.
“It’s complicated, Dante. I’m sure Jake can explain. I’m not, you know, the right person to talk to you about it.”
A smirk plays on his lips. “It’s like some fucking mob. Your whole family, I mean.”
“A bit.”
“I heard that you’re a part of this now,” Jake says behind us.
“I’m trying to get used to how things are here,” Dante says.
“You haven’t met Grandpa yet,” I say as I nod at my brother.
“Yeah,” Jake says. “Grandpa is a very eccentric individual. More eccentric than us all.”
“Grandpa?” Dante scratches his head.
“Zeus,” I say.
Dante chuckles. “An interesting name.”
“The Zeus,” I say.
Dante freezes for a moment. “Fuck me. Are you Zeus’s granddaughter?”
“I am,” I say.
Dante
We eat and finish the bottle of moonshine. Jake suggests that we move our three-person party to the clubhouse. I’m drunk enough to agree to his suggestion.
Chantal puts a red nightdress on. She calls that piece of satin a party dress and refuses to replace it with a real dress, and then we’re ready to go.
I like Jake. He seems to be a really decent guy. And he is my brother-in-law.
That meeting makes me think about my relatives. I should call my family and tell them I’m alive in person. They must be worried sick about me.
I call my mom two, three times a month. I visit them two, three times a year. The Furious Daggers are very family people. I should learn it from them.
Chantal loops her arm through mine and we leave the caravan. As we approach the clubhouse, loud music travels to us. I see Santi standing outside the bar with a tall blonde woman clinging to his back. He waves his hand at us as the woman pulls away from him. She moves closer to us and hugs Chantal and Jake. She shoots me a suspicious glance and holds her hand out for me.
“Cherry,” she says. “Santi’s old lady.”
“Dante. Chantal’s old man.”
We shake hands as Santi walks over to us and hugs Jake.
“Long time no see, kid,” Santi says.
“Four and a half months,” Jake says.
I see Priest walk out of the bar, a mountain of a woman plastered to his arm. Her wild eyes lock onto mine and I know she can kill with one sweep of her hand. She pulls Chantal into her embrace and then hugs Jake.
“My little treasures,” the savage woman says in a dramatic deep voice.
She slaps me on the back and I almost spit my lungs out.
“Gina,” she says.
“Dante,” I rasp and wheeze for air.
She slaps me on the back again and I feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen. The whole group moves into the bar and I find myself seated on the couch. Jake drops into the armchair and four club girls circle him like flies. They stroke his head, whisper into his ear, and try to rub their tits against his arms.
“Told you,” Chantal whispers into my ear.
“Get lost,” Gina rumbles to them as she settles herself beside me.
The girls shudder and disperse in all directions. Gina winks at me and opens a bottle of vodka.
“Let’s try you, boy,” Gina says to me as she rolls up the sleeves of her red chequered shirt.
“Don’t do this,” Chantal squeaks into my ear.
Well, I have to do this. My honour is at stake.
Gina pulls her long brown hair together. It’s wavy and streaked with grey. She fills two shot glasses. She nods at me, a predatory smile crossing her wrinkled face.
She’s not a beauty, but something warm and friendly radiates from her. We clink glasses and I empty my shot in one gulp. I wish I hadn’t. A wheezy fuck escapes my mouth as the alcohol burns down my throat like a real fire and stabs me like a thousand needles.
“Seventy-five percent,” Gina says with pride and then she and Priest exchange amused glances.
“Good,” I wheeze.
Gina pats my shoulder and leans toward me, kissing the top of my head. She refills my glass. “Drink.”
Dread surges through me but I mask it with a wide grin. She’s a woman. I’m a man. I’m gonna win this contest.
&nb
sp; Seventy-five percent. My heart jumps up into my throat. Fuck. This is poisonous.
Gina waves her hand in encouragement. “What are you waiting for, pretty boy?”
I swallow thickly.
Chapter 13
Chantal
Santi and Jake chant, banging their beer bottles against the tabletop, as Dante pours another shot into his throat. He’s so drunk he starts mumbling. Gina seems to be unaffected. More than that. She’s in a very good undrunken mood. She waves her hand at me and I rise to my feet. My husband falls to the side and lies on the couch with his arm hanging loosely, as I jump into Gina’s lap and curl up into her massive strong body. She smells like a good grandma. I love her so much.
“Is he good to you?” Gina asks.
“Very good. Very caring.”
Gina wraps her arms around me and kisses me on the top of my head. My husband starts snoring. Molly appears by our table, cleans up the mess, and puts two more bottles of vodka in front of Jake and Santi. She sweeps her eyes over my brother and freezes as if she’s waiting for something.
“You just finished off my old man,” I say to Gina, my voice muffled by the sound of Jake’s and Santi’s glasses being slammed on the table.
I like the atmosphere in the bar. As Dante’s old lady, I can pop in whenever he does. I think it’s not as wild as it used be and that must be my dad’s doing.
Gina erupts into laughter. “He’s better than Santi and Nate.” She strokes my arm up and down. “But still my old man is the winner.”
We all howl and chant, our eyes turned to Priest.
I slide my form between Gina and my husband’s unconscious butt and watch Jake trying to get rid of Molly. Everyone knows she has a crush on him. They all have.
I like Molly. She’s smart and hardworking. She’s really pretty. Jake likes her too but not enough to claim her as his old lady. Life, I guess.
Priest and Cade nod at each other then lean over Dante and hold him by the arms and legs. They count to three and lift him up. Cade emits a nasty swear word as they move him out of the bar. I hug every person sitting at our table and follow my husband’s drunken corpse.
As I walk out of the bar, the cold air scented with seaweed creeps under my dress and bites into the marrow of my bones. My teeth start chattering together.