Spike: Satan's Disciples MC

by Zoey Parker

  “It didn’t happen like that, did it?” Spike said flatly.

  Georgia shook her head. “He was supposed to come home straight from work, but I guess he stopped at the bar first.”

  “Sounds about right. So what’s so great about that? Why would that make you want to cling to your brother?” Spike asked skeptically.

  “Because after about two hours of waiting for my dad, Felix, who was barely ten at the time, scraped together his savings to buy us two train tickets so we could go to The Shops and eat at the food court.” Georgia looked at her feet. “We spent the day window shopping, pretending to be a rich family. I know it sounds dumb now, but at the time…”

  Spike understood. He would have given anything for someone to do something like that for him. Instead, when he was sixteen, he’d walked in on his mother’s corpse and ended up killing his father. Not exactly the memories family photo albums are made of.

  Feeling terribly unsure about what he was doing, Spike felt himself walk over to Georgia and stiffly gather her into his arms.

  “Listen to me,” he said, looking down at her soft, tanned skin. “Alex told me some other things. Ivan isn’t going to let you or your brother go.”

  “What do you mean?” Georgia said, confusion and worry clouding her pale blue eyes. “You said you were able to get rid of Ivan, so that won’t matter if you do what you said, right?”

  Spike could hear the panic growing in her voice. “Georgia, relax,” he said calmly. “It just means that we’re going to have to do a little more than simply run Ivan out of town. I know Ivan’s type; if he wants someone dead, there’s no stopping him. We’re going to have to kill him.”

  “I’m not seeing the problem,” Georgia said darkly.

  Spike chuckled. “Well, as long as we’re on the same page, then,” he said, kissing the top of her head, surprising them both.

  He pulled back, a yearning look in his eyes as he gazed at Georgia. She looked up at him, her mind a swirling mess of thoughts and emotions. The only thing she knew was that she was going to fly into a million pieces if Spike didn’t kiss her right this second.

  Thankfully, she was rescued just in time. Spike’s lips crashed down on her, wiping away everything except the sensations currently brewing down below. She brought her hands up to entwine her fingers through his shaggy hair, pulling him even closer to her.

  Spike groaned, loving her urgent mouth. He hugged her curves, sliding his hands up and down her body. “Holy fuck,” he moaned. It was incredible how hot she made him, just from making out. Spike thought he could survive on kisses alone for the rest of his life if they were all going to be like that.

  She probably kisses the sap like this all the time, that horrible, self-doubting voice said. Spike thought about Georgia and the younger man in bed together, and he gripped Georgia roughly. He pressed her up against the fridge, wanting nothing more than to be the only man she ever touched again.

  He knew, of course, that once Satan’s Disciples managed to kill Ivan and the rest of the Russians, Georgia would most likely go back to her sap, and he would return to Cleo. Until then, however… Spike slid his hands under Georgia’s ass and picked her up. Her long legs wound around his waist and he walked down the hallway to where he knew her bedroom lie.

  ***

  Rocco stood on Georgia’s doorstep for a few moments, processing what had just happened. Eventually he realized that he had been kicked out of his own girlfriend’s home, and by a man he strongly suspected was a criminal, no less!

  This is insane, Rocco said to himself. That man is most likely involved with her brother and holding her hostage! I need to save her, he decided imperiously.

  Hurrying back to his car, Rocco made sure he drove far enough away that he wouldn’t be spotted. Something told him that if the heavily tattooed man found out he was calling the cops, he wouldn’t be able to do much calling as he would have had his tongue removed.

  He punched in 911, anxiously waiting for the operator to answer.

  “9-1-1, what is your emergency?” a cool voice on the other line said.

  “Yes, hello, I think there’s someone inside my girlfriend’s house,” Rocco replied, agitated.

  “What is your girlfriend’s name?”

  The woman sounded calm, but Rocco could hear her typing furiously in the background. “Georgia Lewis. I went over to her house and there was a man inside.”

  “So there is someone inside the home threatening her?” she asked.

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” Rocco slammed his fist against his steering wheel and took a deep breath. “I went over to her house and there was a man inside, and he didn’t look like the kind of guy she would hang around with. She seemed nervous and scared, and when I tried to ask who he was, he pushed me out of the house and locked the door,” he clarified, listening to the rapid tic-tac of keys as the woman typed. “There’s one other thing,” he added. “Her brother, Felix, has a habit of getting into trouble.”

  “And you think her brother might know this man, or have something to do with the man being at Ms. Lewis’s house?”

  “It’s possible,” Rocco said.

  “It looks like there is a record on file for Georgia Lewis, and her brother, Felix,” the operator told him.

  “What?” Rocco was stunned. Felix, of course, but Georgia? Rocco wondered. “Is it recent?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry, that’s confidential,” she said evenly. “There is an officer assigned to the case. If you would like, I can contact him and send him to Ms. Lewis’s home.”

