by Burke, Dez
Now I’m freaking out without any right to. Jesse hasn’t mentioned one word to me about trying to get together again after this week is over. I know he’s going home in two days, and I don’t know where the hell I’ll be.
Jesse gives me a devilish grin that I can’t resist and slips up behind me. “You’re actually mad about this, aren’t you? You’re jealous. And so hot when you’re angry.” He slides his hands around my waist.
I push against his arms and try to get away. “Oh no, you don’t. Let me go. I need to finish getting ready for work. I’m going to be late.”
“Not yet,” Jesse says. “Maybe when you sound like you really mean it.” He leans around to kiss me, and I playfully turn my head from his lips. He merely chuckles and presses the kiss to my neck instead, attaching his mouth to the nape of my neck. Tracing his lips over my sensitive skin, he nibbles wickedly.
He slides his hands under my shirt and reaches up to cup my breasts. “Are you worried I’ll do this to one of the strippers?” He pinches my nipples hard, and I close my eyes and lean back into him. “Or this?”
Instinctively, he knows what I want as he rotates the flat of his hand over each enlarged nipple then squeezes the oversized buds.
“Just so you know, I’ve never seen a stripper with breasts as lovely as yours,” he murmurs, tugging my shirt off over my head. “Your breasts are real and soft as a pillow. The first thing that went through my head the night I met you is how much I wanted to do this.”
Whirling me around, he kisses his way down my neck then catches one hardened nipple in his mouth and tugs hard with a firm insistent pull.
Damn! That feels good.
“I wanted my mouth here,” he says, kissing between my breasts, “and then here,” nipping my nipple with his teeth. “All I could think about was ripping your bikini top off right there in the bar and kissing my way all the way down from your neck to your pussy. Hell! What am I saying? It’s all I still think about. I’m semi-hard every time I’m near you, and when I touch you something in my head fucking explodes.”
Jesse buries his face in my neck, and I feel the wall at my back without even realizing he’d shoved me against it.
“Touch me and you’ll realize what you do to me,” he says, dragging my hand down his front to rest on the bulge under his belt. “No stripper could make me feel this way. Are you wet for me? Because I’m sure as hell hard for you.”
I press my hand against his cock through his jeans. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I say in invitation.
With a pleased grunt, he props me up against the wall and quickly bunches my skirt up above my waist.
“No panties?” he asks in surprise, cupping my ass cheeks with each hand.
“I wasn’t finished getting dressed.”
“Lucky for me.”
He slides his hand between my thighs. “You’re drenched,” he says, parting my pussy lips and pushing two fingers deep inside me. “Hot and juicy. I love it when you’re wet. It tells me how badly you want this too, even if you’re too shy to say the words.”
He strokes in and out with his fingers, trying to drive me mad, then bites down roughly on my nipple again. Smart man. He knows I love it. My nipples are so hard and swollen they’re aching in agony. I squeeze my eyes tight and arch my back.
My body craves him like it’s my next breath. Every part of me aches for Jesse in this moment.
I want him. Desperately. Now.
Tugging at his belt buckle, I quickly pull the belt loose and unzip his jeans. I slide my hand inside in one smooth move and encircle the solid hardness. A shudder slams through him, and the hitch in his breathing tells me he’s as turned on as I am. I stroke him slowly from his tip all the way down to his balls...once, twice.
His breathing quickens and he grabs my hand to stop me. “You had better not start something you can’t finish, little lady,” he warns in a voice suddenly thick with lust.
“Oh, this lady has every intention of finishing it,” I say, leaning close and whispering into his mouth. “As long as you fuck me now. Hard and fast. Like I know you want to.”
“Fuck you?” he growls. “I’ll fucking own you.”
In one powerful move, he picks me up and throws me so hard on the bed that I bounce.
“How hard and fast do you want it?” he says, quickly tugging my skirt down over my knees and ankles.
Wow! What kind of an animal did I just unleash?
“The best you got,” I throw back at him.
He strips out of his jeans and tosses them on the floor along with my skirt. Flipping me over on my stomach, he pulls me back so that I’m positioned on my knees. With his hands, he parts my ass and places the tip of his cock at my pussy lips. For a split second he hesitates, and I realize he’s waiting for a signal from me.
“Do it,” I urge. “Don’t you dare hold back, Jesse.”
“Fuck!” he mutters loudly.
All it takes is one high-powered motion and he is buried to the hilt inside me. We both breathe out harshly at the jarring contact. Jesse’s hands are heavy on my hips, gripping me so tightly that I can feel the imprints of his fingers.
He lunges in with deep, long thrusts, stretching out each moment as long as he can. I grip the pillow tightly in my hands. This is exactly what I want. To feel the raw masculine power in those strong, tattooed muscles that Jesse has been holding back from me.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, his voice hoarse with unfiltered lust.
“Yes!” I cry, surrendering completely to his total dominance and possession. My breasts swing and jiggle as he slams into me harder with each pump. The headboard bangs against the wall.
His movements grow more driven and animalistic. The harder he rams into me, the more I love it. I close my eyes and lose myself in the bliss that is Jesse.
I’m so close.
