“I bet the police are pissed they revealed the contents of the letter before turning it into evidence.”
“Yeah, probably. My Dad would’ve lost his shit if something like this happened back in Mississippi. He’s the county Sheriff.”
“What am I overhearing you two chatting about?” His voice is rough, rugged, and every ounce sinful as he is. He’s nothing but a tall glass of ‘your momma warned you to steer clear of’, mixed with ‘every girl loves a little trouble’. The only thing about Rage is I don’t think he’s a little bit of trouble. It embodies him like a soul eater took out almost everything good and left him with far more bad. It wouldn’t surprise me if his heart is almost fully black. Though, I can’t pass judgment there. Mine isn’t far off.
“The serial killer or group of fascists going around murdering women in our neighborhood. Haven’t you heard?” I say, turning my head in his direction.
He gives me a once over. “No, I haven’t. I’m not really the type of man who watches the news or keeps up on current events. How long has it been going on?”
“It started about three weeks ago. Cops put together last week that everything was connected, though,” Faith mutters, staring at the television. I can only see her from the corner of my eye but I can tell she’s worried.
“Stop freaking out. You’re gonna be fine,” I tell her.
“Yeah, but one of my classes doesn’t get out until after nine on Tuesdays, and I normally take the bus and walk home. If I stay late in the lab to work on my homework or course projects, it’s even later than that and . . .”
I turn to look at her. “Listen, you’re not going to be walking home alone for as long as this shit is going on, Faith. We’ll talk to Boss and make sure one of the guys can pick you up and take you to school. It’d be a hell of a lot safer, not to mention it’d ease your worries,” I say, making sure she realizes we’re not going to let her be one of these girls.
“Yeah,” Faith mumbles, still looking a bit nervous.
“What about Iris? What’s her schedule like?” I ask, never able to keep track of these two. A lot of their classes start or end within ten or twenty minutes of the other, although because Faith is studying graphic design, she has a couple of classes later in the evening.
“She doesn’t have anything past five in the afternoon. I’m the only one who does.” Faith’s tone tells me she’s still wrecked about this entire situation. The girl just needs to relax and let me handle it. There’s no such thing as a head clubwhore, but damn if I don’t feel like it. I keep all these bitches in line.
“Alright. I’ll handle it. Okay? In the meantime, relax. You have no need to worry,” I reaffirm, downing the rest of my drink and setting the glass on the bar top.
I decide not to stick around for a moment longer ‘cause I know this chick is gonna be anxious as hell. And with that, she’s gonna want me to stay and calm her down. I’ve got better things to do, like catching up on some sleep or relaxing in my room.
I slide off the barstool and head up to the second floor where the game room and the clubwhores rooms are. Much to my surprise, I hear determined footsteps coming in behind me and I’m pretty sure I know who it is.
“I’m not the type of bitch who enjoys being followed. When I leave a room, I expect to be left alone,” I clearly state, continuing down the hallway until I’m right at the edge of my room. I’m the last room on the left and don’t have a neighbor next to me considering one of our recent girls left. She decided this life wasn’t for her. Iris and Faith share the room across from me and Nikki is in the one next to them.
“Well, I’m not a man who enjoys being ignored. I came up to talk to you and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
As long as I’ve been in this club, I’ve never gotten so aggravated with a man before. It’s not that Rage is interfering in my personal space, because he isn’t. I’m just saying, he’s playing hardball. He’s not the type of man I usually fuck around with, so I might be having a bit of fun with him while I can.
I cock my head in his direction. “Let’s get one thing straight. You didn’t follow me to talk. You followed me because you want to sink your cock into my cunt. Am I wrong?”
He snickers, letting a sinister smile slip past his lips. He’s about two feet away which means he could take what he wants in a matter of seconds. It’s what I’m here for, after all— one of the bitches that’s free pussy to the men and women of the club.
I take him in, looking at the way his beard is a little mangled, obviously showing he hasn’t shaven in a few days. His eyes burn a hole right through me, dark as the devil’s soul and yet, they call out to me at the same time.
With what I know of him, he’s the type of man who takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. I can say I’m very similar, though I have to be a little more submissive and let the brothers and sisters do the picking here. The other day when I was getting rammed by Rage and Chuckles . . . it was one of the most erotic days of my life. I’ve never been fucked like that before.
I’m not saying I didn’t like it, because I did. It made me feel empowered. Well, thinking of it now makes me want to chuckle ‘cause I don’t really know how a woman feels empowered when she’s being rammed by two men. It felt pretty damn good, though.
I walk straight up to him, snake my left hand around his neck and rub my right hand over his cock which is hard under his jeans. Like I said, I knew what he was fucking coming up here for. “If you want me, just take me,” I whisper into his ear, licking the bottom of his lobe before I dig my teeth into his flesh.
I take a step back and turn, lifting the back of my jean skirt up, revealing a barely-there, tiny g-string thong. Catching the glimmer in his eyes, I know he wants to fuck me like an animal and damn if I don’t want him to do just that.
“I want you to fuck me like you own me, Rage. Ram that cock of yours into me until I’m screaming for you to stop,” I purr out, slapping my ass so he gets the message.
