Stripped Raw

by Miss Merikan

  “Yo, Candy Cane!” called out Sam, chasing her with a wide grin.

  Candy did turn around to him, her chest rising and falling too fast for him to focus on her face. “I’m so stupid,” she hissed. “I thought I could do some networking for my business, or something. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Sam opened one of the beers and presented it to her when they reached the back door. The party didn’t stop inside, but it was much quieter and easier to talk now that they went out into the fresh air. “Don’t be so sour, Candy. If those brownies are both good and get everyone high, that’ll not be your last order from us.” Going outside might have been a good choice actually, with their backyard so close to the ocean. A kiss on a beach and under the stars might be too tempting for a girl like Candy to pass on.

  Candy hesitated but took the beer from him in the end. “Maybe. I’d really love to expand my business.”

  Sam opened his own bottle and put his hand around her shoulders. “What’s the problem, darling?”

  Candy looked to the waves hitting the distant beach. Nicely fenced off so that it could be used as privately as they wanted. “I don’t wanna bother you with it.” She took a sip of beer.

  But Sam wouldn’t have it and pulled her away from the people smoking and drinking outside. He moved his fingertips over her soft skin, gently massaging it in circles. “Sure, you can do it. Shoot!” he encouraged Candy, pulling her closer against his chest.

  She took a deep breath. “I can’t afford to have a store, so I’m building my business around a catering service, but my car is a wreck, so I never know when it’s gonna break down. And I work all the time at my other job, so I don’t really have that much time for marketing my brand. I’m sorry. I bet this is all TMI.” Candy got back to drinking her beer.

  Sam chewed on his lip as his brain went into overdrive. A wrecked car. He loved himself a damsel in distress. “I can take a look at your ride, if you’d like. I’ve been repairing cars since I was sixteen.” He was embellishing the story a bit, because while he had been working in a garage since his teenage years, he hadn’t really been anything close to a professional mechanic back then.

  Candy quickly shook her head. “No, no, no, I couldn’t afford that right now. I bet you would find a hundred faults in it, and I’d have to buy a new engine or something like that.”

  “Hey.” Sam took hold of her jaw and gently tilted her delicate face up to his eye level. “You don’t know. Maybe it’s just a minor thing. It happens.”

  “I’ll have to think about it. But thank you. That’s very generous. I just don’t want any debt in my life. I’ve learned about that the hard way.” She didn’t move away or challenge him about the touch. So freaking pliant, it pushed all his buttons. When Candy finished her beer, she didn’t throw it away, but scooted down and put it by the wall.

  Sam used the opportunity to pull his fingers slowly down her spine. He wanted to lift that circle skirt so bad. He bet Candy’s pussy tasted just as sweet as her lips. “Who’s saying anything about debt? Just a bit of friendly help for a girl in need.” He would lick her so well all her problems would disappear.

  Candy quickly turned around. She took a deep breath of the ocean-scented air and smiled, playing with a silver bracelet. “Maybe. I moved to my current apartment over three months ago, and I still haven’t made any friends. I know it’s silly but it’s the first party I’ve been to in a long time.”

  Sam smiled at her and pulled a lock of that luscious blonde hair behind her ear. His body filled with heat as he looked into her deep eyes, the same ones that caressed his chest earlier. “Are you saying you’re a bit intimidated by the crowd? We could go somewhere ...”

  But Candy burst his bubble. “No, not at all! I just didn’t have anyone to go with. I’m actually really glad I came. Thank you for inviting me. Jeez, I think I deserve some fun, right? I can’t just work all the freaking time!” She took a deep breath and gave him a big smile. She didn’t shy away from his touch though, so that was progress. He was sure he felt her nipples harden against him when they kissed yesterday.

  “Oh, yeah, we’re very friendly,” said Sam, finishing his beer and throwing it to the side. He couldn’t stop staring. Her eyes, her pink mouth, and her cleavage were like the magical triangle of lust. “Especially me.”

  Candy licked those cute glossy lips of hers, but what came out of them wasn’t sweet at all. “But I’m not looking for a boyfriend right now, okay? I’ve had a bad breakup and all that.”

