Outlaw Daddy: Satan's Breed MC

by Paula Cox

  And with that weight shifted, he could see Lola with new eyes. Fresh eyes. This woman had walked through fire right alongside him, put herself in danger over and over with no guarantee that anything was going to get any better or be any different, and she’d never paused. She’d never questioned if it was the right thing to do. She’d just helped. She was beautiful. She was here, in his arms. And maybe it was the emotion talking, maybe it was the stress, but he could only think of one thing to do.

  “I love you,” he whispered. Her eyes widened, and before he could scare himself wondering if she was surprised or happy or something in between, he kissed her.

  He’d shared plenty of kisses with her in the past few days, and every one of them had been good. There was something about this one, though. Whether it was being surrounded by his family, or the thrill of life or death, or the knowledge that they finally had a good lead to try and get his daughter back, something felt amazing and deep and powerful. Kissing her felt more honest, more real, than it ever had before.

  She seemed to share his feelings. She tightened her arms around him, molding her body to him, and letting out tiny little moans as he fit their mouths together perfectly. The kiss ended only when Horse let out a little throat clearing chuckle.

  “All right, lovebirds,” Horse said. “Reunion’s over. Time to get cracking on to where the hell this girl is.”

  Gunner forced himself to loosen his grip on Lola, but before he actually let go, she squeezed his hand. He glanced at her, and she mouthed the words, “I love you,” back before she let go of his hand. Something deep inside of him swelled, and he had to buckle down to keep from exploding into a grin that would have split his face open. He moved to Horse, who had his gun on the man who had been sitting opposite Lola, at the other end of the table.

  “This is Damian Roth,” Horse said, his voice calm and level. “Runs a few banks downtown, but more importantly, keeps money clean for any number of dirty interests in the area.” He gestured with his chin at one of the Vipers, a tall and burly man with curly black hair and dark brown skin. “Carl ID’d him. Says the Vipers used to use his services, but that the company went dark a few years back, then resurfaced with a shiny new client list, and old friends were no longer welcome.”

  Gunner nodded. He put his hip up on the table, trying to look conversational and “Good Cop.”

  “I suppose you’ve already tried tracing the feed back to that camera?” He pointed at the screen without letting himself actually look at it. He didn’t want to see his little girl’s face, twisted with stress and worry.

  Roth didn’t look up and didn’t say a thing. So much for “Good Cop” then; there was no way Gunner was going to be able to control himself in the face of a pissant in a business suit who thought he didn’t need to speak to a man who had a question. Horse was just going to need to be “Good Cop” for a change.

  Gunner shifted his balance so that his foot rested on the edge of the chair, the steel toe of his motorcycle boot resting right on top of Roth’s junk.

  “I’m not a patient man,” he said, keeping his voice as calm and level as he could. Which wasn’t very calm or level at this point, but hey, it was worth a try. “I’m going to ask again. And if you don’t answer me, I’m going to squash your fucking pencil dick into paste. We clear?”

  He saw Roth’s jaw clench, but the man didn’t look up. He glanced at Horse, who nodded and gestured at one of the women who’d come along with them. She went to the bank of monitors and started tracing wires. As soon as she found the main computer bank, she pulled something out of a small knapsack, and he could hear the clicking of keyboard keys.

  “We’re going to track down whatever you have going on here,” Gunner said, still striving to make his voice conversational. “I just want you to answer now, so you know that you will. So you know I don’t give a shit about what you think, what you want, what you think is most important. Who you think you might be protecting. Did you try and trace the signal yourself already?”

  Roth was clearly gritting his teeth, expecting the pain. It seemed only right to give it to him.

  It was a while before he screamed, but by then, Gunner had found out everything he needed to know.

  Chapter Thirty

  Lola had to turn away when Gunner started doing — whatever he was doing that made Roth, the man who’d introduced himself to her as Black, scream like that. She knew why it was happening, and she couldn’t bring herself to disagree that it was necessary, but at the same time, this was the life she had sworn she would never be a part of. And yet, she’d just told the man she loved him. Well, mouthed it. Close enough.

  That kiss, it had seared her lips, tattooed itself on her heart, made everything between her thighs throb — and then he’d done something so incredibly cruel she’d had to close her eyes and refuse to see it. Without a second thought. A man who would fight so hard for his daughter, who would fight so hard for her — that had to be a good thing. An honorable thing. Didn’t it?

  The man didn’t scream for long. He gasped out whatever it was that Gunner wanted to know, and Gunner stopped the pain. He stepped back and away, and Lola could breathe again. He came to her quickly, but he didn’t try to turn her around or push her to look at him. She watched the bikers around her start to take the various suits out of the room, and she wondered for just a moment what would happen to them next. After a moment’s thought, however, she found that she really did not care at all. They’d kidnapped a child, kidnapped her, kidnapped Laurel, and had so casually spoken about killing all of them. As if it would never take more than a second thought.

