by K. L. Savage
I love it.
It doesn’t take long for me to get slippery for his cock. I break my lips away from his and toss my head back as he finger fucks me.
“Fuck, doll. Look at you, so wet for me.” He yanks his digits from my hole and rubs the pads of his fingers over my lips, using my juices as gloss before he shoves them into my mouth. “Taste how good your cunt is. Lick them clean, doll.” His eyes are fire as he watches me lap up my own nectar, moaning and yearning for more than what he’s giving me. “This is going to be fast,” he sneers, yanking his fingers from between my lips with a rough pop as he unzips his pants to release that monster cock of his.
“Jesse, please, I need you,” I moan his name, his real name, which makes him more frantic.
He strokes himself a few times before aligning his cock and thrusting in one long stroke. We groan in unison, and I lose all control of my body, leaning back against the cold wood of the desk. I reach behind my head and grip the edge, holding on tight as he takes my body for a ride.
“I’ll never get enough of you. You feel so damn good. So fucking tight,” he growls while holding my legs to his chest and giving me all the thick inches of his shaft.
“Harder, Jesse. More!”
He picks me up by my hips and flips me over onto my stomach, sawing in and out of my pussy without missing a beat. Reaper grips my hips with finger-bruising pressure and increases his speed. Our skin slaps together, and my shorts are getting damp from how wet he’s making me.
“I’m going to come,” I warn him, digging my nails into the wood and raking them across it as he pegs that spot inside me.
He curls over me and bites my neck. “That’s it, come all over my cock—fucking milk me, doll.”
Three more thrusts and I’m falling over the edge, dizzy and blurry-eyed as my orgasm shatters me from head to toe.
“Sarah,” he moans my name into my ear as he fills me with his hot seed. My muscles spasm and contract, sucking him deep into my womb.
All I can hope is that my body stops betraying me so his cum can take root.
“I want you wet all day,” he says, pulling his cock from me. I moan in protest, but it’s a delicious feeling. I love feeling him drag along my inner walls. “I want you to feel me leaking out of you, pooling in your panties, because when I take you again,”—he rubs the head of his cock through the leaking cum dripping out of me—“and I will take you again, I want you to be ready. I’m going to be fucking you all day, when you least expect it.” He pulls away and slides my panties and shorts back into place. I don’t move until I hear the grate of his zipper.
I turn over to my back, and he lays the box on top of my belly. “Now, open it, you sex fiend.”
I giggle but don’t deny it. Reaper has me addicted to him in so many ways, some would consider it unhealthy. I sit up and feel my folds slide together from our orgasmic combinations. “Fine, if you insist,” I say, flicking my hair over my shoulder. I run my hand over the soft box and open it, gasping when I see a ring. A huge fucking diamond. “Reaper, what is this? It’s beautiful. Oh my god.” I take it out of the box and upon closer look, it’s a raw-uncut diamond. It isn’t perfect or shiny. I love it. I slip it on my ring finger, right against my silver wedding band. “I love it.”
“I know it isn’t like the other rings, all shiny and glittery against the light, but when I saw it, I thought of us. We aren’t perfect, and we don’t make sense to a lot of people, but you make sense to me. What I feel for you, makes sense to me. I thought this diamond represented that.”
“I love you.” I throw my arms around him again and lay my head against his chest.
“I love you too,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Now, it looks like we have a party to plan? I can’t do it alone.”
“You never have to do anything alone. Not as long as I’m here,” I say.
The only way Reaper will ever do anything alone is if I’m dead, and I don’t plan on that happening any time soon.
Chapter Three
BOOMER
October 27th
It’s been too damn long since I’ve been home. The Vegas heat feels good against my skin, or maybe that’s Scarlett wrapping her slender arms around my waist, holding on tight as we drive down Loneliest Road. No twists, no turns, just a straight shot that makes a traveler wonder if it ever ends.
I didn’t confirm or deny we were coming for the Halloween party. I wanted to surprise Sarah.