  Sam opened and closed his mouth. He wasn’t sure what that meant for her. He wasn’t looking for an old lady, just some fun, a few orgasms. Sam loved the conquest, the pursuit. Last time he had a girlfriend out of town, it cost him more than he got from that relationship. “Yeah, about that … I’m not set on being anyone’s ‘boyfriend’.”

  Candy’s blue eyes became almost black with how much her pupils expanded. “Oh, God. I’m sorry. I just thought … I wanted to put it out there.”

  Sam chuckled and pulled her close, opening her lips with his. Oh, yes. That kiss was worth not getting a lap dance from Lucy. Hell, maybe he could still get a lap dance from Candy Frilly Pants here? The inside of her mouth was sweet, delicate, and warm as he traced it with his tongue, breathing in that intoxicating vanilla scent.

  Her body was tense, but she still leaned into the kiss, her heart pounding against his chest. The touch of her fingertips against his stomach made Sam groan with satisfaction. Not so innocent after all. All he needed was to get her into the right mood, suck his way to the fizzy insides of this hard candy.

  He sent his hands down her sides, caressing the outer curves of her breasts, only to rest on her hips where the dress flared. She was his favorite type of girl—feminine and sweet, with a soft body and sweet-smelling skin. All he wanted now was to pull up all that fabric and slip his hand into her panties. His body was aching for it like her pussy was an oasis in the middle of the desert. There were plenty such oases at this party, but Sam was intent to quench his thirst from a very particular pond.

  Candy’s slim arms slowly wrapped around his neck, and it was the sweetest invitation. A petite girl like her always made him feel 100% man—bigger, stronger, and in control. The kiss wasn’t ending, and he loved the taste of her vanilla lip gloss. He could rub it over her pussy lips and then lick it up. She’d moan like a kitten, and he couldn’t wait until he heard it.

  He nipped at her lip and traced the pulsing artery in her neck with his tongue, kissing and gently suckling her soft flesh, but his hands had a mind of their own, always following the need of Sam’s cock. The fabric was slightly stiff, and so were the petticoats beneath it, but within a few moments, Sam was squeezing Candy’s ass through a thin layer of underwear.

  She let out a little moan, tensing her buttocks and pushing into him. Sam decided this counted as a green light and ground his hips against her, while she hugged him closer in response. It was a welcome change from girls trying to unbuckle his pants and grope him whenever they got to this point. That kind of shit always kept him on edge.

  He slipped his hands further, one squeezing the buttock tight while the other dove lower to the heat between those candy-cane legs. The sand slipped underneath their feet as they pulled even closer, ignoring the noise rising in the background. Sam couldn’t care less about the party when he had a beautiful pussy to unwrap. He could fuck Candy on the beach. Girls loved that shit.

  Candy’s ass stirred against his hand like she were about to hump it. Horny girl. He could smell it on her despite the sweet perfume. A hot, musky scent he loved. And when he reached between her legs, he could clearly feel the wetness on the smooth, silky fabric. His cake was fully baked and ready to eat. Candy’s gentle fingers stroked the back of his head, making him groan with pleasure.

  “You that hot for me, babe?” whispered Sam, moving his hand to her front and diving it right under the skirts while holding her up with his other hand. She was piping hot and wet like a freshly bake
d pie, and he was ready to dive in when voices and music became too loud to ignore.

  “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered back, with her cheeks red and glistening like polished apples. Sam knew he struck gold though. Any girl who said that wanted to keep doing whatever dirty thing she was doing. His ex did that when they were gonna do anal. She looked over her shoulder, said those words, and pushed her fucking ass up.

  The double doors between the backyard and the beach burst open, releasing a sea of bodies in different stages of undress. Music surrounded them along with screaming and laughter. When Candy pushed Sam’s hands away, he wanted to howl.

  The last face Sam wanted to see right now appeared in the crowd, and Red Jack came up to them, stark naked, with his coke-can-sized dick swinging right in front of Candy. Sam wanted to cover her eyes. “Fucking skinny dipping time!” he yelled with a bottle of tequila in hand.

