She said, theatrically, “But I want to fuck you, Chiz.”
Chiz said, “Oh, I’m going to fuck you alright,” and he pulled back his open hand. He slapped her face with his hand and made a great thwack. It wasn’t nearly as hard a whack as it sounded and Angelica began to have some confidence in Chiz.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, while you get Benny’s cock jammed down your throat.” And he slapped her again. This time it stung. As she rubbed her face, she realized with a horror that she liked it.
Now she didn’t know whether she needed to worry more about Chiz than about herself. He slapped her a couple more times, then grabbed her by her hair.
He said, “Benny, get your cock out and jam it in this little whore’s throat while I fuck her.” Chiz’s hand dragged her head down to Benny’s lap. Dammit! Did Chiz not know about the mirror? If not, then Angelica wouldn’t tell him unless she really had to.
As Chiz shoved her head on Benny’s cock, she reached behind her and patted him on the ass. When she felt him hesitate, she pointed so that Benny wouldn’t see. She got Benny’s cock in her mouth so that his attention was all used up. After a few more pats and a lot of pointing, Chiz got the idea. He grabbed her by her waist and flung her on all fours onto the bed.
“Spin around, Benny. Let’s make this little cunt work for her living.” Benny turned around and spread out on the bed, his head hanging over the edge. Angelica saw his face in the mirror. At that moment she could have kissed Chiz. He knelt on the bed behind her. Pulled the dress up over her ass. Put his big paw on her pussy while she buried her face on Benny’s cock.
While Chiz rubbed Angelica’s hot, wet pussy, he slapped her ass. He didn’t pull back much either. Every stinging swipe led to a dull ache. And, with increasing horror she realized that she loved it. She sucked on Benny’s cock, pulling hard with one hand. Massaging his balls and running her fingers up the crack of his ass. Chiz worked her pussy wide open with his fat fingers. Pressed the cheeks of her ass apart.
“Suck on that cock,” he shouted as he stuck his thumb into her pussy, his big palm squashing her clit as he rubbed, his fingers reaching up over her hot mound.
Chiz’s hand slid up along the dress, along Angelica’s stomach and up to her breasts as they swung and bounced beneath her. As he felt and squeezed, she breathed hot and wet onto Benny’s cock, working it harder with her hand, lapping at it, nibbling and sucking on the head of it. Slipping her lips down the length of the shaft.
Benny shouted, “Yeah, suck my cock, you WHORE! Suck it real good.” His head flipped from craning to watch her face in his groin to watching the three of them in the mirror. “Suck me while you’re getting fucked!” he groaned as his hips beat his cock deeper into the soft, hot wetness of her mouth.
Chiz slapped her ass, harder now, and her wet petals were roughly penetrated by his hard, fat cock. Her clit ached and buzzed and her nipples stung. Her ass cheeks were raw where he slapped them. Saliva gushed into her mouth and out around her lips, her hot juices sprang onto Chiz’s cock as it reamed into her from behind, and wild, strangled gurgling sounds burst out from her throat.
Chiz grabbed her hair again and drove her head into Benny’s pelvis and she felt both of their cocks heat up and start to pulse. She was getting filled at both ends and choked, and she was coming, too. Benny’s cum was thick and tasted dank. Chiz’s dribbled down her thighs and she barely had the strength to keep her ass up against Chiz’s hot groin.
She rolled off Benny, dripping and sticky with cum and the dress was a wet wreck, just the way that Angelica felt. Chiz had a sweet, dazed but devilish grin.
Even then, right at that moment, she was remembering how she felt with Bogart. How he’d rocked her to her core. The rolling force of his fabulous ass.
Crossroads
When Beanie came and asked me about Cap, I told him how he’d come outside the night of the party, and that he’d helped me to pull away from Snori and Trols. I told Beanie that I last saw Cap out there on the stoop with the two Kaos Anarki bikers. Beanie said, “That seems to be the last time that anyone’s seen him.”
Cox took me upstairs, which I thought was hopeful. Turned out he wanted to talk. He sat on the side of the bed with me and said, “You’ve seen that there are things going on at the club.”
I told him, sure I had. There’s some kind of a problem with the Vikings,” He said, “Don’t call them that, Nikka, they really hate it. And they’re pretty touchy right now.”
I said, “Not because of what Lump said, right?”
“No, Nikka. It’s business.”
“Anything to do with that girl, Angelica?”
“No, not directly. What do you think of her?”
“I’d say she’s sharp as a tack and tough as nails. But I hardly know her. Is she going to be staying?”
“She is for now.”
I knew that I wasn’t getting the whole of that story.
As we talked about what was going on in the club, I was thrilled that Cox was sharing such a lot with me about the club business, but I wondered if there was might be more ominous reason for him telling me.
He said, “Okay, well you’ve got so much of the history and the stories wrong, I’m going to tell you some of the truth of it. I swear, though, I’m putting a ridiculous amount of trust in you, Nikka. If Bogart or even Hacker knew that I told you this, I could be dead. Not like schoolyard dead, but real dead. You sure you want to hear it?” I told him that I did.
