by Tillie Cole
Damn, he knew what he was doing.
My tits sprang free, and he immediately took my right nipple into his mouth. I held him tighter as the wet lashes of his tongue made me moan. His dick rubbed against my clit.
He was driving me crazy.
“Get my jeans off,” I said. Tank’s hands moved to my waistband and snapped open the buttons. I lifted my ass so he could pull them down. He took my black thong with them. He must have agreed that there was no time to admire my fucking underwear—though they were sexy as fuck.
I kicked off my jeans and felt Tank’s fingers slip along my pussy lips. Shudders ran down my spine. But I needed him naked too. I unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. I licked my lips when his long thick cock slapped against his stomach.
“Shit, darlin’. You’re hung!”
Tank clearly wasn’t in the mood for chatting about his dick’s girth. He shuffled down the bed and spread my legs apart with his calloused hands. His eyes locked on my pussy as his fingers circled my clit. I put my hand on the back of his head, just in case he tried to go anywhere else. “So fucking pretty,” he rasped, and then swiped his hot tongue from my slit to my clit. My back arched off the bed. But he didn’t stop. He just kept going, lapping his tongue over my clit and up inside me, making me lose my fucking mind.
“Tank . . . fuck,” I cried out as my legs started to shake.
“You taste fucking perfect, beauty queen.” He pushed two fingers inside me. I bucked and thrashed on the mattress. My nails dug into Tank’s shaven scalp, but he didn’t even flinch. “Gonna come, darlin’,” I hushed out as his tongue worked my clit and his fingers hit my G-spot. My legs shook harder and my eyes closed as I broke apart, my orgasm taking over my whole body. Tank didn’t stop, just kept licking until I pushed his head away, laughing and calling out when I couldn’t take any more.
“Enough!” I screamed. Tank moved away to take another shot from the vodka bottle that had been discarded on the bed beside us. He took another, then climbed over me, holding the vodka in his mouth. He brought his mouth to mine. The minute I opened my lips, vodka filled my mouth and trickled down my throat. I barely got time to swallow before his tongue was in my mouth, thrashing against mine. I moaned; I was getting wetter by the second.
I pushed Tank’s chest and guided him to his back. I reached for the vodka and took three long mouthfuls. I poured a shot into Tank’s mouth, returning the favor, then poured a stream of liquor onto his ripped stomach. The vodka pooled at his abs. Moaning at the sight, I lowered my head. I lapped at the vodka with my tongue, before sipping my way up his abs to his wide chest. My lips curved into a smile when I saw him looking down at me, his arms folded behind his head.
But his quick breathing told me he wasn’t as calm as he looked.
“Feels fucking good, beauty queen.” His pupils were blown.
I ducked my head back down and nipped and licked my way down to his dick. I paused as I reached the tip, the head already wet from the vodka. Tank’s chest rose and fell in anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, I licked the flat of my tongue over his cock, lapping a lazy circle around the head. “Fuck!” Tank hissed, and fisted his hand in my hair. I felt fucking high. The vodka, the freedom, and the fact I had this beast of a guy breathless under me had me high as a kite.
With short, gentle licks, I teased and teased until Tank’s thigh muscles were strained. “Beauty . . .” he rasped, unable to finish the sentence with his usual “queen.” I liked it better. His hand gripped my hair so tight I moaned. “Beauty . . .” Tank said again. “Beauty—”
His words cut off as I swallowed his cock, taking him right to the back of my throat. “Shit,” he groaned, bucking his hips, making me take more of him. I took it. Sucking, swirling my tongue around the tip and along the veins and ridges. And I didn’t let up. I worked him faster and faster with every passing second. I couldn’t get enough of his taste on my tongue, and I swallowed every bit of pre-cum that burst in my mouth.
“Fuck.” Tank pushed my head from his dick. “I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.” I kept going, addicted to his taste. “No,” he said, then picked me up as if I weighed nothing. He crushed his mouth to mine. “Wanna fuck you, beauty queen. Wanna be inside that hot cunt when I come.”
I wrapped my legs around his waist and rolled my pussy against his hard cock. “Then fuck me and stop just fucking talking about it.”
