by Jordan Marie
“Skull…” I whine, my pussy clamping down hard on his shaft.
“What is it, mi cielo? Does that greedy cunt need more of me?” he asks, feeding me a little more.
Then, all at once, he shifts his position. He grabs my hips, pulling me back down on his lap, and thrusts hard. His cock is completely inside and I can feel his balls press against me. We’re sitting now staring at each other. We did this before, but it’s different this time—the emotions have changed. He maneuvers me again and helps get my legs around him. The heels of my feet dig into his back, my pussy already quivering around his dick as he rakes the inside of my walls and tunnels in and out of me.
It’s a slow pace at first, our eyes locked together and just enjoying the feel of being a part of one another. I can’t stop myself from holding the side of his face. My fingers skate over his nose, then pet the soft skin of his eyelids. I want to memorize every inch of him. I don’t know how long I will have him, so I want to memorize everything. I run the pad of my thumb over his eyebrows.
Slowly, his eyes open again, his body still gently rocking in and out of me. I’m working with him now, our rhythm in sync. I’m going to come. I can feel the climax raking through my body, but I’m glued to the heat in his face.
“Beth?” he whispers.
Perhaps he sees it in my look or senses it through my touch. Maybe it’s even by the way my body is clinging to his, wanting to be as close as physically possible… I don’t know. But I’m sure he sees it before I even say it. I see the flair of recognition. So, I give him the words, the words which have been true since our first meeting.
“I love you, Skull. I love you.”
He growls. Then, using his hold on my hips, he angles my body to the side, picking up his speed. His body slams into mine repeatedly, and he grinds himself against my pussy with each inward thrust. I tighten my muscles around him.
“Come for me, mi cielo. I want to see you fall apart in my arms while my cock’s buried inside of you. Feel your pussy squeeze the fuck out of me so you take me with you,” he commands as his hand moves down between us. He pinches my clit, twisting it.
I disintegrate into a million pieces. Skull follows me just a few seconds later. His cock jerks inside of me, the heat of his cum bathing and coating my insides. I squeeze him tighter, greedily wanting every drop.
When we’re finished, he keeps me lying on top of him, his cock still inside. He brushes my hair and kisses my shoulder.
“Te amo, sweet Beth… Te amo.”
I may not speak Spanish, but even I know what that means. Skull loves me. My eyes flutter shut, but I smile.
He loves me.
Five fucking days and not a word has come from Colin. The fucker’s going to strike, I know it… I just don’t know where or how. I feel it in my bones.
“You got a minute?”
I look up at Pistol standing at the door. His eye’s black still, his arm is in a sling, and his ribs are taped. His brother asked me to give him one more chance, even knowing what a fuck-up he was. My gut instinct was to say no before Cade sweetened the deal: I get the support of his club and his charters in my war. He’s even sending up a crew of a hundred as backing. This is why that motherfucker Pistol is still breathing enough to be standing. I beat him down. I took out every fucking frustration I had on his ass. He got a few hits in, but not very many.
I lean back in my chair and look at him. Why the fuck not? I’ve just been spending the day twiddling my damn thumbs. Why not just cap off my piece of shit day?
“What’s up?”
“We need to settle this between us, especially if we’re in a war.”
“I thought we settled it on the court… when I kicked your ass.”
The court is a ring out back in our common area where we fight. We either beat each other to vent frustrations or to prove a point. It was the latter between me and Pistol. If he had one thought in him that he was strong enough to overtake me, I beat that shit out of him.
“I was being a dick, I get that. But fuck, what do you expect? I’m second here. It’s my club, too. I have a right to be worried about your choices.”
“Maybe, but you don’t have a fucking right to talk shit to me. You bring your concerns up in Church, motherfucker. You call for a vote. You challenge me to a fight. I don’t give a damn which you choose, but what you do not do is talk shit and mouth off to me in front of my men. This is my club. Mine. I will not be disrespected or undermined.”
