Ridin' Dirty: An Outlaw Author Anthology (OAMC Book 1)

by Blue Remy

  I lift her legs and stand before laying them back down slowly in hopes I don’t wake her. Then I ease outside and grab my bag from my bike, lock up, cut out the lights and find the bathroom down the hall. My reflection tells me Maddie isn’t the only one not getting very much sleep. I was still suffering from the thirty minute intervals of rest I got when I spent three weeks in the hospital. I still don’t have my days and nights figured out.

  After a hot shower, that I refused to beat off during, I throw on some sweats, grab the blanket from the back of the couch and throw it over a still sleeping Maddie. I’d carry her to bed, but I don’t want to wake her. So I leave her there and search the back rooms for a guest bed.

  There isn’t one.

  Logan’s bed is shaped like a fire truck and way too small for me. I consider sleeping on the floor, but Maddie’s bed looks pretty damn comfortable and I don’t think she’d mind me using it. If I’m lucky, maybe she’ll wake up and join me.

  “Dumbass,” I mutter, throwing myself down on the bed that smells too much like her. She’s in my head. Both of them. My mind is consumed by her. My cock is still rock hard at those two little words.

  Show me.

  Fuck, I want to show her. Taste her. Touch her. Make her see just how good sex is. How good I can make it for her. I’m thankful she’s on the other end of the house. Far enough way so I can’t see her. But her scent is everywhere, and it’s not making my attempt at ignoring her any easier.

  I close my eyes and try to force myself to sleep. I start to count sheep, and surprisingly, it works. My body starts to relax. My breathing deepens. And thoughts of sheep start to drift to other thoughts as my mind unwinds. But then I feel eyes on me. The air in the room has shifted and I know she’s here.

  Cracking one eye open, I look up and there she is. Standing right next to the bed. The dark shadows in the room don’t let me get a clear view of her face, but I can see her mouth. Those lips that begged to be kissed. When her thighs tighten, my vision becomes cloudy—overtaken with lust and desire.

  “Fuck it,” I growl, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down on top of me. I immediately flip us so she’s beneath me, and I don’t give her time to catch her breath. I don’t give myself time to change my mind either. I just kiss her.

  Her lips are soft and warm—just like I expected them to be. She opens her mouth to me and I claim it—lazily stroking her tongue with mine. She tastes like peanut butter and honey. Her body feels so small under mine—vulnerable, but eager. Almost desperate. She moans in my mouth as her nails find my shoulders and dig. When she twists her hips to rub against my thigh, I nearly lose it.

  “We’re going to hell for this,” I say, my voice thick and low as I pull her shorts down her legs.

  “This is hell,” she breathes, parting her knees and opening herself to me. “And I want to fuck the devil.”

  Motherfucker.

  For a fleeting moment, guilt settles in my chest at the reminder that I am a Devil—a Devil’s Renegade who knows how wrong this is. But when the heat of her pussy burns my face like a fucking inferno, the guilt subsides. I promised to take care of her. All of her. And that includes her pussy that is soaking wet with need. Want. Desire.

  For me.

  I slide my hands beneath her ass and lift her to my face—dragging my tongue up the length of her pussy. Her hands fist in the sheets as she lets out a long, low moan that has me growling against the tender flesh. The vibrations of my voice send pleasure spiking through her, and her thighs tighten around my head in an attempt to pull me closer.

  I don’t want to tease her or draw this out. I want her coming. Now. On my face, so she can taste herself when I kiss her while I drive my cock deep inside the wet walls of her pussy. So I find the tiny, swollen clit that holds the promise of her pleasure. And mine.

  My tongue works circles over the small nub as I suck it hard in my mouth.

  She fights to pull away from me—the feeling intense and almost too much. She begs me for something, but doesn’t know what. Moments later she stills, then explodes around me. I soften the strokes of my tongue as she jerks and convulses around my face. The sweet essence of her release coats the back of my throat. When her legs fall limply from my shoulders, I move up her body and kiss her hard—letting her taste herself on my lips.

  With my mouth still on hers, I fumble with the shit on the night stand until I find my wallet. Sitting up on my knees, I retrieve a condom and fist my cock in my hand—my clothes now on the floor with hers.

