WOLF - Prequel

by Jessie Cooke

  “Put my cock in that wet pussy,” he whispered. Tricia reached down and did what she was told. They both groaned as he slipped into her. She was so wet that it took no effort at all. He felt the hot walls of her smooth pussy close around him as he filled her up, and for a second, he just let himself pulse inside of her. He could feel her pussy beginning to throb around him, trying to tease him into coming already. That was when he pulled back and thrust back up into her. She wrapped her arms up around his shoulders, pulled the top half of her body up off the bed and held on tight while he fucked her...hard, fast, deep...they were gasping and panting and moaning, and Wolf had sweat rolling off his brow and dripping down onto her chest. When he leaned into her harder their bodies slid against each other and the heat they created threatened to set the room on fire.

  “Oh fuck, Wolf! God!” Trish clutched him tighter and he felt her pussy beginning to spasm around his cock. That sent his cock into its own convulsions and he came so hard that it felt like both of his heads were exploding at the same time. It was, indeed, just what the doctor ordered. The rest of the night was spent wrapped up in the loving arms of his sexy friend and when he woke up in the morning it was to the smell of the coffee she’d left brewing and the breakfast she’d cooked for him and a note that said, “You were too good for her. Your true love is still out there, and someday you’re going to find her. Don’t ever sell your amazing self short. Love, T.”

  20

  Clay sat with his hands taped together and a thick fog of sweat lingering around him like an odorous blanket. His wide, frightened eyes met Wolf’s as he came in the door and they never wavered. Wolf stopped two feet in front of him and said:

  “Hi, Clay, thanks for coming.”

  Clay snarled, pulling strength from somewhere...maybe hopelessness...and said, “Like I had a fucking choice.” His right eye was black and swelling as they spoke. There was dried blood crusted around his bottom lip and he was on his knees, dressed only in a pair of black satin boxers. Sweat covered the rest of his body and his breaths were coming in fast, ragged gasps. Wolf smiled.

  “The boys said you were reluctant to leave my wife’s bed.”

  Something changed in his expression, but just for a second, and then the defiant look returned and he said, “You know how it is, that dark pussy is so fucking sweet...” Bruf took a step toward him and he flinched, but it was Wolf’s hand signal that stopped the SA. Wolf kept the smile firmly in place even though his stomach was churning.

  “Sweet,” he said. “And deadly. How long do you think it would have been before she decided you were worth more to her dead? It’s like fucking a woman that cheated with you and expecting her not to cheat on you...oh, that’s right, you did that too. Tsk, tsk.”

  “What the fuck do you want? Why haven’t you just let your bulldogs put a bullet in my head and gotten it over with?”

  “That wouldn’t be any fun, Clay. Nope, a bullet to the head is so...boring. That’s the way Amara’s father would do it...and Amara, I suppose, if she’d quit hiring douchebags with a shitty aim.”

  Clay’s defiant look was beginning to waver again. He might have the balls to beg for a single bullet...but now he was thinking about torture, and the smile on Wolf’s face became more genuine. “I didn’t know she was trying to kill you,” Clay said, suddenly. Wolf laughed. He had to give it to the guy—it was worth a shot that they’d believe him.

  “She didn’t tell you, Clay? She didn’t tell you what it was like fucking that skinny, ugly little man and talking him into killing her husband? It didn’t turn you on to know you were in bed with a whore that was fucking three different men in order to get what she wanted? God only knows what she did for her cousin...the whole thing is so...sordid.”

  “Right,” Clay said, almost like he hadn’t thought his words through, “Because a lowlife biker doesn’t do sordid.”

  Wolf laughed again. “Sure I do, buddy. You’re about to see just how sordid I’m willing to get.” He pulled off his shirt and watched Clay take in his body. Wolf had started working out when he was twelve years old. Some of his brethren had muscular arms and chests thanks to holding up a Harley. His came from his religious need to hit the weights in the basement of the clubhouse, every single day...and not that he was vain, but he knew it showed. His hands went to his belt and Clay’s eyes widened. Wolf could only imagine what he was thinking at this point, but he hoped the thoughts were dark and scary. He kicked off his boots and pulled off his jeans. He had on a pair of shorts like the ones the MMA guys wear, and he watched as the eyes Clay had on his powerful thighs showed an understanding about what was going to happen there today.

