Pushing Mags onto her back, I position myself over her, knocking her hand away from my cock. She spreads her legs wide and raises them high, opening herself before me in silent invitation. I look down at her cunt that’s wet and swollen with need, and it seems to call out to me. This is it… it’s where I bust past my reservations and make this pussy mine. It’s where I take back a little bit of what she took from me.
I fist my cock and bring the tip to her slit, rubbing the head up and down a few times. The feeling is exquisite and my nerve endings so receptive that the pleasure is almost unbearable. But I also remember this feeling from my past… this completely bare and undulled feeling of flesh on flesh, and I flashback to her on top of me.
Her sinking down on my cock and the terrible groan she’d always produce from within me because it felt so fucking good even as it all felt so very wrong.
Nausea wells up inside me and I pull away from Maggie so my cock’s not touching her.
“Bridger?” Maggie murmurs, and I feel her palms on my cheeks. “We can stop if you want.”
I shake my head, blink my eyes, and stare down at Maggie. I take in her beautiful face… her gorgeous hair all fanned out. Those green eyes sparkling with desire and understanding, and, most importantly, with acceptance of whatever I’m able to give her. Despite how little it may actually be.
Before my fears can get the better of me and before I can change my mind, I put my cock back at her entrance and with one slow but very assured move, I sink into her until I bottom out, all while maintaining eye contact with her.
Pure, electric bliss sears my entire body from the inside out, and a massive rumble of pleasure bolts up my spine. I go absolutely dizzy from the overwhelming physical sensations assaulting my body, and I feel something pulling at me to let go… to become an animal and take what my body demands.
Maggie’s eyes flutter, but she forces them to stay open so she can keep my gaze. I hold absolutely still, taking in everything about this moment and trying to control an urge to unleash myself on her.
Maggie’s warm eyes filled with desire and acceptance.
Hot, wet flesh tightly wrapped around my cock.
Immense pleasure.
Eagerness to come.
Not a single bit of shame.
No nausea.
No guilt.
Balls already tingling because I want to come really fucking bad.
I want to come inside of Mags.
Tentatively, I pull my cock back and fuck… what a feeling. The bare sliding of her flesh against mine and the tightness almost refusing to let me go. It feels so good it’s almost unbearable. I don’t want her to let me go.
Slowly, I slide back in… that hot, wet channel sucking me back and squeezing my dick deliciously. I groan over the sensation… all these feelings just beautifully raw and completely overwhelming. I feel like I’m falling into a deep ravine of lust and pleasure mixed with complete gratification, and the only fear I hold at this point is that once I make that fall, I’ll never want to crawl out again.
Maggie watches me, her lower lip held between her straight white teeth. Her hands rest at my shoulders, lightly waiting to either grip me in pleasure or console me in failure.
“Feels fucking good, Mags,” I tell her in a gruff voice, and I see instant relief flood her face.
“Will feel better if you move,” she says with a smile, her hands wrapping around my neck and her knees pressing into my ribs as if she’s gearing up for a ride that she knows she’ll need to hang on hard to.
I know it will.
Feel better.
Feel better than anything I’ve ever felt, and I think I’m ready for it.
I hope to fucking Christ I’m ready for it.
I push up and brace my hands on the mattress, using the leverage to start a rhythmic dance of my hips by pulling out and then punching back in deep. Holding a few seconds so I can savor the tremors of pleasure it produces, then I repeat, but a little faster with the next successive thrust.
With each push back into Maggie’s sweet pussy, she moans and pants and her fingers press into my neck muscles. With each thrust of my cock, my pulse fires hotter, faster, more erratic as the pleasure builds inside of me. I fuck her harder, and harder, and then harder yet, until I feel like I’m trying to throw myself deep into her. My chest heaves, my throat works overtime to swallow the grunts and curses that try to escape, missing far more than it contains, and my balls actually start to ache with the need to come. I want to hold it off, but there’s no putting a lasso on this runaway train. My body has taken over, and it wants to know what this buildup is all about. It’s demanding to experience the explosion that it inherently knows is going to be brutal and transcendent all at the same time.
