Mason: Inked Reapers MC

by West, Heather

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons--living or dead--is entirely coincidental.

  Mason copyright 2016 by Heather West. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission.

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  Stepbrother Dom

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  CHAPTER ONE

  MASON

  Tick stared at me from across the bar. What the fuck his problem was I had no clue, and I didn’t give a shit either. The blonde pouring my drink was my only concern at the moment. Prez was about to call us all into church and knowing the shit storm that was headed our way, I’d need that last shot to get through whatever he was going to be laying down.

  “Let’s go!” Prez bellowed from the doorway of the back room.

  Tick slapped me on the back, just as I slammed down the empty shot glass and gave the bartender a slow wink. “When this is done.” I gave a nod toward the back bedrooms and smiled when she smiled back.

  “Keep your dick in your pants long enough to get through this, huh?” Tick growled.

  “What’s your fucking problem tonight?” We took our seats at the round table, and he shook his head.

  “Nothing. I know I’m not gonna like this shit. Something’s not feeling right in my gut.” He ran a hand over his freshly shaved head and blew out a breath.

  “Relax.” I laughed. “I swear you worry more than a mother hen.” I adjusted my position in my chair and adjusted the hard on in my jeans. That blonde still lingered in my head. The images of what I would do to her when church was over flashed through my mind, making my pants even more of a hindrance. Those thoughts would get me through whatever the fuck Prez wanted to say.

  Tick gave me a wary look. He’d had plenty of those these days, but he acted as if he’d grown tired of the game, of the life. I’ve known Tick since we were kids, growing up in the same apartment building on the south side of town. Our mothers played cards every Friday night and worked at the same hair salon during the week. Neither of them were happy when we chose to join up with the Inked Reapers instead of heading to trade school or working at the stamping plant. Sure, they wanted better lives for us than they had, but so did we. Standing on an assembly line for the rest of my life wasn’t what I wanted. The club made good money, I wanted for nothing- and neither did my mom. She hated where my money came from, but she still let me pay her rent. I wouldn’t allow her not to anyway; I take care of my family.

  “As you all know the cartel has expanded their borders. They’re running their shit right through Lemon Grove and Spring Valley.” Our President, Marcus, leaned back in his chair, propping his hands on his oversized belly. “I have no desire to go to war with them, we’d never fucking win.” He shook his head over the sad fact. It burned like hell to admit, but we never would defeat them. Those assholes had more money and more firepower than all of the Inked Reapers charters in California put together. “The way I see it, we don’t have shit for choices. We can squabble or we can earn. I say we earn.” He paused and looked over at Charlie.

  “We pull together with the Hell’s Disciples.” The room erupted at the VP’s declaration. Hell’s Disciples resided in the next town over, being forever a thorn in our balls. “Now fucking listen!” Charlie slammed his hand on the table. “I don’t like it either, but if we are going to pull in profit instead of scraping our dead asses off the street, we need to move on this deal. The cartel doesn’t want to deal with any territory bullshit, they are willing to give us both the same price. We do a few runs a month for them, along with the Disciples and we pull twice what we are dragging in on our own now.”

  Tick let out a low whistle but kept his face unreadable. Twice the money. Shit. Twice the problems, too.

  “The Disciples on board with this?” Jasper, the newest patched member at the table, watched Marcus. His fingers drummed the table, and if I hadn’t known him, I would have thought he was bored.

  “They took their vote last night.” Prez nodded. “They see the potential.”

  “So we just link hands and sing kumbaya cause the cartel says to?” I finally spoke up. I tried to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but the look Tick gave me, I could tell I failed. The Hell Disciples were scum. They ran drugs and guns just like we did, but they made a habit of leaving bodies behind. No respect for their members or the outside world. Drugs were dealt to kids outside of schools, girls got picked up on corners and brought home ruined.

  “Yeah.” Prez glared me down. I didn't shrink back. “It’s that or they just take over our territory and hand it over to the fucking Disciples anyway.”

  The whole thing felt like a pussy deal. We couldn't defend our town so we were going to have to join the other team. Turning puppet for the fuckin cartel turned my stomach. “Mason, you need to be on board. You’re our front on this.” Charlie pointed at me. “You and Tick there are going to be running the show over there. Keeping your eyes open for anything suspicious. I don't trust those fuckers any more than you do, but we have to make this treaty and get on board with the cartel.”

  “And if they fuck us?” Tick asked.

  “If they fuck us, then the treaty’s blown. The cartel will back us, but they have to fuck us first. They will, I know it. When they do, we get their territory and the full cartel deal.”

  With nothing left to discuss, we were backed into the corner. Prez called for a vote. Unanimously, we all jumped into the fire. Fucking Disciples.

  “I told you nothing good.” Tick shook his head as we headed out of the room and into the main lounge. I slapped him on the back trying to get his attention, but he was already headed in the direction of Massy, a slender brunette that warmed his bed more nights than not. She wasn't his old lady, not yet anyway, but she had eyes only for him- and he did the same for her.