Now I know what pure ownage feels like.
Suddenly he pulls out and twists me over. “I want to see your face when you cum,” he says.
He slides his cock back in and pulls my legs up to wrap them around his shoulders. Sweat is rolling down his face. “I’m going in deep this time, baby,” he warns before plunging into me further than I ever imagined.
I love the way every muscle in his arms and shoulders flex and the heat of his hot skin pressing up hard against mine. Three thrusts in this position and I’m over the edge. I barely hear his sharp intake of breath as my orgasm contracts and pulses tightly around his cock. When I stop shuddering he begins to move again, his thrusts growing more erratic.
“I can’t hold out,” he groans, holding my head tightly between his hands and capturing my mouth in a deep kiss as he cums inside me.
His body shudders and finally stills. He gasps for breath and nuzzles his face in the curve of my neck. When his breathing slows, he tightens his grip on me, holding me so close I can barely breathe.
Something is changing with him. I can feel it deep down in my soul.
“You’re unraveling me,” he says simply, and I know exactly what he means.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JESSE
It’s after midnight, and Flint’s bachelor party is in full swing. With a room full of bikers, booze, and babes, what more could Flint ask for in a party?
The upstairs private room at the bar is packed with all of the members of the Steel Infidels, along with several of our friends from other motorcycle clubs. As promised, Roger delivered the beer kegs and strippers right on time.
Like most bachelor parties, the goal is for everyone to drown themselves in alcohol. While a few guys might get lucky enough to grab some pussy, most are here to drink and look more than touch.
I can’t help but smile when I think about Trish’s reaction to the party. Without saying one word, she made it perfectly clear she wasn’t thrilled about the strippers. Hopefully I convinced her it is all in good fun and nothing else.
With a woman as satisfying as Trish in my bed, I sure as hell won’t be
looking elsewhere for a quick, dirty fuck. Especially after the red-hot sex this afternoon. My mind and body are still reeling. The more I taste of her, the more I want.
I walk over to speak with Rocco and Tom Brewer, the two oldest members of the Steel Infidels. “Thanks for coming,” I say to them. “It means a lot that you are here.”
“Sorry about giving you a hard time about the party,” Rocco says, looking slightly embarrassed. “This whole thing with the Liberators has me spooked. That’s all. You know I wouldn’t miss it. Flint looks like he’s having fun.”
He points his beer toward a straight chair set up in the middle of the room.
I turn around to look and then laugh. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”
Flint is sitting in a chair while a group of strippers take turns giving him intimate lap dances. At first he put up resistance to the idea, but after enduring a great deal of teasing from the men and securing promises of no cell phone photos, he finally agreed to take the place of honor.
Now it looks like he might be regretting it. Big time.
A topless stripper with purple-streaked hair has his head squeezed between her oversized DD breasts. From the panicked look in his eyes, I can’t tell if he’s turned on and enjoying it or if he’s about to suffocate from the intense motor-boating.
Sam is standing a few feet away from the action laughing his ass off. It’s obvious who is having the most fun tonight. No surprise there.
If nothing else, at least Flint knows his brothers care enough to throw him a party. I wonder if I should go rescue him. When he reaches up with the back of his hand to wipe the sweat dripping off of his forehead, I walk over and hand him a plastic cup of draft beer.
He chug-a-lugs the entire contents of the cup and hands it back. “Thanks. I needed that,” he says. “Jesus Christ, Jesse! How many fucking strippers are in this room? I don’t know how much more I can take. The last one tried to put her nipple in my mouth!” He wipes his lips with his hand. “Got any mouthwash on you? That was downright nasty, and not in a good way.”
The next stripper in line, a petite blonde in only a G-string that covers absolutely nothing, interrupts our conversation by putting her hands on his shoulders and grinding on his groin.
Flint cuts his eyes at me. “You got to help me out here, man.”
I touch the blonde’s arm and motion for her to move on. “Okay, ladies,” I say to the remaining girls. “Let’s give the man of the hour a little break before he has a heart attack. I’m sure the other men would love a show, so spread your love out around the room.”
The blonde looks slightly disappointed, then her face lights up when she sees Sam beckoning her over.
Flint stands up and scoots the chair out of the way. He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Whew! That was something,” he says, wiping off his lips again with the corner of his shirt.
“That bad, huh?” I ask, unable to hide a smile.
“More like overwhelming,” he answers. “I’m not complaining though. I appreciate the bachelor party. Thank you. I know you put all of this together and it means a lot. Seriously.”
“I couldn’t let my brother get hitched without a party.” I squeeze his shoulder. “By the way, you have red lipstick on your shirt.”
He looks down at the stain left behind on the white fabric. “Damn! Now I’ll have to toss this shirt before I go home. Kendra is going to fucking kill me. The last thing she said to me the morning I left was ‘look at the girls all you want, but don’t touch, Flint.’”
“Technically, they touched you. Not the other way around. So you’re square.”
“Oh yeah, like Kendra is going to appreciate the tiny distinction there.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “She’ll never know. Come on. Let’s go catch up with some of our friends.”
We almost make it across the room before we hear screams coming from the bar downstairs.
