“I’m fine,” I replied. Patch was staring into my eyes and he leaned forward in his chair.
“Samantha, really?”
He didn’t believe me. I could see traces of pity in his eyes. He thought I was miserable—and even though I was, I still also had some pride which I was clinging to.
“I’m where I want to be!” I snapped.
He clenched his jaw and then sat back in his chair. I watched as he nodded.
“Sure, yeah, sorry for prying.”
I stood up from the couch. Maybe it was a mistake coming here. All these old memories being ruffled up was probably not a good idea. I realized I was depressed. Hearing Patch speak about his sister, witnessing how hot and caring he was, was a reminder of the life I could have had if I’d made the right decisions.
And now there was nothing I could do to change my life. I was stuck in this.
I turned from him, walking over to the kitchen area. I started pouring the remaining beer into the sink from my can. I felt Patch’s presence behind me immediately. He’d followed me over.
“I never stopped thinking about you.”
His voice was abrupt. I whipped around to face him again. His blue eyes were searching mine. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting him to say this! I opened my mouth, thinking I’d be able to think of something to say but my words escaped me…
Patch took a step forward towards me. His eyes rushed over my whole body. My breasts, my legs, the tightness of my jeans.
“You were always going to be the girl who got away,” he continued. Our bodies were close together now. The mood in the room had shifted suddenly. I leaned backwards; the sink was digging into the back of my waist as he drew himself closer to me. I could feel his hot breath falling on my face.
“But now I’m here,” I murmured. My voice was low and husky.
“That’s right. Now you’re right here,” he added. “All grown up.”
He was so close. Our faces were aligned. I kept leaning back more and more till suddenly, he placed a hand on my hip. One big, sturdy, large hand.
His other hand lifted up to my jacket, which he started pulling off me. It fell to the floor and then that hand was on my breasts. I gasped when his fingers flicked against my firm aching nipples. I knew he could see them through my blouse. I was so turned on. I could feel that feeling between my legs. I knew I was moistening my panties. Patch pinched my nipples, one by one, pulling and tugging them, teasing me. Then he kneaded my breasts before he leaned in even further to me.
“I’ve wanted to do this since I was a kid,” he growled, just the second before his lips touched mine. Our mouths met in a hot sizzle and I could feel myself melting. It was so good. His tongue pushed into my mouth, forcing my lips apart. I gasped and moaned against him, while his hands moved down. He was starting to unbutton my jeans, unzip me, roll my pants down.
I just remained stuck to him, melting into him, enjoying that ravenousness of his kiss. My back was arched over the sink, but I wrapped my arms around his neck, dangling from him while he kissed me harder.
After my jeans, he focused on his own. Our mouths moved together hungrily while he removed his own pants. And then finally, when we pried ourselves apart, we were both naked from the waist down. Our jeans and underwear on his kitchen floor.
We were both breathing hard. I saw his cock for the first time, even though I’d pictured it many times in my head. He was big, and his cock was throbbing now, growing between his muscular legs while he watched me. He could see my pussy too, my swollen wet clit. I wanted him with an urgency I didn’t even recognize.
Patch lunged at me. His mouth was on mine, then down my chin and neck, and his fingers slipped into my pussy. Two at a time, sliding in and out of me as I gasped in his arms with pleasure. My body was shuddering. I’d been desperate to feel something like this. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt it.
Then he grabbed my hips all of a sudden, sliding his fingers out of me and turning me around. Now the kitchen sink was digging into my belly as he pushed me further down, his hand on my back.
My butt was jutting out towards him, raised in the air in his direction. This was exactly what I wanted. I was breathing hard, my body shook and then I felt his hands on my butt, holding me firmly in position.
His cock…I wanted to feel his big throbbing cock inside me! And then finally he was sliding in. More than that, he was thrusting himself in. He’d filled me up in one big thrust and I cried out with delight.
Oh my God! His cock was deep in there, moving and sliding back and then he thrust himself into me again. Over and over, his cock was big and strong, and accompanied by his deep animal grunts—it was everything.
I knew I was going to come fast, and hard. It felt like I hadn’t even been having sex all these months…all these years. Like sex with anyone else had been a waste of my time because this was the real deal. This was how it should have felt every time I let a man inside me!
Patch moved behind me, thumping and pumping hard into my pussy. I gripped the edges of the sink hard while I shook with him. He slapped my butt, egging me on and that was all I needed. I was going to come.
I was coming.
I could feel the full pressure of my orgasm taking over my body. He had filled me up. I was satiated by him, my toes curled, and I cried out with joy because I couldn’t remember the last time I had an experience like this.
Then Patch roared and his grip on my butt became tighter. He bent down, pressing his chest to my back while his cock continued to drill me furiously.
In and out. He was like a machine that was never going to tire.
His orgasm ended several moments after mine. I could feel his warm cum trickling down the insides of my thighs as he pulled his cock out of me and stepped back.
“Fuck!” he growled aloud and slowly I turned to look at him. His eyes flitted over me. My blouse was falling over my shoulders, half of my breasts were out, and my hair was probably a complete disaster! I didn’t feel desirable, but Patch was looking at me now like he’d never looked at a woman before.
