by Jenika Snow
“Yup,” Mayhem said without any emotion.
“I don’t think you should kill him.”
“That’s not your call. When you came here beat the fuck up because of that asshole you didn’t get the decision to tell me how I protect my sister, or how Big protects his old lady.”
She didn’t question how Mayhem knew she was Big’s old lady now, because she knew Big had told him, might have even told all the crew. This time was different. It felt different, felt like things would be the way they should have two years ago, how she’d wanted them to be. Some might think she was being a silly girl thinking she’d finally gotten what she wanted, for believing a biker, but she knew Big, loved him, and she knew this time they really were together in the only way a woman could be tied to a biker, could be his irrevocably: as his old lady.
“Do I think he needs the living shit scared out of him? Hell yeah, and I wish I could be the one to do it.” She looked at Mayhem, and she knew she had a glint of interest on her face.
“Wipe that thought off your fucking radar, Claire. Ain’t no way I’m letting you go anywhere near that prick, even if we’re there.” He drank more beer, set the bottle down, and smiled, but it wasn’t one of amusement. “Let us do this, Claire. Let us hurt him because he needs to know he can’t fuck with you like that and not face the repercussions.”
She looked at Big through the reflection in the mirror, saw him watching her from the corner of the club, his focus trained right on her, and a beer bottle in his hand.
“You don’t want me to kill the fucker, I won’t, but only because you’re my sister and asked me not to. I love you and only want you happy. But make no mistake that I want that fucker’s head.” He was silent for a moment. “But I can’t stop Big.”
She looked at Mayhem again.
“You’re his old lady, and I ain’t stepping between that. He wants blood, and he deserves to get it. We deserve to get vengeance on your behalf.”
She shook her head, knowing she was going to have to convince Big not to kill Steven. She didn’t want that death on his soul, not because of her.
You came here, brought it on the club.
It was true, but that didn’t mean she wanted death hanging over everyone.
Chapter Eleven
The party was still on full power, but Big was focused on Claire, and only Claire. He stalked toward her after he finished off his shot, and when he grabbed her waist and pulled her back toward him, he loved the squeal of surprise that came from her. Inhaling deeply, he took in the scent of her, the way she made his dick hard in zero to sixty with only a look.
Never had a woman made him feel so damn protective, so possessive and even obsessed with her. Before Claire he had just been one of those typical man-whore assholes that cared only about getting his dick wet, and cared nothing about what the females thought or what anyone said. He supposed that was still the same, and nothing had changed, but Claire made him feel different.
“Come to the backroom with me, baby,” he said against her throat, ran his tongue along her slightly salty, yet still sweet flesh, and ground his dick into the small of her back.
“Why?” she asked in a teasing voice.
He nipped at her skin until he felt her shiver against him. “’Cause I want to taste you without all these fucking people around.”
“I thought you liked when people watched you being dirty?” She turned around in his arms, wrapped herself around him like she was some kind of pretzel, and pressed her belly purposefully against his cock.
“Come with me before I fucking come in my jeans right now.”
She grinned, and he bent down and nipped her bottom lip.
He led them toward the back hallway, away from the crowd, and slipped into one of the storage rooms. There were boxes pushed up against the wall, a few fold-up tables, even a dusty bed against. He closed the door, and without waiting for her to start talking, or maybe grab his dick like he wanted her to do, Big pushed her up against the door and took her mouth in a devouring kiss.
He sucked on her tongue, licked a path down her mouth, chin, along her neck, and continued his downward path until he was shoving her pants and panties down and staring at her lightly trimmed pussy. He could see that she was aroused by the wet spot on her panties, smelled the musky goodness from her cream fill his nose, and a deep, guttural groan left him.
“You smell so damn good. My cock is liable to explode before I even taste you, baby.”
She moaned above him. “I have to talk to you,” she said on a half groan, half whisper. He ignored her and grabbed her leg, her jeans and panties making it so she couldn’t spread fully. Fuck that. Big ripped her pants away and tossed them aside. He grabbed her leg again, lifted it up and over his shoulder, and then took his hand and pulled her pussy lips apart.
“Big, seriously, we need to talk,” she said on another groan.
“Later, baby. Let me taste you first.” He turned her around, loved when her hands slapped on the wood from the action, and spread her ass. He took in the sight of her puckered asshole, of her pussy hole that slightly gaped for him, and trained his gaze on her clit. The little nub was hard as hell. He started licking at her clit, dragging his tongue up and down her cunt, and sucking all her cream away.
She kept trying to say something about talking, but he was too focused on eating her out. Big sucked on her clit hard. He pulled away and thrust a finger into her pussy, fucking her with the digit. He loved how she ground herself on him, thrust her hips up and down, trying to get off. She climaxed right then, a fast orgasm that turned him on like mad. He kept her ass spread with one hand, and latched his mouth on her anus, sucking at the tight hole, licking at it, and plunging his tongue in and out of her back entrance.
“Big,” she said his name softly, but then her voice caught and she moaned.
He rimmed her ass, felt his cock grow impossibly, painfully hard, and knew he’d need to be in her pussy soon or he’d come in his jeans.
