Unthinkable: The Blazers MC

by Paula Cox

  Ugh! But I can’t stop it now. Every part of my body is screaming against my brain’s logic, “Let him go. Let him touch you. You know you want it, Jenna!”

  The body always wins. It has to—it’s primal. Rev begins to press his unbelievably soft lips against the marks his fingers have made. There’s a tingle as I feel the spiky ends of his facial hair scratch at my naked, exposed pussy, and it sends my blood pulsing to every nerve ending in me.

  I grab hold of his thick curls and attempt to push him back, but I don’t have the power to. So instead, I push him closer to my skin until I feel his warm breath wash over the top of my pubic bone.

  “Hmm...” He examines me. “Hmm...”

  As I let go of his hair, I realize I’m about to unleash a beast. Rev has made it clear that he’s not like the other men I’ve had. He has no control. He takes what he wants. It’s a dangerous combination to have no control and all the control at the same time.

  But damn if this doesn’t feel like a hunger-quenching ice cream on a hot day. He laps his tongue around the space between my thigh and my throbbing clit. It circles up and then around to the other side before moving to the opening. Without even noticing, I hold my breath and close my eyes until I feel the moist, velvety goodness of his tongue caressing my most intimate curves.

  “Rev...” I plead. “Please, don’t...” I have no idea why I’m even bothering to speak. He won’t stop. And I don’t want him to.

  He places his lips against my folds and murmurs, “Shhh.” The vibrations tickle and tease at me while his tongue does the rest of the work. I fall into a trance. My hands wander over my exposed breasts, and my skin feels as electric as the rest of me. It’s as if I am a balloon being blown up—dangerously close to popping.

  Rev speeds up his motions, inserting a finger inside of me, just below where his mouth is. At the touch, my hips shoot up as if he magically commanded to move closer to him. He digs into his meal with even more fervor.

  I begin to tremble—I always do when I’m close—but it’s been so long since I’ve been in this position where a guy is pleasuring me that I’ve forgotten the signs. All I can do to steady myself is to place my hands up above the dresser and let Rev take over from here. My knees push up, so they press against his ears while my toes curl into the wooden top that creaks under my weight.

  “Rev!” I cry out. Although, I’m not sure if I even get his name out of my throat before it hits me—the sweet feeling of falling fast and landing somewhere soft. The orgasm trickles down from the base of my brain to my feet. Every part of me pulsates in time with my rapid beating heart.

  He must know what he’s done to me. From just above my shuddering stomach, I watch Rev’s face transform from satisfied to a look that could only be described as hungry. They fixate on me—two emeralds shining in the light of the late morning sun. But even in the light, there’s darkness behind those pools of green.

  Rev wastes no time pulling himself up upon me. His face melts between my breasts, smothering himself in my C cup chest. Long hands wrap around the sides of them to press against his face, and the nipples are pinched with such deliciously painful sensations that I can’t help but pound my hands into the dresser again.

  His lips suckle each of my pink buds like they’re filled with sweet nectar while his other hand works the belt buckle on his jeans. I hear him fumbling with the metal clasp as it bangs up against the side of the dresser. When he finally unleashes it, he only steps away from me for a second to push his jeans the rest of the way down his muscular legs.

  I know he’s smiling down at me, that trademark grin, but I’m too fixated on his package. I’m not modest by any measure, but his cock is locked and loaded. Meaty and long—it beats any guys I’ve seen by at least an inch.

  My face gives my approval away. Rev chuckles. “Don’t worry, Jenna. It’ll fit.” I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind when he whipped out that shaft he should need a license to use.

  Before I can even throw back a witty remark, his claws are on me again, scooping me up into his arms so that my ass hovers just over his cock. I feel it bounce up against me as he leads me towards the bed. He spins on his heels so that he falls backward first with me toppling down onto his stomach.

  I place my hands on his chest to steady myself. They cover up one of the many tattoos that ink his skin. Under my right palm is a picture of a faceless angel wrapped in flames, while my left hand conceals a Celtic cross with numerous dark curves and lines. As I feel his big cock stiffen more against me, I dig my nails into his tattoos.

  He lets out what sounds like a small yelp, and I can’t help but smile. A little pain never hurt anyone, especially when you’re a mountain man like Rev. From behind me, I feel him reach for his shaft and position it so it slides around the crevasses of my pussy. I lean myself up as high as I can until the tip of his member lines up neatly with my slit.

  I brace myself, using his hands, as I slide down the length of his thick rod. It practically splits me in two—that strange feeling of being poured into bit by bit. I let out a breath of frantic air and allow my body to take over, and my walls accept his girth. My hips grind softly into his, kneading his cock from the inside. It dives deeper in with each little motion.

  “Fuck... Jenna...” Rev sighs. I’m pleasing him. Good. His panty-melting green eyes roll back while his head lifts into the edges of the pillow. My toes dig into the satin red comforter in preparation for what I’m about to do. My lips purse, my hands steady, and I let the warmth of his skin on my skin wash over me.

