by Andrea Rose
And that bike wasn’t the only big thing I wanted to ride…
Giving myself one last lip smack, I clicked my heels down the hall and right out the front door. For a brief moment, I thought about leaving Penny a note…
She’s a big girl now, she can take care of herself. I thought to myself, changing my mind. Penny is my only daughter. She came around when I was still sixteen. I was naïve, scared, and stupid. I let a boy knock me up and pretty soon he ran off and I was alone. Being a single mother was hard, but it was also one of the most rewarding things I’d ever done. Nobody could pretend to say I was the greatest mom, but Penny had turned out fine. I did what I had to do to keep bread on the table, and she never asked questions. She was taking college classes and career bound, a far cry from the clubs I danced in on weekends to pay for it all…
I was glad the apple fell far from the tree… In everything outside of her beautiful looks, she was nothing like me. Maybe she could break away from her upbringing.
I flipped down the little visor in my Miata, giving myself one last look over. I was hot. Fuck me hot. There wasn’t a biker on the planet who was going to turn down a piece of ass like this. It made the drive a little easier as I squirmed in my seat, putting the little stick shift through its paces. With a little luck, it wouldn’t be the only stick I got to play with tonight.
Soon… I thought to myself, racing across town in my little red convertible.
WAR
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
There wasn’t a fucking person in the room who thought this was a fair fight. The crowd was circled round cheering, but this was like the Romans tossing men into the colosseum against hungry lions. People didn’t watch those fights to see the man win. They wanted to see someone die.
The prospect was shaking in his fucking boots. He was a loud mouthed big man when he decided to disrespect the club, but all that fucking talk meant nothing. To some average asshole on the street, maybe little J-Dog would be a fearful sight. He was two hundred thirty pounds of muscle with a temper barely in control of it. That’s what steroids can do. They can take a little man and make him bigger.
But they can’t teach you how to fight.
I started wrapping a fist, the elastic pulling tight across my knuckles and covering the scars. Around my wrist I drew the wrap, circling and coming back between each finger in turn. Wrapping a fist was more of a religious experience for me. This was the ritual. I made peace with my gods in the practiced and rhythmic movement. This was the calm before the storm.
J-Dog was too busy pissing himself.
He wouldn’t be the first and he wouldn’t be the last. In this world you fight or you die. I’d lost count of the men my fists had taken down for the club, and this one would be all the sweeter. J-Dog fucked up. Conquest caught him cutting a bag of cocaine with fucking cleaning supplies. He was lucky to be alive, and definitely out of the Horsemen. You can’t just give up your cut though. Nobody leaves the Hells Horsemen without a little going away present.
I grinned at him, standing up straight and towering over the whole damn room. I’d need a good long night of fucking to bring me down from this high. Thank God that hot ass bitch was coming back. Adrenalin was already coursing through my veins, my arms flexing and tugging at me, desperate for use and abuse. The woman could wait. This is my purpose… This is my job…
I am War.
A rage filled scream erupted from my mouth, teeth barred and arms trembling with power. I let the little pissant get in the first blow, crossing the floor and feeling his fist crash into my ribs. He had some force behind it, but lacked technique. I showed him the difference as I caught his arm on the next swing and brought my own arm down, my entire body pivoting hard as my fist crashed into his side. The sickening crack met my ears as bone gave way.
That’s how you fucking break a rib.
I dragged his arm upward and over the top as he crumbled, dragging the shoulder out of the socket and smashing him to the floor. Three fast blows later he was out like a light. I pulled his cut from his limp body, watching the rise and fall of his chest.
The crowd erupted, but I was disappointed. Normally, they last a little longer. There was no joy to be had in crushing someone so weak, and no thrill to be had in the favor of the crowd.
Conquest reached down, patting me on the back and pulling me upright. We left the former prospect right where he lay. He’d wake up in a few minutes and if he knew better, he’d walk right out the front door and never turn back around.
I needed a fucking drink.
JENNA
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
The bar was packed, and row after row of big chrome bikes was almost enough to make me shiver in anticipation. War caught sight of me first. He was clearly fucking me with his eyes as I walked up. Although the room was filled with bikers, only four sat at the table in the corner. Among the Hells Horsemen, these were the leaders.
Conquest was the easiest to identify even in the dimly lit room. He wasn’t as big as war, but the way he carried himself made him clearly the most dangerous of the whole group. It wasn’t all the muscle under his clothes either. Conquest looked like he might have been made of stone, but there was something in his posture and smile that reminded me of an animal about to strike. He was a predator, and I was nothing but a pitiful little mouse every time he looked at me.
Famine was to his left. He was dark in appearance, but positively friendly by comparison to the likes of War and Conquest. His curly hair hung down and gave him an almost innocent charm, although the tattoos and scars shattered the illusion. I gave him a little smile, turning my head to look at the last of the group as I approached.
Death…
Death was a mystery. I’d yet to hear him say a word, and the skull handkerchief he kept constantly tied round his face served only to make him more terrifying. In this group, Conquest was the leader, War was the muscle, Famine was the brains, and death was… Death.