When her climax ended he stood, about to pull his cock out, but she turned and placed her hands on his, stopping him.
“Big, wait,” Claire said, panting from her post-orgasmic pleasure.
“Baby, this can wait, maybe until after I’ve filled you with cum?” He grinned.
She moaned softly, but shook her head. “If I don’t talk about this now I’ll get too wrapped up in what happens, and this is really important.”
He knitted his brows and took a step back. “Okay, baby, but you’ve kind of got me worried now.”
She shook her head again. “Don’t be worried. I just—” She looked at the ground, and then bent and grabbed her pants and panties. She put them on, and when she was straightened and looked at him again she breathed out. “I know you and Mayhem are going after Steven.”
He grunted and nodded once. Reaching into his cut he grabbed a joint and his lighter. This was clearly a heavy discussion. After lighting the end and taking a hit, he exhaled and waited for her to continue.
“Listen, as much as I hate Steven, think his balls need to be cut off and put in a jar on the mantel, killing him isn’t the best way to end this.”
He inhaled and exhaled once more before speaking. “Who said anything about killing him?” The look she gave him told him she knew those words were bullshit.
“I know you and my brother, and blood is what you want.”
“He doesn’t deserve to be alive, not after what he did to you, and probably other women.”
She didn’t speak right away, just stared down at her feet for several seconds. “I wanted him dead after I left and came here. But the more I thought about it the more I knew having his death hanging over us wouldn’t help us move forward.” She lifted her head. Strands of black hair fell over her forehead, and his fingers itched to push them away. “You want to move forward with me, right?”
He took another hit off of the joint, thinking about her question even though he already knew the answer. Taking a step closer to her he hel
d the joint in one hand and smoothed his fingers of his other hand over her cheek. He blew out the smoke, making a hazy cloud around them. “You know I want that, baby. Ever since I realized we’ve wasted too much time that’s all I’ve wanted with you.”
She smiled and cupped his hand that held her cheek.
“I want to make sure you’re safe, Claire. I want to make sure that any threat is handled and won’t come back.”
They looked at each other in the eyes, neither speaking right away.
“I know, and I love you even more for that, but I don’t want you killing him. I’ve already spoken to Mayhem, and he’s agreed.”
Big stepped back again, finished off his joint, and put the burnt out end in the ashtray on the table by the door. “You knew coming here all fucked up like that, telling us what happened, would mean the club would have to retaliate.”
She nodded. “Yeah, and I wanted Steven’s blood for it. But as the days passed I realized him dying won’t solve anything. The situation still would have happened. I’d rather him live in fear for the rest of his life than have you guys killing him and making his worthless existence end.”
Putting the fear of the club in that piece of shit had its appeal. “Making promises isn’t something I do, baby.” Big was being truthful. He’d never lie to Claire, never lie to his club or who he cared about, but she had to know that even if he said he’d spare that asshole’s life when it came down to it, his aggression and determination to make things right on that end would take priority.
“I know, Big, but I’m just asking that you really consider letting him live.”
“I’ll consider it, but I make no promises, Claire. You know that.”
She nodded.
He moved closer to her again, moved his hand behind her neck, cupping her nape, and kissed her forehead. “No, let’s not think about that bastard. Right now I need my dick in that sweet pussy of yours.” And when she melted into him he knew this conversation was over.
Good, because he wanted his woman only thinking about the good shit, and he was about to be real good to her.
Chapter Twelve
They’d arrived in the city where Claire had been living for the last two years, parked their Harleys across the street from Steven’s place, and just sat there staring at the two story house. It was a decent place, one that let Big know this fucker was clearly doing well enough. The red sports car in the driveway was itching to get keyed, but Big didn’t do that petty bullshit anymore. He might have been a hellion when he was a kid, reckless and destructive, and would have had no issues fucking up a prick’s car, but right now the only thing he’d fuck up was Steven.
Through the open window Big could see the asshole moving around, and then it showed a woman was in there with him. Steven grabbed her around the waist, pulled her head back with a hand in her hair, and Big saw a flash of pain wash across her face. That pissed Big off. He might not know the woman, not care what the fuck she did in her life, but no way in hell did a man put his hands on a female and hurt her, not unless she wanted it. And it was clear by the woman’s expression she wasn’t all about having that kind of pain.
“I’m going to make him suffer, that motherfucking prick asshole.” Big got off his bike, sensing Mayhem coming close behind.
“You leave a piece of him for me.”
Big grunted in response to Mayhem’s statement. They walked up the front steps, and without knocking opened the door. Big would have kicked the damn thing down, but he didn’t need a disturbance being called into the local police department. This little visit was only for them.
The woman and Steven were still standing in the living room, but Steven now had his hand on her chin. Her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, and the discomfort on her face was clearly evident.
“Hey, what the fuck—” Steven’s words were cut off when he stared at Big and Mayhem.
Mayhem hadn’t shut the front door yet, and when Steven saw them standing there he let go of the woman. Big could see a white bandage on his temple and a bruise creeping out from under it and moving along his forehead. Good, his woman got the fucker.
“Sweetheart, go home,” Big said and stepped aside. She grabbed her purse off the couch and left out the front door quickly. At least she was smart enough not to question anything.