  Gunner’s hands ran up and down her arms, and she was suddenly filled with such intense need, such an insatiable and desperate drive to prove that she was vital, alive, safe. She turned against him and kissed him, hard and tight, molding her body to his again.

  “Take me somewhere,” she murmured against his mouth. “I don’t care where.”

  “Fuck, Lola,” he murmured back, his hands tight on the flesh of her hips. “I don’t know where the hell we even are.”

  She could feel him, full and hard against her belly, and she didn’t care that she wasn’t sure either. “I’m sure there’s a wall. A cot. A room with a door that closes. A room. I need you, Gunner.” She put as much stress into the word need as she could. He got the message. He tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her out of the room.

  They threaded through a maze of old, dusty cubicles, past filing cabinets and broken down bookcases, until he opened a door to reveal a small room, without too much dust or rubble. He pushed her inside and shut the door behind him. The room was instantly pitch black, no light coming from anywhere. She hit the opposite wall lightly, her hands on concrete, and she stayed there, listening for him. It was impossible to hear anything over the throb of her heart in her ears. Until his breath was on the back of her neck, hissing his pleasure with her, and she was entirely lost to everything but the sensation of his body against hers.

  “Tell me what you want,” he murmured. One hand was lightly circling the base of her throat, the other wrapped around her waist. She could feel the hard length of his erection pressed against her, thick and rigid. She bucked against him, just a little, just enough to make her gasp, hear him growl into her ear.

  There were so many options, so many things she could ask for. Given the sound of his voice in her ear, she could ask for anything, and he would give it to her. And yet she struggled to find words to articulate exactly what it was she wanted. There was a deep ache between her thighs, and she wanted him there to ease out the deep feeling of want, but there was more to it than that.

  “I don’t know how to ask you to love me and use me at the same time,” she said, wondering at her tone before she realized she’d spoken the words aloud. Her cheeks heated so much that she wondered if he could see her blush, even in such total darkness.

  “You just did,” he said, and his hands began to move, slow and sinuous, over her body. He wasn�
��t asking permission or pushing her boundaries; he was just doing exactly what she’d asked. Experiencing her body in slow, solid strokes of his fingers. He knew her now, at least the basics. How hard he could twist her nipples through her shirt. How she loved it when he cupped her cunt with the palm of his hand, and then pressed with his pointer finger just so. He stepped forward, pushing her against the wall; she let him guide her until her chest and hands were close to the concrete surface, and she bent at the hips, pushing her ass out towards him. He shoved her leggings down, exposing her ass, and cupped the round flesh in his hands, massaging her, separating her cheeks and digging his thumbs into the vulnerable flesh.

  The first smack came as a surprise, and she whimpered, rising up onto her toes. But as the shock of it faded from the fleshy part of her buttocks, it left behind a surprisingly delicious frisson, a sparkling sensation that was somewhere between pain and pleasure.

  “Tell me how that felt,” he said, his voice level, but with a note of… not quite concern, not quite worry. Something very different. Heat, she thought. Heat and need.

  “Again,” she said because it was the only word she knew.

  He smacked her again, on the other side this time, and her fingers tried to dig into the concrete as she hissed in surprised pleasure. Knowing the strike had been coming, it felt even better. Even brighter.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “Good,” she murmured. “Delicious. Again.”

  Another smack, where the first one hand landed, and the sensitive flesh was even more bright now. “Tell me.” It was a ritual at that moment. The strike of his hand, the words falling from his lips, the gasping reply from her.

  “Bright,” she said, hearing the whine in her voice as she fought to understand why this was making her pussy gush so wet and found that she didn’t care anywhere near as much as she had assumed she would. “Bright red. More. Again.”

  This time, instead of her ass, his hand came down on her cunt. Nothing like as hard as he’d hit the flesh of her cheeks, but still a strong, stinging strike. Up towards her mound, her pubic hair cushioned the sensation, but lower down, where her lips spread and her hole was exposed here, God, the stinging delight was incredible. She gasped and surged against him, her hips outside of her control, hungry and wanting and so exposed.

  She heard the quick metallic hiss of his zipper, and then his smooth, wet cockhead was pressing at her flesh. She didn’t feel bruised or pained, but she could feel, every nerve on high alert.

  “Are you my good girl?” he asked, his voice low and intense.

  “I’m whatever you want me to be,” she said, shocked at how deeply she meant the words. And then he was pressing forward, and she didn’t mean much of anything now, other than the curses spilling from her throat as he fucked her. She used the wall to press back against him, gaining the leverage she needed to push him towards just the right angle. The press of his hips against her reddened flesh brightened her further. There was a tiny amount of light that spilled under the closet door, and she could see some rough shapes now, but she still found herself squeezing her eyes shut and just embracing the sensation of him fucking her, regular and steady, each thrust pushing her a little higher towards a peak that she’d only dreamed of.