“What the fuck is that?” Flint turns to me to say.
“We’d better go find out,” I reply, already on my way out the door.
Taking the stairs two at a time, we rush down to the lower level. The bar customers are pushing in a wave of panic toward the back of the bar while trying to get away from flickering flames near the front windows and door. A tablecloth catches on fire, spreading the flames further into the room.
“What the hell?” Flint yells.
While we’re standing there trying to figure out what is going on, the front window of the bar shatters in a loud explosion of glass as a bottle comes hurtling through.
“Molotov cocktails!” I yell to Flint. “Go upstairs and get everybody in the party out the back. Someone is trying to set the place on fire.”
Flint takes off back upstairs and I frantically search the bar for Trish. She’s standing behind her beer cooler, frozen to the spot in confusion and fear. Pushing my way against the crowd of people moving toward me, I finally reach her side and grab her hand.
“Come on! You need to get out of here now! Where’s the back exit?”
She points to a hallway behind the bar and I start dragging her that way. A series of loud pops in quick succession rattle the building. I can’t tell if it is explosions or gunfire. I look toward the front of the bar and see two security guards with guns raised firing through the blown-out windows into the parking lot.
“Shit! Where the hell did Roger get those bouncers from? ISIS?”
Another security guard runs toward the flames with a fire extinguisher spewing out foam. Trish looks over her shoulder while I keep tugging her toward the back door.
I need to get her out of the building before the rest of the crowd realizes this is the only way out. A fire in a bar full of drunk bikers with one small door isn’t a good combination. Trish might be crushed in a stampede.
I throw open the back door and push her out in front of me. “Stay here where you’ll be safe. Don’t go back in.”
Trish grabs my sleeve. “Where are you going?”
“Around to the front of the building. I know who did this.”
Before she has a chance to argue, I dash around the corner of the building and head to the front parking lot. The bouncers are outside the building now with their guns pointed at a man lying on the edge of the pavement. His bike is on the ground beside him.
“Oh shit!”
I know him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
TRISH
“Jesse! Wait!”
Where the hell does he think he’s going? Didn’t we just hear gunshots?
If he thinks I’m going to patiently wait here while he goes off and gets himself shot, he had better think again. I hurry after him as fast as I can in my high heels. He’s standing at the far end of the building, and it takes me a minute to catch up.
“What’s going on?” I ask when I reach him, out of breath. “What’s happening?”
“Trish, no. Don’t look,” he says in an anguished voice, turning and stepping in front of me to block my view.
Too late.
“Ty!”
I tear loose from Jesse’s grip and take off running across the parking lot.
“Trish, stop!” Jesse yells from behind me.
I don’t stop running until I reach my brother’s body sprawled out on the pavement. His eyes are closed and blood is gushing from a gunshot wound in his stomach. The bright red liquid is dripping steadily and pooling into a big puddle onto the ground.
“Ty!” I cry. “Are you okay? Can you hear me? Ty!”
I tug his shirt loose from his pants and pull it up so I can see how bad he is hurt. I gasp when I see his abdomen. So much blood everywhere, and it isn’t slowing down.
I place my hands against the wound in a pitiful attempt to stop the bleeding. Immediately, the blood seeps between my fingers and soaks my hands.
“Help!” I scream, looking around in a panic, hoping someone is coming to his aid. The bouncers are still standing there with their guns pointed at us. “Call 911! Why
did you shoot him?”
“I’m here,” Jesse says, kneeling down beside me.
He quickly dials 911 and tells them to send an ambulance to the Silver Shark Saloon for a gunshot victim before clicking the phone shut.
“He’s bleeding so much,” I say, my voice catching on a sob. “He’s still alive, right? Right? Please tell me he isn’t dead! Why did they shoot him? I don’t understand.”
“Yeah, he’s breathing,” Jesse assures. “It’s shallow, but he’s definitely breathing. We need to try to slow down this bleeding until the ambulances get here.”
He pulls a rag out of his pocket and nudges my hands away so he can press it against the wound. Red blood instantly soaks through the white rag.
“Damn!” Jesse swears.
He leans over Ty’s body to put more pressure on it.
“Please don’t let him die, Jesse. Please.”
He doesn’t look up at me.
“I’ll try my best,” he says.
I sit down on the pavement and cradle my brother’s head in my lap like a little child.
“Hang in there, Ty. You’re strong. You can beat this.”
Tears flow down my cheeks. I sniffle and try to wipe them away with the back of my hand. In the distance, the wail of sirens lets me know the ambulance is on the way.
“Thank God,” Jesse says without glancing up.
In a matter of minutes, an ambulance and fire truck pulls into the parking lot with lights flashing and sirens screaming. I jump up and wave my arms.
“Over here!” I yell. “This way!”
A team of paramedics rush toward us and instruct Jesse to move aside so they can do their job. He quickly stands up and engulfs me in a big hug. His chest is warm and his shirt is now wet from my tears that I can’t seem to stop. He rests his chin on the top of my head.
“He’s going to be okay,” he says, rubbing my back. “I’ve seen guys live through worse.”
“Really?” I ask, knowing he’s probably only saying that to make me feel better.