His thin limbs and tall body structure might have made him look like a weakling among giants, but the cannon of a gun sticking out of his vest kept anyone from joking about it. Death didn’t need to look dangerous for anyone with half a brain to steer clear.
“Beginning to think you might not show,” War said, greeting me as I reached the table. I smiled, staring at the pile of wrap sitting next to his beer.
“Been fighting again baby?”
“Never you mind that,” War replied, pulling me in. I let out a little squeal as he lifted me effortlessly and planted me right into his lap, brushing my skirt higher than I intended it to ride. It wasn’t hard to imagine anyone on the other side of the table staring up under the thin fabric, but Conquest seemed to have no problems meeting my eyes.
“War says you want to ride with the Horsemen…”
I tried to force a smile, matching Conquest’s steely gaze. This was no normal date, and he knew it. Today, the Horsemen had all of the power. In their hands, I was nothing more than a plaything for the evening. If I could play their little game, the reward was big. I could feel it growing under my bare ass even as Conquest’s probing eyes made me look away.
“Go easy on her Conquest, I like this one,” War replied, giving my inner thigh a solid squeeze with his positively monolithic slab of a hand. I whimpered softly, enjoying the feeling of his rough fingertips against my smooth skin. I’d been fantasizing about this moment all week. What tests would they have for me? What exactly would I have to do to prove myself to the Horsemen? Why the hell did this turn me on so much?
You could say I’ve got a problem. Of course, now I was nervous.
“I… I like War too…”
“Oh yes, I can tell,” whispered Famine, his voice barely audible over the steady beat of the music. “He’s practically stroking your pussy over there. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I went red. I’d been dating bad boys as long as I’d been dating, but these guys were something else. They didn’t have a filter. In this bar, hell, i
n this damn city, they did what they wanted without any care about the repercussions. My voice caught in my throat.
“Be a doll then, why don’t you repay the favor? War’s had a long night, and I think he could use a little calming down,” Famine said, leaning back in his seat. The whole table went silent, watching me.
I could feel War’s cock. It had been swelling up against my thigh ever since I sat down on his lap. I reached out, grabbing an abandoned shot glass full of clear liquid from the table, slamming it down and tasting tequila as I shivered in place. This was a challenge… Maybe the first challenge of many. I reached my hand downward between my thighs. War’s breath washed over my neck as I gripped his massive shaft through his jeans, stroking him through the denim in front of my little exclusive audience. It felt good following orders like this… I’d never been so alive.
“Good girl,” War whispered, his voice soft in my ear.
“Another round of shots!” Famine shouted, a hesitant waitress shaking her hips as she brought up a row of tiny glasses. I kept right on stroking War, flush with embarrassment as the young waitress gave me a look that could have been jealousy.
It wasn’t going to take much longer. My practiced hands knew how to make a man happy, and as the shots kept coming I was getting more and more bold in my actions. Pretty soon, I was working at War’s button fly, pulling him free from his denim just below the table.
The men around me seemed interested in what would happen next, and a little hoot and holler went on above me as I slipped under the table to take a look at my prize. It wasn’t going to be easy. For one, War was extremely well equipped, and for two, there wasn’t much ‘head room’ down here. My knees ached as I turned my head sideways and slid my tongue softly up and down his thick shaft, jerking him lightly between lashes from my wet mouth.
He was close.
“She’s eager, that’s for sure,” Famine said, laughing from above the table. I looked over, placing my free hand on his leg and sliding up to his own straining erection.
“Very eager!” Famine coughed.
“Mmmmmm…” I replied in affirmative, pulling War’s cock to the side and engulfing the tip. That was all it took. The teasing and stroking and gentle licks had driven him to the wall, and my hot mouth sliding him in just past my lips turned him into jello. Splashes of hot seed rolled across my tongue, sliding down my throat. Excited shouts were cheering from above as I slipped free, bringing myself back above the table and slamming another shot of tequila. The only one who seemed disappointed was Famine, my hand leaving him frustrated.
War seemed pleased with himself, a far more relaxed look on his face as he pressed yet another shot into my hand. I hopped back onto his lap, licking salt from the edge of the glass and enjoying the way it mixed with the smoky flavor in my mouth. The tequila washed it all down, a suck of lime freshening me up. I fell into War, his deep breaths still coming in at an accelerated rate as I kissed him.
“Anybody that eager gets my vote,” Famine said, slapping the table and calling for yet another round. These men could drink… Already, I was feeling tipsy, glad that War’s hands were holding me firmly in place. I surveyed the table. Conquest looked pleased, and a smile was creeping back onto Famine’s face, but Death remained disinterested in the entire exchange, still silent at the corner of the table. He seemed to be watching the room with unwavering interest, with eyes shifting between the entrance and the exits.
“What now?” I asked, ready for anything.
