What I don’t see are the men who were supposed to watch out for Race and me. They’ve vanished; hopefully satisfied that they got their fill of me spread wide for Race. When he left, I didn’t hear Race give them their marching orders or to stay on guard in case I tried to escape. Maybe they wandered off on their own, too bored to care about the laid up girl that was now some other man’s property? Who would want to stand around watching someone they couldn’t get their dirty, greasy hands on?
I’ve got to go for it. If anything, I’ll make up some excuse, like needing to use the bathroom or wanting some fresh air. I’ll play dumb if need be. I can turn on those sweet, innocent girl charms when I’m forced to. But nothing is going to stop me from finding out what is going on with Race.
Luckily for me, my captors are too occupied to care when I slip out the office door. Looking back over my shoulders, I watch two women leaning their half-naked bodies over their laps as they linger in lounge chairs off to the side. Some golden liquid in a label-less bottle is passed between the four of them. Like them, no one seems to care that I’m wandering out in the open, darting between the dusty and stained furniture and the large pile of cardboard boxes.
Behind me, a familiar voice yells, “What do you mean, Race? You actually think that bullshit is true?”
I run off towards it, careful to not bring any more attention to myself. I head back towards an attached garage, waiting in an unlit hallway around the corner. Peeking around the small passthrough wall, I see the backside of Race as he hovers over someone else’s bike. A man lies at his feet, turning screws on the engine. I recognize him vaguely as one of the old dogs. He’s been around since my daddy and mama were part of the club, but he was never anyone important. He couldn’t be now. Most of the guys my mama’s age were retired out or back to civilian status. But there he was, wearing colors and hassling Race like he owned the damn club.
“Yeah, Tony. I do think it’s true. Someone’s after the girl, and I have a suspicion it has to do with her past, her history. You know her family, so I need to know every detail. Got it?”
The old man sighs and gets to his feet. He dusts the dirt off of his crusty looking jeans and leans slightly against the bike he’s fixing up. I try not to stare as he studies Race. The last thing I want is to be caught at this point; I want to hear what the old man has to say about me and my lot.
“Her daddy was a Bad Bastard. But I think you know that, or you wouldn’t be talking to me. Her mama was a claim too. He got her knocked up and put a ring on it before her daddy could come after the club with a shotgun and the boys from his neighborhood. Jacob, her dad, he was a son of a bitch– rough guy with a plan always in the back of his head. He’d attempted a coup one time, but it failed, and he was pushed back down the ranks. He deserved the punishment, so he didn’t say much about it. Took his lot and worked up again.”
“Then why did he disappear?” Race jumps in. “What happened to him?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? The rumor was that he got in bad with the club president again. He pulled some shit or tried to take over but failed to get enough support. If that’s true, he would have asked me to join in. I had the ear of everyone, but he didn’t ask me shit. The other rumor, well, some think he got taken down by the Road Knights on some hush-hush supply run outside of L.A. County. Devils covered it up to avoid paying the widow what she was owed.”
“What about you? What do you think happened to the guy?”
“I’ve got my theories. Most of them are about the girl’s mama. She’s a feisty one– or was, anyway. Like Jacob, Shannon had her plans. She was always meddling with the girls of the club, making drama or trying to gain some power for herself. I think she thought herself the Queen of the Bad Devils. She didn’t get her chance. Without Jacob around, she was done with the club. No claim meant no protection. And if you’re a girl who’s used to MC lifestyle, you sure as hell are gonna be pissed when you’re not offered so much as a night call by the security rounds let alone the money the club owes you when your man goes down on the job.”
My breath hitches in my throat hearing someone speak about my mama that way. To me, she’s always been this kind of frail creature, too delicate to touch. Since my dad’s disappearance, she always felt a million miles away from me. I knew at the time, even being so young, that she was having a hard time with it. We had to move homes, and my mama had to go back to work at the diner her friend owned. It was sad shit to see her come home late at night, mascara streaks on her cheeks and sweat stains on her white shirts. I had become used to seeing her in tight black dresses and leather boots.
Race knocks me back to the present as he asks, “Then what about the local clubs? Is there any connection to her family now? Anyone who may want to get at her to get to her mom or her dad?”
“Not that I can guess at, son.” Tony walks out of my line of sight to light up a clove cigarette as he adds, “No, the person you need to be asking isn’t me. I’m not the expert or the historian, though most of the younger boys like to think of me as some Bad Devils scholar.”
“Then who?” Race growls, frustrated.
Before the man can answer, I let out a loud, unmissable squeal from the hand grabbing me around the shoulder. The person spins me towards them, but in the dark, I only hear the slurred words exclaim, “What the fuuuuuck are yous doin’ back here, Del? I woulda thought that Race woulda sent ya home. Ya needda ride or sumthin’?”
