DAMON: A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel

by Meg Jackson

  “Fuck, Gabriella,” he growled, and his grip increased even more, his thrusting deeper and faster, my throat clenching in a panic around him, my eyes running with tears as he pistoned into my throat.

  I heard the audible slap of his balls against my chin as he tore into me, his thighs releasing in a sudden ripple, my throat gagging as the first of his warm, wet cum hit the back of my throat. I struggled to swallow; he pulled out slightly as the second spurt filled my mouth and I swallowed, feeling it burn my raw throat in the best way.

  Burst after burst of warm cum filled my mouth and disappeared down my throat, musky and salty and strangely satisfying. As his cock shuddered and released the final stream of his seed, I leaned back and let it roll across my tongue for a moment before gulping it down.

  “Holy shit,” Reign said, his body crumpling slightly. He reached down and pulled his pants up, then knelt down beside me. I was too overwhelmed and exhausted to do much beside sit back on my haunches, not caring a bit about the sand that was getting everywhere.

  “You know, you’re really something else,” he said, staring right into my eyes with a strange look. It seemed…vulnerable? I could only shrug and smile.

  “I…I’m just me. I’m just a girl. A silly girl,” I said. Reign sat down beside me, his hand tracing up my side, his eyes following his hand. He seemed like he was seeing a woman for the first time in his life and couldn’t believe that I actually existed.

  “You’re…well, just don’t sell yourself short,” he finally said after a long moment, his eyes coming to rest on mine. I blushed; the way he was looking at me was not unlike the way a starving man might look at a mega-loaded club sandwich. I looked up at the sky, my heart feeling stranger and stranger the more we maintained eye contact.

  “Look at all those stars,” I said with a sigh, my flesh contended, my soul not gripped with anxiety for the first time in a long time. Reign was silent. After a minute, I looked back at him. He was still looking at me.

  “Yeah, just look at ‘em,” he said, but he never took his eyes from mine.

  15

  Tell me about yourself, he’d said.

  There’s not much to tell, she’d said. And he’d pulled her closer.

  Of course there is. There’s, what, 25 years to tell me about?

  Nice guess, but I’m 27, she’d said with a laugh. The sand had been prickly but warm and soft underneath them.

  Even better. Two more years to tell me about, he’d said. She’d giggled. He liked that sound.

  Well, my mom was Italian and my dad was Puerto-Rican…

  And so she’d talked. For a long time, but not long enough, in his opinion. He wanted to hear every detail. He wanted to know the color of the dress she’d worn on her first day of grade school. He wanted to know the first concert she ever went to. He wanted to know the name of her kindergarten crush, the color of her college roommate’s hair, how she liked her coffee.

  He didn’t know why he wanted to know all those things, but he did. He was hungry for them. Starving, in fact. Desperate like a mutt gnawing scraps from a bone. Her black hair spread across the sand like gleaming ribbons in the moonlight. It reminded him of a poem he’d heard once, a long time ago. Look for me by moonlight, watch for me by moonlight, I’ll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way.

  It was getting colder as she spoke, and her voice was drifting, downward, as though she were on the verge of sleep. He would have slept there with her, covered her with his cut and kept her warm until the morning sun washed the valley in blazing heat. He would have slept with her anywhere. A gas station bathroom, the back of a truck, a jail cell, anywhere, he would have held her and listened to her breathe and slept beside her through the whole long night.

  But why sleep on the ground when he had a king-size bed waiting for them in his room?

  And so that was where he brought her, both their bodies spent and aching from their ecstasies on the sand. And now she was sleeping beside him, and he was awake, staring into the darkness of the room and wondering about her dreams.

  You’re going down the rabbit hole, his mind said, a warning. He didn’t care. He wasn’t afraid. He could deal with this like he’d dealt with everything else in his life. His way.

  Well, not everything else in his life…

  He didn’t want to think about that now, though. Not with her in his bed. He didn’t want any memories sullying his bed when she was in it.

  Besides, memories were just memories, they couldn’t hurt him anymore. They weren’t his father’s fists. They weren’t his sisters’ tears. They were just figments, ghosts, spectres.

