Devil's Dilemma: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #4

by Manda Mellett

  We eat, talk, laugh. All the time he’s fixing me with those dark eyes full of promise. Cool air from the air conditioner seems to flow under my skirt each time I get up or down to fix the food, reminding me I’m wearing no panties. Just his stare is enough to make me grow wet, and I squirm, feeling my own moisture on my thighs.

  “Fuck, woman, you make it difficult.”

  I tilt my head to one side.

  “I’m rock hard, thinking about you all but naked under that dress.” His eyes meet mine once again. “Take off your bra.”

  “What?”

  He waves his hand. “Bet you can do that thing all women do. Remove it without getting undressed.”

  Well, of course I can. I shoot him a look of disdain and proceed to prove it. It’s front fastening, so I manage to put my hands demurely down the front of my dress, and undo the clasp, then slip the straps down my arms and slide it out through one arm hole.

  “Give.” He holds out his hand, and I pass it across the table, a slight wave of discomfort going through me as it’s not dainty and small.

  His eyes lock on mine, and then, suddenly, his vest is slipping down his arms and he’s half turned to place it over the back of his chair. Then, one hand goes to the back of his neck and oh sweet Jesus, his tee comes off and he’s sitting at my table, completely naked from the waist up. I’d already felt the hardness of his torso, but now I see his amazing six pack, confirming this is a man who works out.

  As if nothing’s happened he asks, “Pass me the salad?”

  I think he has had to voice his request a couple of times before I can bring myself to move and do as he’s asked.

  Suddenly replete with sufficient food, I place my fork down.

  His gaze meets mine and slowly, he nods.

  Chapter Six

  Melissa

  I’ve become comfortable with Skull, used to his company, but I still expected to feel gauche the first time we went to bed. I mean, what’s a man like this going to expect? I’m no siren, my experience has been of a very vanilla variety, and with not too many men. Skull has got an assurance and confidence that I’ve not come across with anyone else. I think he’s cocky, but I also believe he’s probably entitled to be and will know what to do with his equipment and won’t disappoint.

  When he gets up and stalks to the end of the table, I can’t help but lick my lips. His jeans are low-slung and as I had expected, there’s the outline of a delicious V leading downwards.

  “My eyes are up here,” he smirks, while holding out his hand. “Where’s your bedroom, sweetheart? First time I think we’ll use your bed. We’ll try out the table, counter, and other possibilities later.”

  Later as in another day? Or, later tonight? My gut clenches in anticipation.

  Automatically I place my hand in his, then lead him into my bedroom. He stares at my bed, then smiles.

  I suddenly suck in a breath. He’s got my bra and panties, and the only thing I’m now wearing is my dress and a smile. If it’s a choice between losing one or the other, well, my lips immediately turn down into a frown.

  He walks me backward until my legs hit the foot of the bed.

  “Lie down.” His voice seems to have dropped an octave.

  I obey, first sitting, then lying back, expecting him to follow me down, but no. In one smooth action he’s pulled up my dress, baring my lower half to him. I suck in air, feeling tears prick at the backs of my eyes knowing he’s seeing thick tree trunk thighs and a roll of fat over my stomach.

  “Fuckin’ beautiful, Mel,” he says fast, getting in before I can apologise.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to stop my brain from forcing a catalogue of what’s wrong with me out of my mouth.

  “I’ve waited far too fuckin’ long for this, not waiting any longer now.”

  Jesus. His mouth is there. His fingers too. His tongue circles my clit, then licks me. I already knew I was wet, now he’s making me voice appreciative sounds as more cream comes from me, summoned forth by his expert touch. His voice vibrates against me as he tells me again how beautiful I am, how my skin is soft, just how he likes it and that he’s a man who doesn’t like angular bodies with bones sticking out, adding how much he likes my curves.

  His words thrill me, nothing there to suggest I’m any kind of disappointment at all.