  His hands gripped her ass, his thumbs digging into the spots he’d spanked, his cock abusing her cunt with such incredible regularity, and it felt sensational. It felt beyond pleasurable. And then, when he reached down further, stroking her clit with the rough side of his thumb, everything condensed down into a supernova of pleasure, radiating from her clit in waves that dragged low, open-throated moans from her. She felt her knees go weak, and his hands catch her hips, holding her carefully as he held himself deep inside, letting her pulse on him.

  When the orgasm released her from its clutches, he pulled free from her and turned her, pressing her back up against the wall. She was almost limp, moving with him, but not yet back in full control of her body. He pulled her knee up, hooking it around his waist and supporting it, giving him room to enter her.

  “Yes?” he asked, and she nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see her.

  “More,” she said, the only word she could conjure up. She felt his breath exhale slowly as he leaned into her, his forehead to hers. She thought he’d plunge forward again, rail her against the wall, like he had in the garage, but what happened was so much more sensual. So much softer. He slid into her easily, her body wet and wide open, and she accepted him with a happy little sigh. He found a rhythm quickly, but it was slower than she’d come to expect from him. Steady, powerful, insistent, but something different from their almost vicious fucking of the last few days. His forehead was pressed against hers like he’d been welded there, and she was quite sure that if she could see well enough in the dark, she would see his eyes, wide open, staring right into hers. It was an intimidating thought, and a delicious one, and she clung to it just like she clung to his shoulders as he rocked into her.

  His thrusts rekindled her passion, and it wasn’t long before she was rocking along with him, little moans and pants accompanying the wet slap of his body against hers. He pinned her against the wall, but he couldn’t stop her hands, which stroked down his close-cropped hair, over his neck, pressing into his shoulders, and then climbing his head again to cling and do it all over again. When she came, it wasn’t a big, heady crest, but a slow, rolling thing that spread through her in low and unsteady gasps and made her moan his name over and over again, swearing that she loved him with everything she had.

  He followed her over that precipice with a sudden gasp, his body freezing for a long moment before he shattered, thrusting into her in hard, short pulses, only losing control in that last, agonized and delicious moment. He cursed and swore in her ear, muttering words that barely made any sense to her as he dropped her leg, came free of her, and wrapped his arms tight around her. She was quite sure that it was only because of the darkness that he let himself cry. She soothed him as best as she could, stroking his hair, murmuring that he was safe, that they’d get his little girl back, and that she had his back. Again, that she loved him. It might have just been her imagination, it was hard to tell, but it seemed like he held her just a little tighter when she said that.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When Gunner and Lola walked back into the conference room, he felt calmer. More centered. The monitors were turned off, so his daughter’s worried face was no longer staring at him from whatever room she was held captive in. It was a little bit easier to breathe. Most of the suits had been moved out of the room. If he listened hard, he could hear fierce sounds of flesh hitting flesh; glancing around himself, most of the Breed were still present, and most of the Vipers were gone. He could only assume that they’d linked these shitheads, through Keller, to Billy’s death, and were taking their revenge as they could. Or they were just looking to vent some fury on the mind of assholes who were happy kidnapping little girls in order to get what they needed. Whichever way it went was fine with him. The bastards deserved to be beaten within an inch of their lives.

  The asshole whose sac he’d crushed under his boot was still curled up in his chair, tears streaming down his face. Honestly, Gunner had to own that the man was moderately impressive; there were plenty of guys who would still be screaming in pain from the bruising he’d taken. Maybe the guy was into testicle abuse in his spare time. Who knew.

  Horse nodded as Gunner approached. “Good old Damian is ready to talk. Think he’s got something we might want to hear?”

  Gunner gave a shrug as he squeezed Lola’s hand one more time, then stepped away. He needed to be the big, brash biker for this, not the man who’d just made love to his girl to re-center himself and find himself all over again.

  “I guess we’ll see. It’ll make a difference whether we call an ambulance for these ugly fuckers, or just leave them here to bleed until they figure out how to get some help on their own.” He summoned a nasty grin that showed all his teeth as he steppe
d closer to the man. He could see Lola out of his peripheral vision. His girl had come out of that room somehow tougher than she’d been when she stepped inside. If he had to guess, he thought it would have something to do with how, before, she had always needed to hide the world she came from, and now, at this moment, she could flourish. Embrace her history.

  “What do you think, Roth?” he said, setting his ass up on the tabletop again. “I think I felt something pop under my boot before. You think you can get that shit repaired? Maybe if you get to a hospital real soon. But without that?” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He didn’t touch Roth’s body again, but he rested his boot on the edge of the chair, and the guy squeezed his thighs tight in reflex, trying to protect his balls. They had to be swollen and miserable at this point; Gunner couldn’t blame him.

  “I’ll tell you anything you fucking want,” Roth replied. Glancing up at his mouth, Gunner noticed that his lower lip was split, a bright bruise forming on his jaw. He must’ve tried to mouth off. Horse didn’t like it when guys in chairs got mouthy.