by V. Theia
He crushed his mouth down on hers and drove a kiss into her that he’d been dying to taste for the longest time.
Two minutes without her mouth was too fucking long and he was a dying man going years without her taste.
Her flavor had always, always driven him wild to the point of madness.
He couldn’t have her and he wanted her more than ever.
She should have moved on.
But her tongue dug into his mouth, kissing him just as ferociously with her long nails scraping into his hair. It’d hurt later and he would relish her pain.
She could tear him up, leave her mark behind so he knew this was real.
He was already tearing at her clothes, giving her his thigh to writhe on while she panted and moaned into his lips.
She didn’t even question it when she started to dry hump his leg and Butcher could have howled with joy for her pussy to soak his jeans.
Only the sound of a ringing phone wrenched them from the hot moment.
“Leave it,” he rasped into her lips, pinning her harder to the wall.
“It’s my dad.”
“Stay,” his mouth skimmed across her soft cheek.
She tasted like nothing else he’d ever tasted before.
He had an addiction to Roux from the start.
It was never a hook-up.
It was more.
It was massive.
And he couldn’t have her.
“I can’t, you know how he is. I tossed in my job recently. Again. I have to keep on his good side.”
Axel was a lot of things that Butcher could list until he had no fingers left and none of those things would be good, but Axel was soft for his daughter.
That was one thing the two men had in common.
“Stay,” he rasped again and felt her soften against his chest while his mouth roamed her neck, sucking gently so as not to mark her.
But he wanted to.
He hurt to stamp his claim all over her Diablo Disciples body until she smelled only of him.
One day she’d have an old man and it wouldn’t be him.
One day she’d be on the back of another bike.
More than likely it would be a Diablos, someone her dad approved of and it would kill Butcher.
“For a while,” she smiled and his guts hurt with joy and misery as Roux crushed his mouth this time and turned feral ripping open his jeans as his cock sprang free into her waiting hands.
For a while they would have each other again.
And then go their separate ways like always as if they didn’t know each other.
Roux back to her MC.
And Butcher to the Souls.
He was in love with a rival MC princess who he almost died over once upon a crazy time.
The thing was, Butcher knew, he’d die a thousand times again and again for Roux.
No question about it.
His downfall tasted like honeycomb and magic.
And he was going to consume her.
Just for a while.
* * *
Poppy was masturbating.
The walls were thin and the bedroom door was partially open and she was rubbing one out for him to hear her little moans and whimpers until they clawed across the floor and joined him on the couch to torture him.
He’d put Poppy to bed, with some difficulty after she almost climbed him.
He’d tucked her in, told her to sleep off the drug’s effects.
With his cock hard, sweat on his face, he’d fallen on the sofa with a sigh.
All he wanted to do was flatten her to the bed and suck all her aches away, make her feel good, but there was no way he’d take advantage of her.
Please, Tait. I need you.
Fuck. That killed him.
He wanted to be what she needed.
It rushed through him like a speeding bullet.
But not like this.
Now he was forced to listen to her getting herself off because he wouldn’t.
Scraping both hands down his face he thought about getting out of the apartment, but he wouldn’t leave her.
The whimpers increased and he heard his name.
She was saying his name.
It completely flatlined him and before he could do another thing, he knifed off the couch and stalked to the bedroom, not stopping until he pushed the door open and he stood there, the light behind him casting shadows on the darkened wall, seeing her beneath the covers, moaning with her neck arched back was his undoing.
Knowing what her hand was up to beneath the covers was his wrecking.
“Poppy.” He grunted and her eyes pinged open.
She didn’t stop.
Just moved her legs under the covers agitatedly and pressed her lips together as if to hold in her little girl whimpers.
He couldn’t stand it.
Every vein in his body was molten hot and screaming for his own relief.
Every gasp she emitted yanked him closer until he was towering over his bed before he knew it and her eyes … fuck … they were like diamonds pleading with him as she diddled her hand faster and that’s when Texas’ control snapped and he growled from low in his throat.
“I can’t make it stop, I feel like I’m burning, Tait. I’m sorry…I.”
That worthless piece of scum he’d kicked on the floor, he wanted to drag that guy back and do twice as much damage to him for doing this to Poppy.
She wasn’t turned on, it was a chemical reaction rushing through her system, and his back teeth cracked under his strain.
He didn’t strip out of his jeans and t-shirt but he did climb onto the bed and that’s what halted Poppy’s movements.
Her gasp and her wide eyes watched him as he settled on his elbow, before ripping off the comforter.
He felt the heat on her body. She must be boiling in her panties and tank top.
Taking a hand to her face, she moaned and lifted into the touch.
He was right, she was scorching and he felt a tickle of worry.
Unsure what GHB could do to the body.
He didn’t know if it could kill you hours later with delayed symptoms.
Her heat worried him and he wanted to put her in a cold shower and call Butcher again.
“Feels nice, you’re cool.”
“Poppy…”
“Please, Tait. I hurt.”
