by Kiki Leach
I wrapped my hands around his neck again to hold onto him, and when he finally pushed his hard dick inside me, so far in that his balls immediately slapped against my ass, I cried out in so much delight that I was sure I had pierced his eardrum or bitten his tongue in half. But he made no effort to show me that he was in any pain and instead began thrusting against me, moving in and out of me at such a slow speed to make sure that I felt every inch of him as always, before gradually upping his pace. He lifted me a little, wrapping his hand around my waist to perfect his dick inside me while holding me steady, and I dropped my hands to his thighs, digging my nails into his skin as he so effortlessly reached my G-spot. I was about five seconds away from completely blowing any and every fuse that I managed to have left, and then he shoved his other hand between my thighs and began vigorously massaging my clit with his fingers. My head fell back and I swallowed hard, not even realizing that my mouth was completely dry until it dropped open.
And then he started pumping into me hard. My breasts bounced against his chest, his balls slapped even harder against my ass. We were moving in sync at such an insane but perfect rhythm that as he continued to lift me higher and higher on his body, fulling me until I thought I would nearly collapse on top of him, I was certain that we would go flying right through the roof.
"Oh my God, Roman... God -- Jesus, I'm gonna come!"
"Me too, babe... Fuck," he rasped, his breath so warm and wet against my skin that I shivered. "Jesus Christ, and with you being so tight around my cock, just... Goddamn, like a vise... just like a motherfuckin' vise – goddamn, fitting me perfectly – Jesus." He leaned in to suck my nipple back into his mouth and my body jerked.
As the pressure between us grew to a level of unspeakable measures, my sex clinched around him and his balls drew up tight. I lowered my hand to grab onto them and with a quick squeeze, he drew back and released, exploding inside of me like a geyser. My orgasm tipped and I came not long after, blowing like the whistle on a tea kettle; I shuddered against him as he did the same. We were completely covered from head to toe in each other’s sweat; happy but exhausted; blissfully exhausted. My heart was still pounding, racing so hard that even as he cradled me in his arms and lowered me down to the couch on my back, it had yet to find its normal speed.
I placed my hand on top of it and smiled up at him. I wanted to tell him how amazing it was, but couldn't; not only because I could barely speak, but 'amazing' didn't exactly feel like the right word. It couldn't explain the feelings I had rolling throughout my entire body as he worked me over and pushed me so far to the edge that I not only tipped but fell all the way in and felt like I was drowning. I was drowning in the sea that was this man, and I never wanted to be rescued ever again by anyone else. Not even him.
When his dick began to soften, he pulled out of me, slowly, as if to continue savoring the moment we had just shared; exhilarating, exciting, euphoric, memorable. Even those words didn't seem good enough to explain what this was or how I felt in finally having it all for myself; having him all for myself, forever.
And then he brushed his fingers over my breasts, allowing them to harden against him again. I wanted to tell him how good it felt, but I still couldn't. I could barely even moan, my body was so worn, so weak, so unbelievably and deliciously sore in some places while completely numb in others. The man had officially fucked me speech and senseless. Even if I wanted to in that moment or had to, there is no way in the world that I would've been able to even scream.
I looked up at him again and he stared at me with love in his eyes. So much more than before if that were even possible; it was a feeling I knew would last inside of him forever now, until the end of our lives together and far beyond it.
Chapter Eighteen
Roman
"If we don't have the money for this asshole by the end of this week, what the fuck are we gonna do then?" asked Tracker. We were gathered around the table in the chapel and staring at each other like bumps on a pile of logs as he turned to Riggs, shrugging his shoulders and expecting answers in return much like the rest of us.
Nine days had already gone by since Lorenzo stepped back onto the lot for the first time in years and we were no closer to having his money than we were the day I sent him flying across it with the help of my fist for running his mouth about Colette.
To make shit even worse, I was starting to get a bunch of random phone calls from different numbers at all hours of the day and night that I was sure belonged to nobody else but my idiot brother, except he never left a message, voice or text, and each time I tried answering, he just hung up in my face.
"We need to figure out what the next move in all this shit is gonna be, Prez," said Chute. He leaned back in his chair at the far end of the table and opened his hands. "Otherwise, this asshole is gonna continue owning us 'til we've got both of our goddamn feet in the ground."
"Chute's right," said Axel, bending forward. He rested his arms on the table and glanced around at all of us, rattling his head, unsure. "I'm normally one for being optimistic and with shit working out in our favor, but not this time. The truth is that I think we're fucked if we don't come up with something soon."