  Part of my brain wonders where and how he’s learned the tricks he’s bringing into play. It’s as if he knows precisely what a woman wants. Fingers and tongue work in unison and very soon I’m nearing the edge. My last thought before giving in entirely to sensation is if they could make a vibrator as talented as his touch, there’d be no need for men at all.

  “Oh God, Skull. Skull, yes, there, Skull.” I cry out, words escaping with no conscious thought. “Skull, oh Skull. Skull.”

  I hover for a second just nearing my peak, stay there until the right pressure on my clit sends me completely over.

  I see stars and my lungs heave.

  Before I’ve recovered, he’s lifted my hips, then pulls my upper torso off the bed, and before I can stop him has completely removed my dress. Somewhere along the way his jeans have come off, and I now have a very naked man straddling my thighs, wearing nothing but the smile on his face, and that glowing look which darkens, dilating his pupils as he feasts his eyes on my chest. My very, ample, chest.

  His hands almost shake as they reach out to touch, pillowing my breasts, one in each hand. He flicks his thumbs across my nipples, his smile becoming a knowing grin at my sharp intake of breath.

  “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Real woman’s breasts.”

  “Too big,” I counter.

  “Not a thing, babe. Not as far as I’m concerned.”

  I’m not going to protest. If having to carry these motherfuckers around gives him this much pleasure, I’ll stop complaining about them. As he continues to play with my chest, I lie back and enjoy it.

  Honestly, I think I’m close to coming again when he sucks first one nipple then the other between his teeth.

  “Skull, Skull.” I arch my back, pressing more of me into his mouth.

  “Uh uh. My turn now.”

  His warmth moves away, and I hear the crackle of plastic, and then raise my head to see him slide a condom down a slightly longer than average, though not too thick dick.

  Perfect.

  Then he’s lining himself up and sliding home.

  I’m wet, he pushes in easily.

  At first languid strokes, then he speeds up, then he’s hammering as he chases his release and I’m crying out, so, so close.

  I need more, so I take it, reaching down myself.

  “That’s it, babe. Fuckin’ love you playing with yourself. That’s it,”

  Then his voice changes to grunts, and I’m almost there myself.

  His body presses in hard, he groans and stops, one more rub and my muscles are clutching at his cock.

  “Fuck, babe, fuck, that’s good.”

  We stay like that for a moment, both trying to regain our breath. When he gets up and goes to dispose of the condom, I’m glad he’s the one who’s had to leave the bed. Me? I can’t move.

  Skull ends up spending the night. We have sex again later, then I wake to an early morning booty call which I certainly don’t object to.

  Then he leaves to do whatever his club wants of him, with a promise to come back the next evening.

  The thought did cross my mind that now that he’s got what he wanted, he’ll give up the chase and I won’t see him again. But I’m proved wrong. Over the next couple of weeks, we see each other almost every day. He takes me out as much as we stay in. When it’s the latter, I cook for him, for once happy to prepare meals for a man. He pays me back handsomely with orgasms, so I have no complaints.

  Sex stays great, if anything it gets better as we get to know what each other likes. I give head as it’s expected, and Skull doesn’t hide his obvious enjoyment even if he knows I prefer him to pull away before he comes.

  We go out with B
eth and her friend. Skull doesn’t seem to object at all at being subjected to girly talk. He’s come along and met my co-workers again a couple of times. The one thing which bothers me is while I’m letting him into my world, he’s not reciprocating. I’ve yet to meet any of his club brothers.

  One day, I overhear his side of a phone call.

  “Yeah, I’ve found someone.” His eyes catch mine. I get up to leave, but he shakes his head.

  “Not yet. But soon I hope.”

  “Yeah, I think she’ll fit. Hopefully Demon’s woman will take to her. Yeah, we’ll speak later.”

  He replaces his phone in his cut and raises his eyebrow at the curious look on my face.

  It prompts me to start a long overdue conversation. “Why don’t you introduce me to the other bikers, Skull?” The words I’ve overheard make me nervous. “Why is there a chance your prez’s woman won’t like me? Are you ashamed of me, Skull?”