  “Tell me how you want me to fuck you, Maddie,” I demand, keeping my eyes on hers as I sheath my dick. She’s still breathless and reeling, trying to focus on my words. “Tell me, babe,” I say, my voice lower. I rub my hands up and down her legs, trying to pull her back from that state of euphoria she still seems to be in.

  “I just want it. Please…”

  She’s begging. I like it. I’m ready to give her what she asks for. So I line the head of my cock at the slick entrance of her still pulsing pussy. “Fuck…” I hiss. She’s tight. Really tight. I’m afraid I’m hurting her, but she widens her legs and lifts her hips in invitation. I push further, ignoring the urge to come even though my body demands I do.

  “So good…so fucking good…” she murmurs. “Just like this. Fuck me just like this.” She likes the slow, long strokes, so that’s what I give her. I bury myself completely, pull almost all the way out then push back in. The pace is slow and measured. Long and hard. I can keep my shit together this way, and prolong the feeling for her. I will fuck her for hours, just like this if she’ll let me.

  “Talk to me.”

  My lip curls at her sweet demand. This girl is kinky. I like that, too.

  “You like feeling this cock in that sweet, little pussy?” Her answer is a soft mewl. I thrust hard inside her. “I asked you a question.”

  “Yes!”

  I shove into her roughly again. “Yes what?” It takes her a moment, but she finally finds the breath to answer me.

  “I like feeling your cock inside me.”

  “Good girl,” I praise.

  Her eyes open—locking on mine. They’re wide with shock. Her cheeks pink with embarrassment. But her pussy squeezes hard around me.

  “You like it when I tell you you’ve been a good girl?” She stares at me open mouthed. But nods.

  The innocence on her face is too much. This girl is a sex vixen and doesn’t even know it. I’m her protector—her guardian. I promised to take care of her. I am. And there is something deliciously kinky about telling her when she’s done something that makes me proud. And there’s something even kinkier about her vulnerability that makes her naturally submissive to me. I’ve always known I liked it. But she’s just finding out how much she does.

  “Get on your knees, Maddie.” I expect her to instantly submit to my demand, but she surprises me when she shakes her head. I cock an eyebrow at her. “Somebody wants to see what happens when they’re a bad girl.”

  Her cheeks darken, but she doesn’t deny it.

  Gripping her hips, I flip her on her stomach. She gasps when I pull her to her knees and fist my hand in her hair—pulling until her back meets my chest. Her head is slightly bent and I kiss the soft skin on the side of her neck tenderly—my actions going from one extreme to the next. By the heavy beat of her pulse, I know she’s enjoying every bit of it.

  “When you defy me, Maddie,” I say, kissing a trail up the side of her neck to her ear. “I’ll just take what I want.”

  She whimpers—pushing her ass against me. Begging me for more. I push inside her tight walls once again—sinking deep before stopping. She’s filled with my cock. Her body trembles in excitement and a little bit of nervousness as she waits for my next move. I stay inside her as I lower her face to the mattress. Leaning over her back, I press my lips against her ear.

  “Do you promise to stay just like this while I fuck you?”

  She nods, her hips rocking back against me on every wo
rd.

  “Good girl,” I whisper, then I straighten, pull out and slam hard inside her. She screams as I fuck her rough—savagely claiming her body. Taking my pleasure and giving her an equal amount in return.

  My fingers dig into the soft flesh of her ass, gripping handfuls and spreading her open so I can see everything. She’s pink, wet, hot and her sweet scent is everywhere. The humiliation of exposing her like this along with the dirty talk and stiff cock that’s pumping in and out of her, has her coming hard around me. The moment her pussy pulses with her orgasm, I’m coming too—slamming into her one last time before stilling.

  She’s limp and lifeless when I pull out of her. Her eyes are closed and either I’ve fucked her to death, or she’s sleeping. I’m gonna go with the latter. I cover her up and head to the bathroom—grabbing my sweats on the way. I toss the condom in the trash then make my way back to the bed. When I pull her in my arms, I only have one thought.

  I fucked up.

