Taken by the MC

by Devyn Douglas

  I maneuvered through the grocery store, a woman on a mission. I couldn't process what Skippy Squirrel's statement meant, not yet. Later. Over a pint of Ben and Jerry's.

  Ice cream.

  Fuck. Think like a dude. What did real men eat? Penetrators probably chewed nails and spit bullets for grins. They didn't want fucking broccoli and Cherry Garcia. Chips. Good. Chips I could do. What kind? Did they want ridged? Flavored? Traditional, or cheese poofs?

  Beer. Lots of beer.

  What kind?

  Bottles.

  Yeah, but what brand of bottles, idiot?

  Dudes didn't live off beer and chips alone. I needed more. Meat, lots of meat. I didn't own a grill. Men needed grills. Normal women—those with vanilla souls and a yearning for a passel of brats made through missionary style sex—were always ready to entertain. They probably baked all day, grocery shopped their asses off, always getting just the right cut of meat, the perfect chip and the coldest, best damn beer in The Grove.

  What the hell am I doing? What if they realize I'm not a normal woman? I don't cook, I microwave prepackaged dinners, douse them with grated parmesan and chow down. That's my normal when I'm not on a ramen budget. Jesus, did I even have pots and pans? Dishes? Forks?

  Labored breaths sawed in and out of my lungs. Spots danced in my vision. Aw hell. Heels double-timed down the freezer aisle as I bent over and willed calm into my chaotic mind.

  “I'm here, girlfriend. Breathe. Nice and deep.” Jolie squeezed my arms. She glared at Skippy Squirrel. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “He's Skippy Squirrel, Penetrator prospect. He's grocery shopping with me.” I forced the words between breaths. “I-I can't do this. Jesus. I'm such a fucking wreck.”

  “What can't you do? Pick an ice cream? You know I've got your back. Talk to me.”

  I didn't process shit the way a normal person did. It stewed somewhere in me, an insidious beast which clawed its way out in anxiety attacks at the most inopportune times. Jolie had seen me through many. She opened a couple cooler doors and guided me to my ass. Back against the open freezer, ass on the floor, I blurted whatever tumbled from my brain in hushed whispers.

  Jolie leaned her forehead against mine and listened to the maniacal train wreck ripping from me. Only a BFF could understand the crazy mess spewing from me. By the time I was finished, I was a snotty, teary mess. “I don't know what to do. I-I need man food, I don't know how to cook a-and I...”

  I crumbled beneath the weight and lost my grasp on reality again. Gaspy breaths, too shallow to be a damn bit of good, held my focus. A million ants marched just out of reach beneath my sweat-dampened skin. I'd be lost without Ray. Max. Jesus, Fist. He'd been so sweet. I felt alive around them.

  “I c-can't l-lose them.” The confession tumbled from me as I watched her, waited for the response I dreaded, yet needed more than the air I breathed. She was my BFF. If she didn't understand whatever this was, no one would.

  “Holy shit.” She glared over at Skippy Squirrel. “Spoons. Now. Go.”

  “Not leaving Harm. She's my assignment.”

  “Don't make me get up,” Jolie threatened. He wisely vacated the area. She grasped my head between her hands. “Get your shit together, Harmony. Take a deep breath.”

  The attempts came out wheezy, as pathetic as me. Fresh tears spilled out of me. What if I'd blurted too much and Jolie left me, too? I'd lost most, would lose the guys soon enough. I couldn't handle that without my BFF. “D-don't leave me. I'm sorry. I-I...”

  Speech proved impossible. I clung to her and forced reedy breaths into a paper bag Jolie pressed to my mouth with one hand while she pawed through my purse with the other.

  “Son of a bitch, you don't have meds, do you?” Jolie cast a few curses into the aisle for good measure. “I'm gonna kill that bitch when I see her.”

  “I'm sorry, I ...” I got the hand. She rarely used the shut-your-pie-hole sign with me.

  “You already know I'm not down with you and the Penetrators. They're dangerous. But I've seen them with you. They're different, but that doesn't mean it's a good idea.” She looked over her shoulder as Skippy Squirrel returned. “I got all sorts of calls about you on Ray's lap in the back room of The Last Drip. Shit hit the fan when you left. They came back and Hank says they ripped Fiona a new one. Oh my God! Can you imagine?”

