Drawing in a sharp breath, the scent of sex reached him and he thought he might come. This was a real, live orgy in the making. The kind he’d only seen in pornos. He glanced over his shoulder. Two girls surrounded Christopher, a pretty blonde and a Black girl with long braids. As Christopher stood up and the blonde dropped to her knees, assisting Christopher in unbuttoning his jeans, he wrapped his arms around the Black girl and kissed her.
A three-fingered nerd could get pussy in this environment. Johnnie had finished high school, remained focused on his lessons. Only kissed girls because he didn’t want to get one accidentally pregnant. He’d promised his grandfather that he’d keep his head on his shoulders.
“Get all the pussy you want in college, Johnnie,” Grandda had always said. “Back East no one can see who you’re fucking. You’ll always seem beyond reproach if you keep your shit private.”
Now, his grandfather’s words seemed hypocritical, designed to further come between Johnnie and Christopher. Why he had such an attachment to his cousin, he’d never know. At least he understood why Zoann loved Christopher so much. She was a female. But him, Johnnie? He didn’t think he was gay, like Grandda said whenever Johnnie talked about Christopher, because all he ever did was fantasize about fucking girls. Lots of them. As many as he could handle at one time. A girl on his mouth. A girl on his dick. A girl on each hand licking two other girls. While he was blissfully in the middle.
Big Joe’s voice pulled him from his shocked anticipation. “Johnnie, this is Candi.”
Johnnie blinked to clear his head, his balls tight. Like when he came while jerking off. Fuck, if he came in his pants right now, he’d never, EVER forgive himself. He nodded to her, unable to do anything else, afraid even moving his throat to talk would make him blow his load.
“She wants to give you some pussy tonight. A little congratulations.”
Pussy. He was getting pussy. God, he had to move, go to one of the private rooms and—
Candi dropped to her knees and unzipped his trousers.
“Here?” he asked on a strangled voice, her soft, feminine fingers on his aching dick the best feeling in the world and going straight to his head. Just then, he wouldn’t have given a fuck if it was in Vatican Square during weekly mass.
The wet heat of her mouth engulfed him and chills ran along his spine. He grunted and shivered and swore his testicles were being drawn and quartered. Unable to hold back, semen spurted from him and he gripped Candi’s hair, holding on for dear life, his heart racing, his body still trembling. His cock plopped against his pants and she glanced up at him, her eyes twinkling with humor. He wanted to die then and there and have the floor swallow him, never to be seen again.
His first dick suck and he’d come in thirty seconds. The tips of his ears burned and he shoved his dick back in his pants, unable to meet her gaze again.
“Johnnie!” Christopher called as Candi bounced to her feet and swiped her hands over her mouth.
She was still smiling at him, her eyes still twinkling.
“You’ve got a delicious, big dick, love,” she purred.
Johnnie shuddered, her words a balm to his humiliation.
“Come here, John Boy,” Christopher yelled again. “You, too, Candi.”
Candi glanced at Big Joe and it mortified Johnnie to realize the older man had watched the entire scene between him and Candi. She wrapped her hand around Johnnie’s and tugged him to Christopher, who promptly bent and licked her nipple.
Reaching for Candi, Johnnie glared at Christopher, but his cousin pushed him back. “No. She’s nothin’ but Club Ass, John Boy,” he said quietly, his regard curious. Serious. “She might be your first fuck, but she’s fucked just about every brother in here. Don’t go thinkin’ you have some claim on her. Understand?”
Not answering, Johnnie looked at her, not sure how he should feel about her. She hadn’t flinched when Christopher labeled her. But, according to Grandda, whores were just to use and discard. They were trash.
“All women beautiful fuckin’ creatures. Got me? You here, so I figure we might as well celebrate your big deal. But I don’t want you hurtin’ them cuz they throw pussy around. They tell you to fuckin’ stop, you screech to a motherfuckin’ halt. I’ll fuck you up myself if you ever hurt a girl.”