  Or, they would be that, as long as she didn’t ask any questions, and he didn’t have to give any answers. But she would ask questions. Of course she would. She was smart, lively, he could see it in her eyes, her desire to know more and more about everything around her. She’d listened to him talk about the club, about his life, but soon she would want to hear everything.

  And he wasn’t ready to talk about it. If he lived a million years he wouldn’t be ready to talk about it. He shut his eyes, the darkness of the room suddenly feeling heavy, cloying. It was only darker with his eyes shut. The darkness wasn’t in the room, it was inside him.

  He sighed and rolled over, reaching out to latch onto her soft, plush hip. She can’t stay here, he thought. She’s too good for this place.

  The thought made him want to scream. He finally had this…this…whatever this was. This thing that he didn’t know he’d needed. But he couldn’t keep it. He couldn’t keep her. She was too pure, too smart, too good for the club. Too good to spend her life like Honey, or like the other old ladies, who waited through long nights with their hearts in a vice because they didn’t know if their men would ever come home.

  But he couldn’t go with her. This was his home. His life. His whole life. He was next in line. He couldn’t leave the club, his family. The poem came to his mind once more.

  But she loosened her hair in the casement. His face burnt like a brand

  As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;

  And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,

  (O, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)

  Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.

  Reign was tired. He wanted to sleep. But he couldn’t. Reign, the man who would sleep anywhere, anytime, couldn’t sleep. Because when he woke up, it’d be morning, and he’d be one day closer to losing her.

  16

  Honey rolled over, the sunlight beginning to filter through her lidded eyes. A rare day off; it seemed she spent more time in that damn bar than she did in her own apartment. She was slightly, though not entirely, surprised when her hand grazed soft skin in the bed beside her.

  Peeking through her eyelids, she saw the girl she’d brought home last night sleeping like a princess, on her back, lips parted slightly, one arm thrown above her head and the other resting lightly on her chest. Honey smiled, tried to remember the girl’s name. She’d drank quite a bit the night before, but things were starting to come back to her.

  Honey had never thought of herself as gay, but she also never really liked labelling herself. Sometimes, she saw a girl that just needed to be kissed, and then next thing she knew she’d be waking up just like this. She let one of her hands travel downwards, parted the lips of her sex and dipped a finger in, feeling the residual wetness from the night before.

  It must have been a very good night, she thought sleepily, only a little sad that she could only remember bits and pieces.

  That’s what mornings were for.

  And weren’t these mornings so much more beautiful than all the other mornings of her sad, long life? Certainly better than all those mornings she’d woken up unsure if she could get out of bed for the pain in her back. The mornings she’d pee blood from a kick to the kidneys. The mornings she’d lay, trying not to breathe, praying and praying and praying that he just wouldn’t wake up
this time. That he’d stop breathing and she could slip away, finally safe and free.

  She’d come to Ditcher’s Valley a long time ago – at least ten years, maybe fifteen, maybe more. She looked good now, but she’d been a real piece back then, even with a face that was more bruise than not. Short red hair, bright green eyes, a body to kill for. She’d been all alone for the first time in her life, having jumped straight from a drunken stepfather to a drunken husband.

  All alone except for the baby she’d been carrying. The reason she’d finally got the courage to leave. The baby that hadn’t made it past four months in her belly, but that she still loved in her deepest heart. The baby she thanked every day for giving her the reason to leave. She’d been distraught when she first miscarried, but time and years and perspective had left her with only a dull ache that would throb at strange times, like an old wound that you only remember when it rains.

  Honey owed the club everything. They’d taken her in, hadn’t asked for anything in return. The aging president, Charcoal, had taken pity on her and given her a place to stay, a job at the bar. And she hadn’t even needed to prove herself by shacking up with half the club – of course, she did, eventually, wind up doing just that, but only on her own time, on her own terms.

