Without another word he left, turning off the light on his way out and plunging me into darkness.
***
Ray and Johnny rode up in the late afternoon. The front door hung open, swaying in the slight breeze. “She wouldn’t leave that open,” Ray said, as they cautiously crept towards the door.
“Nope,” Johnny replied. Inside the bar looked normal except for the upended case of beer. A few bottles had broken on the cement floor, leaving a sticky puddle and a sour smell.
“We have to tell Dax.” They both knew what telling Dax would mean for any Outlaw caught on the street tonight. The hatred between the two clubs had never faded, despite the five year old truce. The rage had been simmering just below the surface since Charlie died, and this would be the boiling point.
This was war.
***
Blood poured.
The club rode through the city, engines snarling and throttles roaring. The good, upstanding citizens of this city locked their doors and stayed inside, some primal sense of self-preservation telling them to keep off the streets.
High and tight, Dax rode, flanked by Johnny, Ray and Rico. All four were ready to rain down violence on any Outlaw that crossed their path. Like the four horsemen bringing a biblical plague, they rode into the Outlaw turf at the edge of the city, hungry for the chance to finally settle this blood feud.
They pulled up to a seemingly abandoned warehouse at the end of a dead-end street. The sickly sweet smell riding the air told them all they needed to know about the occupancy of this building. The Outlaws controlled the meth production of the city, and this broken down structure housed their main lab.
Or it used to.
The entire front of the building was a wall of plate glass windows, spray painted black to hide their activities from any prying eyes. Behind Dax were a dozen other members of the club waiting for his signal.
In one motion, Dax unholstered his father’s Desert Eagle, and the rounds of sixteen semi and full automatic guns shattered the glass windows. Sparks flew as bullets ricocheted off metal sheeting surrounding the tanks, and those sparks ignited. A ball of flame erupted from one of the tanks, and the flames spread, following the flammable splatters.
The screams of the Outlaws working the lab rose over the flames. Some made it out the back exit, where more members waited. Others rushed through the open wall, guns drawn, only to be cut down before they fired a single round.
It barely took ten minutes and the building was a torch against the sky and the street was littered with bodies. Dax’s face bore no expression as he watched the massacre. He nodded at Ray, kicked his bike into gear, and rode on.
They hit three labs that night, crippling the Outlaws’ supply and a taking out a fairly sizeable portion of their low-level members. Five years ago, a grief-stricken Dax had used his fists, dragging rivals off their bikes and beating them into comas in the street until Kane showed himself.
This time, the cold fury radiated off him, and the entire MC knew there would be no truce. Either Dax or Kane would be dead before sunrise, and the losing club would be decimated.
The Outlaws retaliated, running two shipment trucks off the road. The first flipped three blocks from Hades, already loaded with guns and coke. The engine caught fire, and the cargo was lost, but the Outlaws managed to force the second off the road. Like pirates on the high seas, they snatched the spoils for themselves, leaving the driver and guard dead in the road.
A few younger members who didn’t yet know their place had complained about Dax burning the city over a piece of ass. Rico broke the nose of the objector, growling, “Would you want to ride under someone who would let an insult like this stand from the Outlaws? You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us.”
Kane had kept out of sight deliberately, wanting the Diablos spread thin across the city and Dax off balance with anger.
And still Dax rode, circling the city and searching for Kane’s blood-red bike.
At dawn, he found it.
***
Dax wasn’t the only one off balance.
Still cuffed to that beam in the basement, my whole body ached. I flexed my fingers behind my back, trying to keep circulation going in my hands. My head throbbed with every beat of my heart. Movies make getting knocked out look like something you bounce back from in a few minutes, but the waves of pain and nausea kept coming and I could feel the stickiness of blood from where the punch cut my scalp.
I had watched enough doctor shows on TV to know I probably had a concussion. Every moment was a fight to stay awake, and the endless darkness of the room didn’t help. A tiny part of me almost wanted Kane to come back. At least he would turn the light on.