  “Chickenshit,” Clay said. “You got all your boys here with their guns and you’re gonna act like this is a real fight...”

  “Shut up!” Bruf barked, unable to stand it any longer. Wolf looked at his SA and Bruf gave him an apologetic look in return. Looking back down at Clay, Wolf said:

  “No, Clay, this is going to be a real fight...just you and me. These guys were just here to provide you with transportation...and spectate. Oh! Don’t worry, we have spectators for your side of the cage as well.” A noise drew Clay’s attention to his right and he watched as Amara and her father were led into the gym by Smoke. He didn’t have a gun on them and neither of them was bound. Wolf smiled at that...he bet the guy hadn’t said two words to get them in the car either. He indicated two folding chairs and Amara, dressed in a low-cut tank top and a pair of jean shorts, and her father, looking like they’d gotten him out of bed in his satin jammies, took their seats. Amara’s eyes were on Wolf and the glare on her face threatened to set him on fire. He was proud of himself, however. It had only been a week and already, all he saw when he looked at her was someone he used to know...and didn’t like. He gave Bruf a nod and his SA moved toward Clay, who flinched again.

  “I’m just taking off the tape, you big pussy,” Bruf told him. Clay sat stock-still as Bruf unwrapped the duct tape from his wrists. He balled it up and tossed it over the side of the ring, striking Amara’s father in the head with it. Traces of a smile were on his lips as he said, “Sorry about that.” Poor old George looked like he didn’t know whether to piss his pants or simply drop dead of a heart attack. Wolf moved his eyes back to Clay, still on his knees and rubbing his wrists.

  “I’m giving you five minutes to get whatever encouragement you need from your cheering section while we finish getting things ready here. Don’t try anything stupid, though. Remember lowlife bikers like us aren’t averse to using that bullet-to-the-head thing if need be. At least in a fair fight...you’ve got a little bit of a chance.”

  “Fair fight?” Clay said, as he stumbled to his feet. “That’s what this is?”

  “Yep,” Wolf said. He looked behind Clay at the men who had just walked in the back door and said, “These gentlemen are here to make sure of that.”

  Clay turned, and Wolf was disappointed that he couldn’t see the look on his face. Since all of this happened, Wolf had discovered that two years prior, Brock had lost a match...to Clay. According to his friends, that match had been fixed. They had accused Clay of putting metal weights in his hand wraps, but the referee was apparently paid off as well, because when he unwrapped Clay’s hands and checked them out, he thumbed the weights long enough for the audience and the official judges to see there was nothing there. Clay had nearly destroyed Brock’s face that night, breaking both of his orbital sockets and his jaw. That was Clay’s last fight. He’d gone out on top, and Brock was left to recuperate and claw his way back up from the bottom. From what Wolf could tell from Brock’s face now, he had healed well...and the champ’s current record spoke for itself.

  Brock and Jake were both smiling as they approached the ring. Clay’s head began to shake back and forth. “Fair, my ass!”

  “Well, hey there Clay...I mean, ‘Gonna make you pray, Clay Davis,’” Brock said.

  “You’re gonna just stand by and let some fucking biker piece of shit kill me? Ho
w much is he fucking paying you for this?” Brock reached up and grabbed one of the ropes with one hand and pulled himself up on the side of the ring. Wolf chuckled as he watched Clay stumble back, even though there was still three feet between them.

