Hell on Wheels (Kings of Mayhem MC Book 4)

by Penny Dee

  Feeling my size and level of extreme hardness against her palm, Tiffani’s eyes lit up with surprise. She gave the hard ridge a squeeze and whispered in my ear, “Let’s go to your room and let me take care of you.”

  I untangled her from my body.

  “That’s a real sweet offer, darlin’,” I said, sidestepping around her. “But it ain’t going to happen.”

  Not tonight.

  Not ever.

  But Tiffani wasn’t known for taking a hint. Or for her subtlety.

  She pouted and batted her lashes at me. “You know how to break a girl’s heart, Chance. Seems to me you could do with a little attention.” Again, she stepped toward me. “If you take care of me, I promise I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of you real good.”

  I gave her a wink. I didn’t want to be a dick, but this wasn’t going to happen. I simply walked away and went straight for the bar where I grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from our barman, Randy.

  “You doin’ okay, buddy?” he asked as he slid the bottle of whiskey across the shiny bar top. Randy only had one arm but could mix a drink better than his two-armed rivals. Once a fall down drunk, he lost his arm after crashing his motorcycle into the back of a parked truck. He wasn’t a King, but he was an employee, which made him as good as family. He was a good guy. A good listener. The girls all loved him and according to the rumors, he had a magic tongue. Which kind of had me questioning what he did that the rest of us didn’t. Not that I’d ever had any complaints. But seriously. Club girls couldn’t stop giggling about his sexual prowess like he was some goddamn magician.

  “I’ll be doing a lot better once I get some of this into me,” I replied, unscrewing the cap. Randy placed a shot glass down in front of me, but I shook my head.

  “I won’t be needing that,” I said, raising the bottle to my lips and taking a swig as I walked off.

  I wasn’t in the mood for company, so I climbed the fire escape leading to the roof and settled into a picnic chair I’d grown over familiar with in the last few weeks. I liked it up here, alone and under the stars. It was a good place to think. Under the expanse of a night sky littered with a billion stars, it was easy to rein in the self-loathing and guilt and let my mind roam free.

  Tonight I was tired from the guilt and the shame of my past. I was tired of feeling hurt and let down by those I loved. And I was tired from fighting an attraction to a girl who was asleep in my bed in a very appealing state of near nakedness.

  On nights like tonight, where my past nipped at my heels, the memory of my father’s wickedness was heavy in my heart. It was hard to shake. People didn’t know the half of what I had endured at the hands of him. When I left for the Navy, I was able to bury it, thanks to relentless training. But since my accident, my memories haunted me. Nighttime was the worst. And tonight was no different.

  I took a swig from the bottle and stared up at the stars as another torturous memory from my childhood invaded my thoughts. My eyes closed and not having the energy to fight it, I let it sweep me away.

  He led me down the long corridor toward one of the many bedrooms in the clubhouse.

  “It’s time you make yourself a man, boy.”

  I looked at the sad girl on the bed then back at my father. Swallowing hard, my voice was thick as I asked, “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he just shoved me through the doorway and into the room.

  My guts twisted with dread. When he’d dragged me out of bed and brought me to the clubhouse, I had no idea what he was up to. His motivations became apparent the moment I saw the girl.

  “Time you get a taste of pussy instead of hiding away in that room of yours, playing guitar and jerking off.”

  The girl on the bed drew in a deep breath, and I struggled to swallow. She was young, but a club girl nonetheless. She was broken in, probably by my father and other high-ranking members of the club. Dressed in nothing but a satin slip, she smiled up at me seductively.

  “I’m not doing this,” I said, turning away.

  My father grabbed me by my shirt.

  “You’ll do what I goddamn tell you to do,” he growled, shoving me closer to the bed.

  The girl shifted uncomfortably. She was afraid of my father.

  “Please, Dad,” I pleaded.

  I didn’t want to do this.

  And I doubted she wanted to either.

  But my father wasn’t having any of it.

  He pulled out his gun and put it to my temple. “Go over there and fuck her.”

  Fear gnawed at my insides. He had never pulled a gun on me before.

  I wanted to run. But you didn’t run from Garrett Calley. It was so much worse if you did.

  “It’s okay,” the girl said. She reached for me and gently guided me away from my father—and the gun pointed at my head. She nodded nervously at him, her eyes wide, her beautiful mouth turned up in a shaky smile. “It’s not a problem, Prez. Chance wants to stay with me. Don’t you, baby?”

  I nodded and my father put his gun away.

  “I’ll just be on the other side of that door,” he said, sauntering toward the doorway. “You kids play real nice now.”

  I watched him walk out and close the door behind him. I felt sick. Nervous.

  The girl turned my face to look at her and began to undress me. As she lifted my shirt over my head, she whispered, “Don’t fret. It will be over before you know it.”

  My heart pounded as she lay back amongst the pillows and parted her legs, slowly drawing me down to her warm body. Wrapping her legs around my hips, she started kissing me, her soft hands roaming up and down my back, her body moving suggestively beneath me. Desire filled my belly. And despite not wanting it to, my cock started to harden. I liked her lips. They were sweet and plump. And the feel of her tongue against mine was making me harder than I’d ever been in my whole life.