I can smell Seb’s breath better than I can see him. How he managed to get drunk in the short time between us last seeing one another back in the warehouse is beyond me, but he’s lit enough to not realize I’m actually hiding in the shadows. I don’t even bother trying to get the man to lower his voice. He’s already given me away.
“What the hell are you doing out here, Del? Did I not tell you to stay put in the office?”
I can’t help but respond, “I didn’t think that being your claim meant that I had to give up my free will, Race.”
“It means you do what’s fucking good for you and stay put and out of the way.”
“You’re discussing my past, am I right?” I ask, knowing the answer. I swivel my head around Race’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the old man. He gives me a soft smile through the wrinkles and gray beard, but there is a warning in his eyes.
“Yeah. I’m trying to save your damn life and get this club out of danger. I don’t need you messing around with it, ya hear me?” Race practically pushes me over with his roar. He paces a few steps, clearly debating between marching me back through the warehouse or letting me be. Finally, he settles on another command I don’t expect. “Head upstairs to the apartment. This fool can show you the way. I’ll be up behind you in a few minutes. And this time, I expect you to stay put.”
“I’m not a dog or a child,” I shoot back as Seb takes me by the arm. “You don’t get to bark out orders and expect me to follow.” It’s the bravest I’ve been all night, and I know I’m testing boundaries here, but he needs to know that I am not my mom or my dad. I’m my own person with my own backstory. Their story has nothing to do with mine– at least, I don’t think it does.
Race takes a step towards me, an inferno burning in his eyes. He turns down the volume of his voice as he whispers, “Get the hell out of here before I pick you up over my shoulder and force you into that apartment. And I can promise that you won’t like how I punish you from there.”
“You promise?” I chide him on. Every part of me tingles with anticipation to see just how far he’ll let this go.
“It’s not a promise, Delilah; it’s a threat. And it’s one I would take seriously if I were you. You just saw what I was capable of back in that office.”
My throat goes dry as I take one last, long defiant look at him. This was going to be no fun at all, but it has to be done. I stamp my foot on the ground, pulling away from Seb. With eyes tearing daggers through him, I call his bluff. “I’m not moving from this spot, Race. Not until you make me.”
Everything goes silent again.
Chapter Ten
Race
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I shout, unable to hold back the rage burning deep within me. “Do you understand the consequences of your actions?”
“No…” Her voice quivers somewhere in the darkness of the bedroom. “I snuck out. I don’t see why that’s such a big deal.”
“You disobeyed me, Delilah! I told you to stay the fuck where you were. You broke my orders!”
“I’m not your property! I don’t have to just listen to you because you said so!”
I reach for the light switch before nearly swooping in on her. “You are my property! I own you now. Every Goddamned inch of you, and I am going to make you damn well know that you’re mine.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She tries my bluff again. It was cute when she did it downstairs with that flirty little grin of hers sneaking up on her face, but up here, away from prying eyes and pricked ears, she’s got nothing to stand on. It’s just her and me, and I’ve got at least a hundred pounds and a good seven inches on her.
“You will not disobey me ever again,” I reply, removing my shirt and drawing my leather belt out of the rings of my jeans. I let it fall beside my legs as I kick off my boots. At the sight of me seething and my hand gripping around the dark leather, Del scurries up the end of the bed to the bedpost. Her knees pull into her chest, and she looks from each corner of the room for some escape.
She won’t find any here. This room, the apartment, it’s supposed to be mine. Nico’s got the penthouse on the third floor, but even he hasn’t moved in yet. We’ve both been roughing it at the friendly motels and parks until we’ve gotten the lay of the land. It shows too. The bedroom is sparse, only a dusty old comforter and a few pillows on the bed. The closet is empty save for a few of my boxes I’ve tucked away. The floors have been swept recently though; the girls did it when they heard we’d be moving in soon enough.
“What are you—”
“Stop talking.” My voice hovers in the air like a threat.
She scoots even further until she’s backed into the headboard. Her hands grasp the pillows as I make my way towards her step by step.
“Give me your hands,” I order her.
She looks down at each of them as if they are not hers anymore, and then, to my surprise, she slowly lifts both in the air with the wrist turned up. Her eyes seem impossibly wide, impossibly burning with something familiar to me. She’s not afraid, but there’s fear there as well. She gulps the air down and waits for me to make my move.
I make quick work of binding her arms with the thick, sturdy belt. Her wrists are so small that I’ve got to loop it around several times to be sure she’s secure. I learned this trick years ago when I was in charge of taking men in. It’s come in handy a few times now but never in the bedroom. And while most times I yank the slack of the belt as hard as I can, this time, I leave a little space for her wrists to move. I’m not that much of a sadistic asshole.