Riggs lifted his hand and turned in his chair. His eyes shifted across each of us before he lowered them to the giant Wild Reapers emblem that had recently been carved into the center of the table, solidifying us as a club 'til the end despite Lorenzo's bullshit, and sighed. The old man was tired and worn down, we could all see it, feel it from how dejected he had been since that day of telling us what was up and how it all came about. He was pissed for allowing himself to be suckered by this asshole, pissed that he bothered listening to my brother and pissed that because of his actions, everything that he had helped to build from the ground up with Atom, Tracker and my old man was just a few days away from being permanently put right back down into it.
"I'm all ears," he finally said. "Open to any and all suggestions at this point."
"At this point?" replied Tracker. "Fine time for you to start coming to your senses about all this shit, don't you think? Jesus."
"What the hell do you want me to do about it now, asshole?" he replied. "I thought it was a good deal, but I fucked up. I own that shit just like I told you I would. You want me to write you an apology note in blood?"
"Would you even be able to see what the hell you've written?" Tracker muttered. Riggs balled his fists and swallowed hard. Tracker continued, ignoring him. "As a matter of fact, I thought you said that if this shit went south, not only would you own your shit but the head of the table would be mine just as much as your seat?"
"I lied," Riggs shot back. "The only way you're getting this seat is if you put me in the ground for it."
"Or we vote," he replied. "We vote to put you out of it."
"Come on, brother," mumbled Atom as he clinched his teeth. He glanced over at him and shook his head. "We've got enough shit going on right now that we don't have time to spend on your dick measuring contests. Prez is staying in his seat and you're staying in yours as VP. That's the way it's always been and it'll continue on in that way until--"
"'When?" asked Tracker, his eyes narrowing as his jaw went stiff. "'Til he fucks up like this again? Maybe even worse next time when one of us is being struck down by a goddamn bullet?"
"We live by the sword and we die by it too; and if one of us goes down, we take that hit just like the rest; just like we did in 'Nam. In the meantime, if you think that you'd be any better in that seat than him while holding onto his gavel, or that the shit in running a bunch of dumb fucks like us is somehow easier than it looks, then I think you'd be in for one helluva rude awakening. I wouldn't mind testing that theory out on your ass at some point, but today ain't it. Today, let us just deal with our issues at hand with the club and Lorenzo, and move on already, alright? Check your Texas sized ego and eraser sized dick at the door and get back to business."
Tracker stared him in the face and sneered.
Riggs looked
at Tracker and smirked as he bent down on the table. "So you got anything else you wanna say to me right now about this shit, brotha?"
Tracker's face burned bright red. He hated being called out by more than one brother at a time and 'checked' for his attitude and temper but the fact was that we were all sick and tired of his shit because it wasn't helping us in getting any further than we needed to be. So when Atom finally spoke up, son of a bitch was speaking for every brother in that room.
"No, brotha," he finally told him, shaking his head despite looking as if he wanted to blow a gasket. They stared one another down until Tracker finally turned away and focused his eyes around to the other brothers.
"Alright then," said Riggs. "Now, if there's anybody else in here with any legitimate suggestions as far as how we might be able to come up with the cash for that prick, speak now or forever hold onto to your peace like this one" -- he pointed at Tracker -- "should've."
"Maybe we can talk him into pushing back the reopening," said Patch. "The shit's supposed to be Friday but even with all the legwork and time that me and Poker have put in along with those dumbass prospects, it's been hard as hell in trying to get the high rollers interested in coming to our place for more than an hour and spending real dough on these girls."
"Well maybe if we finally started investing in some high-quality pussy," replied Smack with a chuckle. "Chicks like Cherry are only bringing in a certain kinda motherfucker these days; mostly the usual’s and pricks with no real cash to spend outside of a few dollar bills for a quick lap dance to get 'em hard before they have to go back to work, or home to a sleeping wifey that'd kill him if he tried waking her up for a midnight blow-job."
"What about those new twins she's working with?" asked Reefer. "They seem like the kind that would bring in some top dollar, suit wearing pricks and goddamn do they know how to suck some cock."
Tracker sat up and leaned forward, turned his head and with pointed eyes, stared down the table at Reef. "When the hell did you get your turn with those two?" he asked him.
Reefer carelessly lifted his shoulders and glared. "Last week when Cherry first brought them out here to see if they were good enough for even working at the club with her. Why?"
His chest descended as he exhaled. Then he turned straight ahead and fell back in his chair. "Nothin'," he mumbled.
Reefer looked between Smack and Axel and chuckled. "Did you not get your chance to have a spin with them?"