  I’m not certain I want to get involved in his world, still nervous of what it represents, but if we’re getting deeper into a relationship, surely I should go into it with my eyes open, and know all there is to know about the man I’m with. And that means getting to know the people he spends most of his time with. On my part I’m an open book, while he keeps his cover firmly closed.

  “Babe,” he starts to reply, going serious. “You may not like the sound of it, but in my biker life, there are two types of women. Ones you fuck, and ones you make your old lady.”

  I bristle. “And I’m one you fuck.” Clearly not one worth introducing to his brothers.

  “Nah, I didn’t fuckin’ say that.” He wipes his hands down his face. “Look, Mel. We’ve got a good thing going, and I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  “You met my friends.” I round on him, realising I’m waving a wooden spoon in the air, so lower my hand. “Why would meeting yours fuck us up?”

  He stands and comes over, curling his hand around the back of my neck, taking the utensil out of my hand and placing it down on the side. “Mel. These last few weeks have been amazing. When I first saw you, I knew you were going to be something special to me. That’s only become truer the longer we are together. Before we go on with this conversation, there’s something I need you to know. I’ve fallen for you, hard, Mel. I love you, babe.”

  It’s lucky his hand is holding me up or else I might have fallen. I’ve been trying to ignore my growing feelings for him, telling myself, it’s too soon, and he’s not the kind of man for a forever.

  “Nah, you don’t need to say anything back.” He’s misunderstood my hesitation. “Mel, in my club, well, not sure how you’re going to take this, but when a man takes an old lady, the words are, he’s claimed her.”

  I’m listening to his words very carefully, nervous of any misinterpretation. Is he saying he wants to claim me, and if he is, do I want to be claimed?

  As if I’d spoken aloud, he puts his finger to my lips. “Not quite there yet, Mel. Just, listen up.” He takes my hand and tugs it, leading me to the couch in the living room and pulling me down to sit beside him. “Remember I told you, the club is a family?”

  I nod.

  “Well, it’s family we’ve chosen, not one we are born into. We’ve spoken about prospects, how they, and recently I, do all the shit jobs for a year or so, or long enough to prove not only that they’re trustworthy but that they’re a good fit to the club. Anyone joining has to find their place there, we don’t accept anyone in off the street.”

  Where is he going with this?

  “You expect me to prospect? Or whatever the appropriate term is for an old lady?” I don’t like the thought of that.

  He laughs softly. “No, but no one can take an old lady unless she’s voted on and accepted by the club.”

  My eyes narrow. “So, we’re dead in the water if your club doesn’t like me?”

  He shrugs. “I can’t see any reason they wouldn’t like you, Mel. But if for some unknown reason they won’t accept you, our options are, either we part, or I’ll rethink my commitment to the club.”

  Now I’m staring at him, my eyes open wide. Club’s everything to him. I may not have known him that long, but know he lives for his brothers and the life the MC offers. He worked hard for a year just to earn his place. What would he be without it? “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  His hand grasps my hair, and he pulls my head back, leaning in for a kiss. When he’s finished, and I’m released, he tells me softly, “I know you wouldn’t. I’m just trying to explain. And it’s not just my brothers. We’ve talked about the club, haven’t we? How we still wear the one-percenter patch, not because we’re into the shady business of the past, but because we live outside citizen’s laws. You become my old lady? Well, you’ve got to be happy with that.”

  That makes sense. It was one of the reasons I played hard to get in the first place. While my unease about what Skull is has settled as I’ve learned more of the man under the leather, if I’m honest, I try not to think about what he might get up to when he’s out of my sight.

  I haven’t been around Skull as much as I have not to be able to read he’s leading up to something. “What are you proposing?”

  He stares at a point beyond me. “I’m going to tell my brothers I’m seeing someone special. Then, if you’re willing, I recommend you start coming around the clubhouse.” He breaks off and grins. “Bake ‘em some muffins. Quickest fuckin’ way to their hearts. Worked with me, didn’t it?”

