by V. Theia
“What do you want?”
“It’s like that, is it? We can make this pleasant you know, it doesn’t have to be this way at all.”
“Nothing is ever pleasant with you. Spit it out.”
“I need information about----”
“Nope. Not going to do that. You’ve asked before and I’ve told you time and again, it’s not happening.” He took a deep inhale and tried to steady his nerves, a kid came out of the store, looked at both men before climbing onto his pedal bike. Texas turned his attention back to the cop.
“You haven’t heard me out yet.”
A fucking cop. He was having a secret meeting with a cop no one knew about.
Shoot him now.
“Nope.”
Texas could literally think of a billion other places he wanted to be than here. And those included death-row and having sloppy-joes with the moron in charge of the country right now. He wasn’t normally one for sweaty breakouts, or nervous outbursts, but he was nervous and sweating under his clothes.
He was in that slither between rock and a hard place, having the life squeezed out of him.
“That’s not how this goes, Tait.” Malachai keeping his position by his car, smiled, seemingly in a sign of friendship, Texas suspected, but knew differently.
Yeah, he knew differently.
“You can keep asking, and my answer is still the same.”
“You know what I’ve done,” the smile gone, the friendly demeanor gone. “I could make trouble for the Souls, Tait. I don’t want to do that.”
Of course, you don’t.
“My name is Texas.”
The cop laughed and scrubbed a hand through his hair as the breeze picked up and blew some of the dark locks into his eyes. “Maybe you’ll tell me one day where that came from. Since you were born in Harrison. Long way to come.” The cop cast his gaze around as if he considered Colorado the back of beyond and further still. Texas didn’t show a flicker of emotion thinking of his home -not home- in Harrison, a quiet rural area of NY, he didn’t need reminders. Armado Springs was his home now and he wouldn’t let anyone, this cop included look at it like it was shit on his loafers.
“I’m not doing this again. Find another puppet.” He began to turn to walk away.
“You don’t want to do that, Tait. Think about what Addison would say if she knew you were being uncooperative.”
The name went through Texas in the same way a bullet would, ripping at his intestines leaving nothing behind. The threat halted his entire body, backed him up and before he knew it he was in the cop’s face, close enough he could see every color in the other man’s eyes, his teeth clenched, eyes blazing pure fire, his voice, however, cultured, or so his brothers called it, never raised in tone. “Ever say that name to me again, I’ll do jail time for burying you.”
“Well, well … look at this, spoken like a true Renegade Souls, I think your transformation is complete, Tait. Rider should be so proud.”
“I’ll let my president know you approve.” Composure back in place, he reached up to fix his tie, though it probably didn’t need it, his hands were shaking. “And I mean it, don’t call me again, don’t text me again.”
“You didn’t change the number.“ The cop accused in a quiet inquisitive tone. Texas hated he knew what this man was thinking about that. He'd wondered the same damn thing.
No, he hadn’t changed it. And he should have a long time ago. Texas was prone to hanging onto things much too long when he needed to rid himself of the toxic surrounding him.
Some ties were hard to break, harder to severe, devastating to forget. Texas knew, in the long run, it was best for him to do that, the last tie cut.
“You’re right, I didn’t. But I will. Thanks for the reminder.” Walking off, but as usual, Malachai needed the last fucking word.
“Aren’t you going to ask about your mother, figured you’d want to know how she is?” Smug motherfucker could land his punches like Mike Tyson when the mood struck, Texas kept on striding away from Malachai, the jump up-start-cop, and his smugness.
“Not even if it came with a free bottle of Patrn. Later, Malachai.”
The cop laughed lightly, and for a second Texas was tempted to look back, to meet the same color of eyes as his own. Nothing in him relaxed, every muscle was clenched until he felt pain in his gut.
Keep walking. Don’t look back.
“Just as well, she’s not pleased with you. Later, Twin. Talk to you soon … oh, and that info last month? You did well. Thought you’d want to know.”
Bile rose in Texas’ throat, he swallowed hard. Climbed onto his bike, started the engine.
Don’t look back. He disliked everything about this day, and everything to come, he felt like punching something and never stopping until his hands were destroyed.
Maybe he could tell Rider everything and have his president take care of it for him; namely, put Texas six feet under.
Funny, last year Preacher had assumed the club had a mole somewhere, feeding information to Hades somehow. That hadn’t panned out to be the case as it turns out.
Little did his brothers know he was an informer.
He deserved that pine box. He deserved an unmarked grave.
As much as he’d held Malachai off this past year, he had told him some stuff. Incriminating stuff. To get him off his back, to make him shut up and leave him alone, if only for a short time.
Of course, he looked back, just once. His brother, the eldest by a few minutes, standing where Texas had left him, a weird look like regret on his face. The brothers weren’t identical, but close enough in features Texas worried every time his brother came to town that someone would see him and point fingers at the club and put five and six together and come up with bingo.
I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again. Not for Malachai or for Addison.
He was Renegade Souls. That’s who he was now.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“He had a floor so clean you could bang your fuck-buddy on it." Ruby.