My body begs me to give it up to Maggie. Give her my offering of my own free will. Watch as she accepts, not because it gives her power but because she revels in me.
I pick up the pace, fucking her deeply… completely.
I fuck her on my terms.
“Bridger,” Maggie breathes out on a moan as I hit her sweet spot over and over again. “Feels so good. So damn good.”
A weird pulse of tension knots in my chest.
“Give me more, Bridger,” Maggie says, her hands sliding into my hair and fingers curling to grab hold.
Give it to me, Bridger. Give it up to me. You know you want to.
My thrusting falters, my head twists on its own accord to dislodge her hands from my hair, and I pull my hips back too far, causing my cock to come all the way out of Maggie’s sex.
Immediate relief I’m out of her.
Immediate hell that I’m out of her.
My body wars with the need to finish and the compulsion to scramble away. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, but my body takes over and my hips thrust forward involuntarily to sink back into her wetness. I groan because the pleasure from her pussy gripping tight is beyond amazing, and the knot of anxiety lessens somewhat. With a quick pulling back of my cock and another punch in deep, the pleasure sizzles hot again and the remaining anxiety melts away.
I’m okay.
It was just a stumble.
Let it go.
I start thrusting in and out of Maggie, the euphoria once again grabbing hold of me and urging me to completion. My pace is fast, my thrusts deep. She looks at me with a touch of trepidation clouding her normally bright eyes. Her hands come back to my shoulders, her touch tentative.
I don’t want her to be tentative.
But I don’t want her to be controlling.
I want her to want me like no other woman has, yet it has to be a genuine desire and not born of a self-serving, sociopathic need for dominance.
But no… that’s not Maggie.
It could never be sweet Maggie.
Bending down, I place my mouth on hers, giving her a kiss that says how much I love the feel of her under me… around me. I tell her from the depths of the kiss that she is amazing, gorgeous, and sexy, and she is rocking my world right this moment.
I fuck her hard, feeling her breath quicken as she pants into my mouth and her body starts to tremble. I heave my body against hers, lurching almost so that my cock can grind deeper and deeper into her. My own head spins from the dizzying heights I’m being propelled to, and my entire being aches with the need to give it all up right here and now.
I thrust in particularly deep. Maggie’s mouth tears away from mine as she throws her head back and screams her release. I’m amazed that I can feel her pussy rippling all around my cock as she comes, and that right there ignites my own orgasm.
I don’t even suspect it coming up on me, but rather it seizes me blindly and takes my entire body hostage. I stiffen, one moment suspended in time where I see Maggie’s lust-glazed eyes smiling at me and I feel her body’s tremble, and then I start to come viciously inside of her. I shoot so hard, my vision darkens for several moments. The pleasure that bursts outward from what seems like every molecule in my body robs me of m
y breath… to the point where I don’t think I’ll ever be able to breathe again.
But that’s okay, because as good as this feels, I don’t need oxygen to survive. I can survive on sex with Maggie alone.
My head drops to her shoulder, and I close my eyes to enjoy the lingering pulses of pleasure that seem to be without end. If my prior orgasms during sex seemed gray and lackluster, these feel like the burst of color that occurred when Dorothy stepped out of her house in Oz.
Maggie’s soft hands stroke my shoulders, and I lift my head up to look at her.
“Hey,” she says with a soft smile.
“Hey,” I mumble back to her, my heart still beating frantically.
“Good?” she asks hesitantly.
“The best,” I tell her truthfully.
“Really?” she asks, her smile now wider than the Wyoming prairies.
“Wouldn’t lie,” I mutter. But I won’t elaborate either, because I’m afraid of what a pussy I’d sound like if I tried to wax poetic about that transcendental experience.
Instead, I roll us to our sides, keeping my cock still wedged inside of her. It still has little tingles of pleasure coursing through it, and I’m completely fine by that.
“What do you want to do?” Maggie asks as she wraps her arm around my waist and burrows into me closer.
