Marek (Knights Corruption MC #1)

by S. Nelson

  “You’re gonna love this,” he rasped. Spreading my cheeks, he forced himself inside me, the unbearable pain causing my body to seize up. I stopped breathing, all while my heart slammed against my chest. Once he started to move, he ordered me to link my hands behind my back, releasing my hair to hold me in place by my wrists instead.

  Fear and mortification flooded over me. Not only was this humiliating and degrading, the pain was indescribable.

  My mind raced all over the place, pinging back and forth between the hell I was in and the hell I was going to find myself in once I returned to my room.

  My wrists screamed under the weight of his pressure. I tried to wriggle them free, praying he was too distracted to notice. But he did. Instead of him yelling or gripping my hands tighter, he slammed his fist into the back of my head. Dots instantly invaded my vision, a searing pain slicing through my skull so fierce I almost passed out. Unfortunately for me, he hadn’t hit me hard enough to knock me unconscious. At least then, I would have been saved from hearing him grunt out his release inside me.

  When he finally finished, he withdrew from my body, zipped up his pants and disappeared from the room without a word.

  I barely managed to clothe myself before I saw Vex striding straight toward me, the heat of rage dancing behind his eyes.

  Realizing that bracing for his attack would only serve to piss him off even more, I stood there and waited for his punishment. He snatched my upper arm and dragged me from my father’s office.

  “You wait till I get you alone. You’ll wish he’d killed you.”

  It was the last thing I remembered before darkness found me.

  Marek

  Picturing Koritz’s ugly face while I pummeled him to within an inch of his life made me smile. The thought of exacting my revenge made the cleanup somewhat bearable.

  His men had trashed our clubhouse, and while some of the old ladies helped with the mess, they weren’t allowed in the area where we met to talk private business. It was sacred, the one place we went to get away from it all, a separate suite inside the clubhouse.

  Some clubs called it Church, but we called it Chambers. Mainly because it was where we talked about, then eventually delivered, justice.

  The main room consisted of our meeting table and chairs, memorabilia plastered around the room for nostalgia. Off to the right was a bathroom linked to another room where the men chose to hide out if they were having issues with their women, or if they needed time to sort shit out that was rattling around inside their head. Since no one but the members were allowed in Chambers, they were safe for as long as it took for them to calm down enough to go back to their rooms, or any of the common areas.

  “They sure made a mess, didn’t they?” Stone grumbled, picking up pieces of broken glass from some of the dishes they tossed from the cupboards. Really? What in the hell did they think we were hiding in there? Assholes.

  Stone and I had grown up together, and since the time we were young boys we knew someday we were going to run the KC. It was ingrained in us, our fathers pulling us into meetings early on to make sure we knew all the ins and outs of the club.

  The politics.

  The minute everyday details, from who was in our pockets to the best trade routes to what the dirt was on our biggest rival.

  The fucking Savage Reapers.

  Our clubs hated each other with a vengeance.

  Their club was run with no rules, morals or consequences. They were heavily involved in human trafficking, selling women and children to the sickest, highest bidders. They beat and raped their own women, not a care in the world for another’s life as long as they got what they wanted.

  For all means and purposes, they certainly lived up to their name.

  Savages.

  And while we were no angels, exacting revenge when we felt it necessary, we at least lived by some sort of principle.

  We didn’t beat and rape our women, and we didn’t kill innocent people. We ran drugs for the livelihood of the club, but they were forbidden to use. The strongest substances allowed at the compound were weed and alcohol. And although there had been many a time where some of the brothers went overboard and drank until they fell unconscious, they were easily controlled by the rest of us. All except for Ryder. When the club’s Sergeant-at-Arms and head mechanic drank the hard shit, he was a mean motherfucker. Thank God he only partook when shit got bad, and since I’d taken over three years ago, I was able to control the shit that went down enough to ensure he’d only gotten out of pocket twice. Both times resulting in three of the brothers beating him into submission, locking him in his room until he finally calmed down.