“I should get you some towels,” he suggested.
“I need to use the bathroom. I’ll get them myself,” I told him, and he nodded. He gave me directions to it, and I walked past him, still in nothing but that tattered blouse. I could feel his eyes on me, and I realized it made me feel beautiful. The way he looked at me, the way no other man ever looked at me.
In his bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. I didn’t feel as self-conscious anymore because of the way Patch had touched me. How he took me. The way he looked at me seemed like I was worth more to him than just a pair of tits and a pussy to put his cock in. He was different. I’d always known he was different, even when we were nothing more than horny teenagers. There was always something special about Patch that drew me to him.
I splashed water on my face, ran my fingers through my tangled curls, then used tissues to clean myself up. Very soon I was walking out of that bathroom with my head held high. He’d said he’d waited a long time to have me. This was his fantasy as much as it was mine. The fact that we’d just lived out a teenage fantasy was even more thrilling.
In the living room I saw Patch had put on his jeans again and he was on the couch, lying back, with his eyes closed. Was he tired? Had he fallen asleep? Even back there when we were just sitting and talking, he’d come across as being pretty beat. I watched him in silence for a few moments and then walked past him to the kitchen to put on my remaining clothes.
Patch hadn’t stirred the whole time I dressed myself.
I didn’t know what to do. Wake him up? Have a conversation with him? I didn’t even know what I wanted to talk to him about. I still didn’t know if I could warn him. If I could take that risk.
Maybe it would just be easier, better, if I left. He seemed like he was pretty deep in sleep by now. This would be the perfect opportunity. I could just leave now and never look back. No strings attached. Just one ch
ance night with the man I always wanted.
Wasn’t that what all men wanted? To be left alone.
So, I did just that.
7
Patch
I woke up the next morning on the couch in my living room and realized that I’d slept like a baby! I couldn’t remember waking up once in the middle of the night, as was usually my habit. I’d never been a deep sleeper, but last night was different for some reason. Like I’d been deeply and wholly satisfied and like I could finally sleep peacefully.
I sat up on the couch now, recalling in a wave exactly what had happened in my apartment last night. Samantha, with her panties off, up against my kitchen sink. My cock ramming into her. Me grunting, her moaning, the way her mouth tasted when I explored it with my tongue. How erect and turned on her nipples were when I played with them.
It was hard for me to believe that she had wanted me just as much as I did. I thought she was always going to be nothing more than a fantasy. A girl completely out of my reach. Someone I would never have, not with my background, not now either.
But she was the one who came to see me! She had willingly come to my apartment. She came pretty quickly once I put my cock inside her and we started fucking. Was it really possible that Samantha wanted me as much as I wanted her?
I looked around my apartment now. She was gone. It was pretty obvious that I’d slept alone on the couch. I couldn’t even remember when I’d passed out. I was pretty exhausted after the last couple of days I had. I felt a little guilty because I’d told her I’d take her back to her apartment, but she’d obviously left while I dozed off.
I hoped she was okay.
But Samantha seemed like a girl who knew how to take care of herself. It was almost like she was offended every time I offered her any help. So maybe she would have refused me anyway.
I stood up from the couch and when I looked down, I saw I had a raging erection. Just thinking about her had done this to me, and now I didn’t know when or if I’d see her again.
It didn’t matter…it shouldn’t have mattered! I needed to get to the Clubhouse. I needed a shower, but this hard-on was in my way. I couldn’t get the thought of her sexy, naked body out of my head. The feel of her supple firm breasts. The way her pussy felt when I drove my cock into her. Fuck! I needed to take care of myself first.
Back in the Clubhouse, the scene was the same as every other morning after the club had celebrated a rager. Bottles everywhere, smoky inside, music still playing on loop in the background and guys passed out at tables or on the floor—the ones who hadn’t been able to make it back home. Which was the majority of them.
Bones came in soon after me and shook his head with a degree of indulgence.
“Yeah, we had a pretty good time last night,” he said, helping himself to a soda from behind the bar counter. Bender hadn’t made an appearance yet. Maybe he was lying somewhere here too.
“Hope someone took the kid home in time,” I said, which made Bones laugh.
“Cash left soon after you. His old lady was waiting up for him and probably shitting bricks over the kid,” Bones said, and I sat down at the bar, looking around me at the state of the Clubhouse. On one hand I was glad the guys had a good time, after a tense few weeks…heck, a tense few months really.
But on the other hand, I couldn’t help but worry that this celebration was premature. Bones had been watching me while I sat there, my eyes and thoughts wandering.
“You don’t seem like you’re in the mood for celebrating.”
I shrugged.
“We take it one day at a time,” he suggested and maybe he was right. As of now, I couldn’t detect any threats around us. Things looked like they were going pretty smooth. But then again, it had only been two days. The situation could change in a matter of moments.
For instance, how were we going to handle an attack on the clubhouse if the Sons of Satan planned a shootout right now? None of our men were ready. All passed out and hungover. Bones and I weren’t going to get too far between just the two of us.