Before she can protest, I lift her arms above her head and over to the post at the center of the bed. She wiggles and squirms, but I plant myself on top of her hips with her dress hiked up around her belly. Her warm, still moist skin, presses against the back of my thighs, and instantly, I become hungry for her flesh.
“Please…” her voice waivers, “please, Race… I’m sorry. I should have listened to you… I should have stayed back in the office until you came and got me…”
“Not so tough anymore, are you?” I tease before pressing the stubble of my cheek against the dip of her neck. I watch the goosebumps rise on her skin with the brush of my breath. Her collarbone twitches slightly from the sensation, and I can’t help but use my tongue to outline the bone jutting out on her fair, dewy skin.
“I was… oh God… I was so stupid. I was stupid!” she tries to protest, but I don’t care.
The sound of her is overpowered by the beating of the blood in my ears. Delilah smells like fucking heaven. My own scent leaves an impression on her body that mixes with hers, and it’s an intoxicating mix. It’s almost like drinking a whiskey on a long, hot day– one you plan on savoring until the bottom of the glass is licked clean.
I press my lips to her skin, moving from her neck down the line of her chest. I make short work of the dress, pushing the fabric up towards her tits. She moves under me as I near her bare breasts. I place my hands on their sides and then thrust them together. The weight of them alone is enough to send me mad. Her soft downy skin bounces back from my massage, and I repeat until her head tilts back into her tied up arms. She’s got no choice but to let me tease her like this– tease her into submission.
And that’s when I remember that this is a punishment. She needs a shock or two, and I let my mouth do the hard and dirty work. At first, my tongue traces the perky, pink nipples that are already at attention for me. I make long, dragged out circles that leave traces of me when I’m finished. Back and forth between nipples I go until she’s practically cooing. And then, when her eyes are shut tight, and her mouth is gaping up, I press my teeth against the very tip of her nipple and twist my mouth just slightly.
Delilah’s whole body jolts awake. She lets out a small yelp that reminds me of a prissy lap dog. “What the hell?” she cries as she comes back to me. “Why did you—”
Before she can finish her protests, I do it again. This time, my bite lasts. Instead of a squeal, she practically screams. Every curse in the dictionary, and even a few they wouldn’t dare print, streams out of her mouth. But I see how her hips rise and her legs curl together. A little pain and a little pleasure always go hand-in-hand, especially when you’re trying to make a point.
I give in slightly to my plan. Her lips open like that, I need to feel her mouth on mine. I plant the most devastating kiss I can muster. My lips press into hers with such force, I swear I feel as if I could blast off from this bed. Delilah doesn’t disappoint either. She meets me at every angle, every turn. Her lips call for me, asking me for more. I give a few, tiny breaks for air before diving back in until each of us is left panting, desperate for more.
While I have her distracted, my hand ventures towards her belly button and past her hips. She’s wearing the panties from before, still slightly damp from the fucking in the office. It sticks to her shaved skin so much that I can feel the outline of her pussy against the fabric. With my touch, her eyes pop open, staring me down with those devastating green eyes. But as I tenderly take my time caressing and soothing the soreness of her raw skin, her eyelids flutter gently back to a look of almost half-sleep, half-alert.
“Race,” she calls out between kisses. Her voice is deeper, darker than before. It’s almost like honey trickling down. She wants more, and how could I not disappoint? I fold the top of the panties, so they eventually slip down and over the legs. She uses her legs to kick them off the rest of the way, and I go back to my hand on the outside of her triangle. Her knees pull together, but I know it’s only for show. What she wants is me inside of her, driving her towards completion.
She’ll get it… in good time.
I pull myself up so that I am on my knees beside her. It’s rare that I get to examine a specimen like Delilah from this angle. Her arms above her head, her boobs are pulled up along her chest, emphasizing the roundness of their shape. Her tight stomach caves in at the belly and then stretches out around her wide hips. She’s probably self-conscious about the size of her round ass, but there’s nothing in the world like a girl with a truly round backside. Even her thicker thighs seem so imperfectly perfect on a body like hers.
My finger moves inside of her slit, carefully at first, and then with no hesitation on the second en
try. I curl up my fingers inside of her opening, feeling the suppleness of her flesh and wondering how someone so hard on the outside could be made of such lovely stuff on the inside. Even the smell of her that rises with each small motion smells more delicious as I go.
“Is this what you want?” I ask her through the sounds of her small moans. “You want me to make you come?”
“Yes, Race… make me… make me come.” Her thick voice is lost in my motions.
I speed up the friction inside of her, pressing against the outside of her clit with my palm. Another finger moves inside, spreading her even wider. She gasps and calls my name. Her upper body pulls against the restraints around her wrists, binding her down to the bed. A look of frustration falls over her white-washed face.
TANGLED WITH THE BIKER_Bad Devils MC Page 9