He’s quick to free his cock from the confines of his jeans and walks toward me, hard as a cinder block. Dipping a couple of fingers between my lips, he feels my wetness and I look at the wall, using my hands to hold me up.
There’s no teasing or foreplay as he shoves his thickness into me. He’s both wide and long, filling me up like no one ever has. I’ve been with men where I’ve barely felt them and I can’t say the same when it comes to Rage. “Let me tell you something, little girl, I told you no one else was going to fuck this cunt of yours. Don’t you remember that?”
“Yes,” I whimper out as he rams into me faster, feeling the warm sensation start covering my entire body.
“You might be a clubwhore, but you’re my personal whore. I could’ve had any cunt in here. As a matter of fact, I still can. Devi seems to have a thing for my old, hard cock. Who knows, maybe I’ll take you both into my room and let you play with me. How’s that sound?”
I imagine riding his cock while Devi sits on his face, plummeting my fingers into her pussy. I’ve never minded playing around with women, but Jesus, does it make me hornier right now. “It sounds great,” I moan as my body starts to shake.
“I could always bring Chuckles in and have him fuck your ass again too. You seemed to like that anal play, didn’t you, girl?”
Little does he know, I fucking love anal. “Yes,” I keep it short and sweet, sliding my hand down to my clit, just on the edge of coming undone. I want to come, and I want it so fucking bad.
Rage slams me up against the wall, rips my hand away from my clit and puts his hand there, taunting and teasing me until I’m shaking, wiggling away from him because it’s too much. He continues fucking me, almost feeling as if he’s growing larger with every moment.
“Fuck, yes. Jesus, Rage!” I scream out, feeling a gush of wetness spill out of me. He growls, biting the back of my neck and stops, hissing in my mouth.
Rage pulls himself from me, yanks my hair down to his waist and shoves his cock into my mouth, releasing his com
e down my throat. He shoves his dick so far back that I choke. My eyes water from my gag reflex and I breathe in and out through my nose. He takes his cock out, stares me down, and gives me a direct order. “Swallow it all, and then we’ll go have a chat in your room about this shit that’s going on.”
I listen, swallowing it whole while wondering why he wants to discuss these crazy people. In all seriousness, what the hell is he going to do about it?
10
No one is coming to save you. This life is 100% your responsibility
~Mr. Villain Quotes
Rage
Something about this woman makes me want to fuck her every time I lay my eyes on her. I don’t wanna give her a title or any of that shit, but I’m pretty certain she knows she isn’t getting that outta me. A lot of clubwhores aim to be at the top of the food chain, ordering around women lower than them. I’m gettin’ the feeling that Gold already orders bitches around.
“Why do you even wanna talk to me about this shit? Aren’t I just your piece of ass that you come runnin’ up on whenever you want some?” she asks, pulling her skirt back down in the process.
“Well, yeah, I’m hearing some shit. What I overheard, I didn’t necessarily like. Is there anything else you’re forgetting to tell me about this?” I ask her, wondering if I’m losing my mind or not. I could be paranoid as hell, but I don’t think I am. Shit is too similar. It could be a fuckin’ copycat but I won’t know for certain.
“I don’t know why your tone is coming out all accusatory and shit. I don’t know too much. All I know is there are women's bodies showing up on the beaches or right near the water, completely drenched. They’re soaked, obviously being drowned. Everyone knows these girls are being grabbed off the street at night because they’re alone and that creepy ass letter went to the news station where they released more details about this shit. Hell, why are you so curious anyway? You’re not a hero. I’ve heard the rumors about you.”
Boy, is she right or what. I grab her throat and shove her against the wall. “You’re right. I’m not a damn hero and I never will be. You’d best remember it, girl.”
“Why do you want to know about this shit? At least tell me that,” she hisses out, eyes filled with anger and defiance.
I think about keeping my trap shut, knowing I don’t have to tell her shit, but I talk. “This isn’t the first time someone with the same MO has done this. The first time was about forty-something years ago, in St. Petersburg, Florida.”
I remember that time all too well. I think I was eight or nine when we lived in St. Petersburg. I remember my mother being scared out of her damn mind whenever my father would leave the house. I could never figure out why, ‘cause he wasn’t a lady. She was filled with fear though, and she had every right to be.
We left St. Petersburg after the killings kept happening for over a year. There were rumors about a cult, which were confirmed. The anxiety crippled my mother, and we moved out to the mid-west where I stayed until very recently.
What my mother didn’t know back then is that moving wouldn’t have saved her from fate. The murders kept happening, only this times they were at lakes instead of the ocean. I’m sure she thought she was going mad, losing her mind over the course of the years. I wonder if she thought the murders were something she fabricated in her mind. After all, what was the likelihood that this killer would be in St. Petersburg and then in the same county we were in? It was impossible. Or at least, it was impossible unless the person behind it was with us.
Mom figured it out around the same time I did. I remember hiding in the closet, hunched behind a box with the doors closed. I was small enough to where I could peek to the right and see through the slits in the door. Mom confronted Dad after finding some of the same tape, plastic bags, and a bloody knife in the trunk of his car.