  Jolie had entered phase two of her calm Harmony plan, where she talked about whatever was on her brain, good or bad. She acted normal. Calm. Eventually I'd get there. I hung onto my bag and breathed, still shallow, but enough for the spots in my vision to clear.

  She snagged the plastic spoons and delved into the freezer. Popping a pint like we were at home instead of the grocery store, she spooned a big spoon full. “Now, let's get real. I'm not exactly forward thinking. You and I are way, way different. You're a smart girl, confident and you know what you want. Trust your gut. You've got damn good instincts. You see through everyone's bullshit way faster than I ever have.”

  I scooped some ice cream and stared at my best friend through teary eyes as she talked. She asked questions I answered unabashedly in two or three word spurts between breaths. I didn't get into details—Jolie was a bit squeamish—about the sex. All I said was that it was intense, frequent and nuclear. That was all she needed to know. I rarely labeled anything nuclear.

  “So, I'm confused.” Jolie licked her spoon. “Are you with Max, or Ray? Cause my source says you were all kinds of friendly with your mom's ex.”

  “It's complicated,” I whispered. She wasn't going to understand. The panting increased. I couldn't lose Jolie. How could I make her okay with what was happening? Hiding it wasn't an option.

  “Easy, girlfriend.” She rubbed my back. “I've seen how you look at them. I'm figuring it's both.”

  And then some. I swallowed and forced a nod.

  “Right.” She cleared her throat. “I'll eviscerate them and pulverize their dicks if they hurt you.”

  “I like my dick the way it is.”

  I jumped. Jolie yelped. Ray stood over us, hands crossed, a grim expression on his face.

  “What the fuck?” He turned on Squirrel. “She's crying?”

  “We were fine, we argued about how much shit I was putting in the cart then she just went off. Pres, she got all fucking pale and wobbly, hasn't been breathing good at all. I was gonna haul her to the ER, but that bitch sent me after spoons.”

  “Watch your tone, Skippy Squirrel,” Jolie warned.

  Strong arms settled on my shoulders. “Eyes on me, Harm.”

  Ray's voice cut through the sludge muddying my brain as he squatted in front of me. “Your girl and I are here. Breathe for us, babe. We'll work whatever it is out, okay?”

  I focused on him, breathing when he breathed. I'd be okay. We'd work it out. Somehow. He wouldn't allow anything else. He glared at the prospect when I returned to some semblance of normal.

  “It's not Skippy Squirrel's fault,” Jolie cut in.

  “Skippy Squirrel?” Clutch asked. I yelped. Jesus, these men needed bells. No one that big should move that quiet. It went against the laws of nature. When I didn't respond, he prodded, “Skippy Squirrel?”

  I shrugged. “It was organic, just sort of happened.”

  The man walked away. His laughter echoed through the area. Uh oh. I was pretty sure Squirrel's road name may have just gotten changed. Woops.

  “Babe, there a reason you're on your ass, crying into an empty pint of ice cream?” Ray grabbed the container. “Cherry Garcia rocks, but nothing touches Salted Caramel.”

  “You're nuts,” Jolie proclaimed. She reached into the freezer and yanked out a pint of each. “Get your ass over here, Skippy Squirrel. We're having ourselves a taste off. Where'd the other freakazoid gorilla go?”

  Ray shook his head and smirked as he emitted a shrill whistle. Clutch sauntered around the corner. “What's up, Pres?”

  “Okay, that's cool. Does it work when anyone d
oes it, or is that like a President super power kind of thing?” Jolie looked between the two men. I was pretty sure my best friend had lost her mind.

  I sat there in shock as Max, Fist and Dawg all sauntered in. Within moments pints of Ben and Jerry's were splayed between us. Everyone sat cross-legged in a sort of circle as we passed assorted flavors and campaigned for our favorite as though we were electing the next president.

  Warmth spread through me as we finished off the cornucopia of ice cream and the silly banter it incited. Ray motioned toward the pints and pointed toward the front of the store. Someone with a prospect patch on his vest snagged the empty containers and headed toward the registers.

  My stomach ached. Ugh. I was never eating again. I lay on the floor and groaned. Jolie spread out beside me. Arms draped across my belly, she stared into my eyes. “You good?”