Like she still wants to see you. She hates you. You’re worthless. She’ll never forgive you.
My bike swerves off the road, and dust and rocks fly around us. I keep a good grip on the handlebars and get us on the road again. My heart is thumping, and a sheen of sweat that isn’t the sun’s fault breaks over my skin.
My intrusive thoughts have been getting better some days, but some days are better than others.
“Are you okay?” Scarlett yells in my left ear. She has to yell with the wind blowing and the loud rumble of engines around us.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I lay a hand on top of hers and do my best to drown out the thoughts.
Liar. Liar. Liar. You’ll never be okay. You’d be better off if you wrecked your bike. Everyone would be better off.
No.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
The bike swerves again, and it’s nearly too hard to control. I slam on the brakes and feel Scarlett’s arms tighten around me. The bike fishtails and almost topples over, but I lay my foot out just in time to save us.
When we come to a stop, I hop off and check Scarlett for any injuries. “Are you okay? Did rocks get you?” I rub my hand down her arms and evaluate her body. “I’m so sorry. I never want to hurt you.”
“I know. I’m okay, Boomer. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Her blue eyes glow like the center of the hottest flame in a fire after an explosion, making my heart thump differently in my chest. “Is it your thoughts again? I knew coming here was a bad idea. They get worse when—” I press our lips together when I hear her concern. She’s right. My thoughts do get worse when I’m home, but after some therapy, it’s less to do with Reaper and more to do with losing my dad, getting shot, and losing a damn finger.
Trauma is a bitch, and in order to deal with it, my mind has turned into my own worst enemy.
“I’m okay. I just need a minute,” I say against her lips.
“Prez, you okay?” Wolf, my new VP, asks as he stops his hog beside me. I look back to see a few members stopping behind us. As a club, we’ve slowly gotten bigger, but I’ve yet to decide on a name. I think I might want to stay within the Ruthless Kings Charter, even if I didn’t want to stay with the club in the beginning, but the more I ponder on it, the more I lean toward it.
“I’m fine. Didn’t mean to scare anyone,” I tell the eight men sitting on their bikes.
“We follow you. Take your time,” Kansas says, rolling his shoulders. There are a couple men who were part of the Ruthless Kings Jersey chapter when it was corrupt, and Kansas was one of them. Kansas, One-Eye, and Arrow were strung up like damn skinned pigs in a barn for disagreeing with the Prez.
They are good guys and mean well, but I’m starting to wonder if this band of brothers is just one mind-fuck waiting to happen.
I give Scarlett one last kiss and hop on my bike, the thoughts nothing but a distant buzz in the back of my mind. I ease the bike onto the blacktop and follow the heat waves in the air. The engine vibrates under my ass as I pick up speed. Scarlett’s hand drops to my thighs and settle right next to my crotch.
She better watch it, or we’ll be pulling over for a different reason. The woman has me fucking randy 24/7. She’s dangerous.
Deciding to keep my mind on the task at hand, I stare straight ahead and wait for the compound to come up on the left. Miles and miles of cacti, rocks, and tumbleweeds pass us before a black sign to the left appears that says, ‘Ruthless Kings Territory.’ That’s new.
The entire area
is fenced in, and there is barbed wire at the top. It reminds me of a prison, but I know it’s to keep the area safe. When the entrance approaches, I slow down and take a left onto the damn bumpy road. Why hasn’t Reaper fixed this? My god, men are going to ruin their bikes.
When we come up to the gate, it’s open, and no one is guarding the post, so we drive through. My eyes widen as large as the damn moon when I see all that’s changed. There are homes in the back, and the clubhouse has a few new extensions. It seems they’ve already started setting up for the party.
I’ve never seen so much fucking hay in my life.
And how the hell did they get this much corn?
I park the bike and swing my leg over the seat to stand, grabbing Scarlett’s hand to help her down. I wrap my arm around her and wait for the other guys to get off their bikes. The prospects, Warden and Bane are twins, both equally as big as the other, and the last to turn off their matte black Harleys. Warden has tattoos, and Bane doesn’t. It’s the only way I can tell them apart.