She had a scratch to her voice that stuck to the inside of his ribs.
He inhaled so hard that had he been wearing buttons they would have ricocheted around the room.
“Are…are you going to fuck me?”
Intense heat of his own started to cook his organs. The swell of his cock was enough pressure to have him needing to heel over it. He went on stroking her warmed face, over the apple of her cheeks and then he brushed her lips. “No, baby, I told you I wasn’t. Not now. Not like this.”
She honest to God whined and Texas moved in. “Shhh, I’ll make the hurt go away, okay. You trust me?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
Fucking hell. She shouldn’t really trust him.
Ask any of his boys, he wasn’t trustworthy at all.
But he couldn’t see her hurting.
“Shhh.” He told her, lips to her sweltered forehead and she tipped her head back so her lips grazed his.
It was like being hit with ten thousand jolts.
Poppy was a toucher.
This much he knew, and even in this state, she got her octopus hands all over his upper half. Over his chest, around his neck, scraping with her semi-long nails he watched her paint only hours ago and then she dug them into his hair.
She wasn’t to know he loved the chills it sent down his spine, but she kept right on grabbing him until Texas slipped a hand into her panties.
She moaned with relief, curving into him.
He had his free arm cuddling her in like he was ready to rock her to sleep and then he parted her sex.
She was so goddamn wet that Texas needed to smash his teeth to
gether and hope that Pastor Murphy heard his prayers and gave him strength because Texas was not a strong man when he was finger-fucking a goddess because all he wanted to do was roll her under him, split her legs wide and fuck right to the back of her.
It took only seconds for her to fly apart from him plying pressure to her swollen, slippery clit. She cried out and sank her teeth into his shoulder and went through a series of spasms that rocked his bones and chants of, “Oh, my God.”
Texas felt like a king grinning in the dark.
He brought her down, tapping little kisses to her lips and neck, his hand soothing between her legs.
Her wetness was doing a number on him, he was so solid, he could have put up a whole log cabin using his dick as a hammer.
“You need more, baby?” He rasped thickly, hoping she did, praying she didn’t.
“God, yes. Please.”
Fuck. Okay.
She threw her leg over his thigh, pressing her wet pussy to his jeans, opening herself up better.
“Inside,” Poppy whispered, her hands crawling back up around his neck, “hurts inside, Tait.”
Texas was probably tattooing his heartbeats into the side of her ribs with how close he kept her when he grunted and did as she asked.
Honest to God, he couldn’t have done anything else other than make her feel good when he slowly pushed his two middle fingers inside her tight opening and started to move them deeper with each slide.
“Ohh..” she breathed, her head back, eyes clashed with his.
“Am I hurting you?”
“God, no,” she sort of laughed and rolled up her hips like a siren.
“Feel good?”
“Mmhm.” Her head bobbed on his shoulder. And then she started cussing under her breath which he found adorable. Gorgeous, sheltered socialite who probably never had a fuck on her tongue before was cursing left and right until he fucked his fingers extra hard and got her off once more.
“Oh, wow.” She said with her teeth grazing his shoulder, “orgasms make me happy.”
Good for her, he thought with sweat all over his body and her pleasure dripping off his fingers, because her orgasms made him fucking miserable.
“Will—will you give me a kiss?” She was flushed everywhere and Texas still couldn't believe he was doing the nasty with Poppy of all people.
Prowled half over her soft body he began to lean up to capture her already kiss-swollen lips, she could have as many kisses as she wanted, he was already addicted to nibbling her mouth, she tasted like fresh sweet fruit.
Her hand on his shoulder when his mouth hovered over hers stopped him, eyes met, she blinked shyly and flushed some more.
“No, I mean, will you kiss me, Tait?”
Ah. Fuck. Yeah.
He chuckled miserably yet willing to do anything for her and kissed down her body, using his wide shoulders to nudge open her shy thighs, the pretty girl still needed coaxing in showing him her perfect glistening pussy.
“You know you can just ask me to go down on you, Poppy.”
He caught her stained face as she tried to hide her horny embarrassment under the wave of hair.
One long lick on her slit, the taste exploding on his tongue it took all his control not to eat her out like a beast. Tease first.
“Ah, little girl, I don’t fuck around with virgins as a rule and it’s for your own good.” Texas’ head dipped until it felt like it was only hanging by a thread, air going too fast in and out of his lungs, teeth closed around the meat of her inner thigh, he held and tugged. “But I’ll bury my head between these creamy thighs and eat that untouched pussy like a lucky motherfucker until you pop all over my face.”
She whimpered and gripped his hair tightly, her prone body buckling in the middle when he kissed deeper. “Have I created a monster, you addicted to getting head, baby?”
“I love the feel of you licking me. Sucking me.”
Fuck! No stopping him now, no time for slow now she'd said that.
They were both panting by the time he got her off for the fourth and final time and thank fucking God, because Texas was out of his mind with need but she was finally sated and soft and he cleaned her up and stayed with her until she fell asleep.