  Just as I lift up once again, I hear it. It’s unmistakable. The pounding of the front door. What the hell? Rev and I both pause in mid-motion.

  “Rev!” A man hollers, sounding irate. “Open the fucking door!”

  I look down at Rev. “Who is—” But I’m not entirely sure I want the answer.

  “Get dressed,” he barks, grabbing my hips and lightly pushing me off of him. “Playtime’s over.”

  Oh, so that’s how it is? We’re back to him being Rev—the kidnapper and debt collector. Fantastic.

  I try to ignore the pulsating, raw feeling between my legs as I scramble for my clothes. I know better than to follow him out to the living room. Even if I thought it was someone who could help me out of this mess, I don’t want to risk it being someone connected with my brother’s debt as well. Instead, I press my back against the wall near the open door. There’s a dressing mirror on the other side of the room pointed towards the front door. From it, I see Rev refasten the belt on his jeans and smooth out his hair.

  “I’m coming!” he shouts to his ill-timed visitor. He takes a moment to look through the peephole before opening. “What the hell do you want, Topher?”

  “You wanna tell me what the hell is going on on?” An older man wearing a plaid bucket hat holds onto both sides of the door frame. It looks as if he’s planning for Rev to run, but Rev completely towers over him. So much so that Rev has to take a few steps back to stare the stocky man in the eyes.

  “What the hell are you on about?” Rev keeps his eyes steady, visibly not giving anything away. Behind him, there’s a mess from when I attacked him with the metal shower rod. If the man could see into the bedroom, he’d get a glimpse of the chaos our partial-screwing has caused.

  The man turns his head and spits on the ground. “I got a call about this place. Someone heard some banging going on last night and now this morning. I got another call about you nearly tackling a girl to the ground outside the door.”

  So it worked! I give myself about ten mental high fives for at least catching someone’s attention. It might not have worked, but it was so worth it.

  Rev tries to cut in and say something, but the man continues, “You know I don’t give a fuck what any of you do in these rooms as long as you pay me my cash, but you’re gonna get yourself in trouble, Rev. And I don’t want the cops round here. You understand me?”

  “Yeah, I hear you,” Rev replie
s through gritted teeth. “It was nothing—just a fi—”

  “I told you—I don’t care what you do in this apartment as long as you don’t get yourself fucking caught.” He looks around Rev’s arm to the rest of the living room and kitchen. “I’ll let you go with a warning this time, but next...” He makes the get-out motion with his thumb and grins.

  Without another word, the man turns, and Rev shuts the door behind him with more force than necessary. He takes a long look at Bugsy still hanging out on the floor of the kitchen and then grabs my bowl of half eaten cereal from the table and places it at the dog’s feet.

  “Jenna!” he calls out, “Grab your shit. We’re out of here.”

  I lean out the bedroom door. “What? Where are we going?”

  “Away. I can’t have you here.” He checks his phone and begins to text somebody. When he’s done, he explains, “You heard the guy—you got yourself discovered, and someone’s obviously watching. Time’s up.”

  “What do you mean? Time’s up for what?”

  Rev doesn’t seem to register my question. He strides back up the hall and brushes past my shoulder towards the bathroom. After picking up my gym bag, he fishes out a pair of jeans and a black tank top, along with some fresh underwear.

  “Put ‘em on and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  I guess we’re not going to discuss the big, fat elephant in the room. Again typical Alpha male, douchebag behavior.

  I turn my back and change into the fresh clothes. As I finish running my hands through my otherwise tangled rat’s nest of hair, I ask, “Do you know what happened to Bugsy’s leash? I can’t let him off it.”

  Rev walks to the front door, opening it for me. “It doesn’t matter. He’s not coming.”

  “What do you mean ‘he isn’t coming?’ I told you yesterday that I don’t go anywhere without him.” I cross my arms over my chest and plant myself near Bugsy and his cereal. He snorts as he takes another few bites.

  Rev’s jaw juts out slightly as he turns his head in disbelief. Before I can even blink, he barrels toward me and grabs my arm, lifting me to my feet.

  “When are you going to fucking understand, darlin’? This isn’t playtime. You don’t make the damn rules. When I say go, you go. No questions asked!” he growls, his eyes constricted, hard.

  “But I told you—”

  “I don’t care what you damn well told me! I’m the one in charge here. Now get your shit together, or I’ll drag you out of here!”

  This is a new kind of Rev—the kind of Rev I should’ve known was in there all along. A man like him doesn’t have a sweet side. A man like him isn’t playful or generous, and when he was pleasuring me... Well, that was just his sexual, hungry side. Nothing more. He isn’t protective like the version of him who came to my rescue when Teddy put his hands on me.

  A man like Rev has blood that flows with anger and pain. The glimpses of his tattoos should’ve told me that. Him locking me in the bathroom should’ve been a sign. Red flags, Jenna. How could you be so foolish in thinking he could be anything else? Hell, I should’ve come to this conclusion when he forced me to get on the back of that death trap last night.

  I trust everyone way too quickly. They walk over me like I’m nothing but dirt on the ground. My parents did it to me when they forced me to care for them. And Mark continually does it with him “asking” me for help in “emergencies.”