Tank growled, then reached over to his discarded jeans and pulled out a rubber. I held on to him, my arms around his neck, as he tore the wrapper. I lay back on the mattress, legs open and waiting while he rolled the rubber down his big dick. He crawled over me then flipped me onto my stomach.
I called out in surprise, smiling when I fell to the mattress beneath me. Tank’s arms hooked under my shoulders and his mouth came to my ear. “Get ready, beauty queen.”
I opened my legs wide and turned my head, speaking against his lips. “You get ready, big boy. You ain’t ever had a pussy as tight as mine.”
Tank smirked at my sass, then slammed into me in one long stroke. I groaned, my forehead dropping to the mattress. “Fuck!” Tank’s heavy weight pressed against me, his hard stomach to my back. And he did as he promised. He didn’t let up. He fucked me into the mattress. It wasn’t slow and steady; it was primal and raw and fucking savage . . . exactly what I needed.
The liquor in my stomach made my head swim. I clutched the pillows as moan after moan slipped from my lips, joining Tank’s groans. I rolled my hips, giving back as much as I received. Tank tightened his grip on me, then suddenly pulled out and rolled me over, only to hitch my legs over his shoulders and sink back into me again.
“Christ! Yes!” I moaned, my head snapping back as my legs started to shake. Tank’s hands moved to my tits, squeezing the flesh on his palms. “These tits . . .” he growled, thrusting faster as I clenched around his dick.
“I’m gonna come . . .” I said, my hands gripping the headboard as he relentlessly took me, harder and harder until I didn’t know my own fucking name. Tank pounded into me one more time, then I stilled and let my orgasm rip through me. I dropped my hands and dug my nails into him so hard that I cut into his tattooed skin. I opened my eyes to see Tank’s eyes close and his teeth clench.
He slammed into me one last time and came, a long, groaned “Fuck!” slipping from his lips.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he rocked into me, slowing with every thrust. Couldn’t rip my eyes from his as they opened and I caught sight of that bright blue. He caught his breath as he stared down at me, a smile pulling on his lips.
“You got a sweet pussy, beauty queen.” He smiled wider. “That was worth three years of waiting.”
I laughed, shivers spreading on my skin from the feel of him still inside me. “And you got a sweet cock, darlin’.”
Tank leaned down and kissed me, laughing against my lips. He slipped from me and lay beside me. I rolled to face him, tracing a skull tattoo on his arm. His skin was wet with sweat and liquor. “Any vodka left?” I asked.
He grabbed the bottle from the floor. There was a mouthful for each of us at the bottom. We each took a shot, and he threw the bottle to the floor. Tank rolled his head on the pillow to face me. “I thought beauty queens were meant to be all prim and proper. Not taking on convicted Klan members in the sack and talking dirty about pussies and cocks.”
I leaned up on my elbow. “Firstly, ex-Klan members. And secondly, I ain’t no beauty queen anymore. You gotta cut that nickname right the fuck now.”
He smirked. “I’ll just stick with Beauty then.”
I rolled my eyes, but I kinda loved that. Beat Susan-fucking-Lee. I leaned my arms on Tank’s chest. “I might’ve been a beauty queen, but I was no angel.” I laughed. “Let’s just say that from a young age I learned to sneak outta my window and get my fun. The beauty-queen shit was all a mask I wore for my mamma. I ain’t no Virgin Mary. I like sex and I ain’t ashamed to say so.”
“When you were y
oung . . . ?” Tank said. “And when was that?”
“Ah.” I nodded. “You wanna know how old I am?” Tank shrugged. “Forty,” I said, and watched his eyes widen. I paused for a second, until I let my laugh free and rolled onto my back. “Shit, darlin’, you shoulda seen your face!”
Tank pinned my arms above my head and smothered my body so I couldn’t move. There was light in his expression. It was a nice change. There seemed to be a whole world of darkness hiding behind those bright blue eyes. “How old?” He rubbed his semi-hard cock along my pussy lips, making me shiver.
He was addictive.
I bit my lip as heat flooded my pussy again. When he moved away, I reached out to wrap my arms around his waist, fighting to bring him back to finish what he’d just started. He cocked his eyebrow, his huge body not moving an inch, waiting for me to answer. “Fine!” I said. “Twenty-five! I’m twenty-five.”
