Outlaw Daddy: Satan's Breed MC

by Paula Cox

  So, Lola didn’t say any of those things. She took his hand from her breast and led it down, under her skirt and inside her panties, where she was slick and wet for him, just as she’d been since she first saw him, before her life was turned upside down. She spread her legs wide, watching his eyes as he reacted to the intensity of her arousal. His fingers, more tender now than they’d ever been before, were exploring her as if they hadn’t touched each other ever before. His eyes were wide with something not unlike wonder. He flickered tenderly over her clit, making her gasp. He played farther back, teasing at the opening of her, making her hips arch towards him, begging for more contact. He laughed then, soft, not giving her what she needed.

  “Right here?” he asked. “Anyone could come along.”

  She caught his gaze and held it, her arms tight around him, and hooked her leg around the back of his thigh, giving him plenty of space to play. “I don’t care.”

  Heat rose in him then, and he choked back a sound that had wanted to be a growl. “It’s not going to be my fingers you take. You know that.”

  “Fuck me, Gunner. Please.”

  “Jesus Christ,” he murmured, opening his jeans and pulling out his cock. He was hard, so hard, and Lola heard a little humming sound in her throat of anticipation. He was going to split her wide open. As wet as she was she still wasn’t ready for him, and she didn’t care. She didn’t care who saw, she didn’t care if she got arrested. She just wanted to show him that this meant something. It meant something important.

  He teased her with the head of his cock for a moment, finding her opening, lining her up, adjusting her hips. He kept his thumb on her clit, setting up a light tapping rhythm that made her bite her lip and twist her head from side to side. He hiked her leg up just a little bit higher, giving himself a little more room, and starting the slightest burn on her thigh from the stretch and the strength necessary to hold her leg in that position. She thanked whoever wanted to listen for the dance classes she’d gone to over the years and let him shift her and move her until she was exactly where he wanted her to be.

  He entered her in a smooth motion, hitting half of his depth in that first stroke. She hissed with the intensity of it, not the pain, but the desire that was contained in his pressure and motion. He had to pull back, making space, before he could slide forward again, fully seating himself inside of her. They groaned in unison, and his hands came to her ass, lifting her up just a little bit higher. Her toes weren’t entirely on the ground anymore, and her heart beat a little faster at the loss of control. The shaking need that boiled through her frightened her, and drove her forward, doing her best to wriggle her hips and pinion herself on his cock as he began to thrust into her.

  “God, so dirty,” he muttered, leaning forward and nipping at her chin, her neck, any bit of her skin that he could reach without losing the angle and depth of the coupling. “Not going to last,” he grunted. Already, his thrusts were ragged, his thighs and arms shaking.

  “I don’t care,” she replied, but he pulled free from her, setting her down and laying his cock along the soft flesh of her cleft. His fingers at his base, he thrust down along her; her clit dragged over his shaft, and the sheer wanton need of him left her even more desperate.

  He came hard, vicious, grunting. She could feel his cock twitching against her thigh as he spent, felt the hot splash of liquid on the inside of her thigh. Some part of her was disappointed, maybe even frustrated. She wanted more of him than this, but the sagging relief in his body was worthwhile.

  He fell to his knees, and she thought he’d just lost his balance, but his hands nudged her thighs open wider.

  “Would have come right inside,” he murmured, “but licking up my own cum is not a kink of mine.” And then his tongue was on her pussy, and her hands were in his hair, and Jesus God in Heaven this boy knew how to devour her.

  There was something different. Him fucking her up against a wall was just garden-variety dirty, but she’d had her face well hidden in his neck, and if someone walked by, it was him that would’ve been caught with his ass quite literally hanging out of his pants. Now, his tongue lapping furiously at her, she felt infinitely more exposed. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to turn away. She was the wanton girl in the hallway, someone who couldn’t take another twenty steps to fuck in the car.

  She expected the shame and nerves to shut down her reactions, but instead, she spiraled higher. Her fingers tightened in Gunner’s hair, and it seemed to drive him to greater heights. He jammed two, then three, fingers into her cunt and fucked her, pressing at the inner spot that made her vision darken as he took her clit between his teeth and tugged at it. She thought she’d hate it, she’d always thought the sensation would make her scream and want to hit the guy who took such liberties. She was sure no nice girl would like what he was doing to her body right now. But she wasn’t a nice girl because she could feel the orgasm coming for her like a truck barreling down an icy road, and she had no intention of getting out of the way.

  She thought she’d scream when she came, but there wasn’t any air left in her lungs as her entire body spasmed. She ground down onto his face, and he responded, moaning up into her and pulsing his fingers and nursing her into the highest possible level of pleasure. When the wave broke around her, she cried out, shivering and shaking as he pressed the flat of his tongue against her, savoring the last of her release as she pulsed down around him.