  Sam deflated and got hold of Candy’s wrist, trying not to think what a disaster this situation was. Everyone, including Borg, whose white ass was now covered with Gina’s hand, was rushing into the water.

  “Your brownies are working. Magic,” muttered Sam, watching Red Jack snatch one of the hangarounds and put her naked body over his shoulder with a loud yell.

  But instead of being terrified, Candy covered her mouth and laughed. “Oh, my God! Sam, how about we cool off, huh?” She slipped off her shoes, making him feel even taller, but as she pulled him down the beach, he knew there wouldn’t be a happy ending. “This is crazy, I love it!” She let go of his hand, and right in front of his eyes, pulled up her dress to take it off. The massive tattoo under her sheer panties, all over her pert butt, caught him completely off guard, even if just for a moment. This he didn’t expect. Her whole ass was covered with roses and swirls around four letters in a gothic font. ‘JA’ on one butt cheek and ‘KE’ on the other. Oh, fuck. She had some guy’s name tattooed all over her ass. Sam wasn’t sure whether he liked it or if it freaked him out.

  He stood on the shore, watching her bend over and shed her stockings and then her tiny panties on the way into the water. With her blond locks floating with the soft breeze, she looked like a mermaid going back home in a procession of seals and walruses that were so much less graceful than she was. Sam kicked the sand and adjusted his packer before stuffing his hands down his pockets. His eyes were still on Candy, but she already forgot him, splashing about with Lola, a wannabe old lady for their oldest brother, St. Nick, who was nowhere in sight.

  “Come on, Sam! Come over!” Lola yelled and giggled something to Candy.

  Candy turned his way but hid her breasts with her arm, splashing Lola with the other. Any guy could just walk up to them in there and tease them, have fun in their hash-induced state, while Sam was left standing on the shore, gritting his teeth over Candy. If he could simply go in there, it would have been the perfect opportunity to touch her wet pussy, slip his fingers in under the water, so no one could see him fuck her. They’d just see her red cheeks, jerky moves, and swollen tits. Half of them would probably be doing the same thing anyway.

  But that wasn’t going to happen for Sam.

  He gave the girls a tight smile and waved, slowly retreating toward the fence. He’d get a beer and not watch some other guy discover a Jake’s name on Candy’s perky little butt. With a low sigh, he looked up to the roof of the clubhouse where the only person who never liked having any fun, their prospect Monster, was watching the street through a spyglass. He was Sam’s fucking brother in misery.

  Sam picked up a bottle of beer that was half-empty and took a long swig before tossing it at the wall. It broke with a loud clang and left a wet patch on the concrete.

  Fuck.

  Monster never fucked, he never played in the fucking water, but at least he had an actual dick. So did Red Jack and everyone else, while Sam was stuck with his. No matter how long he’d been on testosterone, it just wouldn’t grow any longer, and having the surgery would not get him the result he wanted. So all that was left for him was to watch the guys show off their fucking dicks, carefree as ever, while he had to watch out while taking a leak in a public toilet, just in case someone wanted to check him out. It had happened before, but Sam had smashed the guy’s nose before he could say anything.

  No one could know, and so he couldn’t really date, but that was okay. He had his brothers, he could fuck girls in his own way, but in moments like this, every strip of confidence he had seemed to crumble. Candy’s laughter in the water sounded like mockery, and he didn’t even want to look there in case he’d see another guy groping her. Sam’s fingers tingled with violence he’d love to unleash, all the pent-up sexual tension only adding insult to injury.

  All the blood, sweat, and tears poured into the body he had now, were still not enough for him to join all the naked bodies for some fun. Did he not deserve a fucking break at some point? Was that too much to ask? He’d sacrificed his whole life for this, for the brotherhood of the motorcycle club, and yet he was sure that if any of his brothers knew the cock in his pants was silicone, all hell would break loose. He’d be seen as someone who broke the rules, as a cheat.

  But worst of all, he wouldn’t be seen as who he was anymore.