He said, “We’re a motorcycle club. We’re not a militia and we’re not a private army. We’re no threat to the government or to anyone else who leaves us the fuck alone.” I thought about the FBI dragon lady and I wondered if she would share that view, but I hadn’t told Cox anything about that incident, and I didn’t plan to. Somehow, that was something that I’d have to find a way to handle.
Cox lit up a blunt. “Yeah, we’re outlaws but for most of us we were pushed out or thrown out or chased out of the law’s way, and so we don’t have much choice but to live and operate outside the law.” He took a pull on the spliff and passed it to me. “That doesn’t mean we don’t have a code, a bond of our own ethics and morality. Those good citizens who live within the law, the law might, it just might come to their aid when things go wrong. For outlaws like us, there’s no chance of that.” And in his eyes, I though I was glimpsing something of Cox’s history, too.
I passed him back the joint, “So, whatever dealings we have and whoever we deal with, trust is the most valuable commodity of all. If you’re smart and you want to survive, you treasure it, you cherish it, you tend it and you don’t squander it. That’s why we prize loyalty above everything.” His eyes held me. I felt as though he were making me a promise of some kind but, like I said, misunderstanding had been our specialty up to now, so I tried to just listen and not assume anything.
“A lot of men in this club have histories you don’t want to enquire too deep into. Believe me, the worst of those histories are things that those men did for their government. Their government who took their bravery and loyalty and showed them very little by way of gratitude or respect when they carried back the scars, both inside and out.”
Listening to his voice, hearing him tell the tale, I felt like we were part of something, that our tales were entwining. Blending.
“Warhog was the chapter formed by Hacker’s father John, and his buddy Luke, who has now ridden on. They came back to Savage with a bunch of others, back from doing disgusting things in a far off desert in the name of freedom.”
Out there in service, as part of a NATO force was where they had formed relationships with the Norwegian club, Kaos Anarki as well as some other international groups.
Back home they needed a place where they could put it all behind them, be themselves and stay out of the way. Their idea was to provide security and protective services to those who may be in need of such, to run a bar and, to sell some weed.
Because of where they’d all come back from, the
y called the chapter Warhog. Butcher was a charter member, and he ran the security operations.
Cox said, “The way that John put it, and the way Luke heard it, the way that they both heard Butcher agree to it, providing security to the local business community would mean just that. Providing security.”
Butcher, though, he was fired up by the old stories of rum-runners and gun-runners in the 1920’s. Wanted to see himself as a big old gangster. He took to visiting the local business community to demonstrate their need for security. Helped the sale along with some persuasive demonstrations.
He showed them some of the terrible things that could happen to a business if it wasn’t adequately defended.
Everyone who went out on the call of duty came back changed, and not too many for the better, but Butcher seemed as though he’d found his thing. When he came back he wanted nothing more than to bring the wars back with him.
That’s why eventually John and Luke, as the other charter members, wound up the Warhog chapter. Patched Savage over it, covered it over like it had never been.
That had all left a lot of bad blood between Butcher and the club. Now he was running his own privateer protection racket, which was a thorn in the club’s side. Savage MC was trying to keep on the good side of the Placid law enforcement. They kept local gang crime down and violence down, they kept the very bad drugs out of Placid, and there was Butcher, making everybody look bad.
When Cox paused, I spoke slowly, and carefully. He and I had a pattern of misunderstandings recently, and I really didn’t want another one at this point.
I said, “Okay, Cox, I hear you, and I’m really grateful for you trusting me. That does set a lot of things straight. But all of that must be pretty well known around town. I bet my daddy could have told me all of that.”
I bit my lip, it was a mistake to say that. Cox hated it whenever I mentioned my daddy. I went on, “None of what you just told me now is like state secrets, is it?”
“No, it isn’t, Nikka, but this is: the club is headed for a big problem right now, and we may need Warhog again. We might need Butcher.”
“That’s pretty hardcore, Cox.”
“That’s why I’m telling you, Nikka. This may be your last chance to get out before it all blows up. There’s just one chance of a meet tomorrow sorting this thing out, but none of us really believes that it will work.”
“Cox, I don’t want out. How clear can I be with you, I want in.” I wanted to tell him that what I wanted was to be with him, whatever it meant and wherever it was. I figured it would only scare him away if I said that, so I held my tongue.
His tongue was what I wanted more than anything right then. He reached out for me, pulled me to him. He must have felt my heart, banging in my chest. I could practically hear it thumping. The look in his eyes was hard to read, like he was scanning me. He said,
“You know Beanie still hasn’t found Cap. Have you any idea where he is?”
I thought that I’d handled the situation with Snori and Trols so badly, I just didn’t want to tell Cox anything about it. Still, it didn’t seem as though anybody had seen Cap since then. I shook my head. He said,
“Nikka?” I looked away. He snapped,
“There’s always something you keep back, Nikka. Didn’t you understand any of what I said about trust? Am I not getting through to you at all?”
As Cox stomped out he slammed the door behind him.
Crosstown Traffic
I took a joint outside the clubhouse, sat in under a tree as the sky was turning dark blue. Walked around the lot, kicking dust. Bumped into Snori. “When are you fucks going back to the land of the ice and snow?” was what I wanted to ask him. Instead, I just pulled my lips tight, folded my arms and stepped around him.
