Forbidden Beauty

by Abriella Blake

  I must have waited for another moment, because Knox grabbed my hand again. With no little tenderness, he pushed my palm into his groin, leading my fingers towards his swelling erection. I didn't know quite what I'd expected to feel, but I found myself audibly sighing once I'd gripped his girth in my palm. He was so thick. My five fingers could barely close around him. And he grew more, in my palm. His shaft was warm and smooth. Moving again with the force of my intuition, I began to slide my enclosed fingers up and down, slowly, slowly, enjoying the throb of him.

  Knox leaned further back against the couch cushions, his expression strained. He began to grunt. He began to thrust upward into my strokes, guiding my fingers with the curve of his back. After a few beats of this, I drew my hands to the sides of his hips, pushing my fingers into the small divots his bones made. Grabbing hold of his clothed legs, I eased the tight material down past his cock, until the pants swam around his knees. In the low light, I gazed for a moment at the full, unadorned sight of his package. His size (intimidating...). The neat, pert sac below his manhood. The strung, almost ropy muscles of his inner thighs.

  “Put it in your throat,” he grunted above me. My first reaction was defiance, but then something else took over. “Yes,” I cooed. All I wanted in that moment was to please him.

  I kissed the tip of him, lightly, then began to lick the head. A few pearls of pre-cum rose; I swallowed these greedily. I gripped his shaft with one hand and began to stroke faster, faster, while I dragged my tongue around his opening, making small circles.

  “Take it down further,” Knox commanded.

  Slowly at first, I pushed more of him into my mouth, steeling myself hard against the floor. I could barely take it. He began to push against the back of my throat—hard, deep strokes that almost made me gag. He took his good hand and pressed this into the back of my hair, so I could barely breathe around his member. Still, I loved it. I began to suck on him greedily, my mouth gripping and loosening as my pussy could, my tongue racing up the sides of his shaft. With one hand, I dug my fingers into the fuzz of his inner thigh, beginning to knead his muscles there. With my other hand, I leaned farther forward and cupped his sac. He groaned wildly as I dusted my fingers over his balls. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked, so hard it hurt.

  Carter didn't need to ask for what he wanted next; I found I knew, instinctively. Continuing to stroke his cock, I pushed my face into the lowest part of his shaft, then began to lick—lightly—at the smooth, round surface of his sac. He began to jitter, tickled, as I took his smooth balls into my mouth. I tugged at his member while I lightly massaged his sac with my tongue.

  “Fuck, I want to get inside of you,” he growled. His hand was still pressing into my hair. I drew my full attention back towards his dick, the smooth, massive surface of him. I took him in my throat again and began to move up and down fast, sucking and sucking and sucking until it was hard to breathe.

  Carter continued to thrust into me, pushing himself deeper and deeper into my mouth. At one point, I relaxed my mouth and swallowed the tip of him down to the deepest part of my throat. “Yes!” he cried, so loudly I was briefly aware of our host in the other room. I found I loved the feel of him, pushing against me like that. I felt controlled, yet in control.

  “Put your hand on your pussy,” Carter whispered then, turning those violet eyes onto me. “I want you to come while you suck on me.” I did as he told me. I pushed three fingers below the surface of my jeans and, as I picked up speed, began to whirl small circles into the risen mound of my clit. I was already drenched with want.

  Knox didn't tilt back this time, but watched me as I struggled to touch myself and please him at the same time. I pushed faster and harder into his dick, so the whole of him was in my throat. I danced my tongue along his shaft as I sucked him down. With one hand, I pressed against his thighs; with the other, I continued to ride my own fingers. The pleasure began to peak when I watched my lover's eyes roll with passion, when I felt his cock pulse even larger into my throat. I went faster. I went faster. I sucked him and sucked him, he pressed my head deeper into the thatch of his crotch, and finally, with his back arched, he exploded inside me. And I swallowed him, grateful. I continued to drink him down until there was nothing left.