Only then did he stagger to the bathroom, rip off his clothes and climb into the coldest shower he could make it. Icing down his own desires.
He never thought getting a woman off would have wrecked him so much.
But it was Poppy.
Only a few shorts weeks and she’d wormed her smiling-self deep under his skin.
It wasn’t only about fucking her now, though he was a desperate man.
Are you going to fuck me now? She asked more than once in between, before and during her orgasms. The hardest answer was telling her no because she had that look on her face that told him she’d not only suck his cock until she gagged on it, but she’d get off on it too. That she’d ride his face and love every second of it.
But then he grunted at her ear when he brought her down and started building her again with his hand.
“Ask me tomorrow, little girl. When you’re back to normal. Ask me for my dick.”
Ask me for my dick.
While he shot his own load against the wall tiles, his cock in a tight grasp and her name rushed out of him, he prayed she asked him tomorrow.
Ask me for my dick, Poppy.
TWENTY-THREE
“Never trust a rat with the cheese.” – Texas
Turns out, when Texas really wanted to be a rat, he found it particularly easy.
No one saw him enter the Armado Springs sheriff department that morning just after 7 am.
He was just an ordinary man wearing jeans and a black hoodie. No one paid him any attention as he made his way to the back of the building where Charlie Timmon’s office was situated.
The cop was expecting him when he entered the office without knocking.
He was in the middle of a coffee and donut.
He didn’t make a cop joke.
What Texas did do was shake the man’s hand and then bring out all the evidence he carried inside his jacket and lay it on the table for Charlie to look over.
Rider knew. The club knew, even Texas and the cops knew that ever since the Russian convoy had been in town, hardly any legal charges stuck to that group. They paid well to both officials and their lawyers. Plus witness intimidation was rife. Hardly any witnesses made it to court. Instead, their families held funerals.
So Texas was under no delusion that what he was laying out for the sheriff would stick to Grigori.
He just wanted to make enough trouble and bother for the man as he could.
Texas knew what he was doing. Sort of.
He was taking his guilt and laying it at someone else’s feet in hopes of absolving his own conscience.
Plus, he hated the whole Russian crew just on principle.
In his heart, Texas was and always would be a Souls.
“Why isn’t Rider the one delivering this?” The Sheriff inquired, cup in hand, and the porn warehouse photos in the other.
Texas stayed over by the door, his hands in his pockets, he rose a pithy eyebrow to the cop. “Charlie, you have your ear to the ground, you’ve probably known for a while that I’m not patched in anymore.”
He rumbled a noise in agreement. “I never knew your brother was Malachai Hunt. He’s been through here a few times, making noise.”
Texas shrugged. “He does that.”
“You could take this to him.”
“Mal doesn’t give a fuck about the mafia, any mafia. Right now he’s got a hard on for MC’s. Mine in particular. If I can take down the Russians and get them off the club’s back, that’s one less thing for the boys to worry about.”
Another rumbling noise from Charlie, he went on looking over all the photo’s Texas had taken. Some were disturbing. Others were eye opening seeing as how Grigori had connections here that went all the way to Washington.
“Can you u
se it?”
“Don’t know yet. But it can’t hurt to have it, I trust someone over at the DA’s office.”
Texas nodded and turned on his boots. “Hey, Texas?” He turned back.
The cop’s eyes were shrewd and watchful.
On the outside, Charlie Timmons was just your regular blonde guy who did good things, he had a nice family with a wife and kids, he participated in the church, played touch football, coached little league and always got re-elected unchallenged.
He was a good guy, but Texas would bet his last dollar the guy wasn’t all the way clean.
Not that he was a crooked cop, he’d probably break his own neck if he ever got tempted by a bribe. But no one was ever so good that he couldn’t bend the law sometimes to do the right thing.
The shit in those photos, the compromising things those women were doing for the camera, would turn anyone’s stomach and make him do what he could, even bend the law, to make it right.
“Don’t get yourself so deep in this shit that you can’t see the light,” Charlie offered in his deep timber, native to Colorado. “I’ve seen it happen too many times, then you forget why you started in the first place.”
Texas didn’t offer words, mainly because he wasn’t about to get into being besties with the cop. He was a means to an end but he inclined his head, appreciating the effort. “Later, sheriff.”
He trusted that if there was anything that could be done to kick the bratva back home, then Charlie Timmon’s would do it. He was one cop who couldn’t be bought. If he got dead… well that was the chance they were all taking.
He took the back entrance and walked the block back to his bike.
He didn’t know the little girl was getting into some of her own trouble right about the same time too.
* * *
Doused in shame was Poppy’s only emotion that day, for what she made Tait do last night.
She’d heard him leave the loft early, assuming he was heading down to the bottom apartments, but his bike rumbled and headed off. Unsure if he was coming back soon, she rushed through a shower, despite feeling like crap from the events of last night, she called Roux in response to all the messages her friend left her and then she walked down to the bakery. All the while shame walked with her.