Mayhem shut the door, and the silence grew among the three of them. The tension was thick, the anger coming from Big and Mayhem filling this asshole’s place.
“You know who we are and why we’re here?” Big asked, not caring about the answer either way, because the end result would still be the same.
Steven looked at them, stared at their cuts, and the realization of who they were, and the reason they were here, was clear on his face. There was also recognition on Steven’s face when he looked at Big, and he knew from Mayhem that this little prick had seen pictures of Big and Claire from back in the day.
“Yeah, this fucker knows who we are,” Big said and smirked. Mayhem was deathly silent behind Big, but he felt the man’s anger like his own. They moved closer, Mayhem’s footsteps on the carpet seeming just as loud as the blood rushing through Big’s veins.
“Get the hell out of my house,” Steven said, but his voice shook, his body seeming to curl in on itself slightly, and Big could see that he was about to shit his pants.
Good.
Big stepped closer. “You think it’s cool to hit a woman?”
“That situation doesn’t concern you … or him,” Steven said and gestured toward Mayhem.
Big looked back at his VP, and both of them made this low, deadly sound. Big looked at the asshole again. “Doesn’t concern us?” Big moved closer, cracked his knuckles, and rolled his head around his neck. “You know that scary bastard back there likes to kill men with his bare hands, and also happens to be her brother.”
Steven moved backward again, but the wall stopped him from escaping any further.
“And this motherfucker happens to be my sister’s old man, and is also one violent beast that has more blood staining his soul than a demon,” Mayhem said, now standing right beside Big.
“Get out,” Steven said again, and went for his phone that was in his jeans pocket.
Big was on him in the next second, tearing the phone from his hand, and tossing his cell across the wall. The metal crashed against the plaster, shattering to pieces and falling to the floor.
Steven’s eyes were wide, and Big could actually smell his fear, see it on his face, and taste it in the air. He felt primal right now, animalistic, and ready to tear this asshole apart.
“I’ll call backup.”
That had Big laughing.
“You and your little asshole friend with your pathetic boys’ club can go back to that bitch Claire—”
Big sobered instantly, grabbed onto Steven’s neck, and tightened his hold. He held onto the little asshole’s throat, squeezed his fingers around his neck even more, and lifted him off the ground another inch. Big stared into his eyes, saw capillaries had burst, the whites red, his face a ruddy color and his mouth opening and closing, his body desperate for air. Big sensed Mayhem right behind him, so he looked over his shoulder, and saw the other Patch leaning against the couch, his arms crossed over his chest.
Big looked back at Steven, stared at his throat, at the skin that was white beneath his hand because he was squeezing so tightly, and lifted his gaze to Steven’s face.
“Pppp,” Steven gasped out, the man trying to beg for his life. Big had no compassion, but he loosened his hold enough the motherfucker could gasp for air. He still held onto his throat, because no way was this prick getting off easy.
“I could snap your neck and it wouldn’t take any effort, like breaking a toothpick in half.” Big didn’t know what Claire had seen in this prick, didn’t even care anymore. “You fucked with my woman, the girl I love, and the one that’s my old lady.” Big leaned in. “Do you know what that means?”
The man gurgled, able to breathe—somewha
t—but not able to actually answer. Big hadn’t even asked the question to garner a response, because he didn’t care what this motherfucker had to say. All he cared about was making him pay.
“I…” Steven gurgled again, and Big smirked, not finding this humorous, but feeling an evil, dark side rise up in him.
“You what, couldn’t help yourself, didn’t mean to hit her, put your goddamned hands on her?” Big lifted an eyebrow, waiting for a response. Steven shook his head, clawed at Big’s hand, but he held firm on the prick, made sure he knew who was stronger. “I want to kill you so damn badly, want you to hurt far more than you hurt Claire.” He leaned in closer to Steven. “I want you to cry, beg me to give you mercy.”
“Please,” Steven finally wheezed out.
Big knew this type of guy, had seen them countless times. They were assholes, abusers to woman because they saw them as inferior, weaker. They talked a lot, made threats, and exerted their control and power on them. But when they were up against real men, all bets were off. They were nothing but little bitches that shit their pants and begged for mercy.
“She doesn’t want him dead,” Mayhem said in a bland voice.
Yeah, Big knew that, and as much as he wanted to say fuck it and just gut this worthless piece of shit and be done with it, not follow anyone’s rules but his own, the fact remained he’d do anything for Claire. She’d asked him not to kill Steven, for the sole reason that she thought it wouldn’t tarnish Big’s and Mayhem’s already black, damaged soul. She didn’t want this hanging over them, and as much as he wanted to just end this asshole’s life, go back to her, and lie about it, he wouldn’t do that.
He let go of Steven, watched the prick fall to the floor, scrambling for air, trying to stand, and in one swift move Big brought his boot to Steven’s gut. He slammed against the wall hard, gasped out in pain, and Big kicked him again. He then reached down and hauled him off the ground, brought his fist back, and slammed his knuckles into the side of Steven’s face. He heard bone crunch, saw blood start to pour out of Steven’s nose, and loved the sound of his cries as agony consumed him.