I could hear heavy footsteps on the floor above me. I thought about screaming, but the only people who might hear me would just come downstairs and punch me again. I couldn’t take another hit without passing out or worse.
I closed my eyes and prayed for Dax to find me soon.
***
Kane’s bike waited out front, parked like a bold beacon laid out to catch Dax’s eye. A broken-down house in a low-rent neighborhood, this was the type of place the police never bothered to patrol. The whole block could go up in flames and 911 would still take half the day to arrive. No one could ask for a better place for a showdown.
Rico, Johnny and Ray hung back, waiting for Dax’s signal with a few other members as backup. Dax dismounted and the others followed suit. A swift kick shattered the lock on the cheap door and the Diablos opened fire.
Six men waited inside, all armed, all ready for this attack. Two went down right away. A third got off a shot that took Ray in the shoulder before Rico put a slug through his neck. The hail of gunfire continued, but Kane was nowhere to be seen. Johnny checked the other two rooms.
“Empty,” he muttered. “Where the fuck are they?” He noticed the basement door hanging ajar, an unlocked padlock dangling from the handle. Gesturing to Dax, the two men descended the stairs.
Kane waited at the bottom, his arm coiled around a limp Blanca and his Glock against her throat. “I wouldn’t do that Dax,” he spat, clicking the safety off the gun. “One more step and I give her a new hole for you to fuck.”
“Your men are dead. Your labs are gone. You fucked with the wrong club, Kane.” Dax’s voice was flat, but a cold fury emanated from him. “Let her go, and I’ll make it quick.”
Kane chuckled. “Why would I do that? I didn’t make it quick for your father,” he taunted. Dax took a step forward, death in his eyes, and Kane jammed the gun harder into Blanca’s neck. “Not another step. Drop the gun. Yours too, old man.”
Slowly, Dax and Johnny lowered their guns when a shot rang out from behind them. A bloody hole appeared in Kane’s forehead, and his fingers went slack on the gun as he collapsed, dragging Blanca with him to the ground. Hidden in the shadows of the doorway stood Ray, blood coursing down his body from his torn shoulder. “He was my father too,” Ray said, before everything went black.
***
I woke up to the sound of heart monitors and medical equipment. Squinting my eyes in the bright light of the sterile hospital room, I saw Dax sleeping in one of those awful plastic chairs, worry creasing his face, even in sleep.
“Dax?” I whispered, my voice cracking weakly as I spoke.
Dax jerked his head upright, coming awake instantly. Before I could blink, he was by my side, tentatively smoothing my hair back from my forehead with his rough hands. “You were in a coma for two days,” he said, quietly. “You had a concussion, and the doctors said you would probably come out of it because you’re young and strong, but there was always a chance. . .” Dax trailed off.
“Kane?” I asked.
“Dead,” he replied. “The Outlaws left are scattered. They’ll regroup in time, and we’ll have to deal with them again, but it’s over for now.” Dax smiled at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he almost looked shy. “Hopefully they spring you soon. Johnny’s been behind the bar, a
nd somehow the man manages to fuck up a Jack and Coke.”
My whole body still ached, but in that moment, it felt so good to just throw my head back and laugh.
***
A week later, I was back in the bar and nearly healed. A few bruises still faintly colored my skin, but, for the most part, I looked like myself again. Dax had treated me like I was something breakable since I woke up in the hospital, and, sweet as it was, the man who got my panties dripping the first time I saw him wasn’t about tenderness and gentle, missionary sex. I wanted the rough biker who thought nothing of fucking me up against a wall back.
And I knew just how to do it.
I closed up shop early, kicking Johnny, Ray and Rico out. Ray’s shoulder had gotten pretty torn up in the shootout, and the sling he had to wear made it impossible for him to ride, so until he healed up he was stuck riding bitch with Johnny. The rest of the MC would never let him live it down.