  Every man had his own room at the club, but they owned their own property away from the compound as well. I didn’t require my men to stay together at all times, it mostly just worked out that way. Which was why most of them had problems in their relationships. But the women knew the life they were choosing when they shacked up with the guys, the men’s first priority being the club above all else. Don’t get me wrong, they loved their women and would kill to protect them and their families, but there was nothing like the brotherhood the club provided.

  “Hey, Marek,” Stone yelled across the room. “How about once we get shit right, we throw a ruckus?” That was code for an all-nighter, an ‘anything goes’ type of get-together. It also meant no wives or girlfriends allowed, only familiar party favors, aka club whores.

  “Sure thing,” I promised. “Get ahold of Zip and Hawke and tell them to make a liquor run. We’re running low,” I said, flipping the couch right-side up, cursing those DEA assholes with every flick of my eyes around the shambled room. “Then tell Ryder and Jagger to make their usual calls.”

  A ruckus was precisely what I needed right about then.

  The clubhouse was a flurry of activity. Men chugging their favorite poison while barely clad women draped themselves around the member of their choice. Loud music and a cloud of smoke hung thick in the air while some snuck off to the back rooms for a quick fuck. It was exactly the kind of distraction I needed, and I welcomed it with open arms. I allowed my men to engage in a carefree night because, come tomorrow, we had to plan our revenge—on not only Koritz, but our biggest enemy.

  The feud between the Knights Corruption and the Savage Reapers dated back to when I was a kid. But the real war began three years ago, and I was gonna be the president who finally put an end to those bastards, tearing them apart one by one. The reason for the battle was rooted in greed, mainly on the part of the Reapers, although my club wasn’t innocent. We hadn’t taken it to the extremes, however, killing off rival members solely for the purpose of getting rich.

  No, they’d crossed the line.

  Time and time again.

  Swallowing the rest of my drink, I tapped the bar and signaled for Trigger to pour me another. “You sure you want to get shit-faced while there’s plenty of pussy round here?” he teased, jerking his chin toward one of the wannabes walking straight for us. We referred to them as wannabes, amongst other things, because their ultimate agenda was to become someone’s old lady. But the thing they didn’t realize was there was no way a patched member was gonna make an honest woman out of someone who’d slept with half the club. The prospects, however, didn’t know any better, until, of course, we explained the way things worked around here.

  “Hi, Marek,” Shelley cooed, kissing my cheek before whispering in my ear how she wanted to suck my dick until I shot my load down the back of her throat. She was attractive enough, her shoulder-length blonde hair cut into the latest trend, and a body made for a good time. Her tiny shirt showcased her perky tits and, although she wore a mini skirt, she was practically naked.

  The attribute I liked most about Shelley was that, while I knew she wanted to be tied to me in the worst way, she didn’t push too hard. Knowing damn well I’d replace her with someone who was only going to give me what I wanted. Sex. Nothing more.

  I tended to stick with one piece of ass at a
time, having no tolerance in my world for jealous bitches who could turn a good ruckus into an all-out brawl. Once I had my fill, I released them to have sex with whomever they wanted, never to be touched by me again.

  Downing the shot Trigger placed in front of me, the slow burn of the liquor clouded my thoughts, quieting all the shit rattling around inside my head. After another two shots, I rose from my seat, grabbed Shelley’s hand and dragged her back to my room, the sound of her satisfied laughter following me down the long, darkened hallway.

  Her whispers in the common room were enough incentive for me to unzip my pants and give her what she wanted. Pulling myself from my jeans, I pushed down on her shoulders. “On your knees, sweetheart,” I demanded, leaning my head back against the wall while I waited for her to wrap her plump lips around my cock.

  “Can’t I have a kiss first, Marek?” she whispered, leaning in until her mouth was a little too close to mine.

