My hands were still shaking from my orgasms, as I reached forward, and curled my fingers around this thick, veiny shaft.
“Huuungh,” Mason’s head flopped back, and he shuddered at my touch.
“Come here, lover,” I repeated, pulling him down onto me. “I want to feel you inside me…”
And like that, with his jeans barely pulled down, Mason slid between my open thighs, and I maneuvered the head of his beautiful cock to the entrance of my still-quivering pussy.
I groaned as I felt the swollen tip nuzzle between the lips of my pussy – and then I cried out, as Mason eagerly thrust inside me.
Fuuuuck!
How many cocks had I taken, since I’d been riding with the Knuckleheads? How many of them had I let fuck me?
I couldn’t remember, because right now, it was like losing my virginity for the first time, all over again.
After months of shutting myself down – of sucking, and fucking, and milking the salty loads from countless strangers with robotic efficiency…
…suddenly, I was with somebody who made me feel alive again – and as his beautiful cock stretched, and filled me, it suddenly eclipsed every experience I’d eagerly endured over the past few months.
Mason seemed to feel likewise, and I felt his whole body shiver as he sunk inch-after-inch inside me.
“Oh, God, Christi,” he murmured, kissing my throat and breathing hotly into my ear. “You feel so good.”
I wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders, and wrapped my legs around his hips.
“I promise you,” I purred, as his hips finally pressed against mine. “The feeling is mutual.”
With that, Mason lifted his face from my throat, and his eyes met mine.
I stared up, deep into his baby blues. I felt myself shiver.
God, he was so handsome… And the way he was looking at me…
Nobody had ever looked at me like that…
“Oh, wow,” Mason gasped, never taking his eyes from mine. “You just got so wet…”
“I-I know,” I stammered, running my hands down his muscular back, until they wrapped around his narrow hips. “Y-you have that effect on me…”
Sinking my fingers into the taut curves of his ass, I urged him to fuck me.
“Oh, fuuuck,” still staring into my eyes, Mason began to thrust. That big, beautiful cock slithered in and out of me like a well-oiled piston, and it felt amazing…
The bed creaked as we fucked… Faster and faster, until the head was banging against the cheap plaster walls…
And yet never did Mason take his eyes from mine… He just stared into me, buried as deep inside my soul as his cock was buried in my pussy.
It was exquisite.
Reluctantly, I released one of his perfect, pert ass cheeks, and lifted my hand instead to his face.
I pressed my palm against his cheek, and the moment my skin tenderly touched his, I felt him groan.
“Oh, God…”
His cock throbbed, and swelled inside of me.
“C-Christi…” Mason gasped, sinking as deeply inside of me as he could – so deep it nearly hurt. “I can’t… Can’t hold out…”
“Then don’t,” I urged, tightening my legs around his hips. “Give it to me, baby…”
And the moment I murmured those words, Mason groaned, and I felt him spurt deep inside of me.
As soon as I felt that first, hot flood inside of me, I came too. It was the most explosive orgasm of my life, and as I shuddered and writhed, I never took my eyes from his.
Together, we surged on a wave of pleasure… until finally, it brought us crashing back down to reality.
Gasping, panting and sweating, Mason collapsed across my chest.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and felt his deliciously warm, sweaty body crushing me to the bed. With his still-hard cock buried inside me, it almost felt like I no longer knew where my body ended, and his started…
For what seemed like forever, we lay in each other’s arms, our chests heaving. Then, finally – reluctantly – Mason lifted himself off me with his burly arms, and his warm skin peeled away from mine.
“God,” he murmured, gazing down at me with a wry, half-smile. “You’re so beautiful.”
How could I be beautiful? My cheeks were burning red, and I felt my hair matted to my forehead. I’d kissed most of my lipstick off on his throat and shoulders, and tears of pleasure must had left my mascara looking like panda eyes…
But I felt beautiful… And when Mason reached over, and pressed his palm against my cheek, I couldn’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right then.
It would have been the perfect moment… If it wasn’t suddenly interrupted by the shrill ring of a cell-phone.
“Shit!”
Mason turned to the desk by the door – where he’d dumped his wallet, keys and phone.
A little flip-top cell phone was ringing angrily.
With a groan, Mason clambered off me – his big cock slithering out from inside me, and unleashing a hot flood of cum.
As he climbed off the bed, I pressed my hand between my legs to stop the torrent. My pussy was still quivering deliciously…
But the moment was gone. Jeans still pulled down around his perfect ass, Mason crossed the room and snatched up the phone.
I could hear who it was the moment he punched the ‘answer’ button.
“Recon?” It was Coyle’s gruff, angry voice. “Where the fuck have you been, man?”
I lay on the bed, and this time I didn’t shiver out of arousal, or desire. The sound of Coyle’s voice brought me right back down to terrifying reality.
I struggled up into a sitting position, and snatched a fistful of tissues from the box on the bedside table. As I wiped the warm wetness from between my legs, I tried to spot where Mason had thrown my pants.