Christopher must’ve known Grandda’s feelings about women, then.
“If you cool—if you can handle shit—come to my room and help me fuck these three chicks.” Christopher waited patiently, even though the Black girl and the blonde girl were all over him. Nipping at his neck. Kissing his mouth. Squeezing his now-covered hard-on. Grinding against him. “I got condoms in there.”
Fuck. Condoms. He didn’t…fuck…did condoms come with instructions? Fuck. It had to be easy, though. All he had to do was shove his dick in latex then roll it…fuck. Would it fit?
Christopher picked up two bottles of alcohol. According to the label one was rum and the other was some type of whisky. He held out his pack of cigarettes to Johnnie, then lit both his own and Johnnie’s as the girls scampered away.
“Watch me? Okay?” he advised. “So you can see how to cover your dick right.”
Johnnie nodded, another thought bursting through the quickness of what was going on. “The Black girl…?”
“Yeah?” Christopher’s cigarette hung from his mouth while he opened one bottle and then the other. “What about her?”
“Grandda said…is it okay…I mean he doesn’t like Big Joe letting Black—” He cringed and his voice trailed off.
“Then get the fuck out, cuz accordin’ to Logan I ain’t fuckin’ good e-fuckin-nuff either, motherfucker. I ain’t got time for his fuckin’ bullshit. You agree with that bullshit, then get the fuck away from me.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with you. I was just asking--”
“Don’t fuckin’ make a difference to me cuz she fuckin’ bleed fuckin’ red like you and me. Lemme tell you, John Boy, that motherfucker better be glad I ain’t ever headin’ up his fuckin’ evil club. I know what the fuck he don’t want around him. Way I see it, your heart matters more than fuckin’ race, creed, nationality or sexual proclivities.”
“Would you let a gay dude in the club if you headed it?”
Christopher whacked him on the side of the head. “What the fuck I just say, motherfucker? A man can’t help who the fuck he is. I ain’t fuckin’ gay, but if the next man is and he respect me, I’m gonna fuckin’ respect him. He bleeds fuckin’ red, too, assmite.” He glared at him. “Now, I’m goin’ get in some pussy. You either fuckin’ with me or you fuckin’ ain’t.”
And, with that, Christopher walked away, doing what he did best: leaving a major decision about Johnnie’s life where it belonged—in Johnnie’s hands.
Chapter 17
A knock on Kendall’s door awakened her the next morning and she sat up, yawning. She’d had a restless night, half-expecting Johnnie to come to the guest room and make love to her. But he hadn’t. Instead, she’d had to finger fuck herself and wring three orgasms from her overwrought body to calm her lust.
“Kendall?”
His deep voice resonated in the core of her belly. Every word they’d spoken yesterday at the dinner table replayed in her head.
Another knock. “Kendall?”
“Come in,” she called, shy, the feeling absurd.
He opened the door and her breath caught. He wore only a pair of pajama bottoms, exposing his broad chest and strapping muscles to her awed gaze. A skull tattoo painted his right bicep. On the left side, he had a tat of a dagger. Blond hair dusted his chest, narrowing at his happy trail, and drawing Kendall’s eyes to his very prominent erection.
She swallowed, the smoldering heat of his gaze sending flames of need through her blood. Darker blond hair stubble covered his jaw and chin.
Folding his arms, he leaned against the door jam. “Morning, gorgeous.” Weariness weighted his words. “You’re quite a sight for sore eyes.”
When she
remained silent, he continued. “I have breakfast for us. I’m sure it’s as cold as our dinner was last night, so we’ll have to warm it in the microwave.”
“You cooked breakfast for me?”
He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “Why so shocked? Hasn’t anyone ever cooked for you?”
“Not for a very long time,” she admitted quietly.
He went silent, those silver eyes taking in every inch of her face and she held still, determined not to flinch away to hide her flaws.
He held out his hand to her. “Come, Kendall. I think someone needs to spoil you a little and I’m just the man to do it.”