  “You know I don’t kiss, Shelley.” Putting more pressure on her shoulders, she finally obeyed and sank to her knees, pulling me into her mouth immediately, sucking me off quicker than she normally did. I wasn’t stupid. I realized she was pissed that I still wouldn’t give in and kiss her, so if she wanted to take out her anger on my dick, then so be it. As long as she didn’t bite me, it was all good.

  There was no mystery behind me not wanting to kiss any of the women I fucked. I didn’t have some weird phobia or damaged reason why, I just didn’t feel the need to be so intimate with someone I had no real connection with. I used them like they used me, and that was the long and short of it.

  Deciding to give her something to cool her temper, I swiveled my hips and thrust into her mouth while blowing out a breath of pleasure. “Fuck, sweetheart,” I gritted out. “I love that sweet little mouth of yours.” Securing a chunk of her hair in my fist, I held her still while languidly sliding past her lips, her tongue swirling around the tip until I was pushing myself further down her throat. Thank God she didn’t have a gag reflex or we’d have a big problem. “Love that cock, baby?” I growled, knowing damn well her mouth was too full to answer.

  As soon as she brought her hand up to aid her mouth, I dropped away from her, pulled her off her knees and pushed her against the wall, flipping her barely there skirt over her ass. She didn’t bother wearing anything underneath, and I was truly grateful for the small things. Snatching a condom off a nearby dresser, I quickly sheathed myself before spreading her legs.

  “You ready for me to fuck you now?”

  Plunging quickly inside her pussy before she could answer, I rocked my body into hers, taking her like I hadn’t had it in weeks.

  Bracing herself against the wall while I took her hard from behind, she purred while clinging to the wall for support. She was still relatively tight, and it was mere minutes before I charged down the path to explosion. Realizing I was close, I found her clit with my fingers, expertly rubbing her until her breathing picked up and she moaned my name over and over again. “That’s it. Come for me,” I coaxed, my own orgasm barreling down on me like a goddamn freight train.

  As soon she threw her head back and screamed, I knew it was my turn. I may not kiss, but I certainly made sure they came before I did. Seizing her hips, I punished her body until I finally came inside her, the pleasure exploding from my body and leaving me in a haze of ecstasy for a few brief moments.

  Then it was all over.

  Discarding the condom in a nearby trash bin, I tucked myself away and zipped up my pants. Walking toward Shelley, I placed my hand on the small of her back to usher her from my room. There was no idle chitchat between us, even though I knew she was dying to engage me in some sort of conversation, hoping she could stay a little while longer. But once I came, I had no further use for her company. Never did. With any of them. She was invited to the clubhouse for one reason and one reason only, and she’d just fulfilled her duty for the evening.

  Now it was time to go back out, drink some more and lose myself until I passed out, drunk off my ass.

  As my hand circled the doorknob, I heard a shrill screech erupt from the front of the club. Pushing Shelley behind me, I snatched my gun from the end table and slowly opened the door. “Stay here,” I instructed, pissed something was goin’ down while I’d been too busy gettin’ off.

  Then I heard it again, the sound so ear piercing it cut right through me. The noise, which had me all amped up, was coming from a woman, and the more I ventured into the dark hallway, stealthily creeping forward, I realized a fight had erupted.

  A cat fight.

  Marek

  Fucking women.

  No doubt they were fighting over dick. It happened sometimes, especially when excessive drinking was involved. It seemed that was the time when people let go of all their sensibilities and overreacted to situations which would never have existed in the light of a sober day.

  Retreating to my room, I escorted Shelley from my private area and forced her back out into the common area where all the action apparently was. She took a seat at the bar and watched on with curiosity. And, I had to admit, I was a bit inquisitive myself.

  What I thought was a simple fight between two wannabes was anything but.

  “I told you I’d cut a bitch the next time I found out,” Hawke’s woman, Edana, screamed so loud I thought glass was gonna shatter. Two prospects stood between her and the whore Hawke had apparently been fucking with, the look on the wannabe’s face pure terror. Edana was a bit of a wild card, her temper notorious around our entire circle. Usually, Hawke could handle her, but there were times like this where she became uncontrollable. If fire could have shot from her eyes and disintegrated the wannabe on sight, it would have been less of a shock than what was about to happen.

