Breaker: Gravediggers MC

by Paula Cox

  This cocky, arrogant bastard of a guy who had kept me captive and then tried to claim me as his property has managed to weasel his way under my skin. He had promised to protect me, and he had lived up to it. I can’t deny that. Even though forced, our bond has become more than just between the sheets. I owe him my loyalty, as useless as it may be when it comes to Gravediggers. And I couldn’t let him possibly go down because of me running away.

  I want to tell Breaker that all of the above are the reasons I turned back and came to his motel room. When he’d asked why I’d simply said to be with him and if he’d accept me again. After he said yes, everything melted. The room spun. My feet felt lighter. The dim pounding in my head quieted down.

  And now all I can feel is the roughness of his hands as they travel up the length of my body.

  His scent, that earthy musk that seems to drip off his body, is intoxicating and everything that happened before this moment has fallen by the wayside. I’m speechless as I grab on with my legs circled around his waist for balance. All I can think about is the taste of his skin on my tongue and how much I just want him to take me right here, right now.

  Breaker’s strong hands cup my breasts, bringing them up to meet his mouth. He suckles on one of the nipples with such force that my head flies back toward the wall. My hands wrap around the back of the desk I’m sitting on—not just for anchoring, but also to keep me from pushing him away. The sensation of him nibbling at me makes every part of me quiver and squeal. My hips naturally push into him while my legs pull his firm erection closer and closer to me.

  The cotton panties I’m wearing feel soaked already. The fabric itches at my skin as I long to pull them to the side and let him go at me. He must be reading my mind. A hand claws at the underside of my black skirt and pulls them down the length of my legs until they hit my knees. I do the rest from there while he unbuckles his pants.

  Fully undressed, Breaker stares back at me longingly, his tan, muscular chest and strong, forcible arms almost twitching in anticipation. I want all of him on me, pushing into me. He almost dives into me, throwing me back against the wall. I mash my mouth to his, feeling his tongue, another muscle he’d finely honed, dancing with my own.

  He nuzzles into me, with his two-day-old scruff scratching against my neck. His hands grope every part of me, not sensually but forcefully. He’s telling me I’m his.

  But I’m not ready to be his—not yet.

  I push back on him, allowing my hands to cop a feel of that massive chest before nudging him with more force away. I lay a kiss on his cheek, then down his neck, along his collarbone, to his sternum, teasing him while he anticipates what’s next. Finally, I make it down past his six-pack abs to the insides of his legs. I kiss them gentler, my lips lingering just long enough to make him squirm, before moving my mouth to his cock.

  A single bead of precum sits on the tip of his shaft. I wink up at him and lick it off, then proceed to move my tongue around the head. I turn and, almost upside-down, give some attention to the bottom, paying special closeness to the vein that’s now throbbing with desire.

  I place my hands on either side of his cock, feeling his entire body tense up as I lick teasingly in long, broad strokes. Eventually, I give him what he wants, what his body is aching for; I open wide and take him fully into my mouth, his hardness going for the back of my throat. I feel his hands, one on my shoulder, the other on my head, pushing me into him. I let him do it; I want him to do it.

  I increase my speed, my mouth forming a suction around his erection. He pushes back, and I force myself to take him all the way in, my entire mouth wrapping around his cock like I can’t get enough. In a way, I can’t.

  He lets me go, and I take a deep breath as I go back to loving flicks of my tongue. I give him one last lick down the bottom of his shaft before making my way up. I stand before him, my fingers immediately shooting to my clit. I’m vaguely aware of how wet I’ve gotten, but right now, there is just him, locked dead on me like a heat-seeking missile.

  With a cross between a groan and a grunt, he hikes the rest of my skirt up and shoves his cock into me. There’s no need for me to even lead him inside my pussy. He knows my body like a favorite book. His lingering fingers play at my pages, opening it carefully before thumbing at the best parts.

  The pressure of his long cock inside of me used to be unbearable, but now it glides into me like it’s always belonged there. He gives a few slow thrusts, pulling himself almost completely out. Both of us look down to watch the long shaft slide, coming back wetter and wetter each time. And then, with a wordless growl, he gets to work.

  I have just enough time to scoot myself to the very end of the desk before he pummels into my folds. I try to move with him, following his patterns, but he’s too fast. It’s almost like lightning how each stroke strikes me. My toes curl deeper into his skin, and my nails crunch down on his back. He lets out a shout, but it’s not from pain. It’s something deeper, more natural than that.

  Breaker’s eyes open. They hold mine as I tip back slightly, giving him an even better angle in which to take me. He digs straight into me again, more and more powerful with each motion. All the while, I melt and fall to pieces over and over again as I cry out his name. “Breaker! Take me! Breaker!” I can’t stop saying it. Even his words sound like they belong to our love making.