  I gave into my weakness. I’ve put everything on the line—for this girl. A part of me wants to undo what I did, but now that I’ve had her, I know that I can’t. And as I stroke my hand possessively over her body, I know that I won’t.

  I won’t stop.

  I squeeze her ass and feel her up, drinking her up with my eyes.

  And as I do, I know with every breath I take, with every ounce of my bones, even knowing there’ll be hell to pay for deceiving my own club, my own brother, I’m not staying away from this girl.

  I’m her Devil.

  And I’m going to make us burn.

  George Bell, aka Twisted, is a man with a past. Even when he’s not searching for it, trouble always seems to find him. A chance meeting gives him a glimpse of beauty so sweet, he can’t believe his good luck. Penny Dane is the red-haired beauty caught up in his web of lies. He’s like no one she’s ever met before. The problem is, he knows it.

  “Three ball, corner pocket.” His muttered words were accompanied with a thrusting gesture of the pool stick, indicating the particular corner out of four at which he was aiming. Simple shot from where he stood, a straight lineup with the pocket. He just needed to pop a little lower right-hand English on the cue to pull it back to where he wanted so he could position for the next shot. Spin to win, folks. He straightened and took a step back, which rapidly turned into two additional half-steps before he righted himself, killing the stumble’s momentum. Well, it should be a simple shot, he thought, tongue in the corner of his mouth as he tried to recover gracefully.

  Undrunk would equal simple. Drunk as he was right now? Not a fucking chance in hell he would be hitting that hole. His gaze crossed the two identically-dressed girls sitting on stools along the wall, tight tanks pulled low, shorts sagging around their hips, crimson lips. Or any holes. He squinted, the two women resolving into a single female form, wreathed in cigarette smoke. Or any hole, singular, he thought. Not that I’m lookin’ for skank, but pussy is pussy.

  Wrapping his hand around the edge of the corner closest to him, he bent and angled himself into position, bringing the stick down and resting it on his hand in the notch formed by his jutting thumb. Hold on. Stroking back once…twice…then forward with a soft crack. The tip hit the white ball, careening it into the red ball, and he watched as both moved exactly how he saw in his mind. Before the solid had finished falling into the netting, he called the next shot, striking the cue with the stick again just as it drifted to a stop. Shifting a half-step to his left, he called the next shot. And the next.

  Surprisingly, he won, and that game turned into another. And another, which he also won, the wooziness slowly fading.

  “A man drunk as you are, how in the hell does he still win at pool?” Bills thrown on the tabletop were a contemptuous insult, but he didn’t care tonight. Right now those bills were a tank of fuel, good meal, and hot shower. A haven purchased by a little overlooking was still a haven. It wasn’t that money was a problem, just that his self-righteous little brother didn’t want dirty money. He didn’t know him well, but suspected that to Fred, earned would be acceptable, and it’d feel good to offer something to ease an unspoken burden. I’ll just have to convince him that hustlin’ pool is work.

  Leaning crookedly, he put his stick on the table for the next player. Pretend to be a little slow, promise ‘em a chance at recovery, he heard in his head and felt the grin falter on his face. That was a blast from the past he didn’t need. Papaw, go back to sleep, he thought, shoving down memories of bullet-riddled bodies falling around him, holes appearing in leather vests like movieland stunt props, but these had blood and bone, breathing souls behind them. Everything that mattered stripped away in a moment. Some lost to family crypts, some to a rift nearly as final. This trip the first accepted overture in over a decade of attempts, giving him renewed hope of restored connections.

  “No freakin’ idea, man.” His mouth moved without his request, but at least it had the right idea. “Same time, same place tomorrow? You can win it back?” He wouldn’t still be in town tomorrow. Not a chance in hell he would still have the money, so there wouldn’t ever be a rematch. Fred’s load was supposed to deliver in the morning, so they’d be out of here by six o’clock at the latest. As he scraped the cash together, pushing the thick fistful deep into his pants pocket, he glanced around and noticed the woman was gone, having escaped the stench of the smoke-filled atmosphere. Prolly already walkin’ the lot.