  Kissing her was not like kissing the girls at school. There were no awkward fumbles and tight lips. Her mouth was juicy and sweet, and the way her little whimpers rose between us made me see stars. My hips started to roll, the ridge of my cock driving hard against the mound between her parted thighs.

  My cock started to leak in my jeans.

  “Do you have protection?” I whispered desperately against her lips.

  “It’s okay,” the girl said, reaching between us for my zipper. “We don’t need that. I’m clean.”

  “But what if I get you pregnant,” I said, and for some crazy reason my cock throbbed at the idea of it.

  “Oh, honey, you won’t get me pregnant.” She brushed my cheek. “Now relax. This is going to feel real good.”

  The moment she touched me and wrapped her fingers around my erection, my fears were vanquished. She released me from my jeans.

  “Are you sure?” I breathed, my balls already heavy with cum. I hadn’t jerked off since the day before.

  “I want to be your first,” she replied guiding me to her pussy.

  When the naked, slippery head of my cock touched her slick pussy, I let out a loud groan. I had never felt anything like it. The softness. The wet, smooth folds of flesh curling around me. Licking me. Caressing me. And when she guided me inside her, I cried out, and my brain spun with the dizzying delights of being inside a woman for the first time.

  “Oh God,” I rasped, clutching the headboard behind us.

  Instinct took over me. Pure and primal. My body knew what it wanted, and it fiercely drove toward it with one thrust after another. There was nothing in this for her. This wasn’t about pleasing her. I wouldn’t know how to do that if I tried. No. It was about chasing the swell of the orgasm rising in my cock. That sweet tension building like a tightly coiled spring in my belly.

  Possessed by the pleasure, I pushed her thighs further apart so I could thrust into her deeper. Harder. Faster. My cock pounded in and out of her tight pussy. A moment ago this was wrong. Now, I couldn’t stop myself. My breathing quickened. I was going to come. But it was nothing like mak
ing myself come with my hand. This was something else. Something I had no control over. Her warm, wet pussy tightened around me, milking my cock, and it was blowing my mind.

  I started to come and let out a loud moan. The ecstasy was intense. I gripped the headboard again, and with one last thrust into her body, I growled with lustful euphoria as I shot what was the most intense orgasm of my life into her.

  I dropped to her body, lost in the afterglow of my climax and the soft satin of her slip against my cheek.

  It was the clapping that brought me back to reality.

  My father. He was standing in the doorway. He must’ve been listening through the door.

  He walked toward us, a lit cigar between his teeth as he grinned.

  “Finally, my boy is a man,” he said.

  I felt sick. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment.

  I pulled out from the girl and my cum spilled out of her.

  I tried to swallow but the shame and disgust formed a knot in my throat.

  “I’m sorry,” I rasped. But she just smiled up at me.

  “You’re a beautiful boy,” she whispered.

  I wanted to take her by the face and kiss her gently, and tell her that she didn’t need to do these things. That she was beautiful and soft and how grateful I was that my first time was with such a sweet thing such as her. But then I saw my father and my feelings of appreciation and desire turned to darkness and hate.

  He gestured to the girl to get out with a slight flick of his head. And just like that she was gone. My first time. My first lover.

  Dismissed.

  Regret poured through me, and I felt an overwhelming need to cry.

  I rose to my feet and pulled up my jeans, thrusting my arms through my T-shirt and pulling it down over my head.

  Turning to my father, hate heated up my veins. “Why did you make me do that?”

  I felt so much in that moment. Shame. Hate. Betrayal.

  “Why?” My father stepped closer, his dark eyes gleaming, his voice low and dangerous. “Because it was time you became a man instead of fucking around in that room of yours playing music and jerking off to the posters on your wall.”

  He sucked on his cigar and the smoke stabbed my eyes.

  “I’m raising you to be a man. Not some wet fish. You gotta harden the fuck up, boy. One day you’ll be the president of this club, just like your old man and your granddaddy before you, and you’re going to need the balls to do it.”

  “Granddaddy would never have done this to you.”

  My granddaddy was Hutch Calley, the original president of the Kings of Mayhem. He was a quiet spoken man. Quietly formidable. Yet charismatic and likable. He was a good leader, whereas my father was abrupt and loud. He controlled and commanded, and he took from people.

  Garrett Calley wasn’t a very good man.

  He grabbed me by my shirt and shoved me up against the wall. He bared his teeth and glared at me with a wild rage I’d never seen. “Your granddaddy was lucky I was already man enough and not some little cocksucker who preferred jerking off to porn instead of fucking real pussy.” He thrust me harder against the wall. “If I waited for you to become a man, I’d be dead in my grave before your fucking balls dropped. So you listen to me, you little punk, I’m going to harden you the fuck up so when I’m ready for you to fill my shoes, you’ll be enough of a man to do it.”

  He released me and let me drop to the floor.

  It was the first time he’d forced me to do anything like that.

  But it definitely wasn’t the last.

  A noise woke me. A helicopter overhead. I opened my eyes and realized the sun was just about to breach the horizon. I sat up and pain bolted through my brain. Shifting uncomfortably in the picnic chair, my boot kicked the near-empty bottle of Tennessee whiskey at my feet, making bells ring in my head.