  His eyes fluttered against the pillows. His forehead was damp. Softly, so as not to disturb him, I pulled up my own jeans. Then I lifted his pants from the ground, and stood above him for a moment. He looked beautiful, dozing there. And I was proud, too, that I'd been able to give him this gift—just as he'd sucked me to such pleasure the other night. At that precise second, Scotty chose to let out a rattling snore from the back bedroom. A mockingbird trilled.

  Knox's eyes fluttered open, and he looked as sleepy and happy as a sated school boy. He smirked at me. I smirked at him.

  “Alright, so you're not such a softie,” I murmured. He didn't say anything—merely bit his lip in response. The texture of the room had changed, somehow. I didn't know exactly what had just happened, but something had shifted between us; our courtship (or whatever it was...) no longer contained the sheen of fairy tale. I realized then that I wasn't just trying to date a man. I was riding a warrior.

  “You should probably get going,” Knox said at last. “Sun's almost up.”

  “Yeah...yeah, I guess so.” I waited for him to say something else, but nothing was forthcoming.

  “When will I see you again?” I blurted, turning. I couldn't help it.

  “Seems to be we should both put our effort toward finding this new MC, don'tcha think? Before a showdown starts between the Styx and the Cheaters?”

  “Do you really think that could happen?” Somehow, in all our sweet, winding conversation, this prospect had never fully materialized. What would it be like if the whole Knights of Styx rode in? For one thing, our little meetings would need to become even more clandestine. Knox and I? Though I kept forgetting it when we were together, the facts of the case were staring me down: we were officially behind enemy lines. The way things stood, we couldn't be seen together and live to tell the tale.

  “My boys are headed to their secret camp outside Kendall as we speak. They won't let a rider fall alone.” The biker contemplated the bottom of his glass, all the warmth apparently drained from his gaze. Was it my imagination, or did he sound sorry? Yet again, I was insecure about how much he wanted me. How much he was willing to risk. There was this dance to the bloom of our relationship—half the time I felt I had him, half the time I felt I was being played. But I couldn't stop.

  “So everything...everything's a lot more serious, now,” I muttered. I shifted in my boots. “It's kind of unfair, really. You and I were just getting to know one another, and now we're on opposite sides of a war we didn't start.”

  “Oh, baby,” the boy said. “Didn't you hear? All's fair in love and war.” Then, like the sonofabitch was sealing a deal, Knox winked.

  Once I got outside, I let loose a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding. I made a quick mental to-do list: first up, write my sister, then continue with my Den Mother duties, then find some way to keep the council from hearing about the raid on Scotty's bar and drawing their own terrible conclusions...and all this while avoiding whatever fresh hell was terrorizing Miami. Not to mention trying to keep my feelings for a certain tall, dark, handsome stranger out of the mix. My imagination flashed: I was tied up, a limb for every corner, flush against a four poster bed. My ankles and wrists hurt where I was bound. Knox, sweating in a leather vest and pants, was straddling my waist. His words still rattled in my head: I will fuck you like you've never been fucked...

  I thought of his face, looming above me. He just had the most perfect face—human, intelligent, raw, tough. The adorable curve to his nose...

  But hey, I was tough, too. For all I wanted to be dominated in bed, I knew from that moment on that I would protect Knox with every fiber of my considerable power. No MC would take another man away from me. As God was my fucking witness.

&
nbsp; Feeling strong, I clambered aboard my Street Bob. I started the engine, and enjoyed the familiar thrill of those motor sounds vibrating through my bones. I pressed myself down against the seat, hard—and realized I was still wet and primed from my near-orgasm, moments before. What else had that man promised me? I will be so hard, every part of you will curve to my dick... Tossing my long hair so it tickled my back, I began to push myself against the thrumming engine. I ground myself against that seat I was so used to, imagining all the while that I was gripping that muscular man between my legs. I bucked and bucked until I felt the space between my thighs grow even damper than before. I rode my Street Bob in place, my imagination teeming with the bound scenario—the thrusts of fiction. His cock had been so fucking thick, so perfect...the feel of his rough fingers around my throat, or cupping my breast, or squeezing my ass. Oh, I wanted him to leave marks all over me. I pressed myself harder and harder into the leather of the seat until I came—suddenly, and hard. And for a moment, in the throes of my ecstasy, I hoped that he could hear my thrilled sounds from inside that little cabin. I wanted to be driving him as crazy as he'd managed to drive me.