  He stood up quickly, helping her balance as her knees slowly regained the ability to support her. He tugged her leggings back into place under her skirt. She could feel the cum on her thigh, drying and sticking the jersey fabric to her skin, and it was an awful feeling, but she also found herself luxuriating in it. She’d feel him there, touching her, until she got home to change. And the way this day had gone, it might be a hell of a long time.

  He hovered over her, his forehead touching hers, his hand on her cheek. “Are you okay?” His voice shook just a tiny bit. It almost made her laugh, it was so quiet and delicate. Nothing at all like the big strong man who’d lifted her off her feet just moments ago to fuck her rotten, nothing at all like the man who’d exposed her in the garage, where anyone could’ve seen, and who trembled at what she’d just given him.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. “You?”

  “God, Lola,” he replied and kissed her again. His tongue brushed her lips again, but it was a delicate caress this time, instead of a demand for entrance. She gave herself over to the sensation in just the same way, however. He felt good and deep and careful and so wonderful.

  “What are we doing, Gunner? You and me?” It wasn’t really the question she wanted to ask, but she didn’t know what else to say.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “Do we have to be doing anything?”

  “It seems like we are, whether we want to or not.” She didn’t want to need something from him. He didn’t seem like the sort of man someone needed things from. He didn’t seem like the guy who would work out well, in the long run, for her. But she needed him, all the same. She needed to know. If she was allowed to care. If she needed to keep her heart safe. “I think—Gunner, I could—”

  He put a finger to her lips, and she had to bite back the words. It hurt so much, made her throat close up, made her sick to her stomach.

  “I can’t talk about it yet,” he said. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I have to get my little girl back. I have to be able to protect the people I have before I can start promising to take more. Do you understand?”

  No, Lola thought. No, I don’t fucking understand any of it. But she nodded. She made herself nod, and she made herself stand still and strong as Gunner pressed another kiss to her forehead and then walked away, leaving her behind.

  Again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Neither the vicious sex nor the wind in his face had taken an edge off the fury of Gunner’s temper. The look on Lola’s face when he’d turned away from her after one of the most intense experiences of his li
fe… God, what kind of monster was he? He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that she wanted to hear that he loved her. Fuck, he wanted to say it. There, with the taste of her on his tongue, he wanted to say it more than anything. But his baby girl was still missing. How could he profess his love to anyone right now? How could it possibly mean anything?

  Maybe that was stupid, maybe he was selling both of them short. Hell, it wasn’t like she’d fucking missed the part where the girl was missing. But it didn’t make it easier or less painful.

  How could he declare his love to a woman his daughter hadn’t even met? He hadn’t told a woman that he loved them since Sam. He hadn’t told anyone that he’d loved them before Sam, either. So, what kind of track record was that?

  He’d left her behind. He’d done the right thing. She’d get over him now, and she’d be able to move on. And he... Well, who the hell knew what he’d do. Something. Something smart, and sensible, and responsible. There had to be an answer.

  Horse was waiting for him at the clubhouse, a bottle of Scotch at the ready. He’d already poured two fingers for Gunner, who threw them back without hesitation. His jaw ached, his fists ached, his body ached. His heart ached, although he didn’t want to think about that any goddamn more than he had to. Horse didn’t say a word, not for a long time. Whenever Gunner’s glass got empty, it was refilled.

  “How much do you know?” Gunner asked after a very long time.

  Horse gave a shrug. “Whoever they are, they covered their tracks. This is bigger than two clubs pissing on each other’s territory, Gunner. We have to start looking at the bigger picture.”

  Gunner spent a moment sizing up his old friend. “You think it’s time to call the police?”

  “Not in any official capacity. But I called up a couple of old friends — guys who used to ride with us before they decided the straight and narrow had some kind of appeal. They’re looking into some things. Maybe Sam knew something we didn’t know about at the time, man. Maybe she was involved in some darker shit than we ever thought.”

  The idea that this wasn’t all his fault. God, he could cling to that like a goddamn life preserver, but at the same time, it felt so fucking wrong to even consider.

  “I don’t know, Colton, it just seems. So wrong. Sam never did anything dirty, you know that. She hated that I was ever here, she hated that I was ever a part of this life. She wanted nothing to do with it.”

  “I know,” Horse said, nodding. He’d consumed more than his share of whiskey as well; the bottle, nearly full when Gunner had arrived, was at the bottom of the label. Horse tipped it again, filling both of their glasses, and emptying the bottle. He gestured at the bar, and someone reached down to find another bottle of the reserve Scotch Horse kept for himself back there.

  “Tell me again. At the end. She had a new job, you said. Interning with someone.”

  “Legal aid,” Gunner replied. “She said it was her way out, that she was really going to make a difference. For kids like her, who’d grown up rough. She never said kids like me. But she meant it.”

  Horse waved that part away. “Focus with me for a minute, man. Did she mean that the job was going to make a difference, or that she’d learned something about someone who was going to help her make a difference? Would she have told you which it was?”