They came to me from Texas. Apparently, word got out of a new, young President rebuilding an MC, and they wanted to see what I was about. They haven’t left, so I’m going to assume they like what they see.
We walk toward the field, and I reach into my cut pocket and take out one of the cherry bombs I always carry with me.
“Boomer,” Scarlett hisses, warning me not to do it.
But I have to. No one has seen us yet because music is blaring, and everyone is setting up the maze and decorations.
I flick my lighter on and wiggle my brows.
“Don’t do it,” Scarlett says.
“Do it,” Wolf, my active devil, whispers into my ear.
Warden and Bane nod their heads, along with Arrow, Kansas, and One-Eye. Yeah, we are all fucked in the head if they are telling me to throw this bomb.
The fuse crackles when the spark ignites, and the intrusive thoughts in my head are silent when I see the promise of an explosion. Right when the fuse gets a little more than halfway lit, I throw it through the air and watch it land right next to Reaper.
Five, four, three, two…
Boom.
A small explosion kicks up dirt and a bit of flame. Reaper, Poodle, and Skirt scream like little fucking boys whose balls haven’t dropped and fall backward on their asses. I can’t stop the laughter. I’m dying. I slap my knee, and the rest of my men behind me cackle too.
“What the fuck was that?” Skirt bellows.
“A fucking bomb!” Poodle screeches.
Reaper puts his hands on his hips and looks up toward the sky. “Boomer!” he yells for me, and I step around the side of the clubhouse with my arms spread, a big grin on my face.
“Did you miss me?”
Reaper takes three quick strides and pulls me into a hug, slapping me on the back. “Hell yeah, I did, kid. Hell yeah.” I can hear the emotion in his throat, and I tighten my arms around him a bit more. I haven’t been the son I need to be for him.
He’s been good to me.
He’s the only father I really remember these days.
“Sarah is going to be so damn glad to see you.”
“I’m happy to be here. I can’t wait for the party.”
“Ye asshole! The bottom of me kilt is all singed and shite!” Skirt pats the embers glowing along the hem of his kilt, and Poodle is on his hands and knees, blowing on it to put it out.
Idiots. Poodle is holding a water bottle and isn’t using it.
“Where is she?” I ask, and Reaper’s happy expression frowns.
“She’s at the doctor right now. We’re still trying to get pregnant.”
It’s your fault. It’s your fault she miscarried. You’re to blame. Selfish. If you didn’t exist, she’d be happy.
I take a deep breath and lean my hand against the side of my head, letting the thoughts play out like my therapist told me to. They usually end with me killing myself. A vivid picture of me holding a gun to my head, which is apparently normal with someone with intrusive thoughts.
“Hey, stop it,” Reaper says. “It isn’t your fault. Don’t think for a second it is. Come on, let’s get you all settled, and then you can help with this massive smoke-blowing inflatable dragon Tongue bought. I swear to god, this better be the best damn party of the century.” Reaper turns to Scarlett and kisses her cheek. “You’re looking beautiful as always, Scarlett. It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Reaper.”
“Tongue still...”
“Tongue?” Reaper finishes for me. “If anything he is more … Tongue-ish.”
“Hey, Prez, look!” Bullseye poses to the left, flicking hair out of his face. Bullseye arches his back and puffs out his chest. He’s given himself boobs. “I stuffed my shirt with hay. Funny, right? Damn, I’d look good as a woman!”
“See what I have to deal with?” Reaper mumbles.
Sometimes I wonder why I ever left home. I’ve missed it more than I thought.
Chapter Four
THE GROUNDSKEEPER
October 30th
Look at them. They’re fucking pathetic.
My cock is hard looking at all of them. A moan nearly escapes my lips as I watch a few of the men and women smiling and straining their muscles as they decorate for the party I’m going to crash.