I don’t even hesitate. “Want to get a second wind, and then I want to do that again. Then maybe we’ll grab some dinner, and then I definitely want to do it again after that.”
“Insatiable,” she murmurs, leaning in and pressing a kiss at the base of my throat.
With you, Maggie, I think to myself. Absolutely with you.
*
The call comes in at 3:10 AM and wakes me from an exhausted sleep. I’d fucked Maggie four times in this hotel bed, the last only about two hours ago, and that, coupled with the stress of our situation and the travel, had me falling into a slumber that resembled a coma.
It’s why my voice is hoarse and my speech is a little slurred when I answer, “Hello.”
“It’s Joseph Kizner,” I hear and I sit straight up in bed, instantly awake. “It’s done—went down a few hours ago. Zeke’s in custody as well as several members of the club. Raids went down in several other clubhouses across the United States. Would have called earlier but I’ve been slammed with getting all the arrests processed and everyone booked properly.”
I let out a sigh of relief and scrub my hand through my hair. Maggie doesn’t even stir beside me.
“I’ve got to go; got a shit ton more paperwork. Just wanted to let you know,” Kizner says. “You should head back to Jackson once you both get up and moving. We’re going to need you and Maggie’s statements.”
“Will do,” I murmur into the phone before disconnecting. The relief that this nightmare for Maggie is finally over and my sheer exhaustion compels me to sink back down beside her. After placing my phone on the bedside table, I roll over and curl my body around Maggie’s. We’ll sleep for a few more hours, but then we need to hit the road.
It’s time to get my life back on track again.
Chapter 22
Maggie
Just as the clock hits three PM, I hear the scrape of tires on asphalt and shoot up off Bridger’s couch. I race to the front door, throw it open, and fly down the steps before Woolf can even get the G550 to a complete stop. I’ve been a bundle of nerves waiting for them to arrive from Cheyenne, because although I logically knew Belle was safe, I had to see it for myself. I also had to feel it, and by that, I needed to hold and squeeze her to death.
Bridger and I got back to his house around ten AM as we were only a few hours away. Woolf, Callie, and Belle had a lot further to travel, of course, so it’s been a waiting game through the morning and early afternoon. Which sucked because that left me way too much time to think about Bridger and where we stood.
Last night was unbelievable. The most prolific and sublime sexual experience of my life. I almost don’t want to ever have sex again because I don’t think what we did last night can be topped. Sure, we got off to a rocky start and Bridger had a few stumbles that first time, but after that, he was a man on a mission. He’d just discovered the holy grail of sex, and he was determined to reach that pinnacle again and again. If I can believe the man as he muttered the fourth time he came inside me, “Get’s better every time; can’t wait to do it again,” I’d say Bridger was now a fan of coming inside of a woman.
Well, I hoped his fandom was really reserved for coming inside of just me.
So yes, I replayed those memories over and over in my head today. Bridger went into his office for a few hours late this morning, so I may have used my fingers on myself while I replayed those memories. I was in a constant state of arousal around the man, knowing what he could do to my body, and I couldn’t wait to be with him again.
Sadly, I thought he might take me again this morning when we woke up, but he just hurried me into the shower, stating he wanted to get on the road. This bothered me because I was there, I was warm, and I was ready for the taking. But his desire to get on the road trumped his desire for me, and I’m not sure that bodes well.
Regardless, the G550 comes to a stop and I pull at the back passenger door, opening it and staring at Belle’s beautiful face. Her eyes light up with happiness and she yells, “Mommy” as she stretches her arms out to me. I practically tear at the harness restraint to free her, and then I’m pulling her out and squeezing her to me. Her little arms go around my neck and she lays her head on my shoulder. It’s the best feeling in the world.
Yes, better than being with Bridger, but that’s the second best feeling in the world.
I spin around and around, holding my baby, vaguely taking in Bridger as he stands on the front porch and watches our reunion. When I stop spinning, I see Woolf walking up to Bridger, clapping him on the back as they talk quietly. Then Callie’s arm comes around me, and she gives me a side hug, “It’s over, toots. Time to finally relax.”