  “Do that, please,” Rocco said.

  “Could I get your name as well, sir?”

  Rocco hung up quickly; he didn’t want this to get traced back to him. Starting his car, Rocco drove away. If he was going to keep an eye on Georgia, he would need supplies.

  ***

  Nicholas jumped at the screeching static of his CB radio.

  “Unit 41, please respond,” the operator crackled.

  He quickly zipped up his pants, pushing the prostitute off of him and grabbing the walkie. “This is Unit 41 responding. What do you need, Radio?” he asked, frustrated. He had been seconds away from coming.

  The girl in the passenger seat wiped her mouth. She flipped down the visor to check her make-up and fixed her smudged lipstick.

  “I got a call for you on one of your cases.”

  Nicholas frowned. “What case?” he asked.

  The girl had grown bored already and started to tug on his uniform, whining quietly. Nicholas gave an exasperated sigh and dug into one of his utility belt pouches, pulling out a small baggie of white powder.

  He tossed it to the girl, who immediately opened it and began to rub it on her gums.

  “Looks like Lewis, Georgia and Felix; siblings. Someone called 9-1-1 about a possible intruder in the sister’s house. Need me to send you the file?” the operator asked.

  “No, it’s fine. I’ll do a drive by,” Nicholas told her. “Any description?”

  “No, and no name on the caller either.”

  “Alright. Thanks, Radio,” he said, putting the walkie back in its holder. Nicholas looked at the girl next to him. She was already high; her pupils were huge. He reached across her lap to open the car door. “Time to get out,” he told her, giving her a rough push.

  The girl half-stepped, half-stumbled out of the car, grabbing onto a parking meter to stabilize herself.

  Nicholas shut the door and rolled down the window. “See you next week, Tiffani.” He smirked, turning on his lights and speeding away.

  As he drove to Georgia’s house, Nicholas reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a burner phone. His eyes flicking from the road to the screen, he dialed Ivan as quickly as he could.

  “Ivan!” Nicholas exclaimed when he answered. “Did you send anyone to Georgia’s place today?”

  “No, why?” Ivan asked, confused. “What happened?”

  “There was an emergency call to her house, something about a
possible intruder,” he told him. “I thought maybe you—”

  “No,” Ivan repeated, cutting Nicholas off. “I sent no one. Do you think our friend Felix has managed to piss off someone else besides us?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m about to drive by her house now and take a look. I’ll let you know what I see,” Nicholas said. He slowly cruised down Georgia’s road, the bright white floodlight on top of his hood illuminating the entire neighborhood.

  There it was—a distinctly matte black motorcycle with red accents—Spike Turner’s bike.

  Chapter Seven

  Spike had Georgia’s arms pinned together at the wrists, holding her firmly but gently underneath him on the bed. Feeling very grateful Ivan hadn’t shot up the bedroom, Spike gazed down at her, amazed with the sheer mass of her hair. It curled around her head, creating a dark hazelnut cloud around her.

  He pressed his lips to her throat, then her collarbone, loving the way her soft skin felt to his mouth. Little goosebumps spread down her arms, and he kissed those too. Slipping his hands under her tank top, he began to slide it upwards, inch by inch, trying to memorize the sight of her taut stomach.

  Spike glanced up to see Georgia wickedly grinning down at him. He felt her shift beneath him and suddenly, his view was spinning. Georgia had used her powerful hips and thighs to roll Spike onto his back so that she was straddling him.

  She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward so her breasts swayed tantalizing above him. Spike strained his head to reach, nearly crying out in frustration when he found he could not.

  Georgia giggled, a delightful sound that Spike couldn’t get enough of—he caught himself involuntarily grinning whenever he heard it. Georgia kissed him forcefully, her tongue entwining with his as he felt her hands delicately undo his belt buckle.

  This is exactly how I wanted this, Spike thought eagerly. She actually wants me—she wants to be with me. Any other way, and I don’t know if I actually could have gone through with it.

  He sat up to help Georgia slide his shirt off, revealing his muscular chest and stomach. Georgia traced her fingers across every crease and sinew of his upper body with a gentleness Spike had never encountered before.

  Georgia brought her hands lower, to the elastic edge of Spike’s boxer-briefs. Hesitating for only a moment, she carefully lifted them over the head of Spike’s fully engorged cock. Georgia’s fingers hovered millimeters away from touching it, and Spike could feel the warmth radiating from her hand. He bit his lip, anxiously waiting for her to do…something, anything. The anticipation was agony.

  “Please,” he begged her softly.

  Georgia snapped her head up to look at him, pulling her hand away as though caught doing something naughty. Spike moaned at the sheer innocence of the subconscious act.

  “Please, Georgia,” he repeated. “I’m dying to see you again,” he told her.