This group is the perfect target. So damn perfect. There are so many able bodies, but I need one that everyone loves, one that everyone adores; someone that these fuck-ups would miss. As I rake my eyes over the crowd, it seems I might have my pick of the litter. Everyone loves everyone here, and that gives me unlimited choices.
Which is stressful.
But I have to choose. I have to pick one biker, like I do every Halloween. It’s a tradition! If I don’t, my schedule, my mind, they will be all messed up. I have to stay on task. This has to happen.
I’ve been The Groundskeeper for ten years, and I plan to be for the next thirty. They’ve never been able to find me. They’ve never been able to find the person who goes missing because no one can ever figure out the clues that can lead them to saving their friend.
A grin dances on the corner of my dry lips when I think about tomorrow. Around this time, someone they love will be missing, and they’ll have no idea.
One less biker in existence makes the world a better place. I hate them with every ounce my bones can hold. I. Hate. Them. My father was a biker. A man who thought he could do anything and everything he wanted, including cheating on my mother with every club whore there was. It all started here in Vegas before the Ruthless Kings took out the club that was the only home I’d ever known.
I may have hated it, but at least I had a roof over my head. It’s time to switch my targets from deadbeats to the real criminals.
The Ruthless Kings.
I’m going to keep them on their toes for the next decade, and take them out one by one until all that’s left for the President is pain and memories.
Oh, looks like one is coming a little too close for comfort. I take a few steps back and hide behind a tree trunk. I peek around and watch as he lifts a hammer and whacks something into the wood.
Hmmm, yes. He’s perfect.
“Stop pussy-footing around and come help with this corn!” someone yells at him from in the distance.
“I’m coming! Don’t get your kilt in a damn bunch,” my victim says in a ferocious growl.
I like them strong. The fight is better. The struggle is … an aphrodisiac. I love their screams, their pleas, and don’t get me started on their tears. I’ve learned everyone breaks. Everyone begs for their life when they realize it’s worth living, but once I get ahold of them, it’s a little too late for them to have appreciation for their heartbeat.
They’ve lived a life of rebellion, of breaking the law, of doing whatever the hell they want.
Well, guess what?
No one can do whatever the hell they want! That’s not how the world works. There are consequences for selfish actions.
I
dip behind the tree when my chosen crooks his head and peers into the woods, sensing me. I close my eyes and have to hold back a moan from the thought of him feeling my presence. My cock is hard. My heart is slamming against my chest.
What if he finds me? Hiding out here, all on my own, watching, waiting.
“Hello? Is someone back there?”
I want to say yes, but I can’t blow my cover. I’ve been scouting this area learning everyone’s routines, for way too long to back out now.
I keep my back pressed against the tree, letting the nails of the bark scratch against my back.
“This Halloween shit is getting to me. I hate scary shit,” the man mumbles.
He has no idea the fear that awaits him. I hope he makes peace within himself because this Halloween will be the last one he will ever see.
“Swear I saw a shadow,” he murmurs, and I hear something skid along the ground, a rock of some sort he has kicked. “Damn it, that goddamn Stephen King movie Sarah gathered all of us to watch last night…” he speaks to himself as he walks away, his words quieter with every step he takes.
Stupid man.
Does he know true fear?
It isn’t something that only lives in movies and books—it’s real, it’s here.
And I’m coming for him.
I pace around the perimeter of the fence, keeping my distance and staying in the shadows so no one sees me. My eyes are on my target, and now that I know who I want, everyone else is just a distraction. Wherever he goes, I go.
The day is warm, but the shadow of the trees bring much-needed relief by blocking the sun. I sidestep a fallen branch, keeping my feet on the barest of spots on the ground so I do not cause any noise.
I study how he walks and how much energy I’ll need to take him down. He’s tall, broad, and confident. He walks with purpose. He believes he’s a man who can’t be touched, but he’s wrong. Everyone can be taken down; no matter the strength, no matter the size. Everyone has a weakness.