  “Samson! You fuckin’ coming or what?” yelled a cheery voice from the side, and seconds later, Larry, the bartender from The Ladder, ran up to Sam in his birthday suit. The guy was high out of his mind and pulled on Sam’s cut.

  That was the last straw.

  Sam pushed him away, breathless, and launched himself at the fucker, delivering a blunt punch to his jaw. But it wasn’t enough, and when Larry fell to his knees, Sam yanked on his hair and punched him flat into the sand, blood and teeth spilling out of the man’s fucking mouth.

  With the edges of his vision blurry and red, Sam growled, “Never touch a man’s colors, you hear me?”

  Larry muttered something that sounded apologetic, and put his arms up, cowering from another potential blow.

  Sam kicked a cloud of sand over him and stormed toward the clubhouse. “Fuck this shit!”

  Chapter 3

  Sam opened his eyes and closed them almost instantly, protecting himself from the sharp light coming in through the blinds. He rolled over on the narrow bed and slowly sat up, looking at the clock on the wall. It was already past eleven, and he could hear music from below. The bedroom was small, with just enough space for a bed, some furniture, and walking room, but Sam only used it when he stayed at the clubhouse. There was a television set by the wall, but he needed some peace and quiet before facing everyone else downstairs. Larry had to be taken to the ER in the middle of the party, and Sam spent most of the night sulking.

  He took a quick shower, dressed in his spare clothes, and walked downstairs, locking the door like he always did. He didn’t like people invading his privacy, even if by accident. The clubhouse was a large rectangular building with a giant courtyard in the middle. The garage where most of them had jobs that provided them with tax codes and all the cover-up bullshit was right next door. Unlike the garage though, the clubhouse was easily protected. Confined within a frame of tall, completely smooth walls, with few windows, it was as close to a fortress as they could get away with. The original building was almost two hundred years old, but the Coffin Nails modernized it after purchase in the 1960s. With only two ways in—from the beach, and the narrow gate at the front—it was easy to defend and hard to sneak into.

  Sam walked out into the open corridor and toward the stairs with his hand on the banister. The newer building, sitting inside the huge yard and used mostly for parties, was still lively with hangarounds scooping up all the mess from the night before. A loud whistle grabbed Sam’s attention, and when he realized it was Glock, their sergeant-at-arms, a small smile stretched his mouth.

  “Yo, your old lady’s gone already?” he asked, noticing Glock’s only companion at the plastic table he was sitting at was Monster, who looked as amused as he had been during his watch the night before. Even tho
ugh it was Glock who was most frequently seen with the prospect, Monster was actually the son of St. Nick. Glock and Monster looked nothing alike, so no one would take them for father and son. If Glock dyed his brown hair blond, with his horseshoe moustache, he could be Hulk Hogan’s stunt double, whereas Monster was only slowly bulking up at the gym, with long blond hair that would have made him look like a beach bum if he actually chose to smile at some point in his life. But with Monster’s cold demeanor, even the pretty face and casual getup of white T-shirt and jeans couldn’t make him look approachable. Glock was also about the only person in the club who felt at ease around the brat.

  He stretched and yawned. “She’s back at the shooting range, sorting out some stuff. Where have you been after that Larry thing?”

  Sam shrugged and stole a tomato out of Monster’s salad, ignoring the icy gaze drilling into his forehead like an invisible bullet. Fucker was protective of his diet. God forbid anyone touched his protein shakes. “Went for a ride. Needed to sort out some stuff in my head,” he said, looking at all the motorcycles parked along the front wall of the building.

  “Maybe you should have had some of those brownies to chill out.” Glock chuckled and lit himself a cigar as he put his feet on a sofa next to the plastic table.

  “Maybe. Are there any left?” Sam asked, nodding toward the common room.

  “In the kitchen. But you better hurry, ‘cause there wasn’t many last time I checked.” Glock took a big drag of smoke from his cigar.

  Sam acknowledged it with a pat to Glock’s shoulder. He nodded at Monster, who didn’t even look back at him, too busy with checking out his knife. Freaking psycho. One of the reasons why they all called him ‘Monster’ in the first place.