We’d had our time for love…
…now we needed to get back down to the business of surviving.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mason
“You said you’d call me the moment you arrived, goddammit!”
Coyle’s voice was so loud, it made the tinny speaker of the cheap cell phone vibrate.
“It’s nearly ten a.m., now,” he continued to growl down the phone line. “I thought something had happened, man.”
“Traffic,” I growled back. Coyle wasn’t the kind of man you apologized to. He viewed apologies as weakness. “I just rolled up now. Already checked out the farm.”
Coyle’s anger seemed to subside, and he responded curtly: “And?”
“And it seems legit,” I growled back. “I’m just going to take a shower, then head back out there for a close-up look.”
There was silence down the phone line for a good few seconds, before Coyle admitted:
“I was worried something had happened to you.”
Coyle? Worried?
In all the months I’d been riding with that tough bastard and his crew of Knuckleheads, I’d never seen anything rattle him.
He was the original badass – the most dangerous son of a bitch I’d ever encountered – and after three tours in Iraq, I’d met more than my fair share.
But there was no mistaking the tone in his voice. Something had scared him.
“What’s the deal?” I demanded. “What’s wrong?”
For a second there was silence, and I half expected him to deny his concerns...
…but then Coyle surprised me for the second time in as many minutes, and hissed:
“You seen that bitch Christi?”
Now it was my turn to get rattled.
I looked up from the phone, at the beautiful blond splayed out on the bed.
Christi was naked, glistening with sweat and cum, and looked sexier and more enticing than any woman I’d ever seen naked before…
In fact, despite the fact that I’d blown my load inside her just seconds earlier, my cock twitched the moment my eyes drank her gorgeousness in…
But Coyle’s urgent vo
ice kept me from thoughts of her.
“You seen her?” Coyle repeated, a little more urgently this time.
“No,” I lied, as my eyes remained on Christi’s naked body. “I ain’t seen her since I left last night.”
I paused, half-expecting the big bastard to call me out… But apparently he bought my answer – and all I had to do was cement that in his mind.
So I asked him the million-dollar question – the one I already knew the answer to:
“Why?”
There was another pause. Finally, Coyle answered:
“Bitch went nuts last night. Flipped her shit. Clocked Bertha with a 2” x 4” and then skinned out…”
I said nothing, my mouth dry.
“I knew you were sweet on her,” Coyle continued, “so I figured you might know what happened… Where she went.”
“Nope,” I lied again. “I ain’t seen her.”
I could hear Coyle sucking his breath in through his teeth.
“Okay,” I could almost see his head nodding as he said it. “Okay… No big. Bitch probably just twigged out. They always do. She’ll wind up in a strip club in Reno, with a body like hers… No point worrying about the little slut…”
But I could tell by the tone of Coyle’s voice that he was worried.
And then, again surprising me, he admitted:
“Just puts me on edge, y’know? That little bitch heard everything in the bar last night. If she winds up running the wrong way into the cops…”
“Relax…”
I couldn’t believe I was telling big, bad Coyle to chill out… But that’s the way the dice were rolling.
“Relax,” I repeated, staring at Christi as I said it. “You’re probably right. She just twigged out. Made a break for it.” I sucked in my breath, and then lied: “When I was talking to her, she mentioned family up in Oregon. She probably skinned out up north, to meet up with them.”
Coyle was silent, on the other end of the phone. It was clear he was processing what I was saying.
“Don’t worry about her,” I told him. “She’s nothing.”
And it was funny. Even as I said that, I was staring at this beautiful girl, spread-eagle on the bed, and all I could think was that she was everything.
But I couldn’t let him know that.
And to my credit, Coyle seemed to buy my act.
“Okay,” you could almost hear the relief in his voice. “Okay, I guess you’re right.” He snorted bitterly down the phone line. “Pity, too. I was looking forward to breakin’ her little ass in after this job.”
I fake-laughed, and suggested: “Don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of others.”
Coyle laughed gently.
“I guess you’re right.”
And then ice returned to his voice.
“Okay. Down to business.”
I felt butterflies in my stomach.
“You said you’d given the farm a recon?”
“Briefly,” I responded. “A drive past… I was gonna take a shower and take a closer look.”
“Do that,” Coyle insisted. “For some reason, I’ve got a bug up my ass about this gig. Something doesn’t feel right.” He took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s just that shit with Christi, but…”
“It’s fine,” I insisted. I couldn’t let Coyle chicken out now – not after I’d finally found a hook big enough to land this fish. “I’ll check the farm out and report back – but it looks like the whole deal’s legit… for now.”
Another pause.
“Okay,” Coyle nodded.
He paused.
“Okay… But keep your eyes peeled,” the biker growled. “I don’t want any more surprises.”
I was surprised. A day or so earlier, Coyle had been telling me that ‘girls like Christi’ came and went… But he genuinely seemed rattled by what had happened to this one...
“And after you check out the farm,” he continued, “head to Old Survey Road...”
“Old Survey Road?”