I yanked the cage closed behind them, double-checking the lock, and kicked the door closed. My hand hovered over the button on my cutoffs. “Dax,” I purred, straddling him and pressing my denim-covered mound against the bulge that had just sprang up. “You saved me. Everything that happened is over, and I’m not broken.”
I tugged my shirt over my head, freeing my breasts to his view. My nipples were hard points already, and only grew harder as Dax sucked them into his mouth, one after another. Undulating my hips like a high dollar stripper, I began grinding on Dax’s lap, rubbing his growing erection in an impromptu lapdance.
I pushed Dax’s jacket off his shoulders, and drew the black t-shirt over his head, pressing my soft, tanned skin against his tattooed and muscled flesh. I slid off his lap, and unbuttoned my shorts, wiggling my hips just enough for them to slide down to the floor, leaving me naked except for the worn black cowboy boots on my feet.
Dropping to my knees, I caught Dax’s zipper in my teeth and tugged it down, freeing his rock-hard cock. Starting at the base, I twirled my tongue around the length, following the vein until I reached the head. I paused, my lips hovering over his cock, and met his eyes teasingly before taking him into the wet cavern of my mouth.
Dax groaned as I took him in, his hands briefly stroked my hair, and I sucked harder, pushing him until he roughly gripped my dark locks and forced me down deeper.
I sighed around his cock, the low, throaty sound of pleasure letting him know that this was exactly what I wanted from him.
Dax’s thigh muscles were tight from the strain of holding in his pleasure, so I let his cock slip from my lips and kissed my way up his body before settling on his lap. I lifted myself up, balancing on my toes, and lowered myself down onto his cock. Inch by slick, wet inch, he pressed inside me. The worn denim scratched my thighs and ass, but I was far from caring as I began a fast, jarring rhythm on Dax’s cock.
The first time Dax had fucked me had been about learning the ins and outs of what brought us the most pleasure. We’d spent hours tasting each other until we were both exhausted.
This was different. This was about showing Dax that I wasn’t a broken little girl who would spend the rest of her life jumping at shadows and hiding in fear from what had happened. This was about showing Dax that I was still an MC bitch who could shoot whiskey with the boys and didn’t blush at the word cunt.
This was reminding him that I had never been a good girl, and I wasn't about to start now.
I rode Dax hard, filling the bar with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, and the gasps and moans of our shared breath. Dax’s fingers dug into my hips as he held me steady, and I knew I’d be wearing finger shaped bruises in the morning. I liked that thought.
I could feel my orgasm building in me, as every downward thrust hit my clit in just the right spot. Dax jerked me down, and the jarring thrust shoved me over the edge. Shuddering and shaking, I cried out his name as my inner muscles contracted around him. Dax came with a shout, filling me with heat, and we both slumped back on the chair, gasping for breath.
Dax pushed a strand of my tangled black hair off my face, his fingers just brushing the fading bruise. Nothing else was said. Nothing else was needed.
***
Girls still walk into Hades looking for a wild night and a good story. They play Russian roulette with dangerous men and spread their pretty legs for a chance to touch the colors of the 1% and ride dirty for a few hours. Dax still looks, and if she hits something primal in him, he still touches.
I didn’t mind back in the early days, and I don’t mind now. The good girls come and come and go, but I’m still here behind the bar and, if I’m feeling wild, on top of it. After all, you fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us, and jealously has no place in the MC. I know who I belong to.
I’m a Diablo.
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Check out the sequel to Ridin’ Dirty
Ridin’ Dirtier
The ride passed in a blur. I could smell the sharp spice of Ray’s aftershave and the warm leather of his coat, and, just like flipping a switch, I wanted him. After living a year of being used and abused by every man who wanted a piece of me, I wanted to be the one who did the choosing this time. I wanted to feel a man’s body against mine and take my own pleasure.
This time, it was my turn to be the one doing the riding.