“Point made. We don’t have to be enemies. Not during this. No matter how we feel about each other, we both care about the club. Can we work together to protect it?”
“You can work with me, but I warn you, motherfucker, one wrong step and your brother won’t save you this time.”
His face closes off, but he gets points for the way he pushes down the hate and continues looking me in the eye.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
“The Donahues use the Saints to do a lot of their fucking dirty work,” he tells me. “Shit they think is beneath them. I’m pretty sure they think you are beneath them.”
“You think they will have the Saints attack?”
“I think they will use them,” he answers, and the idea is not without merit. He may be onto something. I can’t deny having the same thoughts.
“What do you suggest?”
“We plant someone in the Saints.”
I sigh. “I doubt we could get anyone in there they will talk freely with. Especially if they are helping the Donahues.”
“Maybe, but I know someone in their clubhouse who hears a lot of shit.”
“Who?” I ask, alarm bells going off. I don’t trust Pistol. This sounds too easy.
“Claire.”
“A muffler bunny?” I shake my head, discounting his suggestion. “No way they’d be stupid enough to talk in front of a woman.”
“We wouldn’t. The Saints aren’t that disciplined. I’m telling you, this could work.”
“You trust this Claire?”
“Fuck no, but I trust her to jump on money if it was offered.”
“Without setting us up?”
“That won’t be on the table. All we need is for her to give us a heads-up if she hears them planning.”
“You deal with it. If you think it will pan out, we’ll try it.”
“Got it. Are we good?”
“I don’t have to like you. We’re good as long as you don’t pull that fucking shit again.”
“Fair enough. I’ll let you know if I hear anything further from Claire.”
“Sounds good.”
I stare at the door after it closes. I’m not sure how I feel about what just happened. I have warning bells going off in my head, but that may have more to do with the fact that Pistol’s involved. I rub the tension at the back of my neck, studying the file in front of me. Colin’s ugly face stares back at me.
“What are you planning, you son of a bitch?” I ask the ugly face. “And just when the fuck are you going to strike?”
I don’t do well waiting. I don’t like not taking the first strike. I thought about going on the offensive, but I know in my heart that this battle is going to be bloody. I’m not ready to put lives on the line until I have to.
I pick up my Bowie knife off the table and stab it into Colin’s picture—right between his eyes. I fucking hate waiting.
“Still no word from Colin?” Beth asks when I come through the front door. The club’s been on lockdown for the last week and the motherfucker still hasn’t made a move. It’s a game to him, I know. My only problem is, I’m not sure if it would pay for me to strike first. I do know I fucking hate being on the defensive end.
“Not a fucking word.”
“What about your contact, Pistol? Anything?” Torch asks, and all eyes turn there.
“They’ve been keeping it nailed down. Word is, they’ve been dealing with a higher up who is unhappy with Colin’s choices.”
“Who’s higher up than Co
lin?” asks Beth. “I thought he and Matthew were in charge since Edmund and mom passed.”
“There’s always someone higher up, querida,” I answer. “Speaking of Matthew, where is that fuck? He’s not made one move good or bad in this and that’s the fucker we had the truce with.”
“No one seems to know. Maybe your girlfriend knows,” Pistol says.
I let that shit pass. Until I get through this crap with Colin, I don’t give a fuck what Pistol says; that motherfucker’s out of chances.
“Matthew went on vacation in France to the villa there. He hadn’t come back, the last I knew,” says Beth, staring at Pistol. I squeeze her hand and she turns to give me a smile, though her face looks a little lost.
All this shit is driving her crazy. She’s blaming herself for all of it. Nothing I say is making it better. I’d like to take her away from this shit for a couple of weeks, but that’s not possible. When we get this crap behind us, I’m taking her away and spoiling her rotten. That, and fucking her raw. I adjust my cock; fucker’s had her pussy a hundred ways—two to three times a day—and he’s still not worn out. I got a feeling he never will be around her. Shit, I’ll be ninety and still trying to nail her.