They were off in a corner of the main room by themselves, each on one end of the couch. Ruby had been quite clear once she started working at the clubhouse that she wouldn’t be treated as a ‘sugar bottom’ by him so he better keep his hands and mouth to himself or she'd punch him, that shit made him laugh, and she went on to insist that she wouldn’t be ditching work to milk him at any point during the day or night whenever she was around, now he really wanted milking by those skinny ambidextrous fingers, again he’d laughed, of course, agreeing, he wouldn't do anything to make her feel uncomfortable, his funny lady.
Each time over the last couple of weeks he saw her in the compound, whether her car pulling in and passing by to wink at her through her little room, his heart stumbled for a second, he collected his hello kiss, but then they went their separate ways, that was until she took a break, or he took a break from his work, and they’d have a coffee together for a few minutes. Now it was the end of the day and all bets were off about the fucking touching because Ruby was looking delicious giving him the sultry eyes.
A growl rumbled his chest. "You're killing me, Ruby."
"I'm only sitting here. What am I doing?" He didn't believe her innocent blinking for a fucking second. Little teasing minx.
"You're turned on. It's driving me fucking insane to get at you." He sliced a knowing look her way. His arousal was a direct correlation to hers. One hand feeding the other, and Preacher and Ruby were eating a lot lately. The more he had her, the more he wanted.
"You make me want you. It's your fault." He loved she admitted it easily. They'd had a great few weeks exploring each other.
"I'll take full blame when I can get my hands on you, hold you down and pound my sweet little darling until she's sopping with excitement."
She visibly inhaled, forcing her tits to rise and fall beneath the thin white cotton of her long-sleeved shirt that clung and accentuated, shifting in her seat, one leg crossing, then she switched it the other si
de. Her knew now that he'd had his mouth on her breasts, at least a hundred beautiful times now, that they were that real and that perky, nothing uplifting about them, just perfect mounds he was addicted to tasting. “Do you know what the Goonies say, Preacher man?” She asked suddenly taking his attention from her chest back up to her eyes.
Okay. So, this conversation had taken a swerve from the dirty to the confusing. He’d bite as he always did when she went on a tangent, smiling, his brow cocked on his forehead, just waiting for the answer. "Go ahead, tell me."
“Down here it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket.“ Not even a curve on her lips as she quoted another of her movies, he found it so fucking cute when she did, she was gauging him, expectancy in her mischievous eyes. He felt himself grinning, he’d seen the movie more years ago than he could remember, with both his brothers one summer afternoon probably, he just bet his mom made her homemade lemonade and lemon bars, too. She used to do that a lot for her Priest boys.
“I don’t think I want anything to do with Troy’s bucket.”
“Good.” She giggled offering him her hand. Everything else became background noise as he grasped those fingers gently, ran his thumb down her middle one and back up again. “Let’s go, this is our time,” he didn't need telling twice.
They made it to his house in record time.
Fuck Troy’s bucket, he was fucking his lady. And he was going to make every night their time.
******
Ruby cursed the air blue. She'd never had anyone this big before, this filling, and god she didn’t think she could take it, but she did, each time feeling like the first time all over again until her body surrenders in softness accepting the fullness of him.
Preacher’s driving thrusts pushed her across the floor, her elbows skidding on the linoleum until he bodily lifted her, back to chest, letting him dig in because that's all she could do, let him and take it.
Maybe it was divine providence giving her a nice respite from normal life, but the last couple of weeks had been the best in a long while, enjoying this man had become her favorite hobby and if the day came where they parted ways her body was going to go into mourning, no one could make her feel like he did.
Too big, so big, oh, god, the stretching felt so good. Her groan was fluid.
When Preacher got rough with her it was because he knew she wanted it that way, not as though she’d hidden it from him, her reactions spoke volumes without her having to say a word … it was heaven in a bread basket, and Ruby adored her carbs.
No wonder he was so rough. She had teased him on the ride to his house, she’d been guaranteed a fuck right away, her body attuned to his, she’d been ready, but what she hadn’t prepared for was the moment they’d arrived at his place, coming in through the garage instead of the front, he’d taken her down to the kitchen floor, a fast tackle of arms and colliding bodies, tearing at her clothes. And she’d let him, more than that, she’d actively cried out for his wildness.
Ruby was stretched to capacity, feeling it, oh, fuck she was feeling it good, almost unbearable and when he pushed her down onto her elbows he sank ever deeper hitting that spongy place on the back of her vagina wall, the orgasm was swift, overpowering, rendering her powerless to do little else other than inflate her lungs and hope she didn't die.
Because that's the kind of orgasm Preacher gives, the ones she thinks she might die from. It gripped her belly, that tight electric sensation flooding her system, she couldn't take it at first, all too much, but she did and it was so fucking special she cried his name all kinds of wheezy, she thought she said it, it all became a tiny bit unclear in those fast seconds of bliss. The tortured grunts he emitted reached inside her, gusted the pleasure around, pooled it like fire. She loved the sex noises he made.
"Again, Ruby. Give me one more," he slammed hard, lifting her pelvis into it, she felt alive in the eye of a storm.
This was sex.
Oh, god, this was amazing sex.