  Gunner sat back in his chair, his entire world suddenly shifted ten feet to the left. He couldn’t follow the words in his head, not with any ease. It had been so many years ago, but — no, Sam had never been really clear, which it was. He’d assumed because he’d been a dumb kid. They’d both been dumb kids. And he’d been sure that they were going to change the world, yeah, but they were going to do it together, and how was Sam going to do anything by being just another fucking wage slave, and especially one who’d just gotten some shit job where she didn’t even get paid. Cocky Gunner had been sure that was some kind of fucking rip-off gig and a piece of crap. And maybe he’d been right, but it had been their last fight, so he’d avoided thinking about it for years.

  He stared at Horse, and everything he hadn’t been able to finish thinking was there in his eyes.

  Horse nodded. “I’ll make some calls. Find out what she was looking at, what she might have found out. Who we can talk to.” Horse lifted the bottle to fill it again, and Gunner nearly choked. He reached forward, grabbing the bottle, splashing whiskey over both of them. Horse shouted but stared as Gunner lifted the bottle up into the air.

  There, on the bottom, was a symbol sketched in black. The bottle from Horse’s private collection that no one goddamn well touched. He wouldn’t have known the symbol twenty-four hours ago, but now… Lola had drawn it for him in the dirt outside the Red Vipers’ clubhouse. It had been etched into the base of a bullet that had been hanging from her kidnapper’s rearview mirror.

  “Horse,” Gunner said, his voice scratchy and broken. The man had been here. The man had touched absolutely everything that Gunner had ever considered his.

  The man was going to die.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Gunner was gone, Lola let her knees give way. She managed to collect herself enough not to fall in the goddamn cum stain, but that was as much as she could manage at that exact moment. She should have kept her mouth shut. She shouldn’t have asked. She knew better than to ask for things. Than to want things. Hadn’t she learned well enough in her life? That asking for things led to pain and misery and shattered expectations. Nothing good, ever.

  She gave herself a solid five minutes to wallow in misery, in hating herself for wanting things that she shouldn’t ask for, and then she made herself pull her phone out of her skirt pocket and tap in the number that she’d memorized back in Laurel’s apartment. She probably ought to climb those stairs again, wait with her until her girlfriend came back, but she couldn’t stand the thought of it. The woman looked at her like she was the worst kind of traitor, and maybe she was. Maybe she’d played this whole damn thing wrong from the first second, but what could she possibly do about it? Looking back, thinking it over, there wasn’t a single thing that she could have done differently. In hindsight, sure, there were isolated events that might have played out in a different way, but knowing what she knew at each moment, there was nothing she could point to and say yes, that was the change that would have made this okay. She had to trust Laurel and Gunner. How hard would the police really have looked for the child of a known gang member and a dead black woman? It hurt, but she couldn’t find herself believing that they would’ve looked for Grace half as hard as she and Gunner had. And as much as she wanted to believe they would look for any child as hard as any other child… it just didn’t seem true. You only had to turn on the news at night, follow half a dozen hashtags on social media, to know that some kids were worthier than others. Sick as it was.

  She pushed away those thoughts. They weren’t serving her now. She didn’t have a madman in a blue box at her disposal, and she didn’t have a time turner. She had to exist in the here and now and find a solution that would help her, help Grace, help all of them. For Gunner. Even if he didn’t want her. The child needed to be brought home safe. Grace was still her responsibility.

  She dialed the number, the one the kidnapper had used to provide proof of life. It only took a moment for the phone to pick up.

  “Took you long enough,” he said.

  “I figured you were making a point, calling from an unblocked number,” she replied. “I’m surprised you answered, though. I want the girl back.”

  “I want a lot of things, Miss Sykes,” the man said.

  “Tell me your name,” she replied. Let him give her something, anything.

  Still, when he said, “Soren Keller,” she jumped a little bit. She hadn’t expected anything like a response. Who knew if it was an honest one. It didn’t matter. He hadn’t made her fight for it, which was strange, odd. An offering of some kind.

  “What do you want, Mr. Keller?”

  “I want to get out of some very bad trouble. I do not
want this girl to get hurt, Miss Sykes, and I feel like I’ve been very clear about that. I’ve done quite a lot to keep her safe. Not just getting her medicine, which I consider an act that any decent human being would’ve completed, but things you don’t realize yet. She has been in incredible danger for years, and no one knew it. But very recently, someone found out, and now some very, very bad men are following her, trying to get what she knows.”

  “She’s a little kid,” Lola said. She didn’t realize how loud her voice was until she heard it echo back to her, bouncing off the roof of the parking structure. She forced herself to lower her voice, take a breath, calm down as much as she could. “She’s a child. What could she possibly know that would have caused all this chaos?”

  The man on the phone — Keller — laughed, and it was one of the most awful sounds Lola had ever heard in her life. “Ironically, Miss Sykes, if I knew that, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I’m not sure even the child knows what she knows. It’s just not as simple as all of that.”