  “Here’s the thing, Clay,” Brock said. “While I was in and out of hospitals for months, having my face repaired, there wasn’t much else I thought about than getting revenge on you. But I healed and returned to my blessed life...the kind of life with my wife and kids that scum like you only dream about...and I figured my best revenge was to end up back on top, because even retired, you were following the stats, weren’t you?” He didn’t respond so Brock went on. “Then I heard from our friend Wolf here that you were up to your old tricks. Cheating again...” Brock shook his head with a disappointed look on his face and said, “This fight today...it was my idea. See, I never got to see how you could really fight, one on one without cheating. I thought this might be fun...and if it happens to satisfy that primal craving for revenge that sometimes still rears its ugly head in me...then so be it. Wolf says this is going to be a fair fucking fight...and unlike you, I trust him. So, if I were a washed-up old man that never won a fair fight in his life, I’d start praying about now.”

  Clay turned back toward Wolf, but he was already climbing out of the ring. Bruf put a hand on Clay’s arm and pulled him over to the side where Amara and her father sat. “Go visit with your fans,” he said, pushing the fighter through the ropes. Clay stumbled but caught himself before he hit the floor face-first. Bruf looked slightly disappointed about that. Smoke sat directly behind Amara and George, and nobody worried that either of them was stupid enough to try anything with him that close. George was still smug enough to glare at Wolf with a look that he thought might scare him. Instead, it amused him. Wolf had never been afraid of the old man, but Detective Meeks had gotten an anonymous tip that morning that George and his wife were harboring known fugitives in their home. While Hunter was investigating Amara, he had made the discovery that George and his wife were making a tidy profit from letting ousted cartel members, fleeing from both the cartels and the authorities, stay in the basement of their home until they were able to obtain false documents and give them a job in one of Georgie’s businesses. It was going to be all bad...for them both.

  Wolf continued to struggle with what to do with his dear wife. Was cutting her off and taking her family and her lover from her enough? It might be, if he thought she truly loved or cared about any of them. Amara was a user and if her father had no money and her mother was in jail...she’d have no use for them. Clay was just a plaything to her, he had nothing to offer beyond the distraction she’d found when she was married to Wolf and fucking him. If he knew his wife, she would simply move on to the next man. She’d use her looks to “trade up,” and she’d come out on top of all of this. Wolf wasn’t sure if it was petty of him or not...but that idea didn’t appeal to him at all.

  Wolf went over to Jake and Brock and shook their hands and thanked them for coming. He had promised them this fight would be one on one, fair, and if Clay was able to walk out on his own when it was over, they were going to let him. If he needed to be carried out, they would do that too. Wolf didn’t have a need to see Amara, her father, or her lover dead...but there was a hurricane inside of him that would only keep growing if he didn’t release it somehow. When Brock came to him with this idea, he’d pounced on it.

  “We wouldn’t have missed it,” Jake said. “I wish you would’ve given me a little more notice, though, and let me train you some. This guy isn’t in his prime, but he was a fighter for a long time. He knows the moves.”

  Wolf smiled. “I didn’t want to take your attention away from Gunner. I’m looking forward to that trip to Vegas and watching him kick some ass. As far as knowing the moves goes, you’re right...I’m no professional fighter. But I’ve been holding my own on the street for a lot of years now. I think I’ll be okay.”

  “Speaking of Gunner,” Brock said, “Looks like the rest of the crowd has arrived.” Dax Marshall and about ten of the Southside Skulls were filing in the door. Their meet and greet had gone well and Dax had agreed to invest in the gym with Wolf. Before Wolf put any of this plan in motion, he’d run it by his allies. Dax had not only agreed to it, but seemed excited about it. The noise level in the gym went up by about a hundred percent, and Wolf smiled when he saw two prospects come hauling in a giant ice chest and two cute little club girls following them. They’d brought a bar and servers. He liked these guys.

  He looked over at his “wife” and her lover. She had her arms around him and her face buried in his neck. All Wolf could see was all that black hair and for just a second, he let himself remember how soft it was and how much he used to love feeling it on his body. But he shook that off quickly and wondered again if Clay had any idea what he was getting into with her. That might have been punishment enough, if Wolf hadn’t still had that feeling growing inside of him that he had to release somehow. No matter what she’d done to him, he knew he’d never be able to bring himself to put his hands on her...but letting her watch him put them on her lover...that he could do.