"Yes. Keep going, Asher." She breathed, arching back into it, she covered his locked fingers with hers, drawing them down to her pussy and he stroked where she ached, where she was soaked.
"You don’t need to tell me yes when I can feel how wet you are, my beautiful. Wet little pussy taking it like a good girl, isn’t she?" The smile his voice was her undoing making her all soft and mush, she laughed. Arrogant all-knowing asshole.
“Are you personifying my vagina again?”
“She likes me.” He grinned.
Ruby didn’t contradict him because her body did like him.
He didn't give her chance to catch onto the pleasure before he flipped her onto her back, legs spread in welcome.
God, what a hussy, come in, why don't you.
The full shovel of his hand covered her mound, stroking like he was Dr. Evil with his pussycat. Sparks shot through her, remnants of her orgasm still lingering like soft notes of music throughout her nerve endings, sensitive to even the slightest touch.
Seemed he was far from done with her when he mounted in a sleek movement, all animal, hunger etched across his face, eyes lit up, he wrapped a hand around the front of her throat, her hormones went fucking nuts, squeezing, holding her in place with gentleness.
"This what you want?" He pinned her forcefully, positioning his cock at her entrance, she jarred her hips up, seeking. "Say it, Ruby. You don’t get it until you say it." Up, down, he slid his tip through her soaked lips, bumping against her clit. Through half-blind eyes she watched him.
Driving her wild, making her pant out of control.
She couldn't form words, her tongue all twisted and dry, how was he expecting her to talk? All she wanted was his cock inside her again sinking to China if that was what he wanted, just get inside already, angling her pelvis up as far as she could when he reached with his free hand to drag her legs around him, with his lily-white teeth bared he truly did look like a feral animal, the alpha junkyard dog ready to mount its mate.
The floor was cold. But the man crushing her was hot as hell.
Bodies sliding together.
She leaned in to kiss him. And he took her invite.
"Tell me you want me to hold you down and screw your brains out all over my floor, to take you how I want to take this slippery little pussy," he growled nudging inside just an inch, she squeezed down tight hoping to draw him the rest of the way, he groaned and she felt his fingers tighten on her throat, her pulse hammering. God, more.
"I want it." She gave. "Pin me in place and take me hard, Asher, please."
That was all it took, they had lift off after that, she could see the flash in his eyes, it stalled her breath, he slammed in so far, so hard, her cry bounced off every surface. A complete impaling.
He was incredibly intense looking into her eyes, fucking her stupid, every deep slam seemed measured for her pleasure, she handled the punishing thrusts of his cock, taking him to capacity, the ridge of his piercings through the rubber grazing her walls, causing her to cry out uncontrollably in short sharp shudders.
"Take it," he groaned. “You only have to lie there and take it, beautiful.” He thrust even deeper causing them both to groan in unison. Her private flesh was being used in ways she could only dream about late at night beneath her own sheets. Asher brought her every sexual desire to roaring life.
His fingers around her neck became stronger, unable to move even if she’d wanted to. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I will hold you down and fuck you like you want to be fucked. That’s it, my beautiful, cry out for me, squeeze me like she wants to, all hot and dripping. Fuck, I can’t get enough.” He went in hard with grunts. ”Now come for me.”
She did. It was embarrassingly fast.
She came like a speeding bullet, all charge, and no stopping. Wrapped up in her own pleasure she didn’t even know if he got there, but he must have done because he was currently crushing her to the floor, panting in her ear, his chest rapid.
�
��I think you killed me that time.” He groaned.
He did do all the work, she smiled to herself, eyes closed, lying like a wanton on a cold kitchen floor, so if anyone had done the killing it was Asher. Her system was in an overload of sensation.
No one made her feel the way he did, all punch drunk with desire. Without her sight, she used her other senses, slipping her heavy arms around his sweat-sheened waist, running fingers up his back, along every vertebra until she reached the nape of his neck, his face was buried in the dip of her throat, she liked him there, his breath warming her skin.
“You’re crushing me, Preacher. Roll over.”
He did, landing with a grunt at her side. There they laid for a handful of minutes until she regained her breath and when she could inhale slowly and move her limbs in a coordinated motion without falling over she got up onto her knees, Preacher still out of it, eyes closed, his face relaxed, his chest moving slower now, she grinned seeing the condom still attached to him. She did the decent thing by reaching up onto the counter and hooking the roll of kitchen tissue paper and disposing of it, wiping him up in the process. A few grunts, otherwise he remained still. “Are you dead after all?”
“Might be.” He put an arm behind his head, not bothered at all he was sprawled on his kitchen floor dangerously naked. The man had no shame when it came to his dick.
Turned out, neither did Ruby, when she leaned down and kissed his lower abdomen. He twitched and peeled open one heavy eyelid, smiled sluggishly.
She did it again, a little higher, then she went lower. Look at that, she grinned to watching as he hardened with some gentle coaxing, he wasn’t dead just yet.
“You lie back, old man, and recover. I have business to attend to.”
“Business?” His other eye came open, beautiful and bright green, both smiling at her.
Making room for herself in between his legs, she lowered her torso, and nuzzled his tip, watched how it jumped and reared up towards her.