  Just now, in that bedroom, I gave too much to Rev, and I’m back to facing the reality of it all. I’m Jenna. I was forced out of my brother’s home because of a debt he owes some drug lords. His debt collector picked me up and dragged me to his home. I just fooled around with him, and now he’s leading me off to somewhere new where there is a good possibility I may wind up dead—all because I trust the wrong people.

  I look back at Bugsy. I try not to think about what will happen to him or if I’ll ever see him again. My money’s is on this being our goodbye. I lean down and pat him on the head, whispering, “Be a good boy. Find your way out of here and to a good home.” Every part of me breaks just thinking about how I’m inadvertently abandoning him.

  Slipping on my tennis shoes, I stiffen my lip and push my hair up into a high bun. Rev nods at me and then walks outside. He waits to shut the door behind me, and it’s only then that Bugsy notices we’re leaving him behind and barks.

  Chapter Six

  Rev

  Jenna hasn’t spoken in over an hour. And hell if I don’t love every minute she has those full, glossy lips closed.

  The bike seems to be the only way to shut the girl up. It’s given me time to think about what the fuck happened in the last hour. First, there were her escape attempts—if you could call them that. I blame myself—something I rarely do. I saw them coming. Even the dumbest hamster in a cage tries to get out at least once. Yet, here I was, stupid enough to let Jenna slide.

  Well, not exactly slide, per se. I mean, I got my way in the end. I almost fucked her. If it hadn’t been for the damn landlord and his prying, I would’ve gone all the way on that pussy, but instead, I’m pissed off, with a dick that desperately needs to finish what it started.

  Still, can I blame him? Can’t fault the guy for not wanting trouble when your entire building is full of convicts, addicts, and prostitutes. He runs a refuge for the worst of society; a place where scum of the Earth like me can freely roam. And he’s got that little kingdom he oversees to protect. What he did do, however, was remind me that there were eyes and ears everywhere. It’s a lesson I should’ve picked up years ago doing my freelance work, but I seemed to ignore it this time around. And something tells me that those eyes and ears aren’t far behind us.

  Enrique has always been defensive over his commands. What he says is absolute and final. There are no questions; the task gets done right away. While I appreciate that efficiency, and am usually quick to keep up, I’m stalling when it comes to Jenna.

  He was pretty clear with me on what he needed me to do—kill the girl. In his mind, that would send a message to her deadbeat brother Mark not to fuck with him or join her in whatever landfill I dump her body in. While it’s not my thing to be a killer, it was a damn simple task that could’ve been done and over with when I slammed her down on her back on top of the dresser.

  But what dumb shit do I do instead? I go down on her. I took her sweet-smelling puss and devoured that thing like I was the one in need of a last meal. And when I had finished, I hoisted her up on my cock and waited for her to take me.

  Who the fuck am I today? What the hell happened to the guy who was one and done with girls as soon as they served their purpose (which is almost always sooner rather than later?) What did I do to the version of me who refused to mix business with pleasure?

  The drive to Lockport is helping me get that mojo back. Being on the back of the bike always does. It’s like transforming into a werewolf or something mythical like that. I strip away everything holding me back to become the beast I stuff away.

  I quickly count back the years in my mind. I’m coming up on my twelve-year anniversary riding. I was eighteen when I first got on a bike solo. At that time, I’d been out of the house for two years, having run away from my parents when they finally acted on their threat to put me in military school. I never did finish high school, but I got a whole lot of life lessons on the south side streets of Joliet. I saw guys beaten within an inch of their lives and let go. I saw guys get gunned down with absolutely no warning. I even participated in some of the nastiest shit you can imagine.

  When I turned eighteen, a friend of mine’s dad asked if I wanted to take a ride on his Harley for fun. It was a beater he kept in the back of his garage. The little kid wide-eyed with snot running down his nose practically shouted yes. He showed me the basics and made me ride bitch the first few times, but after an hour, I had figured it out enough to take a cruise around some alleyways.

  That was the day I knew I’d never go back. There was no turning around. I couldn’t go back to that home wit
h those crosses and my mom holding the Bible to my chest as she talked about my sins. I couldn’t face my dad who expected obedience and didn’t mind using his fists to get it. I couldn’t be the person they wanted me to be.

  So, I stole a bike—my friend’s dad’s bike, actually—and took it to the chop shop. They made it unrecognizable and rideable. I rode that thing everywhere. It was my only escape until I decided to go solo and make a business doing the one thing motorcycle clubs in this part didn’t want to do—repair work. So, I was a body man.

  I still feel the same electric sensation shoot up my back as the pavement vibrates under my feet and the wind whips my hair backward. The purr of the motor under my legs somehow makes all my problems disappear.

  Except when that problem is resting those long, thin chicken legs up against my thighs and pressing her pointy chin into the back of my shoulder. Jenna’s grip is so tight on me; I can barely take a good breath. Instinctively, I slow, pulling back the speed and hoping she will ease up as well.