“Torch, you find out who this higher-up is who’s unhappy with Colin. That can only be a handful of people. Maybe we can get this fucker from the inside.”
“On it, Boss.”
“What about the list of businesses and shit that Beth gave us?” I ask, squeezing her hand again. “Were there any surprises in there?”
“Nah, not really. We had all of their holdings down except one, and I’m not really sure why they own it. It’s a freaking fruit market and gas station in Jelico, Tennessee.”
“A fruit market?”
“Yeah, and near as I can tell, boss, that shit is a legitimate business.”
“Do they use it for money laundering?”
“If they do, they’re hiding that shit really good. I’m gonna dig deeper, but I can’t even tell if they have anything to do with it, other than the fact that the licensing comes back to Beth’s mom.”
“My mother? She never owned a business,” says Beth, confused. “Well, not that I know of. She was always too busy getting her hair done and partying. I swear, if I thought she had anything to do with the business, I would have told you, Skull.”
“She would have, too. She’s real good at ratting out people who are trying to help her,” says Jan from across the room.
I pick Beth up in my arms, sit down in her seat, then settle her in my lap. We’re having an informal meeting and I probably should have took it to my office, but the only ones allowed in this main part of the club while on lockdown are patched-in members and old ladies, which explains why Jan is running free. However, I’m not about to put up with her shit. In my book, the woman never looks good, but today she’s looking even more haggard than usual. You can tell lockdown is wearing on her. I wonder how long it’s been since her stash has emptied because you can tell just from looking at her that she’s going without drugs, cold turkey.
“Beast,” I growl, letting him contain his old lady. Only reason the bitch is still here is because he said he’d make sure she was under control.
“Got it, Boss,” he responds, rising to go to his woman. “Come on, Jan. I told you it’s not safe up here. Let’s get back below,” Beast tells her, taking her hand. “Annabelle will be wondering where we’re at.”
There’s a storm shelter below. It’s a basement of sorts, but more like a bomb shelter. I’ve had it all tricked out with special ventilation, steel-enforced blocked walls, and lighting that mimics the sun. It’s a huge area complete with fifteen bedrooms and adjoining bathrooms, a huge kitchen and dining area that can easily handle up to two hundred people if need be, a bowling alley, poker and pool area, club and open bar, and another large playroom for kids. It’s one of the main things I did when we chose this place for our compound. We don’t go on lockdown often, but when we do, I want to make sure I can take care of my men and their families.
“Fuck that shit. She’s up here,” Jan slurs, pointing at Beth. It’s obvious she’s been hitting the bottle. I can see my man cringe. He’s embarrassed of this shit and should be. This bitch is a piece of work.
“We’re going over the information she gave Torch so we can try to end this lockdown and war before it hits,” Beast explains.
“Yeah, that little bitch is good at being a narc.”
“I didn’t—” Beth tries to defend, but I squeeze her to get her to hush. She owes this cow jack-shit.
“Tell that to Marker, you bitch! Did you know they kicked him out of the club? They beat the fuck out of him because of you. He had to be carried back to his apartment! All because of your prissy ass!”
Beth tenses up in my arms. I’ve had enough.
“He was beat down for betraying his club,” I growl. “He got the same fucking thing you deserved, but Beast saved your ass. Why he keeps doing that, I don’t fucking know. But you better listen well, Jan: you so much as look at Beth or breathe near her, not even his ass will save you from here on out. You get me, bitch?”
This time, it’s Beth who calms me. Her hand cups the side of my neck and her thumb grazes over the vein and pulse point.
“Let’s go, Jan,” Beast says when she doesn’t respond with anything but looks of hate. She jerks away from him, pulling away so hard she nearly falls. She staggers and finally steadies herself.
“Fuck that. I don’t want you around me. If I have to look at your fucking face again, I’m going to scream. I was only getting you off because you were giving me money and shit. I can’t stand to look at you. You’re always touching me, wanting to fuck. It makes me sick. You make me sick. You’re a weak-ass little boy. I couldn’t even stand the smell of your breath if it wasn’t for the money you give me!”