  I’d never understand that. Giving up the freedom to stick my dick in anyone I wanted, for one piece of ass just didn’t appeal. Settling down, that wasn't my thing. The blonde walked toward me, her apron from the bar long gone, showing her short, black leather skirt and her tight halter pushing her tits nearly out of her clothes.

  “Hey, Mason.” Her smile greeted me. Well-versed hands rested on my chest, over my cut. “You mentioned needing me?”

  I let out a derisive laugh. “I don't need anyone, woman. But I’ll use you.” I gripped her wrist, ignoring her feigned resistance. She’d been in my bed before, and she wanted back in.

  After dragging her to my room, I gave her a little shove to the bed. She looked at me through her thick eyelashes, biting the corner of her lip. Knowing it was just a show, my dick got hard anyway. She knew the game, and I was willing to play.

  “Take off those clothes.” I ordered her, leaning against the door. I wouldn’t touch her yet, not until she dropped the act and her actions became real. With a little pout, she unzipped her halter top, letting her round tits fall out. She dropped the halter on the bed and turned around while she pulled the zipper down over her ass, revealing her naked cheeks. “No underwear? Bad girl.” I reached for my belt, delighting in the initial flash of fear in her eyes. Her facade would break any minute. “Bend over the bed.”
I nodded toward it and pulled the leather belt from my jeans.

  “Mason-” She started to object, but one look at my eyes, and she complied. I’d spanked her before, it wouldn't be the first time. Fuck, probably not the last. She wasn’t that into it, didn’t like the pain so much as the hard fucking I’d give her after, but she tolerated it. Really, what choice did she have? I’m not a complete ass, if she really didn’t want it, I’d keep my dick in my pants and go get someone else. But she’d take the strapping because she wanted my cock. Which was fine, I wanted her pussy. Even deal.

  “Don’t fucking talk.” I growled as I moved to stand beside her, belt looped and aimed. “Don’t fucking complain, either. You take every one of these five licks and when I’m done, you’re going to fucking thank me.”

  “Yes, Mason.” Her fingers curled into my blankets, and she rose up onto her tip toes. Her rounded ass would take the belt nicely; it had before. She grunted with the first blow, yelped at the second. By the fourth a nice red streak crossed her cheeks and she was breathing heavily. I ran my hand over the mark, a nice heat rose from the welt. Her ass wiggled beneath my hand, and I gave her a sharp slap for it.

  “You don’t control shit, here.” I waited for her nod before I continued rubbing her ass. My fingers found her pussy, and just like before, it was dripping for me. I pushed two fingers into her, feeling how hot she was and looked down at her face. Her eyes were closed, her hands fisted. She wanted to move, but if she did I’d only delay her pleasure, and she knew it.

  I released her and stepped back, ready to deliver the last strike. The leather slapped against her ass. She cried out from the impact, but I was already pulling my cock out of my pants before she even thought to move. Rolling a condom over my dick, I positioned myself behind her.

  “Please, Mason. Fuck me.” She ground her ass into my cock. Her attitude changed now, no longer the seductress, but beginning to puddle before me. “Please.” She looked at me over her shoulder.

  “Since you asked so nicely.” I plunged forward, feeling her heat envelope my cock. She cried out from the invasion. She’d been around the club enough that she was used to be fucked hard, and I wasn’t even trying to be gentle.

  My fingers dug into her hips, and I pulled her back against me, fucking her harder. She reared her head up. “Arch up.” I threw my forearm across her back and pushed her down until her ass was up in the air, taking me deeper.

  “Fuck Mason.” She growled. I reached down, finding her clit, I circled it with my finger. She moaned and threw her head back again.

  “Like that? Is that what you wanted?” I grinned at the back of her head. “What will happen if I keep doing this?”

  “Oh, god, Mason. I’m going to come. Please, I need to come.”

  “You asking me or telling me?” I pinched her clit, and she gave a little squeal. A beautiful sound that went right to my cock.

  “Asking, Mason! Please.” My fingers dug deeper into her flesh. I pounded harder into her, feeling the quiver of her orgasm. She was there, right on the edge. “Please!” She begged.

  “Come.” With the simple word, I rubbed her clit harder, faster, and she screamed. Incoherent words flew from her mouth, she bucked back against me as the ripples of her orgasm gripped my cock. She clamped down on me, and I allowed myself to get lost in her screams. Pleasure, pain, it was all the same to her at that moment.

  I looked down where my dick plunged into her cunt, hard, no mercy. Her orgasm began to fade, just as I exploded inside of her. I closed my eyes, riding out the waves of my release. When I opened them, the blonde was looking over her shoulder at me. A wide-ass grin of satisfaction sitting on her lips. I gave her a hard slap to her hip and pulled out, heading to my bathroom to clean up.

