Unthinkable: The Blazers MC

by Paula Cox

  “September…September…September 26th?” Maddie pauses a minute before exclaiming, “No! The 28th! Like my birthday! September 28th!” I’ve never heard her this excited to be learning. Maybe there’s something worth it in these tutoring sessions. I mean, I don’t even know what the Battle of Yorktown is, let alone when it started.

  “Okay, that’s great. Use that to remember the correct answer on Monday’s test. I guarantee you it’s going to be asked. Now, second question, who surrendered to General Washington?”

  “Lord Cornwally.”

  Michelle giggles a bit before correcting her, “Cornwallis.”

  “Whatever. He was still a pansy.”

  I try my best not to bust out laughing. Maddie certainly had my crude sense of humor. But I doubt a tightass like Michelle could really appreciate that.

  “Why would you say that? He was a great leader. He was following commands. And, up until a point, the British were holding off the colonists and taking back their land bit by bit. Plus, think of all the men that could have died under his commands if he made them go up against the French and their navy.”

  “He’s still a pansy, Miss Springer.”

  “Gum, Maddie!” I peek through the door to see Maddie spit out a piece of gum into her hand and Michelle press a button on her phone.

  “But he was! If I were him, I wouldn’t back down or surrender. I’d fight to the death! That’s what my dad would do.” I’m swelling with pride. My daughter thinks of me as some great general of troops, someone who would go down with the ship if need be. She’s right. I wouldn’t give in or give up just because the Coyotes had bigger motorcycles or more men. I’d just fight harder.

  “Then your dad wouldn’t survive very long. War, especially during the 1700s was all about strategy and command. It’s like playing a game of chess. You have to think about what is ahead rather than what is in front of you. And, for the British, losing all those men against their enemy the French was not worth it in the long run when they could wait and see if the colonies collapsed and try to take it over at a later period of time.”

  Of course she thinks surrendering is the right thing to do. She wouldn’t know a thing about staying strong or fighting with honor. All Michelle Springer knows is giving in when the going gets tough. She couldn’t even survive a ride with me.

  Michelle pauses before moving on. I can tell she is hesitant to ask, “Maddie, what is your dad’s position in this, uh, club of his? I mean, does he have a title like Commander or General?”

  Maddie laughs heartily, her mother’s belly laugh. “Oh no! Miss Springer, he’s not like General Washington. He’s a Vice. Like, Vice President. But no one calls him Mr. Vice President Cal. They just call him Cal.”

  “Okay, then what does a Vice President do?”

  I’m uneasy about these questions. What’s it to her? She wanted to be far away from this club stuff, not get more involved and in the know. That’s what she said to me when she broke up our sleeping together.

  “He leads the men, puts them in their places. He makes sure everyone does what they are supposed to do. And he helps with the enforcers. They’re the guys who puts the hurt on the Coyotes or workers that don’t follow orders. That’s who he’s riding out with today. They went down to the garage to---”

  I burst through the door, stopping Maddie from saying too much. I can’t trust that Michelle wouldn’t learn about where I was and then use it against me later down the road. Who knows, she may already be compromised or speaking to the pigs.

  “Maddie,” I bark as I throw her the bag of Mr. Clucky’s takeout food, “Go upstairs and eat in your room. You’re done for tonight.”

  “But, Dad! I haven’t finished reviewing the test questions.” She whines a bit as she turns to Michelle, looking for a little assistance.

  Michelle, in her form fitting blue dress, hasn’t stopped staring at me. She puts her slender, painted fingers on the table and then stands up. As she begins to pack her textbooks and notecards, she turns to Maddie, “Your dad is right. You need to eat something. I’ll leave you with this so you can study on your own tonight after dinner. Okay?”

  She hands Maddie a stapled bunch of papers that Maddie thumbs through quickly. Her eyes light up as she asks, “Is this the…?”

  “A copy of Monday’s test questions? Yes. Yes it is. You didn’t get it from me, you got me?” Michelle grins at Maddie before standing straight up. She places her bag around her shoulder and begins to head out the door through the living room.

  I block her from moving, motioning silently for Maddie to head upstairs. I’ve got a few bones to pick with her teacher before I can let her go. Michelle stands close to me, looking up at my stony, unmoving face. Her eyes tell a similar story. There’s something she wants to say to me, as well, something burning inside of her that’s not going to go away easily. We don’t break eye contact as we listen to Maddie trudge slowly upstairs with her backpack dragging behind her.

  When we hear the sound of the bedroom door closing, Michelle takes a step back towards the table, her hands clasping around its side. I fight everything in my body telling me to push her back and take her right then and there. Even though I can’t stand this woman, every part of me wants her more than ever.

  I, instead, move backwards towards the door. I’m not about to let my desire for her overcome the bigger issue here. “What are you doing talking to her about that stuff, Miss Springer?” I’m not calm. Not calm at all. She has no right to pull this shit after she decided to call it quits between the two of us. And her talking to my daughter, plying information out of her, is stepping over borders.

  “I’m her teacher, Mr. Ross. It’s my job to know what my students are going through. It’s also my job to know that they are in a good, safe home. What she was telling me earlier about the things that go on here were…concerning.” She clutches onto the table more tightly now. I can see her knuckles going white.