Tank rolled off me. Though his hand stayed on my stomach. Possessively. I liked it. “Only two years then. Hardly a cougar.”
I shrugged. “It was fun to bust your balls.”
Tank grabbed my arms, launched me to his mouth, then let me down again. I smiled, liking that he wanted to kiss me. “So what will you do now?”
Tank sighed, and his eyebrows pinched together. The darkness that I could see lived inside him was back, simmering under his bright eyes. “No fucking idea. Keep moving on for a while. Give my ex-brothers some time to forget about me.” I wondered what stories he had from his days in the Klan. Wondered what he’d done, what played on his mind. Why he left.
What he did to put him in prison.
Lying here now, I couldn’t imagine him doing anything bad. But the way he’d handled the creep and his friends at the bar told me he was lethal under that sweet-ass smirk.
“Your mamma was bad to you?” His question caught me off guard. I nodded, wondering where he was going with this. “You’re twenty-five . . .” His words trailed off to nothing. But I got the subtext. Why the fuck did you stay?
The vodka suddenly seemed completely gone from my system. “Because I loved her.” I laughed, but there was fuck-all humor in it. “Love her.” I sighed. “But she is a leech. All she ever does is take. I’m not even sure why the hell she wanted a kid. Maybe to live her life through me. The failed beauty queen.” Tank brushed back my hair. “When my papa died, I think the last speck of goodness in her did too. There wasn’t much there to begin with.” I looked out to nothing. “But she was all I had left, so I stayed.” I shook my head. “But up on that stage yesterday . . . I don’t know what happened. I’d just had enough. I saw her face, felt the bruises I’d spent hours hiding, and just knew I was done. She’ll be alone . . . but I can’t imagine ever going back. She doesn’t deserve me to.”
A minute or two of silence followed.
“You have a big heart, Beauty.”
I swallowed, but then I looked him dead in the eyes. “And you have a big cock.”
Tank’s eyes widened, but he fought a smile. “Both good things.”
“Amen!” He laughed. “Sooo . . .” I dropped my head to the side. “You want some company as you travel around just ‘moving on’?” My heart suddenly beat fast in my chest, and I realized I was nervous for his answer. And I knew why. Deep down, I really didn’t want to be alone, as much as I talked the talk.
I thought—more hoped—maybe he didn’t either.
“I ain’t a good man,” he said, his face clouding over with an expression that told me it was the truth. The light had faded from his blue eyes and his lips had thinned.
I studied him. Really studied him. The scar, the tattoos, the white-power shit that I knew should bother me . . . but he said he’d left. Which told me there was more to him than he thought. And I thought back to tonight, to the bar, to how he came to my rescue.
“I’ve just fucked you a day after meeting you. Maybe I’m not such a good girl.”
“You are,” he said immediately. “You’re good.”
A lump clogged my throat. I didn’t know why, but I linked my fingers through his. I brought the back of his hand to my lips and kissed the scarred skin. Not letting go of his hand, I climbed to straddle his lap. Tank’s free hand cupped my ass, keeping me in place. He looked right in my eyes. “I’m coming with you,” I said. I leaned forward and kissed his lip, which was starting to bruise from the fight in the bar. I shrugged. “The way I see it, I get protection from a savage, muscled god, and you get free pussy on tap. What’s there to consider?”
Tank’s hand tightened in mine, and a smirk eventually pulled on his soft lips. “Nothing,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Nothing the fuck at all.”
I laughed and ran my bare pussy along his thickening dick. “Then how about a celebratory fuck?”
Tank flipped me on my back, rubbed my clit with his finger, and said, “Best fucking thing to ever come out your pretty-ass mouth.”
So we fucked.
Chapter Three
Tank
Four months later . . .
I rolled my bike to a stop outside the diner and peered inside the long silver trailer. A wide smile greeted me from the nearest window. I flicked my chin and felt that fire rush through my chest, the one I’d felt every fucking day for four months. A minute later the door swung open and a fucking bombshell in a tight pink waitress uniform strutted out of the diner and down the steps that led her to me.
Arms came around my neck and a pair of red lips smashed against mine. “Darlin’,” Beauty whispered against my mouth.
I slapped her ass. “Get the fuck on. We’re riding today.”