  She was lucky, so lucky, and she reminded herself of this as she gazed at the girl beside her in bed. She wondered about this girl. She was a local, one of those girls who’d probably stay in Ditcher’s Valley another five years before she realized there wasn’t any kind of life for her there, that being someone’s old lady wasn’t actually the best thing that could happen to you. Good for her, Honey thought, imagining the girl waking up in a better place and a better time.

  It was too late for Honey to think of herself doing anything different with her life. And she didn’t really want to do anything different. She wasn’t like this girl, or any of the other girls who hung around the club. She was just as much a member as any of the dudes, if not more.

  She even had a cut, even though her boys didn’t like her getting her hands dirty. All she had to do was tend bar, keep a weather eye out, and take care of her men. Hold their hands while they moaned over some girl who’d run off, pour a stiff drink after a funeral, sing along with whatever drunken tune they picked on the jukebox.

  Keep a weather eye out, she thought to herself, still half-sleeping, the phrase sticking in her mind. Why? Something seemed wrong that morning, a nagging feeling that she had seen something the night before, something important, but that she’d forgotten.

  Georgia, she thought to herself, the name drifting up to her from her subconscious. That was the pretty girl’s name. She frowned, eyes still closed, and tried to push the nasty feeling away. It wasn’t the girl’s name she was forgetting it was…something else. But it wouldn’t help her hangover one bit to obsess about something that she’d either remember or not remember.

  And probably it was just a bit of the hangover itself; whenever you black out like that you always wake up feeling a little sour. Besides, there was a beautiful girl in her bed, and Honey didn’t want to think about anything besides that. She rolled over slowly, letting her hand fall to the girl’s waist. Georgia moaned in her sleep and rolled over onto her side.

  Perfect, Honey thought, pressing herself against the girl’s warm body, her hand gently stroking her hip. She didn’t care if the girl woke up then; it was nice enough to just lay in the bed, sleepy and relaxed, breathing in the smell of her shampoo, drifting off to sleep once more with soft skin against her…

  But, as luck would have it, Georgia seemed to be waking up as well. She stirred again in her sleep, pressing her ass against Honey’s mound, then taking Honey’s hand from her hip and grasping it to her chest as though it were a teddy bear. Honey stroked the smooth skin of the girl’s breast, loving its roundness beneath her palm, letting her thumbs roll gently over her nipple, which grew slightly hard at the touch.

  The girl moaned and Honey pressed herself tighter towards the sleeping figure, craning her neck slightly to let her lips fall on the girl’s neck and behind her ear, gently kissing the warm flesh, appreciating the soft humming sound the girl made in response. A giggle, and Georgia turned her head towards Honey, eyes still closed, a sleepy smile across her face.

  “That feels good,” she said, slurring her words a bit.

  “I like the way you taste,” Honey whispered back, her mouth moving against Georgia’s ear. A shudder from the half-sleeping girl was her reward. Honey propped herself up on her elbow, hand still fondling the girl’s breast, and began to kiss along her cheek, softly. The girl’s smile parted slightly as Honey leaned over and let her lips flutter over the girl’s, just barely touching her lower lip.

  “Mmmm,” Georgia moaned, rolling over with a sigh and opening her eyes at last. Bright blue and bleary, the girl’s eyes blinked slowly a few times before settling on Honey, who was now leaning over the girl’s prone body, one hand gently kneading her breast. Honey rolled over further, positioning her body above the girl’s, crouched above her with her knees on each side of her body.

  Honey sat up, admiring the view beneath her. Her own B-cup breasts, still perky and full, were prickled with gooseflesh from suddenly emerging from the warmth of the covers, and the hair on her arms stood on end. The room was chilly with the air conditioner running at full blast, and the girl’s skin was prickling as well.

  Honey gently traced her fingers down Georgia’s sides, from the sides of her C-cup breasts to her hips and back. The girl moaned once more and bit her lip, Honey’s fingers leaving trails of heat down her flesh. She leaned down and their lips met again, hungrier now, their lips parting and tongues meeting in a delicate but passionate dance. Honey’s sex, already wet from the night before, pressed against the girl’s soft mound, her downy hair tickling Honey’s flesh.