Hesitant, she pushed the covers aside and rose out of bed to place her hand in his larger one. He made her feel so feminine. Not sexual. But plain feminine.
He squeezed her hand. “Good girl,” he murmured.
“Am I?”
He grinned at her and nodded, making no move to release her hand or head to the kitchen.
“How so?”
“Because I need your trust, Kendall,” he said seriously. “You placed your hand in mine, trusting yourself into my care. I need you to trust me, even if I say things you might not like.”
“Okay,” she responded without hesitation. She couldn’t imagine not trusting Johnnie. Instead of dwelling on the cryptic words, she pointed to his erection. “What about this?”
He removed her hand and kissed it. “There’ll be time enough for that. Later.”
“Are you sure? Or do you intend to visit some other woman?” God, why the hell had she asked that question?
“I’m positive.” His eyes twinkled, matching his devilish grin. “Unless, of course, you want to join me in another woman’s bed?”
The very thought appalled her and she gasped. “No!”
He chuckled and traced her collarbone with a long finger, nuzzling her neck. “I have no wish to go to anyone else’s bed but yours, gorgeous.”
Butterflies fluttered in her belly at his blithe statement.
“This morning,” he went on as if he hadn’t tilted her world just now, “I’m getting you out of here.”
He combed his fingers through her hair and tilted her head toward his. Expectation fluttered through her, his warm breath fanning her cheek. Instead of kissing her mouth, though, he bit her earlobe and walked away.
Cold water from the showerhead slid over Johnnie’s body, but it didn’t quite wash away his erection or his bad mood. He’d barely spoken a word to Kendall over their long, tedious breakfast. Instead of rushing through the meal and getting the hell away from her, he’d decided to draw it out, in a perverse need to be in her company.
She wasn’t at fault for his anger. She’d done nothing but tried to protect her little sister. From Spoon. And Logan?
Why the fuck was it so fucking hard to believe his grandfather was involved? Because it had always been tough to see the man’s flaws. He was Johnnie’s Svengali. All he had to do was…lie. Pretend he was lonely. Or feeble. Sad. All of it played on Johnnie’s conscious.
Kendall was carrying his baby, though. She needed him to protect her and it. He paused. He was going to be a father. Too much drama surrounded them for him to fully process the thought and ignore the skepticism, too. She hadn’t come and accused him of making her pregnant, but, fuck, what about the condoms he’d worn?
How could her baby be his? She’d lied about other shit, so she could very well fucking lie about carrying his baby. If those fucking ultrasound photos were accurate, then he was going to be a father. According to the black and white evidence, Kendall was five weeks and four days. When he counted back, that was the night he’d been with her.
Fuck.
He leaned back, allowed the water to rain over him. Scraping his fingers through his just-shampooed hair, he turned, the coldness sluicing over his back and buttocks. He flattened his palms against the shower wall, a face that had haunted him for almost two years rising up and making his dick jump.
Megs.
He didn’t want one of his fantasies about her to intrude on this moment. Whether it was Kendall or another woman, every time he ran into a problem with them, he couldn’t fall back on his desire for Megan to escape the realities of his relationships. Or lack thereof. He fisted his erection and pulled, grunting at the memory of her hands manipulating him, the silken feel of her tight body.
He squeezed tighter, damning and cherishing their one time together. He’d known, even then, she wasn’t his, and that Christopher had her complete and utter loyalty. She’d been so wet for him and she’d wanted him to make love to her. He’d seen it in her eyes and tasted it in her mouth.
God, what would it have been like to sink inside all her sweet warmth? The very thought of her small pussy clenching around him sent cum spurting from him and he growled out, “Kendall” then quickly corrected himself and changed it to, “Megs.”
He drew in a deep breath and rested his head against the wall.