  “Concerning? Concerning! You saw what happened that night the Coyotes came and shot up the place. We protected you. For the last two weeks, I’ve sent men out to your place to watch after you day in and day out. You don’t think I do that with my own daughter? She’s safer here than she would ever be out there. That’s bullshit, Miss Springer.”

  Sparks are flying in my mind as I try to shake off my anger. No one dares to question my ability to take care of my own daughter. Not even the men against me would touch a hair on my daughter’s head out of fear of what I would do to them. I’ll admit there have been attempts. Drunk men making comments about her, threats to her life – I squashed each and every one of them were with a knife to their body or a lasting punch to their gut.

  I continue, not letting her get another damned word in, “You know what I think this is? This is you being all high and mighty.” I charge towards her, my finger pointed square in her face as I scream, “I let you go, and now you think you know better than us. You’re not better than us. You’re not better than any of us.”

  She breathes in heavily as she stands up straight, pressing the folds of her dress. My shaking finger hits her in the forehead as she calmly replies back, “Frankly, Mr. Ross, I’m not a coke dealer living in this sex den with his young daughter. So yeah, I do think I am better than you.”

  I can hear the hint of panic and fear. She’s terrified of me, but she is not about to let me see that. No other woman would ever do this. No one would ever be so bold than to come at me, to say what they really think. She wasn’t born to please men like me. And she wasn’t the type to bow down.

  And suddenly, I can’t take it anymore. I drop my hand to her waist and pull her in as she struggles to break free from my grasp. Her waist presses up against the growing bulge in my jeans as she realizes what is going on. Her hand whips back and slaps me with a loud and stinging clap.

  Out of instinct, I let go. She recoils back to her spot on the table. Her face is going flush, her eyes darting everywhere, looking for something. I can tell that she’s turning
everything over in her mind. She doesn’t want this. Or does she?

  But then she looks towards me, my arms dangling by my side as I wait for her move. Our heavy, angry breathing matches as her whole body and face transforms. I put out my arm once more, this time touching her arm. She doesn’t flinch. Instead, she stands straight and places one of her hands on my grizzly face, feeling the stubble along my jawline.

  Michelle stands on her tippy toes and she kisses me, pulling my face into hers. She falls backwards a bit as I hold onto her for balance. We dance around the kitchen, holding each other in this embrace. Our mouths find each other over and over again as we come up for air gasping before diving back in.

  We land on the countertop, me hoisting her up by her ass. She drapes her arms around me as I pull us apart. I give her a small grin before sinking to my knees. My hands remove each one of her black boots, unzipping them slowly. I take one of her bare feet and press the soft flesh of her big toe to my mouth, kissing it gently before placing it slowly into my mouth.

  My tongue rolls around it while my hand massages the arch of her foot in the same pattern. She squeals, nearly kicking me. But as my mouth takes more of her toe in, I watch as she softens, falling backwards towards the wall for support. She lets out a small coo as I let go. I move my mouth upwards to her ankle, her smooth calf, the thickness of her thighs, and to where her hemline has crept near the line of her panties.

  She stops me before I can go any farther. Like a gatekeeper she says to me slowly, “No, Cal. You can’t. We can’t do this.” Her voice is cracked, but it has that longing, that desire. I know she isn’t refusing me. She just needs to say we can’t do this to cover herself.

  I look up at her and nod before I bite my teeth into the fabric of her cotton panties. She squeals but lifts her hips up off the counter, enough so I can pull them down to the ground with her shoes.

  My hands part her legs slightly before I place my head between her thighs. Her hand is still on my head, but instead of moving me away, she runs her fingers through my hair and mutters “Cal” as I breathe hot air against her milky white skin.

  She’s warm and wet as my prickly face brushes up against her shaved folds. Her smell dances in the air, like strawberries and summertime. I’ve never smelled or tasted someone so fresh and pure. She’s a drug I can’t keep myself from as I begin to kiss and lick at her sweet little pussy.

  I place my hand at the top of her diamond opening, peeling apart her layers for me to explore. Through the darkness, I spot her clit as my tongue dashes over to play with the small pleasure spot. She instantly reacts as I feel her body spring in response. She lets out a muffled howl as I can tell she’s holding a hand to her mouth.

  My own mouth covers her clit and begins to alternate sucks and kisses, pulling at the sensitive skin. I lower my tongue so it circles her hole, tasting the smooth ridges of the rest of her flesh. In circles it goes, over and over again until I can taste her moisture overwhelming my mouth. Michelle cries out as I move my finger inside her, fingering both sides of her walls and making sure none of her goes untouched.

  And then I feel it. The rush of her fluids hitting my mouth, the curl of her body back towards the wall, her soft screams. Her orgasm is as gentle and as powerful as she is. And I wait to come up until she has finished quivering under my mouth.

  When I stand, I don’t wait for her response or her reaction. I pull her down from the cabinet with one arm and flip her onto her stomach. She attempts to wiggle free, but I hold her arms still as I pull down my pants and boxers. I enter her fast, not wanting to waste a minute. It had been almost three weeks since I had my last bit of her pussy, and I wasn’t going to wait another minute to experience it again. She’s already wet, waiting, desperately hungry for my cock.