“You’re worrying like a mother hen!” his voice cut through my thoughts again and he smirked.
I breathed in, giving in. He was right. We needed to take this one day at a time. As long as some of us had our eyes and ears open; we were going to be alright. Right?
“Yeah, not something I signed up for. And Grimm seems satisfied with the results of the meeting. Which should be good enough for me.”
Bones agreed.
“Good. Let’s just take it easy for now, man. Have a drink. Let’s go shoot some cans later. Ride this wave of calm for a while.”
He had a point. I preferred his suggestion. At least I wouldn’t be sitting here at the Clubhouse all day thinking about Samantha. I needed to do something to get her out of my mind.
8
Samantha
My apartment was small. A single-bed, kitchenette, and a small bathroom—all combined to create a small studio apartment space which Lynch paid for. Not that I wanted him to. He was the one who wanted to do it, to have complete financial, physical and emotional control over me. At the same time, it wasn’t like I could afford it on my own anyway.
Other than some petty cash to take care of my basic necessities of living, the Sons of Satan didn’t actually pay me a salary or anything like that for the hours and the work I put in at their Clubhouse.
It was true, I was completely at their mercy. I had no freedom and I was aware of the fact that I was as good as a slave to them. But what was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to get out of a situation like that? I didn’t have any help.
I woke up in my bed the next morning, and even though I’d changed out of my clothes last night after I came home, I felt like I could still smell Patch all over me. I realized I’d spent the night dreaming about him. Reliving every moment of being with him, fantasizing about what it would be like if I snuggled up with him on that couch, if we woke up the next morning in each other’s arms.
That wasn’t what he wanted obviously. Not what any man wanted.
He was kind to me, he was thoughtful and asked if I was doing okay…with him and around him, I felt safe and happy. But that didn’t mean it was an indication of something else. Like I could actually snuggle up with him. That he would even want to see me there the next morning.
I felt guilty for even having those thoughts.
I needed to get the smell and that feeling of him off my body!
I jumped into the small shower cubicle in my cramped up bathroom, spending more time than necessary under the hot steady stream of water. I touched myself, just fleetingly, just to feel again what it had felt to have his fingers inside me, then his cock.
I would probably never feel like that again. Never experience moments of that kind of physical passion. Of just wanting to be held by this man.
By the time I was ready to leave my apartment, I realized I was going to be late for work again. I hoped Lynch wouldn’t notice. He was busy getting drunk again last night. I’d snuck out of the bar when things started getting mellow. Everyone was drunk, they were serving themselves their own drinks and fucking their women. I hoped that Lynch wouldn’t notice me leaving. I was just so desperate to see Patch again.
And now, it seemed completely worth it. I would do it all over again, just for another night like that!
I’d hoped Lynch wouldn’t be the first person I had to see when I walked into the Clubhouse, but there he was, right at the bar, already with a glass of vodka in his hand like he hadn’t gone anywhere since last evening.
I rushed in, hurrying to take up my place behind the counter.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he growled at me, his voice rising high. The first thing I did, instinctually, was to fill his glass with more vodka in the hopes that he’d just get drunk quickly and forget about me.
But that wasn’t about to happen.
“I asked you a fucking question, bitch!”
He didn’t sound drunk. It was morning, he ha
dn’t filled himself with as much alcohol yet. And if Lynch was bad when he was drunk, he was even worse when he was sober, when he was thinking straight.
“Sorry, I missed the alarm. Kept sleeping. It won’t happen again.”
I kept my eyes down. I could still see that deranged look in his bloodshot eyes from that night when he nearly stubbed his cigar out on my arm. He was capable of doing a lot worse.
“I’m talking about last night,” he hissed, and I glanced up to him. His eyes were glassy, he looked suspicious. He was trying to catch my every move, study my every expression. So, he had noticed! Again! Why couldn’t he just leave me alone for a minute? Just one night?!
I licked my lips nervously, arranging glasses and bottles behind the counter in a bid to keep my hands busy.
“I needed to go see my mom. She’s not doing too well. My dad called last night and said it might be my last chance to see her alive.”
I was lying, straight through my teeth. I hadn’t spoken to or seen either of my parents in at least two years now. I had no idea how they were, or even where they were in fact. I just hoped that Lynch hadn’t been keeping track of that.
His brows were crossed now as he glared at me. There was a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
“You went to see your mother?”
I nodded, giving the bar counter a wipe with my rag. He was watching me closely and I knew I needed to keep it together for some more time, till his attention went elsewhere.
“Your dying mother?” he reiterated, and I nodded. “When’s she going to conk off?”
I looked up at him again.
“I don’t know. Maybe my dad was exaggerating. I haven’t seen them in a while. Maybe she’ll make it out after all.”
For a moment I thought Lynch was going to take it well. That he’d believed me, and then he banged his empty glass down on the counter and glared at me. His expression was enraged. His face nearly red with anger.
Patch (The Black Cobras MC Book 3) Page 6