“Jan, let’s go back downstairs. Annabelle—”
“Annabelle isn’t even yours! You didn’t even know! You’re so stupid you didn’t even realize I was fucking your brother every time your dumb ass wasn’t around!”
“Jan!”
“Sometimes he fucked me when you were there. Didn’t know that, did you? You’d be in there watching your football games and your brother would be in the bathroom fucking me against the wall and getting me off in ways you can never fucking manage! He’s Annabelle’s dad! Not you! You should have been the one to die in that fucking prison riot. You. Not him! Terry was more of a man than you’ll ever be!”
Beast lets off a guttural scream that sounds like it’s torn from his very soul—and it probably is. Beth hides her face into my neck and I can’t blame her. I wish I wasn’t here to witness my brother’s misery. Someone needs to pinch that bitch’s neck. Beast slams his fist into the wall mere centimeters from Jan’s head. I think that might have sobered the woman up because she suddenly seems to be smart enough to look scared. She should be. Beast is one of the most controlled people that I’ve ever met. My brother is fucking raw right now, and after the news he just got, who knows how in the fuck he will react.
“Get this fucking bitch out of my sight before I kill her!” Beast screams. I motion over to Sabre, who grabs Jan and drags her off, though she’s obviously not fighting that hard. I think it’s finally hit her what the fuck she just did. Beast yells again and slams his fist right back into the wall.
“Brother,” Torch says. Beast turns around to look at him, and the look in my man’s eyes nearly guts me.
“Annabelle is mine,” he growls. “She’s mine. I’d know if she wasn’t.” But he’s not looking at Torch; he’s looking at me.
“I know she is,” I respond. “Anyone who’s seen that little girl knows she’s yours, Beast.” I’m not talking about biologically because, knowing that lying cunt, this was the one time she was telling the truth. Regardless, Beast is her dad in all the ways that count. He’s been both mom and dad to that little girl.
“She’s mine, Boss. I don’t give a fuck what that bitch said.
She’s mine. She was just drunk.”
“I know.”
“I got to get out for a while. I can’t be here. I can’t be around her right now,” Beast growls slamming his fist back into the wall. The good news about that is, instead of three separate holes, there’s just one big one.
“Torch, you and K-Rex go with him. Stay with him. Watch his back and your own.”
They get up and follow Beast out the door. The room stays silent for a few minutes.
“I hate her,” Beth whispers.
“We all do,” Pistol grunts, and for the first time in forever I’m in perfect agreement with the bastard.
My life has been fucked up for over four years. I got between that bitch’s legs one night without using a condom, and I’ve been paying for it ever since. The men bitched at me all the time. They thought I was being pussy-whipped, but that wasn’t it. I wasn’t like them; talking to women didn’t come easy for me.
Shit. Talking to people in general fucked me up.
I doubt I would’ve ever been a member if I hadn’t grown up with Skull. He’s a brother, the closest I’ve ever had to one. The only constant in my life was Skull’s madre, Maria. None of the others know that. That secret is mine and Skull’s and, as far as I’m concerned, not one fucker will ever know it. My old man was loaded. He had more money than God. What he didn’t have was time for me or my mother. Then again, my mother was a miserable drunk who only had time for her tennis instructor—and she didn’t know how to play tennis, not even a little bit.
Skull’s mother Maria lived in the adjoining coach house with Skull and, though she cooked and cleaned in our home, it was that small coach house I remember as the only home I’ve ever had. When my father died of an unexpected heart attack, I didn’t grieve for him. My mother and her lover ran off together leaving me with Maria, and I fucking rejoiced. When I turned twenty-one, the only contact I had with my mother was when I got my trust. She had burned through her money and wanted mine. I had no use for the money. She dropped my half-brother Terry in my lap saying she had to have a way to support him. I took Terry in, but I spat on her and walked away. I never liked Terry, but I tried. He was a miserable son of a bitch, and if what Jan said was true, I should have given up on him way before I did.