“Famine is easy, and War is a pushover. You’d have a better chance of hell freezing over than getting a vote out of Death here. If you want to ride with the Hells Horsemen, you’re going to have to go through me…”
I stared at Conquest, biting my lower lip ever so lightly. No question, he was going to be harder to win over than Famine, and War’s raging cock pressing up against my inner thigh wasn’t going to need any further convincing. I shifted my body, trying to bring the head of his shaft between my wet folds.
“I forbid you to fuck her War. You don’t do anything until I give her the OK.”
War was silent, and suddenly, his hands were pushing my hips away. I gasped as his cock pulled away from my pussy, barely brushing against me as I found myself sitting on his leg instead of being impaled on his body as I so desperately wanted to be.
“What do you want from me?” I asked, my voice soft and low as I glared at Conquest.
A tap of metal against the table drew everyone’s attention away from my little petty plight.
Death was on the move.
“Three Vamos, two on the exits,” Death whispered, the voice almost impossibly quiet. I watched the thin biker slip out of the booth and step toward the side with a wicked looking handgun in full view.
I glanced wide-eyed across the room at the Hispanic men standing guard near the doors. War shoved me off his leg, setting me down beside him, his body shielding my view. I felt a twinge of fear, but also a spark of excitement.
“They can’t be making a move now…” Conquest said quietly.
“Tell that to the big one coming to visit,” Famine replied, nodding at someone I couldn’t see.
There was nothing to do but hold my breath. Every voice in the bar seemed to go quiet, even the music seemed to drop in volume. I could hear heavy boots approaching, and I was terrified. This was supposed to be some drunken naughty fun. How had everything went so wrong?
CONQUEST
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
“Petraus, you look lost. Dirty Dogs is ours,” I said quietly to the stocky broad shouldered man. It’d been awhile since I saw him in the flesh, and his arms were now sleeved with tattoos from shoulder to wrist.
“We’ve done a lot of business Conquest, you know why I’m here.”
“There’s no shipments for a few weeks. You’re going to have to tell your men not to get their panties in a bunch.”
“That’s the thing, Conquest. A little fucking birdie tells me you’ve got a crate dropping sooner than that. I’m wondering why you’re trying to cut us out on this one?”
“You heard wrong. You’ll get your drop in a few weeks. Anything coming in on those docks before that is none of your fucking business,” I said, tension roiling over the table. The little Hispanic man didn’t flinch, not even with Death’s gun pressing up against his temple.
“Vamos is making it our business. You can’t just cut us out on this Conquest. You want a war, you’ll get a fucking war.”
“Petraus, the shit hitting the dock is something bigger than you and fucking Vamos. Forget what you heard, go crawl back into your hole, and when your shipment comes in I’ll call you.”
“Is Vamos supposed to take your word for it?”
“If they know what’s good for them, they’ll stay the fuck out of it,” I replied, anger welling up inside me. Who the fuck did this little man think he was? If it weren’t for a few dozen witnesses, I’d have already plastered the walls with his head.
“Is that a threat, amigo?”
“It’s a promise.”
Death pressed the gun harder against Petraus’s head, forcing it to the side.
“I came unarmed. You should put that shit down before there’s hell to pay for this.”
I nodded at Death, watching the gun lower with an almost reluctant motion. Death would have have liked nothing better than for me to give the word.
“You tell Vamos to stay out of San Marcos. You’ll get your fucking shipment in two weeks. Until then, if I see any of you assholes again, I’m going to cut your balls off and hang them from the rafters of this fucking building. Do we understand each other, Petraus?”
The man didn’t answer, turning his back and waving to his men. I watched as they walked straight out the door, a wave of silence in their path.
“HORSEMEN!” I shouted, drawing the attention back to my table. My blood was boiling, every part of me shaking. The only sound left was the throbbing of the music, every eye turned to meet me.
“WE RIDE!”
JENNA
☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼
I squealed as War lifted me up from the booth, carrying me swiftly toward the door. My body hadn’t decided whether it was excited or terrified about what was going to happen next.
“No. She rides with me,” Conquest shouted as War tried to put me down on his bike. I whimpered lightly as I was pulled back down from the seat, my feet landing on asphalt and breaking one of my heels. Without War’s steadying arm, I fell, my knee scraping against the ground.
“I’m sorry, are you hurt?” War asked, lifting me back up to my feet, staring at the thin streak of blood escaping a little cut on my leg.
“I’m fine… I just… Can’t I ride with you?” I whispered desperately. Before War could answer, Conquest’s hand was on my shoulder, pulling me away.
“Come with me Jenna, we have work to do,” he said with a sinister tone in his voice. War gave us both a look of intense anger as he let my hands go, our fingertips separating. “She’s mine,” War said through gritted teeth. “You hurt her, and I’ll hurt you.”
I could almost feel the respect between the two men as Conquest nodded and slapped a hand across his cut. I followed him away from my man, past the long line of bikes. It wasn’t hard to tell which of the iron steeds belonged to Conquest. Much like him, it was a terrifying machine. All business, no chrome. It was an old and meticulously well-kept beast of burden. His bike rippled with power under its blacked out surface, and I felt a little shiver of fear run up my spine.