  Moments after I'd finished, I kicked away from the ground. My whole body was pulsing as I let the wind streak through my helmet-less hair. And I thought, Fuck you, to the whole of the damaged, sordid world. The whole of the world—every member of the Coffin Cheaters, the Knights of Styx—they could go fuck themselves. I didn't want to fight; I just wanted to spend as many evenings as possible talking shit on a couch with a man who made my knees weak. I wanted everyone to burn, except for him and me and maybe my twin sister.

  All's fair in love and war.

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  As dawn rose slowly over the swamplands, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I needed to distract the council, first and foremost. It was imperative that they believe there was some new MC tooling around the city, some new MC behind Ra Ra Rodney's death and the raid on Scotty's bar. For the first time, an utterly simple idea presented itself: I could just tell the truth. I'd leave out the part about wanting to fuck my greatest enemy, but I could easily tell the council that I'd heard of strange riders in the city, wearing some new crest and clown masks. I was Den fucking Mother, after all. They'd have to at least pretend to believe me.

  I'd appeal to Tall Man first, as he was the smartest. I would say I'd befriended a Knight, that he'd—in fact—saved my life on the highway. Tall Man was ruthless, but he was logical: it didn't make sense for a Knight to save a Cheater, only to plot for the whole club's ruin at a later date. All at once, everything seemed so simple. We'd get the Cheaters and the Knights to join forces against this new and faceless enemy. We'd form a super MC, helmed by myself and the handsome, chiseled leader of my opponent's pack. Everything was coming up roses! I could still save the day! I hollered a victory cry into the morning air.

  But there was a strange scene on view when I reached the clubhouse. Typically, riders didn't rustle till 11am or so—often having gotten crazy the night before—but as I approached the compound, I realized that everyone was already up and out. I heard the hum of a dozen bike engines, all giddy for the open road. As I downshifted up the moat, I caught sight of Viper and Dog smoking rollies near the main house, their heads bent low with conspiracy.

  “What's everyone doing up so early?” I called to my friend, hopping off my Bob. Yet again, Dog's eyes were flinty. But for the first time, I noticed in them a trace of something strange and new. Was it... suspicion?

  “I've got a better question,” my old friend lobbed. “Where have you been?”

  “Out. What's it to you, jackass?” Only instead of caving below the tease, like he usually did, Dog turned his back to me, rolling his eyes with disgust.

  “I'm serious, Viper. What's everyone doing?”

  “Shouldn't you be clucking in the house, with the other hens?” the sallow-faced kid smirked. “I know that Flapper was asking after you. Sounded like he had a cold bed last night.”

  I was floored. What did they think they were doing, talking to me like this? I had years in the Cheaters on them. I had earned the respect of every man in this fucking MC, and these two little shitheels...

  “I hope you both realize you're talking to your Den Mother. You think I won't take your shit-talk up with Dixon and Tall Man, you have another think coming.”

  Vipe rolled his eyes again, and began to skulk away. But before he'd gone too far, he whirled on his boots. “You're such an idiot, Gisele,” he spat. “Everybody knows that 'den mother' is just a fancy word for sweet ass. Every single one of us is just waiting for you to pony up, like all those other bitches. Ain't no place in an MC for a girl that's not between the sheets.” With a toss of his rattail, he indicated the kitchen, where I imagined Esse and Nunu and Rayna were already exchanging lurid tales from their recent evening.

  I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. No one had ever spoken to me that way before, not once in my whole life. And I'd never, ever felt so low, so betrayed by my kinsman—my brothers. It wasn't as if I'd come crawling to the Coffin Cheaters, like some typical townie with Daddy issues, ready and willing to offer myself up to some benevolent old rider for a little bit of money and affection.