Keeping one hand wrapped around his waist, the other began a slow descent. I obviously telegraphed my movement downward. The last thing you want to do is startle a man barreling down the streets at 70 miles an hour. When I reached my goal, I was surprised to find the front of his jeans already stretched. I moaned softly, and squeezed his half-hard cock.
That explained why he was being so nice. Guess Ray had a thing for stacked blondes.
The fear and adrenaline began receding into the background, quickly becoming overshadowed with the realization that I could have died today. I’d never dumped my bike before and the knowledge that I almost became a stain on the side of the road made me want very badly to feel alive.
I’d spent so much of my life killing myself in one way or another that I just wanted to feel something. Outlaw men had nearly ruined me so maybe it was time to try a Diablo on for size.
I stroked the growing bulge of Ray’s erection and leaned forward, crushing my ample breasts against his back. The vibration of the engine between my legs had my pussy growing slick and ready, as I counted the miles to home.
When Ray pulled up to my driveway, I didn’t care that the yard was overgrown and the paint was peeling. All I cared about was dragging this forbidden man inside and getting a taste of what he was hiding under his jeans.
Ray pulled his bike around the back, keeping it hidden without my needing to tell him. Here, he was the outsider. The Outlaws may have been scattered and leaderless, but taunting an injured beast never ends well for anyone.
I lead Ray into my house, nearly dropping the keys as he pressed his body against my back. His erection pressed against my ass, a hard line of need. I finally managed to unfasten the three locks on my door and pull him inside, slamming the door behind us and tossing my jacket on the floor.
That first time wasn’t about tenderness or romance. Hell, neither of us even got fully naked. The door had barely clicked shut and Ray was on me, peeling the tight leather pants and my skimpy black panties over my hips and down, leaving me bare-assed and hobbled by the tangle of leather around my ankles. My bed was only in the next room, but those few feet felt like miles. Ray bent me over the back of the couch, and I heard the soft snick of his zipper opening.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that Ray had his impressively sized
cock in his hand, ready to guide it into my welcoming pussy.
“Yesssss,” I hissed, breaking the silence.
“You want this?” Ray growled, pressing the head of his cock against my sopping opening. Teasing me, he rubbed his cock over my slick lips, but didn’t push inside.
“Yeah, I want it bad,” I moaned, knowing I sounded like an over-sexed porn star and not caring in the slightest.
“So fucking wet,” he murmured. “Do crashes always make you this wet, or just Diablos?”
I arched my back and pushed my hips back towards him, trying to force him to slip inside my pussy and relieve this aching tension.
“I wonder if I could make you come just like this?” Ray said, sliding the length of his cock between my lips, coating himself with my juices. His hands cupped my breasts and I heard the sharp rip as he tore the thin fabric of my tank top in half and yanked down my bra, spilling my breasts into his hands.
The stimulation from Ray’s cock rubbing against my most sensitive areas was quickly driving me mad. The quick glance over my shoulder had shown me that Ray had been packing a thick cock inside those jeans, and I wanted nothing more than to feel it ram inside me. Ray had other ideas though.
His nimble fingers pinched at my nipples, teasing them to hardness and bringing me closer and closer to the orgasm we both needed, but it still wasn’t enough, and I had never been a girl shy about her needs.
“Enough!” I begged. “I’ll do anything you want, just fuck me!”
Ray chucked darkly and pushed forward, sheathing his cock inside me in one quick motion.
I was so wet he slid home with no hesitation and I found myself shaking and whimpering as he brought my oversensitive body to an orgasm with that first thrust. He froze and it was obviously taking every bit of his iron control to keep from coming in that moment. When my shaking stopped, he began a slow, deep rhythm. He would pull back with every thrust until only the tip of his cock was still inside me before pushing back in, making every thrust feel like that delicious first thrust.
Ridin' Dirty (Diablo MC Erotic Motorcycle Club Biker Romance) Page 3