  Georgia looked down at herself—she was still fully clothed, whereas Spike was fully nude. Raising up on her knees, she swiftly pulled her shirt over her head, revealing a dark gray lace bra. Her nipples immediately perked up at the rush of cool air, and Spike reached up to tweak one through the thin fabric.

  “Now the bottoms,” he ordered with a twinkle in his eyes.

  Trying, and failing, to hide her smile, Georgia stood up and undid the buttons on her pants, slowly slipping them down her legs. She stepped out of the bottoms to show matching lace panties that had a small bow on the front.

  Spike found he couldn’t get enough of Georgia surprising juxtaposition of inexperience and inherent sex appeal. He recalled the time Cleo had put on this virginal white number, trying to spice things up for them. Spike had struggled to finish; he got weirded out and had to pretend he’d jerked off earlier.

  It wasn’t just that Cleo is a shitty actress, Spike remembered, it was creepy, pretending to have sex with a virgin. Spike always had sex with experienced women because he didn’t want to be responsible for anyone’s hurt feelings the next morning. A person’s first time should be something they want to remember, not something they regret, he thought.

  As he watched Georgia climb back onto the bed to straddle him once more, his throbbing hard cock resting against the welcoming heat of her pussy, he thought the reason he was so attracted to her was because she was inexperienced, but she wasn’t a delicate flower either.

  After all the women Spike had been with, it was a powerful feeling to have the tables flipped, and him be the teacher for once. He reached behind her back to unhook her bra, sliding the straps down her shoulders.

  She sat on his lap, bare-chested and proud, looking down at Spike with those blue eyes, and suddenly he didn’t feel so powerful anymore. He gasped, feeling her wrap her hand around his cock, her thumb sensually caressing the head. Spike urged his hips upward instinctively.

  Georgia giggled again, loving Spike’s smile. She was enjoying herself immensely. With Rocco, he just wasn’t…enough, in all the many ways that could be interpreted.

  Just a few hours ago, she was upset, angry even, with Spike ditching her—but watching him toss Rocco out on his ass had Georgia hotter than Rocco had ever been able to make her.

  She raised herself up, grazing Spike’s aching member with her thigh. Spike was nearly whimpering, he wanted Georgia so badly.

  Right as she was about to remove her panties, Spike heard his phone ring somewhere deep within his jeans—wherever those were. Groaning, he rubbed his face with his hands, trying to telepathically murder whoever was on the other line.

  “Ignore it,” Georgia said.

  “I can’t,” Spike protested lamely.

  Georgia bent over on all fours, her round ass sticking high into the air, teasing Spike with its closeness. She giggled at his obvious despair. “You’re the leader, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes filled with all kind of mischievous thoughts. “You can do what you want.”

  Spike watched her crawl towards him, licking her lips as she did. She was clearly liking the effect she had on him. “I really can’t,” he said, not very convincingly. “What if it was your phone?” he asked.

  Georgia stopped—he had a point. If it were Felix, she would answer in a heartbeat; things were dangerous for everyone right now. It was important to stay in touch, no matter what else was going on around them. You allowed yourself to forget that, all because you couldn’t keep your hormones in check! Georgia scolded herself. You might as well have been a porn star for the way you were acting! Her cheeks burned from embarrassment; she couldn’t believe that she let herself get so out of control. Last night you were pissed as fuck that Spike wanted to trade sex for Felix’s safety, and here you are today, practically throwing yourself at him!

  She was so absorbed in her self-deprecation she didn’t even hear Spike’s conversation on the phone.

  He hung up and put a hand on Georgia’s shoulder. She jumped, startled.

  “Woah!” Spike said, chuckling. “Easy there.”

  “Everything okay?” she asked anxiously.

  “Yeah, they just want me back at the house,” Spike explained. “I told them I was going to do some recon today.”

  “And then you ended up staying here?” Georgia said with a small smile.

  Spike grinned at her. “Well, the temptation was difficult to resist. I do have to go now, though,” he added regretfully, “so we will have to finish this later.”

  He found his pants, and pulled them on. Georgia grabbed his shirt and vest, and passed them to him. Spike looked her over; wild hair, naked chest, full hips—he felt his cock strain against his pants and he dropped his gaze. If he didn’t hustle, he’d never make it out of here.

  “I’ll call you,” he promised with a wink, kissing Georgia swiftly and roughly on the mouth.

  Spike stepped outside, shrugging on his vest, breathing in the cool night air. He adjusted his pants a bit, then swung his leg over his bike and started the engine. He hadn’t said anything to Georgia, but it had been Cleo on the phone, and she sounded pi
ssed. Spike didn’t care, though, because he knew the news about Ivan would put her square on her ass, where she belonged.

  He roared down the street, too focused to see the dark car parked under an overhanging tree across the street. The window rolled down, and Ivan leaned out the window to watch the gang leader’s taillights disappear into the night.

  ***

  “Finally,” Cleo grumbled, hearing Spike’s motorcycle pull into the yard.