Purge (Death Crusaders Motorcycle Club)

by Sandy Kline

  His buttocks clench beneath my fingers and I can’t resist the temptation to dig in my nails…just a little. He gasps thrusts and nearly loses it, but I still have complete control. Just to prove my point I stop my lingual caress and he slips out with an audible pop.

  “Don’t stop!” He gasps as he tries to force the issue.

  “No no no…” I reply, turning my head to the side so that he thrusts into my ear.

  “Oh yes, yes, yes…” He replies, swiveling his hips to give me a penis smack down across my left cheek.

  “Wow, like that’s ever gonna work Mister.”

  I grab his cock again with my left hand and use it like a hammer smacking it against the palm of my other hand.

  “Damn woman.” He gasps.

  I flash him a wicked smile and rise to my feet. The second our lips find each other the heat of our passion rages like an out of control conflagration and it’s like we can’t even get enough of each other. We break off our kiss just long enough for me to raise my arms allowing him to strip off my shirt. Our lips fasten together again as his fingers fumble with my bra. Who’d have thought the act of swapping spit could be so damn hot! If we keep kissing like this I’m going to have to take a break and pour cold water over my head before I burst into flames.

  He finally successfully navigates the clasp and pulls off my bra. Then his fingers approach the crisscross of scarring on my back. As they get close I can feel myself getting tense and hyper aware of his every move. Even the slightest wrong move will end it for me here. His fingers trace an invisible line down my spine to the beginning of my scars. He pauses for a fraction of a second as he encounters the thick hardened lines formed from past abuse. I put both hands on his chest and push. I can’t do this today or any day for that matter.

  “What?” He asks me.

  “I think you know what.”

  “You’re a survivor Jen, and you should be damn proud of that fact. You went through more as a child than most adults will ever have to face in their whole life and that’s something to be proud of. Most would crumble and break under the pressure but not Jennifer Clarkson. These lines on your back, they’re just one part of you that makes you beautiful.”

  Okay I must admit, he could not have said that better and just so he knows he’s on the right path, when his fingers trace a scar I purr with pleasure even though the tough skin is void of sensation. Emboldened by my reaction he keeps going until his hands reach the elastic waistband of my slacks. Normally I would invite him to stop in his tracks but not tonight. Instead I shift around my weight so that he can get to my zipper. The thin fabric parts to reveal deep maroon Victoria’s Secret. He slides the thin material down over my knees revealing the real secret to my panties; they’re almost not even there.

  With the flick of a finger he moves the thin sliver of fabric to one side to reveal what he came for. A sharp intake of breath registers my surprise seconds before his first thrust into my sex. He’s a big man. He fills me up and then some. At first I feel…stretched. Then I just feel a deep ache of pulse pounding pleasure that seems to start in my kitty and then goes straight into my brain rocking my world. Mounted and splayed out on my belly, Blade thrusts into me like a jackhammer until he explodes in sync with my own body; this could not have gone better. I feel his weight sliding off me so I roll over, reaching out to him to pull him back into me but he just starts fading. I grab at him over and over but my hands come up with air. Something is wrong here and I’m helpless to stop it.

  Chapter Four

  My Harsh Reality

  When I first wake the remnants of the dream keeps me wrapped in a cocoon of warm steamy goodness. Then the harsh reality of recent events comes crashing down around my shoulders. While I was off in Belize soaking in the sun someone was burying my best friend. What a fucked up world this is. I’m going to find out who killed her and take my revenge if that person(s) is still alive. I owe her that at least. The trouble is I don’t know where to start. I guess I should talk to her patrol partner but I don’t even have a name. I guess Blade must know who her partner was but for some reason I don’t feel like including him in my investigation. I just have this feeling that somehow he or his club is in some way responsible for her death. I’m going to need to find out on my own what happened. I’m also not too keen to reveal to local law enforcement that I am back in town.

  I look around me. I’m in someone’s bedroom. To my surprise, Piper’s gun is sitting on the nightstand. There’s a note.

  “Hey Jen,

  Thought you could use some protection, and since you already know how to use Piper’s gun it makes sense that you should carry his until he’s able to again. Take it easy now. I’ll be back tonight to check in on you.

  Blade”

  Cautiously I pick up Piper’s 9mm. I drop the magazine and eject the round still in the chamber. This one appears to hold a dozen or more bullets. I’m not sure how I feel having a gun with me but if the past is any indication of my future I’m going to need it. I deposit the weapon in my handbag. I look at the clock. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping but it’s almost eleven in the morning. Time to get out of bed and test my leg. I peel off my covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. A low groan escapes my lips as the pain in my lower left leg announces itself. Looking down at the bandage I’m surprised at the size of it. I thought this was supposed to be a flesh wound. I start by just standing with all my weight on my uninjured leg, the gradually putting weight on my bad leg.

  I gasp as pain shoots up my leg. It’s enough to make me sit right back down on my ass. Okay, maybe I can take it easy for a day or two. It’s not like I have any pressing issues now.