  I rubbed my heavy, fatigued eyes.

  Remembering the sleeping beauty in my bed, I scrubbed my fingers down my face and let out a deep breath. I had deliberately left her alone because if I’d gone back into that room last night, temptation would’ve gotten the better of me. I wasn’t prepared to let that happen, so sleeping on the roof seemed like the better option. She was safe here. No one was getting into that room without going through a lot of armed bikers first.

  Climbing down the ladder, I entered the clubhouse and found a poker game still taking place in the far corner near the bar. Hawke, Vader, Joker, Cool Hand, and the new guys Yale and Animal were lost in a cloud of cigar smoke as they concentrated on the cards in front of them. Animal’s face was bruised from an earlier bout in the ring with Hawke. A cigarette hung off his cut lip.

  “You ladies know it’s almost daylight?” I asked as I walked past them.

  “Good. Must mean it’s almost time to start drinking again.” Hawke slurred as he raised his almost empty bottle of Patron to his lips and drank it.

  Shaking my head, I headed for my room. In the hallway, Randy’s door opened and he appeared in the doorway with two half-naked blonde women attached to his mouth. He grinned at me as I walked past. The handsome son of a bitch was a damn legend, and I couldn’t help but grin back.

  As I rounded the corner, I saw Matlock leaning against the corner while a redhead kneeled on the ground in front of him, her head bobbing up and down as she blew him. He dropped his head back, and I quickened my pace so I didn’t have to deal with his sex noises so early in the morning.

  It wasn’t always like this in the clubhouse, but Fight Night usually brought out the worst of our behavior. I put it down to all the hard liquor and testosterone.

  When I walked into my room, Cassidy was already awake and in the bathroom, washing her face. She looked up when she heard me walk in and patted her face dry with a towel she took from beneath the sink.

  She looked stunning. Her hair was pulled back off her lovely face, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup. She didn’t need it. She was beautiful. A thought I quickly kicked to the curb as soon as it entered my head.

  She wasn’t beautiful. She was in danger.

  “Did you sleep well?” I asked.

  “Yes, thank you. Did you?”

  “Yeah.” I got the feeling we were both lying. “You ready to hit the road?”

  She nodded and flicked her hair over her shoulders. “Always.”

  CASSIDY

  He took me to his grandmother’s cabin in the pale light of morning.

  It was on the outskirts of Destiny where the small-town charm and urban landscape of Civil War houses gave way to sprawling fields of green. It was a welcoming log home overlooking the river, with a wraparound porch and a small chimney on a shingled roof. To get to it, we drove down a long gravel driveway and pulled up under a towering oak tree.

  Climbing out of the truck, the crisp morning air blew across my face and curled in my hair, sending goose bumps along my bare arms.

  I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. Out here it smelled clean and fresh like...

  Wait, was that weed?

  I opened my eyes and looked around me, searching for the origin of the smell. After a minute of walking around in circles, I found it growing up the side of the cabin. A big fat cannabis plant.

  Chance walked up behind me. “They grow like weeds here.”

  “It’s massive!” I said, in awe of the beautiful emerald green plant and the fuzzy, purple buds.

  “Back in the sixties they used to grow it out here.”

  “They?” I asked.

  “My grandma and granddaddy. This is their cabin. They used to harvest weed when they first started the club. Grandma used to grow them here because the plants love the soil near the water. After fifty years, they still randomly appear all over the property.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. It was easy to picture hippies living out here during the Summer of Love, nurturing their fat marijuana plants while jamming out to Jimi Hendrix. This place had a good vibe about it.

  I followed Chance
up the front step to the porch where he found the key sitting under a pot plant. It was hardly a secure place to keep a key, but I figured most people in the county knew who this cabin belonged to and how unwise it would be for anyone to break in to it.

  Watching Chance, I admired his broad back and the muscles of his powerful shoulders as he unlocked the front door and stepped inside.

  Entering the cabin, I took it all in. The cozy living room with the plush couches and the worn rug spread out on the floor in front. The cedar-paneled walls and high ceiling. The river stone fireplace and the scent of freshly split wood coming from the log pile next to it.

  It felt comfortable. Welcoming. Safe.

  We moved into the kitchen where French doors opened out to a spectacular view of the river. Pale morning sunlight shimmered on the water, and birds took up song in the trees on the riverbank. This place was special.

  “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I really am grateful,” I said, turning around to face him. “But you don’t even know me. Why are you helping me?”

  Last night I was frightened. Too frightened and in shock to think logically. But in the safe light of day, it seemed ridiculous that I hadn’t asked him why he was putting himself out to help someone he didn’t even know.

  My question seemed to take him by surprise because he paused, his brow furrowed as he looked at me, weighing his words. “Because if I don’t help you, you’re going to get hurt.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He put the bag of groceries down on the kitchen counter.

  “If you run now, you’ll always be running. You need to take a moment to think about this with logic and not emotion.”

  “I am being logical. If Barrett finds me, he will make me pay for running away.”

  “He’s one man, Cassidy. He isn’t untouchable. The law—”