  She lowers herself onto the counter, her head resting on the marble. I place my hand on her breasts before yanking the fabric of her dress down. Her sleeve rips from my force, but I don’t care or stop. Her tits fly out into my waiting hands as I massage the nipples with my fingertips as my cock begins to rock inside of her.

  Her body is warm, a fire I would never want to put out. Despite having just cum, she’s still tight and her pussy is clamped down against my hard cock like a lock not ready to bet set free. This is not the type or quality pussy I could I get anywhere else. Her body knew how to bend and mold itself to mine -- like my own personal sex doll.

  My hands wander up towards her long hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. I yank her head forward as I ride her fast and hard. She cries out, not holding back any longer. She lets out a scream so unbridled that I bark back at her, “That’s it, girl. Take me. Take all of me.” Her hips sink down lower towards the countertop, inviting me in farther.

  Then, Michelle whispers out the magical words, “I want you to cum, Cal.” She’s begging me, pleading with me, “Fuck me! Fuck me so hard! Oh God, I need it! I want it!” I pull her head up to mine, kissing her as I feel her body collapse again in one ball of tense energy before it relaxes. “Fuck me, Cal,” she mutters, “Do it. Cum for me, baby. Cum in me. Cum in my pussy.”

  I follow her lead, ramping up my rhythm, pounding away inside her warm pussy. “You want my cum, baby?” I whisper, and she bites her lip. “Yeah, you want my cum in you? I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum so hard in you.” I’m doing this for real, letting myself go inside of her. She reels forward as I thrust three hard, slow, final pushes of my cock into her tired and pulsating pussy. Then I feel it, a surge as my cock explodes in her, pushing my cum up into her. I fall on her back, holding her hands in mine. I can feel her chest under me heave from the effort. After one long, agonizing minute of neither of us knowing what to do, I pull back a few strands of her hair and whisper, “You’re going to want to clean yourself up, Miss Springer.”

  She doesn’t move, but I can see her face go from ecstasy to anger all over again. She’s remembering just who she is dealing with here as she spins and pushes me out of her. “You are one of the worst men I’ve ever met in my entire life. If it weren’t for Maddie…” She stumbles over her words as she tries to collect her panties from the linoleum floors. “If it weren’t for Maddie…”

  “You wouldn’t have had the best fuck of your life yet?” I wink at her, knowing it will enrage her even more, “And that’s counting all the other times we’ve done it.”

  She points a finger into my chest and looks me square in my eyes, “You, Mr. Ross, are the worst parent I have ever met in my entire life. I -- I -- I want to help your daughter, but I can’t in these conditions.”

  “What conditions? That you just fucked me in the kitchen?”

  “That I’m being seduced in this run down shack where your daughter is exposed to assholes like you and their drug and sex addictions!” She picks up her backpack off the floor and tosses back her hair from under the strap, “I’ve got to go. Next week, I’ll tutor Maddie at school. I’ll let her know on Monday.”

  As she attempts to walk past me, I grab her arm, pulling her close to me. I lower my voice as I rumble, “Miss Springer, don’t you ever question my ability to raise my daughter again. Do I make myself entirely clear?”

  She challenges right back. “Or what?” she asks boldly, a glint in her eye

  I don’t have an answer.

  She cocks her head and says, “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Then, she pulls herself free and walks out the door, past the men hooting and hollering at her. I walk towards the window and pull back the makeshift plywood barricade. In the darkness I watch her abandon me again, for the second time.

  Chapter 17: The Choices We Make

  MICHELLE

  Ugh! That man. That dumb, brooding, insensitive, self-centered bastard of a man. Why does he make me want to kill him and undress him at the same time? And why do I have to give into the second one when he’s around?

  That was totally not like me. Then again, I said the same thing when he fingered me in my own classroom during our supposed parent-teacher conference. Maybe this is t
he person I really am, and Cal’s just bringing out the worst in me. I mean, everyone has a light and dark side after all…

  I adjust my panties as I drive, trying to focus on the road ahead of me. I’m speeding and going way over the limit, but the faster I can get away from him, the better. But as I pull into my driveway, I spot one of his watchers standing outside my doorway. He’s texting on his phone and smoking, his cigarette ashes falling into my nicely-trimmed hedges.

  I exit the car, slamming the door. He stands at attention, dropping his cell to the side of his hips. He moves to the side, letting me get through the door as I scream at him, “You know, you don’t have to be here, kid. None of your guys do. Can you guys get the fuck off of my property?”

  He looks at me perplexed. Obviously, a woman has never told him off like this, much less one totally outside his club. Still, he looks forward, keeping his emotions checked as he replies firmly, “I’ve got my orders, ma’am. I’m to stay here ‘til the next guy comes by.”

  “The next guy?” I’m at my wit’s end. What does a girl have to do to get these goons far away from her and out of her life? “I don’t need a next guy! I don’t need protection! I don’t need anything but some peace and quiet! If you all don’t get off my property in the next ten minutes, I’m calling the cops and telling them everything.”