  I spend far too much time watching daytime television. Good thing Blade has Xfinity on demand. After all, there’s only so much a person can handle of shows like Jerry Springer and Maury Povitch or whatever the dude’s name is. CNN saves the day. After six hours of war footage in Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Iran, Turkey, even I can’t stand anymore and finally turn the TV off for good. Man the world is one messed up place.

  By the time the front door opens I have warn a trail in his carpet from the front living room window to the bookcase to the tile kitchen floor and back onto the carpet by the coffee table. The instant I hear the door opening I leap from the couch, sprint down the hall and leap right into the arms of a strange man.

  “Whoah doll…” He exclaims catching me in his powerful arms. “Blade said you were a sweet girl but this...”

  “And who the hell are you?” I ask as he sets me back on my feet.

  “They call me Digger.”

  “Okay Digger, where’s Blade? Is he okay?”

  “Blade’s fine. He’s just running late and wanted me to check on you and make sure you’re fine. Can I tell him you’re fine?”

  “Yes.”

  “How’s the leg?”

  “Way better. When’s he coming home?”

  “Maybe not till late. Do you need anything to eat?” Digger asks.

  “No I’m fine really.”

  “Okay…”

  I shut the door behind him and collapse on the couch. No way am I gonna last another day in this place and yet I am supposed stay here three or four more just to let my leg heal. Maybe I can hurry up the healing process with more aggressive exercising. In the TV room I noticed a stair climber and a treadmill. I decide to give the stair machine a test run. I have always prided myself for being in good shape but after fifteen minutes of torture on the machine I’ve had enough. Not only are my legs incased in what feels like jelly, but my lungs are on fire as well. The only thing that feels halfway normal is my shot up leg. That appendage actually seems to have enjoyed the exercise and it feels a little better. I wobble into the kitchen for some juice to drink, down two glasses of OJ and return to the couch to rest. Before long my eyelids finally become too weighty to bear and they close on their own accord. Five minutes later blessed sleep takes me.

  My body tingles. It b
egins at the bottom of my right ear and sends delicious chills down my neck. A soft sigh escapes my lips as the feelings intensify. I shift from my side to my back and take a deep breath and let it out slowly. As I inhale again my nostrils fill with a familiar leathery minty scent that can only belong to one man! My eyes fly open just as Blade’s lips reach the swelling at the tops of my breasts.

  “Not so fast tough guy.” I murmur.

  “I’m going slow.” He breathes. My skin breaks out into tingly goose bumps everywhere his breath caresses me.

  “Not in my book you’re not Mister. You’re more like a red Ferrari that’s just shifted out of second gear into fifth, sliding into the fast lane. You just blew by foreplay and went straight into sex play with that move buddy.” I say, as I extract his finger from my panties.

  “You don’t like where this is going?” He breathes onto my exposed nipples.

  “Oh I love the destination but I also love the ride.”

  “So you’re saying?” He whispers.

  “Enjoy the ride already.” I murmur.

  “Oh I will.” He reassures me. “Right when I get to the enjoyable part.” He replies with a laugh.

  “What?” I explode, slapping him on the back. “The enjoyable part? My whole body is the enjoyable part Mister.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch babe. I still have to get them off.”

  “Oh I highly doubt that’s going to happen.”

  “Sorry to burst your bubble sweetie, but they’re comin’ off.”

  I play at resisting but we both know what I want and we both know Blade also gets what he wants. Soon words give way to other uses for lips, tongues, and mouths as passion escalates to an indescribable intensity. It’s like my whole body is a giant bundle of nerves singing the praises of Blade bedroom talents.

  As much as I’m throwing myself into the sex play, every time his hand or mouth touches a scar or a discolored patch from the skin grafts I hit a stone wall and all the good feelings are spirited away by my unresolved past issues. We don’t halt our lovemaking but we both know I have drifted off again. The playfulness has gone and so has the deep connection we were feeling in the beginning. It’s not to say it wasn’t enjoyable or satisfying because it was. It’s just that I grow tired of my past colliding with my present and I’m sure Blade feels the same on some level. As these less than pleasurable thoughts permeate my consciousness I begin to slip into a deep, grateful sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Secrets and Lies

  Four Days Later…

  I have to get out of here. I’ve been a homebody for almost a week and I can’t stand it anymore. If I don’t get out of here today I’ll end up burning the house down. I had no idea how long it would take to heal from supposedly a minor bullet wound. At least now when I walk I can do it without limping but I still haven’t gotten the spring back in my step. Shouldering my backpack I step out of apartment and take a deep breath. My plan today is to just go downtown and sit and have some good coffee. I saw a Pete’s coffee on the way into town and that’s where I’m headed. I’m on my way out to the corner to wait for my taxi. I could have asked for a ride but I really don’t feel like being babysat. I’m not on the curb for two minutes when a white sedan approaches me. The window comes down in the back and a man leans out.

  “Are you Jennifer Clarkson?” He asks me.

  I nod without thinking.

  He holds out an envelope and tosses it on the curb in front of me.

  “Wait!” I holler. “Who gave this to you? What is it?”

  “Relax, it’s not a bomb. Just read it.” He says as the car speeds off.