  I laugh. Well, he’s got a point there.

  “You can see if you like them. Get to know the other women and decide if you can live with them.”

  “You want me to move to the club?” I’ve got my own place. I don’t want to give that up.

  “Not saying we have to. But I’ve got a room there. You can keep this as your home, we’ll split our time between both. I claim you, woman, that means you’re mine. And that means we’re together. Every fuckin’ night, not three or four times a week. We can work out the living arrangements later. But you must understand, being my old lady is like being my wife.”

  Wife? It suddenly dawns on me how serious he is about our relationship. Am I as into this as he is? I hadn’t been looking for a life partner. Looks like I might have found one. But isn’t that often the way, I think to myself. Something appears when you least expect it. Shouldn’t I at least give whatever this is between us a chance?

  “So,” I begin, slowly, “this is sort of a trial. Seeing if your brothers like me, seeing if I like them. Experiencing your way of life.”

  “Exactly.” He pats my hand and smiles triumphantly.

  “Hmm.” I think for a minute. Can’t see anything wrong with that. I get a glimpse of the life my man lives when he’s not by my side and have a chance to walk away if I don’t like it. Worst thing that can happen, I find I’m not going to fit in, but better to find that out sooner rather than later.

  “Not ruling out, me leaving the club.”

  I nod to acknowledge the comment but at the back of my mind know, if I can’t make it in his world, he probably won’t be able to make it in mine.

  Which could mean we’ll part sooner rather than later.

  Surely it’s best to find out before we get in any deeper.

  “Okay,” I say quickly, then soften my features. “Just tell me when to bake muffins.”

  Chapter Seven

  Melissa

  Skull tried to prepare me as much as he could. I’d asked him endless questions about the men in the club, and the women. In my experience, the former aren’t as difficult to get on with as the latter.

  Of the women, he warned me, three names I really need to know. Violet, who’s the current president’s old lady, Moira, the mother of the president, Demon, and wife of the former prez, Hellfire. The third name was Jeannie who’s the mother hen and ruled the roost until Violet came on the scene. There’s also Sindy, another woman with a long-standing relationship with one of the brothers, and Jayden, far younger, who transferred wi
th a member from Tucson.

  I’ve learned their names by heart and have pulled as much information as I can out of Skull about them.

  Then there’s Bella, Titsy, Sheila, Breezy and Tulia, the club girls or sweet butts as the Satan’s Devils call them. I do find it distasteful that they are there to be at the men’s beck and call for absolutely anything that’s asked of them, but I suppose to each their own. As long as Skull doesn’t go with them, and they don’t make a play for my man, I’ll just have to put up with their presence and try my hardest not to appear judgmental.

  As suggested, I’ve come armed with Tupperware tubs full of muffins and other offerings to tempt sweet and savoury appetites alike. But when I drive up to the gates to find a man wearing a vest with the word prospect on it, I find I’m shaking when I drive around to where he’s directed I should park.

  There’s no way to disguise this building from what it is, an old steel mill. I can only hope it looks more inviting on the inside.

  Where’s Skull? He said he’d be here to meet me.

  I delay getting out, thinking I need his strength to help carry everything in, as well as to be moral support. I don’t think I’ve felt this nervous since my first day at high school.

  A noise catches my attention, and I raise my eyes. In front of me there are a group of leather clad men walking to the back of the yard with rifles slung over their shoulders. I’m staring at them so avidly, worrying about the sight, that I don’t see a man approaching, and jump as he raps on my window.

  My heart races wildly until I see it’s Skull with a welcoming grin on his face which slides away when he sees my horrified expression and follows the direction of my eyes.

  He opens my door. “They’re going for target practice. There’s a range up in the woods. You didn’t think we had our own army, did you?”

  “Something of the sort,” I admit.

  He laughs. “Nah, don’t let it worry you. A lot of them are ex-services and like to keep their skills sharp. Need help?” But one look in the back seat shows him I do, so he opens the rear door, and starts loading up his arms.