  21

  Sabrina drove up in front of the gym. The guy at the gate, a young guy with obvious lust in his eyes, told her where to find Bruf. She knew Wolf would be pissed about her tracking him down, but he wouldn’t answer any of her calls or texts and she really had to talk to him. She’d been making plans to go back to school...to community college...when she got a call from one of her professors at the university. She’d been surprised when she answered the call and he said:

  “Sabrina, this is Dr. Miller from California State University, Fresno.” Sabrina had just taken her final exams before the rape. She never went back, but she knew thanks to her email correspondence that she had passed Dr. Miller’s class...aced it...so she shouldn’t be nervous, but she was. She hadn’t told anyone about the rape...but what if someone knew who had sent out those videos? What if the scum who raped her had talked about it, and now they were investigating the fire at the frat house? Was she a good enough liar to get through that? She wasn’t sure. With a shaky voice she had said:

  “Hi, Dr. Miller. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I have a proposition for you. Are you carrying a heavy load this semester?”

  “Um...no, sir, I didn’t come back for third semester.”

  “Oh my! I suppose when I was searching for your phone number I should have checked that you were still a student here. But that doesn’t matter really...I suppose what matters is why you left. Are you still in the Fresno area?”

  “Yes, sir.” She didn’t offer any more information. After a long pause he said:

  “Well, let me just tell you why I was calling. Have you heard of Doctors Without Borders?”

  “Yes, of course. They travel and offer healthcare and surgery to underdeveloped countries, right?”

  “Yes, exactly. I’ve just accepted a post in Haiti. Since the hurricane in 2016, they’ve had trouble rebuilding their medical facilities, getting doctors, nurses, and the supplies they need. Normally for an assignment like this, I’d be looking for a licensed nurse...but I’ve been having difficulty finding one that might be available on such short notice, so I turned to my list of students. You were at the very top of my class, you’re a mature young lady, and I’m wondering...hoping...that you might want to go with us, and you’ll not only earn college credit, but scholarships are available as well.”

  “Oh my goodness!” It was a hell of an opportunity...one that Sabrina wouldn’t have imagined being offered in a million years... “How soon would you need my answer?”

  “That’s the trouble, dear, we are on a very tight timeline. We’re looking at leaving on Sunday morning.”

  “Sunday? This Sunday?” It was Friday morning...two days to decide if she wanted to leave for six months? Things were looking good for her mother; the DA was already talking about dropping all the charges after Sabrina’s deposition. She h
ated leaving her, but she knew if she told her mom about the opportunity the first thing she would tell her was “Go.” There was Wolf...she was just getting to know him. But her brother had been in the same place for thirty years and she imagined he’d still be there in six months when she got back. Then there was Bruf. He had told her nothing would ever happen...Wolf had assured her nothing would ever happen...but Sabrina couldn’t help still imagining that there might be a chance. So that’s what she was doing there on that Saturday morning. She had to hear him tell her to her face one more time that they had no chance. If he did, she would get on the plane in the morning and leave the past behind her.

  She parked her mother’s car and got out. Before she went up to the door, she took a deep breath. When she pushed on it, it didn’t budge. Shit. She knocked...nothing. The lot was full of Harleys. She saw Bruf’s and Wolf’s. Wolf was going to be livid if he saw her...but she didn’t care. She had to see Bruf. She started to walk around the side of the building and was greeted by a heavyset biker with a beard like ZZ Top and a gun in his hand. “Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow and looked at the gun. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

  He laughed. “What’s your business here, little girl?”

  “I’m looking for my brother.” Chances are if Wolf saw her first, or even heard she was there, she’d never get to talk to Bruf, but she figured throwing out who she was would be her only ticket inside. “Wolf.”

  The guy laughed. “Wolf is your brother?”

  “He is, honestly. I’ve been in and out of the club for weeks now. How do you think I even knew he was here?”

  “Well, little lady, you ain’t going in there. You’re welcome to wait out here with me until your ‘brother’ finishes up what he’s doing, or you can leave and catch him later.”