  I turned to Dog for support, but he wouldn't meet my gaze. Maybe the shit-kicker was thinking about how he'd been the first one to have me, the first one to pop my cherry of the bunch. For how vacant I felt, all the humidity might have been sucked up out of the city. It was cold, here in hell.

  “We think we've found out where the Knights of Styx are camping,” Dog said then, slowly, as if I were pulling the secret out of him against his will. “And Flap wants us to attack ASAP. They've got the whole operation cooking about two hundred miles inland. Rumor has it they're headed into the city to pick another turf war—just like the one that killed your father.”

  “Wait. No. No. You've got it all wrong, Dog—I have new information! I told the council not to plan an attack last night. Because we don't know for sure that it was the Knights of Styx who killed Rodney. In fact, I know who it was—they're a new club.”

  My old friend looked at me like I was soft in the head. “It couldn't have been anyone else, Gizzy. Use your brain. Why are you being so resistant to a fight? Don't you remember that these sons of bitches killed your Pop?”

  Not all of those sons of bitches, I wanted to say. But I bit my tongue. Dog seemed about to turn away from me, too, but I reached for the scruff of his jacket.

  “Wait one second, Dog. Please. Where's Dixon?”

  “Oh. See, that's the other thing.”

  “What?!”

  Bowing his head, the rider met my gaze for the first time. “This is another reason people won't be taking too kindly to you today, Gizzy. Last night? After the council meeting? Somebody shot Dixon in the throat. We found his body in the swamp, late. Tried to tell you before, but you were 'out.'”

  Jesus Christ. Shot in the neck? What kind of sicko—and Dixon? Amiable, blowhard, drinking Dixon? We'd never exactly been friends, but I hated to hear that the guy was out. I thought of how we'd run into one another at Casablanca. How I'd ignored him, when all he'd wanted to do was say hello.

  “And they think it's another Knight? Well, they're wrong! You've got to help me, D. Help me tell everyone. They're fucking wrong about this one, and I know it for a fact! There's a new MC, and they wear masks –”

  That's when Dog wheeled on me. He brought a grubby, powerful hand up to my throat and dug his fingers into the soft flesh of my neck. Startled and horrified, I immediately began sputtering for air. His grip only tightened around me.

  “I think the lady doth protest too much,” Dog said, his eyes hard. Flecks of his spittle landed on my face, but I didn't flinch—it was as if my whole body had gone limp. I was suddenly so, so afraid of my old friend.

  “Viper is right, you know, Gizzy. I think you'd be a lot safer and happier, a lot less trouble, if only you'd realize that your rightful place in
this club is on your knees.” Fury surged behind my eyes. For the first time in my life, I wished I had a gun. Right then, I could have reached for a weapon at my hip. I could have shot that literal son of a bitch in cold fucking blood.

  But instead, when Dog released me to the moist earth, I felt a sob well up in my chest. Try as I did, I couldn't contain the sounds that followed.

  My old friend wandered away from me in disgust, just as Viper had. The engines swelled all around. Though it was barely morning, the ground was already coated with a layer of crumpled beer cans. It could have been a tailgating party, only ever biker that passed me had such fury in his face. These men were out for revenge.

  Collecting myself, I scanned the area for Tall Man: my last hope incarnate for a reasonable case. I practiced the words on my tongue: The Knights of Styx didn't kill Dixon or Rodney. You've got it wrong this time. And they would just have to listen to me. They had to.

  “What are you doing down here in the dust, little girl?” wheezed an unwelcome voice. I righted myself fully and saw Flapper, in full leather regalia and a creepy grin. He looked like he'd been up all night.

  “I need to tell you something, Flap. Please listen—it's important.”

  “We've been looking for you.”

  “You're about to make a terrible mistake, sending the club at the Knights of Styx. I know for a fact that those riders didn't kill Rodney or Dixon.”

  “Now see? That would be a lot easier to believe if you hadn't been so damn secretive lately. Where did you scamper off to last night? Before all the shit went down?”

  “There's a new club running around Miami. I have friends have seen 'em. They wear clown masks...”