  Hand to his head, partly to hold the pounding thing together, partly to obscure his face, he made his way to the door. The giants standing there gradually resolved down into a single figure and he was glad. Hard enough to bullshit this one, no need to ask for trouble by bullshitting two of ‘em. “Fred,” said the man in the blue shirt, white patch with black letters spelling out ‘Paulie’ over the pocket. “No.” Which he knew was giant-speak for ‘I can’t let you on the road like this. If troopers pull you over, it’s my ass in trouble.’

  Startled at the name the bouncer handed him, he wondered, Was Fred who I said? Responding smoothly, he shook his head, saying, “Paulie, my man. I’m not drivin’. Partner is behind the wheel next shift. I’m just sleepin’.” Giving up with a grunt and a lifted chin, Paulie reached out and opened the door for him, seeming to know the effort would have been beyond him at this point. “Thanks,” he muttered, getting a second chin lift.

  And as easily as that, he walked out of the bar masquerading as a truck stop and into the lot, the occupants never knowing who they had hosted tonight. He shrugged, missing the leather vest that normally rode his shoulders like the voice of reason. That loss eased by the knowledge that tonight he could do anything without worry about dire predictions on the part of his officers. Twisted shook off the feeling, trying to beat back vertigo that threatened to upend his stomach. Might shoulda left the vodka off the menu. He grinned. Might shoulda left the tequila off the menu, too, stuck to whiskey. He shrugged, done was done, and tonight, as far as he was concerned was done.

  Standing in the glare of the sodium lights, his gaze swept the parking lot. Row upon row of gleaming paint and chrome. Amber and white lights gave the area a shimmering glow, red lights flashing at intervals, blue and green and purple under lights creating pockets of illumination amidst the hulking shapes surrounding him. Exhaust hung like a cloud over the oasis, the smell of diesel fuel thick upon the air, flavoring every breath. Now to remember where my ride is parked. Oh, Freddy boy, ready or not, here I come.

  He made his careful, weaving way through the lines of massive vehicles, looking for the company logo on his brother’s truck, studying the windows to see greater than expected numbers of silent sentinels. Dark forms in their tall seats, living coals hanging from fingers propped on wheels sized to give leverage and advantage to a human, regardless of height. Searing brands carried from resting position to just below the glint of eyes in the darkness, countenance lit from underneath when the cigarette flared brightly for a moment, the inrushing air sucking back chemicals and flavor and nicotine g
iven life with a troubled permission to rush towards extinction, the cigarette burning down to nothing in minutes. Reduced to ashes.

  Finally, he thought, seeing familiar territory ahead in the form of Fred’s truck. Cold and still, the engine wasn’t idling, but the creak of suspension spoke to restless sleep inside the cabin attached to the chassis. At least, I won’t be waking him up. Lifting a fist, he pounded lightly against the bottom of the driver’s door, glancing behind him to ensure there weren’t any pool-losing followers bent on retrieving their mistake by force. Creaking and shifting, then the sound of the window lowering. Surprised the door hadn’t opened, he turned to look up at the same time a soft, feminine, so-not-Fred voice sounded.

  “Interesting, but no thanks.” Short hair, ends going a hundred different directions. It was impossible to tell the shade in this lighting, but that unruly mop surrounded a tiny triangle of a face, petite and pleasing. She lifted a hand to rake the mane away from her forehead, scratching for a moment at a barbell piercing her eyebrow, then allowed the fall of her bangs to cover the exposed skin. Not much, in terms of body modification, but something curious to catalog. The only thing he really knew at this point was she wasn’t his brother. “Try the next truck over. He had something to smoke earlier, might be receptive.” The window began to raise back into position.

  Unexpectedly, because he was normally as tightlipped as a cop in lockup, his mouth blurted exactly what he was thinking, all his filters apparently having reached their capacity tonight. “You’re not Fred.” This round of ignorance brought to you by alcohol.

  She snorted, shaking her head and tilting it the slightest amount as the window stopped in place, halfway up and halfway down, committed to neither. He stared at her and decided to go with it. She evidently thought him a prostitute, might as well play the part. “Hell, for you? Half-price.”

  The window powered down to the fully open position and she leaned an elbow on the metal frame. Amused, she asked, voice two octaves higher than previous, “Say what?”