  How Hawke’s woman even got in here was beyond me. She knew she wasn’t supposed to show up, yet she chose to ignore club rules, which more than irked me, but I wanted to see how everything played out, so I was willing to let it go.

  For now.

  While the raving lunatic of a woman was focused on her man, the scared club whore grabbed her friend’s hand and quickly headed toward the front entrance, realizing damn well that, if she stayed any longer, she was gonna regret it.

  “Calm down, baby.” Hawke laughed, his smile fueling the inferno that was Edana. He was clearly more than tipsy, and his brain wasn’t registering the severity of what was about to pop off. He knew his woman better than anyone, and he of all people should have realized she was simply getting warmed up. They’d been together for years and their relationship had always been volatile. Sometimes they were lovin’ on each other and other times . . . Well, other times were like this.

  Full throttle all the way.

  Simply because I craved a good show, I found an empty seat at the far end of the bar. Jerking my chin in Trigger’s direction for another drink, I swiveled around to watch.

  “Calm down?” she shrieked, quickly tying back her long auburn hair, indicating she meant business. Reaching for the closest weapon she could find, which just so happened to be a switchblade someone had left lying around, she aimed directly for his face and hurled it through the air. “We’ll see how pretty you are when you have a nice cut down the side of your face,” she seethed, trying to push past Jagger, one of the prospects doing his best to hold her back. “See how many sluts want your ass when your face is all fucked up!” she screamed.

  Edana was a small woman, but she was strong as fuck. I’d gotten in the midst of one of their wars one too many times, so I knew what a handful she was. But, for some reason, Hawke loved her and kept her around, despite everything.

  Luckily, the part of the knife that made contact with him was only the butt of the blade. It hit him right in the forehead, to be exact. The look of shock on his face was amusing, although I had no idea why he was stunned. He knew what she was like—fuck, he had the scars to prove it.

  “Are you crazy, woman?” he growled, the stun of the metal handle knocking him back into sobriety
. Well, a little bit at least. “You could have cut me.” Hawke’s long black hair was secured on top of his head into some sort of man bun, he called it. At least his vision wasn’t obstructed for what she chose to do next.

  Before anyone realized what was happening, she grabbed one of the heavy blades Jagger kept on his waistband, stepped around the prospect and threw it with all her might at the man she supposedly loved more than life itself. His eyes went wide when he realized what she’d thrown, thankfully stepping out of the way in time to allow the knife to hit the wall directly behind him.

  She’d missed him by an inch.

  Okay, now shit just got real.

  I jumped off my chair and rushed forward, closing the distance until I reached Hawke. His face showed his rage, and he looked like he was ready to tear her apart.

  “You fucking cunt! I’m gonna kill you!” he threatened right before he dove forward, the crazy look in his eyes unnerving even me. Luckily, I was in the way, my large body stopping him from making contact. From the look of pure terror on her face, a quick change from the fury which had resided there not a minute before, she knew she’d crossed the line. Yet again.

  Stone stepped into play, replacing the other prospect who was stuck in the middle of their craziness, and forced her backward. “You better get the hell out of here, sweetheart,” he said, his teeth clenched as he spoke, realizing Hawke could have been seriously hurt, and all over a piece of ass.

  Gone was the psycho bitch, her lip trembling in instant regret. She realized what she’d done was wrong, but when she was in the throes of her jealous fits, it was as if she shut off all reasoning and fell into the trap of temporary insanity. Hawke struggled to reach her and, if she didn’t leave in the next two seconds, I would seriously consider letting him go. Teach her a lesson and all. I’d never tolerate him beating the shit out of her, but sometimes a harsh shake or a quick throat snatch was called for. Especially after she could have seriously maimed him—or worse, killed him where he stood.