  The ball of twine inside my stomach unfurls. The pressure in me tightens and then relaxes, each time letting go even more. The muscles in my vagina that hold on to him spark like a campfire being lit until I can’t hold it anymore. I feel as if I am about to burst into flames from my fingernails to the tip of my head. I scream out his name again.

  But to my surprise, he eases off a little and presses deeper into me. I feel his body fall on mine, his chin resting in the crook of my shoulder. He chokes back something, maybe my name, but the sound echoes between our bodies. Breaker doesn’t pull away as he comes. His cock lingers inside of me, rocking the last of himself until he is empty.

  We both stay motionless, soundless except for our panting breaths and our hands slapping the wood top of the dresser. When he’s ready to let go, he pulls away. My pussy tries to clench onto his still stiff cock, which makes the feeling even more delicious for the both of us. Breaker can’t hide that swift little smirk that crosses his face.

  “I’ve never done that,” he finally remarks while he walks towards the bed to grab the towel I used after my shower. “I mean, I’ve never come inside anyone before. It was fucking awesome.”

  “I’ve never let any guy do it either.” It’s true. I’ve never been so sure about anyone else, but I can’t bring myself to say it. Still, I think he knows. We both know. Me coming back to him made what we just did different from the times before—when we were playing around or doing it because we needed someone warm to cling to.

  After a long while, he sits next to me, still on the desk, and stares at the other side of the room, as if he can see through the walls. No doubt, there’s a Gravedigger in the conjoining room sleeping off a hard night or getting ready for a new shift. Who knows if they heard.

  “What’s next, kid? What’s your plan? Because I sure as fuck don’t have one.”

  I look at him, more tired than I should be, as I say, “I get caught.”

  “What?” He looks at me, his eyes blinking.

  I stand up quickly, grabbing my panties and pulling down my skirt around them. I find my shirt and my bra next. He waits for me to turn towards him. “You have to go,” I say firmly. “You don’t want to get caught when I show my face.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  Honestly, I’m not sure yet, but I blurt out, “The bar. I figure it’s the easiest way to get caught. They probably aren’t really looking for me around here.”

  “And what are you going to say? That you just went on a little, twelve-hour walk after disposing of a body with me?”

  “Yeah. I guess. I’m going to say that I tried to escape, but I came back. My dad a
lways told me that when I have to lie, keep it as close to the truth as possible.” That was true. While lying got a whipping in my family, there were a lot of secrets to hide in my past. That little piece of advice probably kept me alive when being questioned by marks or other scammers.

  “That’s suicide! You’re out of your damn mind.” He grabs my arm when I’m halfway out the door. I scan for anyone that may see us, but the surrounding rooms are mostly dark, and there’s no one idling in the courtyard. The bikers are probably where I want them to be, back at the bar.

  “We’ve got to do something. And this is it. I can take whatever they want to throw at me, Breaker. Can you?” I know that calling him out isn’t exactly the best choice, but I have to use some reverse psychology to get his ego to let me go. My main concern was making it out alive, and I need to be on my toes to con the rest of these guys to let me back in. Breaker’s grip isn’t helping either. When he lets me go, I almost fly forward.

  “Do me a favor, Breaker,” I say as I turn back to his stunned gorgeous face. “Give me about an hour and then meet me at the bar. When you see me getting drunk, please try to act surprised.”

  I know Breaker’s honest to a fault. I know he can sniff out deceit like the best of them. But I didn’t know how good of a liar he could be. I just hope he’s a good of an actor as he is a lover.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Breaker

  “What’s your plan?” I ask as I talk into the phone over the noise on the other end. Aimee sure picked the worst time to pull off this job.

  “I go in. I sit at the bar. And I order a damn drink. I figure I’m going to need one,” she answers, carefully.

  “And you’re just going to act like nothing happened?”

  Aimee corrects me, “Nothing did happen. I was short on funds, so I went out to town in hopes of grabbing a few extra bucks for some food after you dropped me off back at the hotel. I had zero idea that those guys were on the hunt for me.”

  I know this excuse will probably work for a few of the slower guys in the club. Hell, it may work for me if I wasn’t deep in the situation, but she sure wasn’t going to pull this over on Biggs. My gut told me that I was about to let my woman walk into a lion’s den.

  As if sensing my hesitation, she adds with an air of confidence, “Just give me fifteen minutes and walk into the bar. Act surprised to see me. Hopefully, no one saw you when you dropped me off at that store…”

  “That’s not what I would worry about. I’m more convinced you’re about to end up in that fake grave with Henry. Should I get the shovel ready?” I can’t help being testy about this whole thing. I hate giving up control or not knowing what the outcome will be. She was really grating on my nerves by insisting on doing it her way.

  “Just be there.” Aimee sighs. “The rest, well, leave it up to me.” I can almost see her bite that ruby red bottom lip of hers and wink at me as she says this.

  My head smacks the back of the driver side seat in frustration as I hang up. What have I fucking done in my other lives to get wrapped up in an irritating, addictive chick like Aimee?