  “Yeah, yeah I am.”

  “Everything I said earlier?” I nodded. She leaned in and whispered, “Forget it all. Trust your gut. I'll always have your back, and I'm thinking they will, too.”

  “Why?” Jolie never changed her mind so abruptly.

  “You lit up when they came in. I've never seen anyone pull you from an attack faster.”

  “That was you,” I whispered.

  “No.” She shook her head and smiled. “We talked a long time, but you were still on edge, damn near another attack. He dragged you back. They kept you there.”

  He had. They totally had.

  “I'm sorry I'm so screwed up.”

  “Please. I'd get so damned bored if we were normal, girlfriend. Can you imagine?” She shook her head. “Life isn't the beautiful postcard we see in the movies and shit. It's filled with twists, turns, ugly people and shitty ice cream flavors. The path we carve out for ourselves is what matters. You and me? We're cutting right through those jagged rocks your fucked-up mom dropped in front of you. On the other end we'll get our awesome. You just wait and see.”

  I'd already found my awesome. I didn't reply. I fucking loved my best friend.

  “Come on, babe. Let's cruise.” Ray stood. The guys stood. “You're on the back of my bike.”

  My body tingled. I'd never been on the back of his bike. My presence there sent a message. I was Penetrator property. His property.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ray and the guys had wandered the grocery with me, dropping a wide assortment of shit into the cart. They teased me about the broccoli. Dawg promised to make us chicken broccoli one night, thus defending my love of the fibrous veggie. I somehow landed on the back of Max’s bike instead of Ray's. My groceries went one direction, we went another.

  The machine growled and vibrated between my legs. I ran my hands along his hard abs and pressed myself against him. I didn't know where he was headed. I didn't much care. The road slithered left and then snaked right. I leaned when he did, synced to him in some symbiotic way. The paved highway gave way to a dirt path carved out from otherwise thick brush and overgrown trees.

  My heartbeat accelerated when the terrain gave way to a clearing. A small travel trailer sat behind lawn chairs, a barbecue pit and a couple picnic tables. A red four-door pickup at least a decade old sat beside a pristine black Dodge Charger. An unfinished rooftop peeked out a quarter mile out or so, as if hinting at what rested just over the ridge. Curiosity held my gaze there until the growls between my legs stopped and Max shifted his weight.

  I slid off the bike as my gaze swept across the landscape, memorized where everything was. The tightness in my belly from before uncurled fully. Somehow I knew being here was a big deal, so much so I said nothing. I took his hand when he held it out and followed him up the rickety steps and into the small travel trailer.

  The interior had seen better days. Occasional cigarette burns marred an otherwise cleaner than anticipated sofa. A massive television engulfed the wall to the right of the door. A couple pots and a lone frying pan hung from hooks to my left. I wandered that direction, pausing in the small kitchen. A booth-style table was to the left, devoid of anything except a few coasters and a pack of cards.

  Who would've known Max was a neat freak? Amusement kept me silent as he drew me against him. Then he was on me. Mouth, hands, tongue. He kissed like a man possessed. I surrendered to the onslaught, following his lead as he yanked my top off. My fingernails scored his chest after I divested him of the sexy henley.

  I molested him. There wasn't anything remotely slow or gentle about the wanton groping, the possessive glide of my teeth along his arms and chest. I wanted to explore, play. He hoisted me up. Legs around his waist, I claimed his mouth as he maneuvered us down the narrow corridor into what I hoped was his bedroom.

  He undid my shorts and plunged his fingers between my legs. I gasped against his mouth. He chuckled and pulled back. “My dirty girl gets off on the bike.”

  I wasn't sure how much was the bike and how much was the man I was wrapped around. Either way, I needed him inside me—however he wanted. He settled me on the bed and angled downward until heat encased my nipple. Fuck. One hand played with my left tit while he sucked and taunted the other with his tongue and teeth. Legs wrapped around him, I thrust myself against him in a silent plea to speed up.

  I yelped my surprise when he flipped me over and hoisted me up. My pulse quickened as he settled my hands on the bed railing and secured my wrists. Tied to Max’s bed. How many times had I fantasized this? Wondered what it'd be like, how much I could take.