His mind conjured up visions of Megs and visions of Kendall, two side-by-side images of two very different women. Kendall was fair-skinned with the most gorgeous head of red hair he’d ever seen. Megan was golden—hair and skin. Kendall was long and strong, possessed with a real woman’s curves and the most gorgeous, rounded ass he’d ever seen. Megan was little and delicate, with a slimness that only added to her rocking, hourglass figure. Kendall was thirty, experienced in bed, and had lived life. Megs wouldn’t be twenty until the fall. What she’d learned sexually Christopher had taught her.
Johnnie frowned. Considering his cousin, Megs probably knew as much about sex as Kendall. He wouldn’t explore how he felt about that. Fair or not, he couldn’t help his comparisons.
An idea struck him and he straightened. Once he’d turned off the water and stepped onto the floor mat, he wrapped a towel around his waist before grabbing another, running and scrubbing it over his hair. He settled it around his neck and decided against shaving today. He walked into his bedroom, determined to leave his past in that shower stall and find a way to forge his future without Megan and with…Kendall. The mother of his baby.
“Damn, she feels good,” Johnnie rumbled, the wind ruffling his hair, his hand loosely holding the steering wheel of Kendall’s car. “She turns on a dime.”
He had dropped the top, declaring a nice, long drive would be the perfect place to get to know one another. Throughout that horrid meal, made worse because he was watching her so careful she felt compelled to eat everything on her plate, scenarios had run rampant in her head.
Kendall shook a little when the song, Landslide, started playing from the Dixie Chicks CD Johnnie had on. The song and Natalie Maines beautiful voice went straight to her heart and she hated to admit how fitting the song was for her and her life.
The song wrecked all her thoughts and she could only focus on the words and haunting instrumental part. The moment it ended, she leaned over and pressed the eject button. The CD buzzed out and radio music blasted. Johnnie frowned at her, then pressed the radio button to turn it off. It would all be so perfect—if it were real. If Johnnie really was her blond biker and was really as over the moon about the baby—whom he hadn’t mentioned once today—as she was when she was at her most vulnerable and the thought of having a baby caught her off guard.
Most of all, it would be perfect if Caroline were free.
At the thought, Kendall searched her brain to jumpstart the conversation between her and Johnnie to keep her mind off everything else. “How can you be a biker when you don’t even own a motorcycle?”
“I do own a Harley. I also have a garage door that opens onto a secret escape route.”
“Whatever,” she snapped, irritated at his amused tone. “Why do you insist on outrageous tales?”
The idiot laughed at her. “It isn’t my fault you don’t believe me.”
“Show me then. When we get back home.”
“No.” One word. Implacable and unyielding.
“That proves it.”
> “Does it, Kendall? You not believing one of the most important aspects of my life isn’t my fault. It’s yours.” He sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter, his big hands huge clutching the slender wheel. “Let’s enjoy each other’s company. Listen to music if you don’t feel like talking. Maybe, you can think about getting my stiff dick inside you. Coming on my tongue. Maybe, I’ll just finger fuck you while I’m driving. Get something stiff in your cunt.”
She clenched her thighs together and groaned, her womb tightening, the very spot he kept mentioning with a sensual purr dripping wet. He pulled off the road and parked the car in a stand of trees.
“Get out of the car, Kendall,” he ordered.
Her panties were soaked and her breasts felt achy and engorged. He studied her mouth and, for a moment, hope fluttered in her. She thought he would kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her so badly, just to feel his mouth against hers, and thread her fingers through the silk of his blond hair.
He lifted her onto the hood, settling her on the edge, the hot, idling engine competing with the cold air sending quivers through her. He freed himself and stared into her eyes, shoving her skirt up and pushing her panties aside.
“You like to have your pussy licked, don’t you?” he whispered against her ear, lighting her entire body. “Have the pad of my tongue dragging against your pretty clit until you come.”
“Y-yes,” she breathed.
He shoved his cock into her and she screamed after he gave her two, hard pumps, just as he’d taunted her about Benny not being able to do and primed her body for his use. As trembles seized her, he pulled out and she felt the hot rush of his semen on her clit and pussy lips.
He held her to him for a moment and kissed the top of her head.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 74