  I count the minutes down as I watch the club from the parking lot across the street. Nothing looks out of the ordinary. The regulars and club members stream in and out with warm beers and hand-rolled cigarettes in their hands. A few hang out on the porch, talking so loud that I can hear them from here. I make a mental note to shut them up when things settle down.

  But as I’m taking in the guys spreading Gravedigger secrets to the neighborhood, something through the window catches my eyes. Something—maybe an arm or an elbow or a bottle flies past the two framed windows and out of view. Someone’s large back gets up to stand, rushing towards where the object landed. The rowdy music is masked by the shouts of men and then one distinct yell—Aimee’s.

  I knew it. I freaking knew that this was going to happen. I put the car in park as I dart across the street towards the bar. Already, a few of the girls are retreating, practically running away from the scene.

  One of them says to her friend, “She slapped him! She fucking slapped him! She may be dead, but she’s got balls.”

  Slapped who? Was this part of her plan? With Aimee, it felt as if anything was possible. I whip open the metal screen door. Frozen inside, I try to take it all in. The room is basically split in half. Biggs’ loyal men, with the new boys flanking Wesley, the punk that danced up on Aimee and then tried to fight me over it back at that hotel in Colorado. He holds his lily-white hand to his cheek where a small scratch leaks drops of fresh blood.

  On the other side of the bar is Aimee. Her chest heaves in what looks like anger and her jaw grinds back and forth, but I can’t tell if it’s put on or not. Her tan fists clench at her sides. One of my friends, Red, stands behind her, whispering in her ear. She nods a few times, not wanting to turn herself away from Wesley.

  I clear my throat as loud as possible, but no one even dares to blink. The tension seems to boil and bubble over so I do the only thing I can think of to break through. Grabbing an empty bottle left by the windowsill, I smash it on the edge of a black metal table. The glass crushes under my feet as I stand up on the faux-leather chair.

  All of the heads in the bar turn to me as my voice begins to boom, “Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on in here?”

  Everyone looks over towards Aimee, and I realize that this is the time when I’m supposed to act surprised. I let my face fall, and then my eyes squint as if they don’t recognize what they see. She smiles slightly but then walks down at her hands.

  I shout over the music towards her, “What the hell are you doing here, Aimee? Do you know we’ve been fucking hunting you down all night?!”

  “I—I—I—” Like a child, she kicks at an imaginary rock on the ground while stammering with her well-thought out explanation. “I didn’t go anywhere, Breaker. I was only going to pull a job and then come back. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal…”

  She almost sounded convincing. The side of the room with my friendlies even nodded as they talked amongst themselves. They seemed to take this at face value. After all, why would she come back if she was lying?

  “She’s a lying bitch, Breaker!” Wesley breaks through the noise as he approaches my chair. “This skank ran and then chickened out when she knew she’d get caught.”

  “What did you call me?” Aimee looks offended. Her hate for this little prick seemed to radiate off of her as she tried to defend herself. “I’m not lying! With Henry gone, I had to! You guys expect me to starve here?”

  “Henry?” Red chimes in. My heart sinks as I realize just how much of a mistake Aimee has made by bringing him up. Henry’s “death” wasn’t supposed to be spread throughout the club. In the past, these guys just disappeared, joined new clubs, quit on the road… the darker inner workings of the club were kept quiet.

  “We’ll talk later about that.” I snap, shirking the subject. “I want to know what the fuck happened.”

  “That perv took another pass at me, Breaker” Aimee points at Wesley as she screams out. The men around her nod as they eye me, searching for some reaction that shows Aimee’s still my property.

  Wesley laughs out loud with that sniveling twerp of a laugh of his. “This bitch doesn’t know shit. All I did was touch her knee. After all, Biggs told us that she didn’t belong to anyone and we could do what we want to her. She can’t pass me off if she wa—”

  I have my hand up, ready to cut him off, but he stops short himself. His head turns towards the door where the offices are. Biggs steps into the light of the bar, dressed only in a pair of dirty jean shorts and a sweaty tank.

  “Breaker! What the hell?”

  “I was trying to break up this shit, boss. You wanna blame someone, blame the damn kid again.”

  There’s a rumble of support, but Biggs doesn’t register it. His eyes are fixed on Aimee who is holding her arms across her chest as if it would help her shrink into the background.

  “M
y office. The three of you.” He turns his back on us and walks off.

  I let Aimee go first, Wesley next, and take the rear. The point of all of this is to act surprised and show no involvement. I couldn’t show my hand by being too eager to defend her. I had to put some trust in her that she knew what the hell she was about to do.

  Aimee’s halfway through her explanation when I get into the office, her arms still crossed over her chest. She goes back and forth between us, looking as if she will cry one moment then punch someone the next. But she manages to keep it together, even giving elaborate descriptions of the places she claims to have been. Stick to the truth, Aimee, I think.

  When she’s done, Biggs turns to me with a half smile, “You believe this shit?”