Beauty straddled the back of my bike and wrapped her arms around my waist. Her tongue traced the shell of my ear. I tightened my hands on the handlebars as my cock pushed against my jeans. Bitch got me hard every fucking time she touched me.
And she knew it. The woman could be a total cocktease.
I reached behind me and moved my hand straight to her pussy. Beauty moaned into my mouth. I pulled my hand away and made sure her blue eyes were locked on mine as I licked along each finger. She moaned and bit her lip. Grabbing hold of my face, she kissed me hard. “I can never get enough of you.”
I smirked and turned back to my bike. Kicking up the kickstand, I pulled out onto the road, feeling Beauty’s big tits pressing against my back.
She said she couldn’t get enough of me, but I couldn’t fucking quit the woman. Since the night of the bar fight, she’d never left my side. Staying in hickville towns a few weeks at a time, grabbing work where we could, just moving, riding, and fucking. Her and her long-ass red nails had clawed their way into my fucked-up soul.
My woman was going no-fucking-where.
Beauty gripped me tighter as I built up speed, rushing by the bike shop I’d managed to get some work at. It was a shithole, and the bikes that came through weren’t no good to work on. But we’d be out of here soon, off to whatever town we rolled up in.
We rode for an hour, ending up at a rest stop in the middle of fucking nowhere. “I need a piss, darlin’!” Beauty shouted into my ear. I rolled my eyes as she climbed off the bike the minute I stopped and strutted, high heels clicking on the pavement, to the rundown building.
I lit up a smoke and took a drag, then I saw a guy on the other side of the rest stop. He was a big fucker wearing a leather cut, with long dark hair, and a smoke in his hand. He was leaning against a Fat Boy Harley, and I almost got hard at how fucking beautiful that machine was.
Smoke was billowing from the engine. “Fucking cunt!” the guy shouted and threw his cell. It smashed to the floor. I looked over at the bathroom. There was no sign of Beauty. I walked toward the guy and his bike. Out here, there was fuck-all cell service. He was stuck.
And I’d have given my left nut to work on a bike like that.
I was only a few feet away when he pulled a gun, his crazy fucking hazel eyes staring me down. “One more step, Nazi cunt, and I’ll blow a motherfuckin’ slug through your skull.”
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As I lifted my hands up, I saw his cut. Fuck. The Hades Hangmen. And not just any member, but the fucking prez of the Austin chapter. The mother chapter.
Psycho cracked his neck from side to side, gun still held out. His eyes never left me as he carried on smoking as if he wasn’t about to kill me on the spot. He flicked the butt to the ground. “Who sent you?” he asked, voice fucking laced with death.
Reaper, his cut read. Reaper Nash.
I kept my cool. “No one sent me. I ain’t with the Klan anymore.”
Reaper raised his eyebrow. “Your ink says otherwise.” His eyes narrowed. “Thought you could get me alone? Could cut me down without my brothers?” He smiled, but it was cold as fuck. He stepped closer and closer until the barrel of his Glock pressed against the middle of my forehead. “Got news for you, Klan fucker. You ain’t gonna kill me. I murder pieces of shit like you just for fuckin’ Sunday mornin’ fun.”
“I ain’t lying.” I swallowed. “Used to be with the Klan . . .” I paused, but then thought I might as well tell him. “Austin. But left four months ago. Ain’t going back.”
His hazel eyes flared. “One of Landry’s?” I nodded. “Why did you leave?”
“Fucking hate the cunt.”
Reaper assessed me, never moving his gun. “You got intel on them?” His head cocked to the side. “You know Landry gets out soon.” My stomach fell. I didn’t wanna say shit about my old brotherhood. Tanner . . . I wouldn’t betray my best friend that way.
“Saw you had bike trouble. I’m a mechanic. Harley specialist.” I jerked my chin to his bike. Reaper stared at me, and fuck if I didn’t see the promise of death in his eyes.
“Tank?” Beauty’s voice came from behind me. It was shaking.
“Who the fuck is this slut?”
Anger ripped through me. “My old lady,” I said through gritted teeth. I knew enough about the fucking Hangmen to know to immediately own my woman. I didn’t look back but said, “It’s all right, baby. Stay back.”