  “Just you and me, babe. No one to stop me, or interrupt.” He tugged my shorts off and ripped my panties. Moisture pooled between my legs. “You gonna be a dirty girl and take me like I want?”

  “Yes.” Unsure if this was a “scene” I added, “Master.”

  “This is just you and me, Harmony. No scene, no rules. I’m going to fuck you hard, like you've wanted and I've needed. You’ll feel my dick inside you for hours afterward. Then I’ll wake you up and fuck you harder.” He spread my legs wider and kissed the small of my back. “First, I’m eating your sweet pussy.”

  I'd always preferred giving over receiving, but Clutch's talented work in The Last Drip's bathroom converted me. Oh, and Max’s the night before. I grasped the bed rail as Max settled on his back between my legs. Straddling his face, I moaned as he locked me into a firm embrace with his arms and attacked my pussy.

  He alternated between tongue fucking me and torturing my aroused clit with gentle sucks and flicks. Each swipe left me fighting to thrust myself against him, ride his face. I wanted my arousal all over his face. I wanted to fucking mark him, let every bitch in the county know what we'd done. The possessiveness unsettled me. He, Ray, and the other Penetrators were too important for me to fuck this up. I needed them in my life. The freak out in the grocery proved as much.

  My insides were too raw to psychoanalyze what everything meant. Too aroused and needy to think, I let him take me over the edge, into a rapture I'd never experienced before they rode into my life. My body was limp spaghetti by the time he maneuvered us until he loomed over me from behind.

  Max tugged my hair. Confident hands caressed my tits, delved between my legs. “Fucking sweetest cunt I've ever had.”

  My pussy clenched around his fingers.

  “Tell me what you want next,” he ordered.

  I shivered and spasmed beneath him, still riding the final waves of the intense orgasm. The command kept me on edge, prepped for the next onslaught. “Fuck my ass, please.”

  “I’m going to fuck this sweet ass hard.” He pulled away. Cool liquid drifted down the crack of my ass. “Fuck, I'm harder than ever.”

  I felt him there, against my puckered hole. My body tightened. He swatted then rubbed my ass. “Relax, it's about fucking time you got my dick.”

  I gasped as one hand held me by my hair and the other kept me still as he penetrated me. I closed my eyes, memorizing each sensation traveling through me, each scent wafting in my nostrils, the grunts he emitted as he pressed deeper into me.
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  I clenched his dick, squeezing hard with my ass. He groaned and pulled my hair hard. “Take my fucking dick, bitch. I’m going to fuck you so hard you detonate.”

  He plunged hard and deep, grunting as both hands grasped my hips and locked me into place, fully seated on his massive cock.

  “Christ, you’re fucking heaven.”

  Head down, ass high, I surrendered to the savage thrusts as he took me harder than I'd ever gotten it. He stopped only long enough to get a better grip on me, or to put me into a new position where my ass took even more of his dick.

  “I should've recorded this so the guys could watch you take it. So fucking hot.”

  He fingered my pussy and stroked my clit in time to the deep thrusts. Each one rippled through me, a reminder of who was in command, that he'd take what he wanted.

  Like I'd always wanted.

  He was wrong. I didn't detonate. I imploded—a nuclear meltdown. My vision distorted, my hearing tunneled to our labored breaths and his body slapping against my ass. There wasn't a sexier sound in the world than Max’s skin slamming mine. Sex permeated the air, filled my nostrils. Arousal ran down my legs. I wanted to mark his bed.

  He grunted in my ear, one hand between my legs, the other around my breast. He squeezed in both places as he growled and released in my ass. I collapsed against him, milking his dick.

  By the time my breathing returned to normal, he'd undone my wrists and settled me alongside him on the bed. I cuddled into his warmth, grateful for the gentle sweep of his hands along my sated body.

  “You good, babe?”

  “Fucking perfect.”

  “Fuck yeah, you are.” He sighed. “We'll go again soon. Next time I'll take my time, give it to you hard.”

  “That wasn't...hard?” My body tingled. I still felt him moving in my ass, just like he'd promised.

  “Know you want it harder, babe. I aim to please.” He caressed my face, stared into my eyes. “We need to chat about earlier.”

  “I get that way sometimes,” I whispered.