  It’s a white envelope with my name scrawled on the outside. I open it up. There’s just a phone number and nothing else. I have to call it of course. I wait until I’m in the back of the taxi before calling. A female voice answers just before I hang up.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi uh I’m-”

  “Let’s not use names here, I know who you are.” She says quickly.

  “Okay…so what do we do then?”

  “We go someplace where we can talk candidly.” The strange woman replies.

  “Okay. I was just about to go for coffee.” I reply. “In fact I’m waiting for a taxi now.”

  “Well… I can come and get you,” She says. It’ll save you the fare.”

  “Why don’t you tell me where to meet you and I’ll just have the taxi take me there. It should be here in about ten minutes.”

  “Let’s meet at the Metropolitan Bakery over on Pine Street.” She instructs.

  “Okay.” I reply. “I can probably be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Alright, I’ll see you then.” She says.

  “Wait, what will you be wearing?”

  “A wheelchair.” She replies before disconnecting the call.

  After she hangs up my head begins spinning. This is so weird. She must have some information about Alex’s death or she wouldn’t be contacting me. Five minutes later my taxi pulls up.

  “The Metropolitan Bakery on Pine.” I tell the driver.

  “Yes ma’am.” He replies.

  I barely watch the scenery go by, I’m so distracted. The ride feels like it takes an hour but it probably didn’t even take the twenty minutes I’d guessed. I give the driver a twenty and a ten when I get out. I walk into the bakery and spot her right away. She looks to be about thirty years old and very pretty. Before being bound to the chair I’d say she was probably close to six feet tall and very shapely. She looks like someone who hasn’t been in a wheelchair for very long. She still has great muscle tone from what I can tell from her outfit and she looks like she is still getting used to maneuvering everywhere with her chair.

  I walk up to her and hand her the note she had delivered so she knows without a doubt that it’s me. She smiles and offers her hand.

  “Thanks for meeting me.” She says but still doesn’t identify herself.

  We shake hands. She has a surprisingly strong grip for a woman. I follow her lead and don’t mention my name either. She knows it of course but I get the feeling that she doesn’t want me broadcasting my name around.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” She suggests, so I follow her out of the bakery.

  We walk for several blocks before she finally breaks her silence.

  “So how long have you been back in town?” She asks me.

  “I just got back actually.”

  “I see…. So what do you know of Alex’s death?”

  “Only that she died.”

  “That’s not a hell of a lot.” She replies. “I was her partner.”

  “I wondered. Despite the chair you have cop written all over you. You have some answers for me?”

  “I wish I did.”

  “So why are we meeting then?”

  “How close were the two of you?” She asks, ignoring my question.

  “We’ve been…we’re… best friends since before grade school. Went to the same schools up through high school even. I ended up in a community college while she went to UC Davis two hours away but we remained as close as ever. She was my family. I loved her like a sister.”

  “I see…”

  “I’m getting the feeling that you don’t know much about her death. Why are you asking me all these questions?”

  “Even though the investigation into Alex’s death is a closed case, it’s not for me. Ms. Clarkson.”

  Now it’s my turn to be surprised. I guess I just assumed she was gunned down by one of the Advocates or the Sleazebags, end of story.

  “So what do you need from me?” I ask.

  “Well…that depends on you. How badly do you want to find those responsible for her death?”

  “Pretty damn bad.”

  “How well do you know the Death Crusaders?” She asks.

  “I guess I used to know them pretty well but from what I understand, most of the guys that I knew are either dead or in prison right?”

  “Most are, but some
of the top brass are alive and well.”

  “What are you asking me?”

  “Would you be willing to help with our investigation?”

  “I guess.” I reply. “Although I’m not sure what I can do. I’ve been out of the country for almost two years and I have no idea what’s been going on since I left.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “This help that you want from me…is there any risk in it?”

  “Yes. You’d be doing some investigating for me and me alone. No one else can know about it.”

  “I see. Is this investigation sanctioned by your department or is it…how do you put it; off the books?”

  “This would be just between you and me Ms. Clarkson and nobody can know about this, not even your friend Blade.

  “I see…can I have a couple days to think about this? What you’re asking, it’s quite a lot.”

  “I’ll give you till tomorrow afternoon.” She replies.

  “I don’t know if I can decide that quickly. Nothing I find out for you is going to bring back my friend so there’s not much upside for me in this.”

  “There’s something else Ms. Clarkson.”

  I don’t like the sound of that.

  “What else is there?” I ask, not really wanting the answer.

  “You must be aware that you left some not insignificant legal problems behind when you became a fugitive.”

  Oh fuck! I knew the chickens were going to come home to roost one day or another. I was just hoping it wouldn’t happen in this decade…or the next or the next…Dammit!

  “So is this how you’re going to do it?” I ask. “You’re going to hold my past over my head for as long as it takes for me to find the killer? How am I supposed to succeed where your whole department has failed?”

  “You have access to the club still. We lost ours during the Purge.”

  “You do realize that women cannot become patched members right? So that means no matter how close I get, there’ll always be a firewall between me and the inner circle.”