As I passed, he grabbed my arm. Same arm as before, in the same place. I hated the heat and the smell of his breath on the side of my face. He hissed in my ear, “Don’t you be spreading stories now, will you, little girly? We’re the ones with the myths and the sagas.” And I shook as he let go roughly, and he said, “Don’t forget.”
I had to get out of there.
I drove around going nowhere in particular and feeling wretched and miserable.
It was only because I was driving around with no place to go, no pattern, turning at random and doubling back more than once, I started to notice that wherever I went, a dark sedan would be somewhere behind me and about two cars back. Not near enough that I could see the driver or read the license plate. I couldn’t even be too sure of the color, only that it was dark, but it stayed there like a shadow that was running late.
I had refused to wear the wire, but I wondered if maybe the dragon lady might not have given up yet. Perhaps she’d let me go a little too easily. I began to wonder if, as well as having me followed around, the dragon lady could have had devices planted in my car. A tracker or a wire, or even both.
Look at Little Sister
Cox watched from the clubhouse door. Bogart’s Harley climbed the incline up to the clubhouse as he returned from the Meathook. Bogart pulled up and leaned the bike on its stand outside. On the back of the bike was another girl. Another looker, too. She looked a lot like Angelica. Could they be related? Los Muertos could have brought sisters across the border, that would make sense, sure. Bogart turned in the saddle and spoke to her, pointed up at the clubhouse. Along the wall Cox saw Angelica, about the same time the girl did. She jumped off the back of the bike, ran over to Angelica.
Angelica never knew what Bogart did to get Inez and bring her back Hell’s Kitchen, but he brought her, safe and well.
When Angelica saw her sister, smiling, tired and dirty, all the stress of the last few days burst out of her and she hugged Inez’s neck and sobbed. She looked in her eyes, stroked her face, held her close and she wept.
She held Inez’s face in her hands, smoothed her crinkly black hair, brushed her face and kissed her over and over.
And now, she knew, she owed Bogart. Forever.
As Bogart stepped up to the clubhouse door, the two girls came over and hugged him. He almost smiled as he said, “Okay, girls. You’re happy. I get it. That’s good. Now, run along and be happy.”
Cox could see at once that Los Muertos hadn’t come up with the money, he didn’t even have to ask. They passed a look. Cox chewed inside his lip. They both knew that this was real trouble.
Who knew what the deal with the girl was, though. Bogart couldn’t be moving the club into trafficking. Not without a council. It was against everything the club stood for, Bogart’s rules as much as anyone’s. More than anyone who was alive and not in jail. Cox was sure it wasn’t something they needed to discuss, otherwise they’d be discussing it.
Bogart clapped Cox’s shoulder. “How’s Chief Ballmer’s little girl?” Cox knew that Bogart was riding him.
“Yeah, she’s good.”
“So, she your old lady now or what. Or should I maybe just wait until our brothers have flown home before I ask any more about that?”
“Yeah, OK, Bogart, that was partly to give her space from the Vikings,”
“HEY!” Bogart snapped, “Not out loud, okay, not ever. We got enough trouble.” That was true. They went inside and Bogart said, “Look, if you’re okay with her, it’s alright with me. You want to keep your pole dancing cheerleader to yourself, I think it’s unbrotherly of you,” now Cox really knew Bogart was riding him, “but I guess we’ll have to get along with you being a selfish bastard for a while.” They stopped by the bar and Bogart peered over his shades, his wily, crinkly eyes firm. “Just know,” he said, “You answer for her, Cox. She’s your responsibility.”
“Of course, Bogart.”
Images and thoughts of Nikka danced around Cox’s mind He thought about her more and more. The way that she bit her thumb, her tight, fit little moves – oh, yes. But more than that. She understood him, and she made him feel different somehow. Made him think of himself like he was a better man.
The Weight
/> I saw Beanie, shuffling out of the woods at the back of the yard, pale with a hollow look in his face. I went over and asked him, “What’s wrong Beanie?” and he couldn’t speak, but his eyes were so empty, I knew it was something bad. Something very, very bad.
Emotion can be hard on a prospect. They’d rather die than let a full member see it. I sat him down behind an outbuilding so he could have some time before any club members saw him. I fired up a joint and handed it to him. His eyes were blank but he took it, then I went in to grab a bottle of bourbon and a couple of shot glasses.
He had hardly moved when I got back, and his fingers were trembling on the spliff. I handed him a shot glass with a good sized slug, and he slung it back without his eyes moving. As the bourbon hit, he shook, once, hard. Then he looked at me.
The horror that he had seen shocked him so hard, its impact was still stamped on his face. “Cap,” he said and his bottom lip trembled. I knew it. He got a hold and he said, “They opened him, Nikka. They opened him up.”
I thought of Trols’ big, shiny serrated blade.
Gypsy
Hacker pulled up outside the Meathook, leaned his Harley in a dark patch of the parking lot, near the road, far from the bar and the line of bikes by the steps leading to the club doorway.
Perfectly Damaged: Luka : A bad boy mafia romance Page 47