  Honey let her lips move downward, across Georgia’s collarbone and towards her breasts, the nipples now hard. She gently flicked at one nipple with her tongue, letting her hand rest on the other breast, rolling the other nipple between her fingers. Georgia moaned and squirmed underneath her, one hand coming to the back of Honey’s head and pressing forward as though demanding more. Honey was happy to oblige, her tongue licking and sucking softly at each nipple in turn, then gently nibbling them, causing the girl underneath her to arch her back and groan hungrily.

  Honey could have spent hours enjoying the taste and feel of the young girl’s breasts, but she wanted more, and began to lead her lips even further downward, her hands resting on Georgia’s waist firmly, pinning her down. She dipped her tongue into her belly button, drawing a giggle from Georgia, who released her grip on Honey’s head and sighed as Honey’s warm mouth licked and kissed down her stomach towards her now-glistening sex.

  Honey pressed her knee between the girl’s upper thighs, and she let her legs part, revealing her slit and engorged clit, both radiating heat. Honey traced her fingers up and down her inner thighs, making them quiver, enjoyed watching Georgia’s slit dampen further with anticipation.

  She licked her lips, then dipped her head and ran her tongue along the length of the girl’s wet lips. Georgia shuddered, moaned, her hips bucking forward slightly. Honey’s long, soft tongue travelled over each tender fold of Georgia’s lips, tasting her sweetness, before coming up to flick her red clit, another appreciative groan from Georgia spurring her on.

  She circled the clit gently with her tongue, feeling it roll and buzz underneath her, felt Georgia’s hands in her hair clutching and pulling her closer. The girl was squirming now as Honey’s tongue lapped at her clit, exploring every angle, before moving lower once more to taste her slit, her tongue darting inside quickly.

  Honey let one of her hands move to her own sex, her arousal growing with each of Georgia’s ecstatic moans. She slipped one finger into her own wetness, feeling her pussy clench around it. She brought her tongue back to Georgia’s clit, now flicking it faster and harder. Georgia’s legs clenched around Honey’s head, her hand
pulled her tighter, and Honey knew she was approaching a climax. She brought her finger, still slick with her own juices, to Georgia’s slick entrance and pushed it inside slowly.

  “Oh, fuccck, yes, please,” the girl moaned as Honey began to pump her finger in and out of her wet cunt. She pressed another finger inside, her tongue still dancing over her clit, and began to fuck the girl harder, curling her fingers inside, searching for that special spot that would make the girl crumble.

  She let her teeth fall over Georgia’s clit, just slightly, and felt the girl’s spine straighten and stiffen from the sensation. Her fingers soon found their target, and Honey moaned into Georgia’s sex as she began to pump harder, the girl’s movements now becoming erratic as she squirmed and clutched Honey’s head to her clit.

  “Please don’t stop, please, please don’t stop,” Georgia moaned, panting, as Honey massaged her pussy with two fingers, bringing her other hand up to Georgia’s breast and gently kneading it from below.

  “Oh, fuck, yes, I’m gonna...oh fuck!” Georgia screamed, her young voice breaking the air, and Honey felt a flood of juices running over her fingers into her waiting mouth, Georgia’s pussy clenching tightly, her thighs shaking with pleasure against Honey’s ears.

  Georgia’s hands were almost digging into Honey’s scalp as she came, her hips rising into the air and thrusting slightly, flesh feverish and tingling. With a gasp, Honey brought her mouth away from the girl’s sex, licking the sweet taste of her from her lips, watching as the girl twitched and panted, lips parted, eyes half-closed, a bloom of radiant pleasure across her cheeks.

  “I’ve never been with a woman before last night,” Georgia said in a whisper, looking up at Honey like she was a goddess.

  “It’s fun, isn’t it?” Honey said with a smile, crawling upwards to kiss her on the lips once more, languidly now. Honey felt the fire of want pulsing in her sex, but there was no rush. She gently pushed a lock of Georgia’s blonde hair from her forehead, then let her fingers trail down her blushing cheek.