And she’s right. Zeke is in jail, and Belle and I are free. It is definitely time to relax.
Except even as I think that, I hear more scraping of tires on asphalt. I turn to see a clichéd black Suburban coming down the long driveway that’s clearly government issue, and as it gets closer, I can see blue lights on the dashboard.
“About time,” Bridger mutters from the porch.
Bridger called Kizner today when we hit the road to find out when they wanted to interview us, but got his voice mail. He didn’t call us back, but sent a terse text that said, Sorry—slammed with processing and transport of prisoners. Someone will be out this afternoon.
And that was it. We didn’t hear anything else from him, and we certainly hadn’t heard anything from Kyle. Bridger and I just assume Kyle’s more slammed than Kizner, since he’s the guy who brought the entire club down. We imagined he’d have debriefings upon debriefings and wouldn’t surface for a while. In fact, I wondered if I’d ever get to see him again and thank him for saving me.
The Suburban comes to a stop beside Woolf’s vehicle. A tall, gaunt man with thinning dark hair streaked with silver gets out. He’s wearing a black windbreaker, jeans, and what looks like a button-down dress shirt underneath in pale blue.
I start walking toward the porch as he does, and he gives me an uncertain smile. “I’m guessing you’re Maggie?”
When I nod, he reaches his hand out to me. I shift Belle up higher on my hip and shake with him.
“I’m Joseph Kizner,” he says before turning his attention to the men on the porch.
Bridger steps forward and introduces himself, and then Woolf and Callie, before inviting Joseph into the house. We all trek inside and Bridger offers Kizner something to drink, but he declines.
Callie sidles up to me and opens her arms. “Why don’t you let me take Belle back to the bedroom to play while y’all talk?”
I nod and hand Belle over. She doesn’t need to hear any of this.
After Callie disappears down
the hall, I go to my usual place on the sofa, and Bridger sits down beside me. Kizner takes an armchair on the opposite side of the coffee table, and Woolf stands behind the couch, maybe in a show of solidarity and support. I don’t care if he hears the details of my story. Kizner said he’d want our statements so I’m going to have to disclose what happened to me. He protected Belle with his life and I owe him everything, so he’s more than earned his right to hear the entire story.
Kizner dispenses with any small talk and gets right to it, “The raid went down quickly. They never saw it coming, never suspected. We had twenty-three arrest warrants for that clubhouse alone. Similar raids went down at clubhouses across the United States. We were able to serve eighteen of the twenty-three warrants, but that did include arresting Zeke Powell as well as his number-two guy, Arden Hayes.”
“What were the charges?” Woolf asks from behind me.
Kizner looks at Woolf when he answers. “Murder, drugs, illegal guns, extortion, slavery. Charges that will ensure Zeke Powell goes away forever, and the other members for a very long time.”
Kizner then slides his gaze down to me, as I’m sitting just below Woolf on the couch. “And I want to get your statement, Miss Waylon, and we’ll amend charges to add kidnapping.”
“And torture,” Bridger growls. “Zeke’s old lady, Kayla, beat her and cut her, deprived her of food and water, and threatened to kill her.”
Kizner nods and takes out a recorder from a pocket in his windbreaker. “There are no arrest warrants for Kayla Powell at this time. She was there when the arrests went down though. Let me get Miss Waylon’s statement, then yours, Mr. Payne, and we’ll go from there.”
And so I tell Agent Kizner everything. How I first came to Mayhem’s Mission and that Zeke claimed me as his property. I was embarrassed and ashamed to think of myself in those days, down on my luck but still loving to party and content with being someone’s fuck toy so I’d have a roof over my head and booze in my gut. About getting pregnant and how it took me two years to get inspired to run with Belle. I tell him about Aunt Gayle and then how members of the Omaha chapter of Mayhem’s Mission found me in Nebraska because I stupidly holed up with a girl who used to be one of the club whores here in Jackson, but wised up and got out. I naively felt it would be safe since she wasn’t in that environment anymore, but she betrayed me.
The Wicked Horse Boxed Set (The Wicked Horse Series) Page 112