“Yeah,” Coyle growled. “It’s just west of the farm… Be there at fourteen-hundred-hours…”
1400. Military time. It was the first time I’d had a clue that Coyle’s background – before he led the Knuckleheads – might have been similar to mine.
“Fourteen-hundred-hours,” he repeated. “Those two cops Raine talked about. They’re going to meet you, and fill you in about the deal…”
I suddenly felt like a cold hand had grabbed my testicles.
‘Those two cops’…
Coyle meant the two crooked cops who’d set up this whole deal… The ones who’d shot Christi’s father down in cold blood.
“They said they’re gonna leave the farm unlocked,” Coyle was oblivious to how I’d reacted. “They said they’ll switch off the cameras… Make sure no cruisers are patrolling in the area…”
Coyle’s voice grew softer.
“But get a good feel for ‘em, capiche?”
I nodded, curious at his caution. Once again, the head of the Knuckleheads was being uncharacteristically cagey.
“You don’t trust them?” I asked.
“It ain’t that,” Coyle shot back – quickly enough for me to figure it was exactly that. “But something’s telling me to be careful on this one… There’s something that makes me uneasy about all this – like there’s somebody I can’t afford to trust on this job.”
And as I hung up the phone on the ruthless biker, I had to swallow the bitter truth…
Coyle had every reason to be suspicious…
Only not of the two crooked cops he was working with.
The guy he couldn’t afford to trust was me… And as I clicked shut the pay-as-you-go flip-top phone, I found myself realizing I didn’t feel nearly as good about that as I thought I would…
Chapter Twenty-Five
Christi
The scalding hot water washed two days of road-dust and grime from me…
…but it also washed away the scent of Mason, which had been branded on my skin like cologne.
As I stood beneath the cheap motel showerhead, I almost lamented being clean.
The truth was, I could have worn Mason’s scent for the rest of my life, and still found it intoxicating.
But needs must… How many hundreds of miles of highway dust did I have in my hair? Not including Mason, how many men’s handprints did I have across my body?
I squeezed the tiny, complimentary bottles of shampoo into my palm, and rubbed the soap into my hair – determined to wash myself clean, as I began to face the next chapter in the madness that was my life.
And what madness it was, I thought to myself… The lunacy of hiding out in a cheap, roadside motel, with a man I barely knew…
...but a man I’d come to trust implicitly… and crave with every fiber of my being.
Mason made me feel like I was home… Which was ironic, because I was home. I was back in San Diego.
I was back just a few miles from my father’s old farm. And this wild ride – with the Knuckleheads, and the unfinished business with those two crooked cops – was all about to come to an ugly head.
As I washed the dirt, and grime, and highway dust from my hair, I realized that it didn’t matter how much soap or shampoo I doused myself with…
I wouldn’t be clean until this ugly business was finished. And who knew how it would end?
There was a sharp rattle, and I looked up with a start.
Mason had pulled back the door to the shower cubicle, and stood there in his leather jacket and jeans, drinking in the sight of me as shampoo and suds cascaded down my naked body.
I made no effort to cover up.
Hell, part of me wished he’d strip off his clothes and come join me…
But, instead, Mason just winked, and murmured: “I’m heading out.”
“Heading out?”
I reached for the faucet, and cut the deluging water.
The noise of the shower was silenced, and I stood there, dripping with suds and wa
ter.
“Out where?”
“I’ve still got a job to do,” Mason insisted, framed in the shower doorway. “Coyle needs me to check out your father’s farm and report back – and if I don’t, he’s going to get suspicious…”
“But what about me?” I demanded.
Mason reached into the shower, and squeezed my glistening shoulder.
“You stay here,” he insisted. “You’re safe. Coyle has no idea you rode with me.”
“But…” I wiped the shampoo from my eyes. “But when will you be back?” Blinking away the soap, I insisted: “What am I going to do if something goes wrong?”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong,” he squeezed my shoulder tighter.
And maybe that was true. The truth was, I didn’t know what was going to ‘go’ at this point.
I had no plan. I had nothing, except Mason. And now he was going to climb back onto his bike and head right into the lion’s den…
I’d never felt more useless, or powerless, in my life. Not even since that night those two crooked cops had gunned down my father.
As if reading my mind, Mason squeezed my shoulder again and insisted:
“It’s going to be okay, Christi. I’m going to make contact with my FBI team, and we’ll finally wrap this all up.”
I blinked through the soap in my eyes, and reached up a wet hand to squeeze his.
“You promise?”
Mason nodded.
“I promise.”
And as I stared into his beautiful blue eyes, I dared just enough to believe him.
As he saw my body loosen up, Mason ducked his head into the cubicle and gave me a short, hard kiss on my soapy lips. Then he was gone – heading out of the bathroom, and leaving me dripping and naked in the shower.
I heard the door of the motel room slam shut, and then the loud roar of his Harley fire up. Only when the rumble of that Twin-Cam had faded into the distance did I crank the shower back on, and wash the soap from my still-trembling body.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mason
The noon-day sun was baking down on the desert scrub, as I rolled my Harley to a halt on the road overlooking Bandy Canyon Cannabis.
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