  When I returned, she was sitting on my bed, zipping her halter top, her skirt already on. “Fuck, Mason. My ass hurts,” She wiggled on my bed.

  “Yeah. Bet it does. Don’t pull that fake shit with me.” I buttoned my jeans.

  “I wasn-”

  “Want another round?” I asked as I began to slide my belt back through the loops. She eyed the belt and shook her head. “Then don’t fucking lie.” I barely knew this chick, other than having a good fuck from her a time or two, and that she poured my drinks. But tolerating lies wasn't something I did. Ever.

  She stood up from the bed and made her way to the door. She knew me well enough to know I didn’t do sleepovers. Once the fuck was over, it was over. No cuddles, no hugs, or kisses. I didn’t have time for that shit. Thankfully she didn't either. “See you around,” she gave me a slow wink and headed out, leaving me alone.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I pulled it out. Meeting set for the next night at the Disciples clubhouse. Fuck, I hated that skank ass place. I tossed the phone on my nightstand and threw myself on the bed. A few minutes of peace was all I needed before I headed back to the lounge and downed a few beers.

  Money, a good fuck, and a few beers. I couldn’t ask for anything more out of life. I had it all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LUCY

  Jayson Sitz was an asshole. President asshole of the Hell’s Disciples and he owned my ass. Literally. Thanks to a harebrained idea of a friend, I found myself in serious debt to the club. Jayson had told me to be grateful that he was willing to let me work off the money I owed him for the room and board he’d given me over the past two months.

  “Lucy, beer me!” Lucas slammed his hand on the bar. I hid my eye roll as I opened the fridge to pull out his usual. Miller Lite. What self-respecting man drank that and called it a beer? Then again none of the Disciples respected anything. “Can I get a look?” He waggled his eyebrows at me when I slid his beer toward him.

  “Not now, Lucas.” I caught Jayson’s glare after I spoke and sighed. Saying no wasn't allowed. “Fine.” I unbuttoned the first three buttons on my blouse and pulled it open, giving him exactly what he wanted. A peek at my breasts. Lucas never touched, never came to my room at night to help chip away at my debt, he just liked looking. It creeped me out.

  “Fuck you have nice tits, Lucy.” He grinned, keeping his eyes glued to my chest. “You are going to make some asshat a really happy man. You’d make a great old lady.” He tipped his beer in my direction.

  I laughed. No way would I ever be anyone’s old lady. Once I was debt free, I was out of that club, out of that town, and into something that had meaning. Showing my tits, fucking those idiots, it was just currency. I wanted more from my life, I deserved more from my life.

  As life lessons went, spending the last few months with the Disciples had been the harshest. I knew better than to trust anyone, but call it a lapse in judgment. I’d listened to Kerri. She’d been dating Jayson’s brother and VP, Sting, he promised to make her his old lady. When Kerri found out I was looking for a place to stay, she offered a room at the MC’s clubhouse. Sting had said it was fine, Jayson even gave his blessing. Said to make myself at home. At first, everything seemed fine. On the surface, Jayson was pleasant and accommodating. I stayed out of his way as best I could, kept to myself and stayed out of everyone’s way. I tried to get a job at a bar in town, but Jayson swooped in and insisted I just bartend for him while I was living there. But then shit changed, like it always does.

  Kerri and Sting broke it off, she found him in the kitchen, his cock buried in some girl's backside. Sting threw her out when she said she didn’t share. I tried to go with her, she was the only connection I had to the club anyway, and that’s when Jayson’s true colors shined. I owed him, three months back rent, plus “incidentals”, and unless I was going to pay I needed to work.

  “You know, you could try smiling. It might help.” Lucas glanced at Jayson, who still glared my way.

  “I don’t get why he keeps me here. He looks like he hates me most of the time.” I wiped down the counter and did my best to ignore his presence.

  “Hate is just another form of passion to Jayson.” Lucas continued with his advice. Out of all the members, Lucas had
been the nicest. Not nice enough to get Jayson to let me free, but he never overstepped. Other than the creepy ogling, I felt safe when he was around.

  “Well, I don’t need his passion.” My attention went to the front door of the club as it swung open and three large men sauntered in. They weren’t Disciple’s. Their cuts were different, and their patches detailed their club. Inked Reapers.

  Lucas must have seen my concern. “It’s okay, babe. We’re expecting them.” I tried to relax. I should have been used to the tension, the fights and threats, but I was beginning to think I was never going to adjust to it all.

  He swung around on his stool and went to greet the men. I recognized one of them as Marcus, he was the president of the Reapers and had been in the club a few times over the past week. The other two were new. A tall, bald man with ink around his ears, and a short beard covering his jawline stood as tall as Lucas. But, the man beside him, he was even bigger. He stood a few inches over the other men now huddling around them greeting them with handshakes; Jayson among them.