She was certain he was acting alone, that there wasn’t a cult. Looking back now, I wish she would’ve kept her mouth shut and ignored it. If she had, she might’ve been able to save her life. She could’ve taken me and ran, went to the police and told them. They might’ve even arrested my father, questioned him to find out details about the cult . . . but instead, she wanted to handle things in the privacy of her own home like everyone else. She just didn’t realize what kinda monster she was dealing with.
I remember the sounds of her gagging, the way her voice sounded like a cat when she was trying to suck in air as she was being choked. I remember the way her shadow shifted when he lifted her in the air like she was a pinata and the thud of her dead weight against the floor.
To this day, I don’t think she was dead when she hit the floor. I think he choked her until she passed out and took her to the lake to make an example of her. He didn’t know back then that I knew his identity at that young age or that I knew what he was.
I saw what he did to my mom, so I kept quiet and acted like a normal kid when the police came to the door to tell my Dad they found her body. I didn’t say a word because I thought he’d do the same to me.
Still, I couldn’t figure out why he was doing the things he did. Why was he killing innocent women? It never made sense, but what did make sense is the things he’d say to me when we sat down for dinner, how he infected my mind bit by bit, telling me I was just like him.
I tried to fight it, not wanting to believe any fucking part of it. I wasn’t him. I wouldn’t kill the woman I loved, but right now, I’m realizing I have been like him in the past. I sure as hell tried to fuckin’ kill Roxy.
I kept her daughter as my personal captive for years when I should’ve set her free after I realized she wasn’t my daughter. Instead, as punishment for everything her mother put me through, I kept her as a taste tester for the drugs we were dealing. She made me look like an idiot in front of my own men, constantly testing my authority by giving them her ideas. There was a time and a place to talk about shit. She should’ve opened her mouth in the privacy of our home, not in front of the brothers.
I dealt with it by going on a fuckin’ binge. I drank as much as I could and took every drug on the planet. Shit, I’m surprised I’m still breathin’ with how much poison I put in my body.
I’m a sinner. By no means am I a saint. Dad reminded me of that when I called him out on his shit, pressing a gun to his head at seventeen. I was too chicken to pull the trigger, not wanting to lose the only parent I had left. But, I knew what he was. He was fuckin’ disgusting, the worst type of monster imaginable. Looking back now, I hate that I didn’t pull the trigger that day. I’ve pulled triggers so much since then. There’s just one big difference. I never had to kill my father. The people I did kill were people I didn’t care about. They were no one to me.
I can’t take back the shit I’ve done, although I know that not everything I did was right. I fucked up. I made massive mistakes and then I made little ones. My life has just been a mixture of bigger and minuscule ones.
Six months ago, I wouldn’t have cared about my past shit. Then again, I was in an entirely different place— literally. After almost losing everything, I’m looking at my life a bit differently. Well, that and a diagnosis that alters every bit of time I have left.
There’s a saying that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
Right now, I’m thinkin’ that’s accurate. Only, I’m the apple that fell and rolled off in my own direction. One thing’s for sure though, I’m my father’s son.
“What? Why didn’t you say anything downstairs?” Gold questions and I have to come up with the reason for that myself.
“Because I know the group of people behind those murders from all those years ago, and I’m thinkin’ he’s made his way up here.”
Her eyes go wide, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’ve told you everything I’m going to. If you hear any details about what the police find or if that news station is taunted again, you tell me. Okay?”
“Why should I tell you? It’s not like you’re going to do something about it.” Her words hit m
e like acid burning my skin.
“That’s where you’re wrong. If I find this fuck and his group of demented misfits, I’ll shove the same knife he’s using to kill these women through his fuckin’ heart.” I pull my hand from her throat and head down the opposite end of the hallway, needing some space before I blow up.
11
We have our own language, you and me. One that doesn’t have a word for goodbye.
~JM STORM
Gold
I’m not sure what the fuck just happened. Rage seemed to lose his shit in certain retrospects. I don’t know much about the man, beside the obvious— he’s Boss’s dad, he used to be the Prez of the Demons of Hell, and a few other small things.
“Uh, why is your neck all red?” Nikki asks while she walks toward her room.
I dismiss her with my hand, wanting her to feel like it’s nothing serious because it isn’t. “Rage and I were having a moment.”
“You alright?” she questions again.
“Yes, I’m fine. Thanks, though.”
“Is he beating up on you or is he the type to choke for kinky pleasure?”
While I’m realizing Rage is probably the type to beat women, he hasn’t ever harmed me. “No. He is a kinky bastard, though, from what I know.”
Nikki giggles, tossing a dread behind her shoulder. “Girl, I’ve heard a lot about that man. If he wants to take a ride with me, there’s no way I’ll deny him. He sounds like a trip.”
I don’t know why, but I get a sick feeling in my stomach after Nikki admits she’d fuck Rage. This has never happened before. In fact, the club rules are laid out in the open before anyone joins. We swing. There have been club members who decided to stay monogamous, but they’ve been gone for a while. Since I’ve been here, I only ever encountered one couple who ended up going nomad to be with one another. They didn’t want the temptation in front of their faces every day.
Enraged: Iron Vex MC Book 1 Page 5