"Prez was talking about suggestions -- let's just continue on with that shit," he replied. He glanced over at Riggs, who had arched his brow and made a face.
"Alright, so high quality pussy," said Limb. "Great, now just where in the hell do we find it around here? Because shit like this is what Lorenzo was supposed to be helping us out with, was it not?"
"It went south when he realized that us being collateral and paying back his dough became more important," Tracker told him.
"That's my point. He wants his money back, but he's not doing a goddamn thing to help us get it."
"Because he wants us to fail, brother. Haven't you figured that shit out by now? He wants us to fail and he wants us to fail hard so that he can eventually take this shit over for good for himself. He wants this club to be his permanent bitch with Riggs as just the super head, not the actual Prez of it. He wants us doing all his dirty work, taking people out left and right and whatnot just like I said the minute we learned about him agreeing to this shit, while he parties and cokes it up in Miami with random pussy and hire's another kid even dumber than his brother" -- he stopped to point at me -- "to take over more books for him. And then when that asshole fucks up or steals from him, he'll find a way to blame us for that too. And the shit cycle will start all over again. He wants us to be in this 'til we've got both feet in the ground, just like Chute said." He leaned aside and rested his elbow on the arm of his chair. He grunted. "You know if I didn't love this club so much, I'd take a stick of dynamite and just blow it the fuck up -- blow it to fuckin' smithereens and walk away from it all just like that."
"Brother, are you high?" asked Atom. "'Cause the other stuff, I understood but what you just said right now makes you sound higher than a goddamn kite."
"I'm as sober as a skunk."
Poker soured like a curdled bottle of milk and shook his head at him. "What the hell does that shit even mean?"
Tracker rolled his eyes and said, "Nothin'."
"Alright look, all of this stupid, extra shit is just giving me nothing but a goddamn headache and a giant set of blue balls," said Riggs. He looked over at me and nodded. "You still haven't heard shit from Jeremiah?"
"Nope. I keep getting those random phone calls that I still think might be him, but since none of them can be traced, all I've got is my gut. Son of a bitch must be going through about ten to fifteen burners a day or something."
"With the kinda money he stole, he's probably throwing phones and pussy out left and right every hour," muttered Limb.
"Well according to Lorenzo, he thinks he might be headed someplace upstate now."
"Upstate where?" asked Poker. "Like New York or some shit?"
"It's possible. Or maybe Jersey."
"Who the hell would he know up there outside of the East Coast Reapers?" asked Smack. "And there's no way that crew would take him in after knowing the shit he pulled on us out here. Everybody's on high-alert."
"That's true, but there's always a chance he's made side deals or friends that we don't know about." Riggs shrugged. "Maybe even some family?" He turned back to me, looking for more answers.
"We've got nobody up there on our own," I told him. "Not even extended family, no friends from when we were kids, nothing."
"Why the fuck would Lorenzo think that he's headed out to NY?" asked Tracker. "That shit sounds sketchy as fuck."
"He's still got his own guy working on it just like we've got our own people and that’s the info. he's been given."
"That alone should tell you something is up."
"Something is up and it's my blood pressure instead of my cock like I was hoping for it to be by now with a chick in the back." Riggs grabbed his head and groaned. "Look, I'm gonna take what Patch said into consideration, even though it might not get us anywhere--"
"I can tell you right now that it won't," Tracker interjected.
"And I can tell you right now that if you do not shut your ass up already, I will put you through the head of this table crown first. You'll finally have your chance at it." Riggs turned back to the rest of us, annoyed. "Now, like I was saying before, I'll take what Patch said into consideration; call up Lorenzo back in Vegas and see if he'll be willing to work out another deal."
Tracker sat up straight. "And I'm telling you that he won't. But either way, I'm gonna be sitting in with you on this shit this time. And I want the club attorney present too in case he tries pulling more shit."
Riggs ignored him and wrapped his hand around the gavel. "Is there anything else before we get the hell out of here?" We all shook our heads. "Alright." He slammed the gavel on the table, then quickly got up from his chair and left the room; Tracker sprinted after him.
When they headed toward the back to his office, Limb, Chute and the rest remained in their chairs, trying to figure out what the hell would become of the club if or when we would be forced into becoming Lorenzo's main bitch for good after all this. I remained quiet, as did Atom until my phone rang.
All eyes turned to me when I yanked it from my pocket and stared down at the number. "It's Colette," I said, hopping up from the chair and heading back through the club. I moved outside so that I could talk with her in private. I needed to hear her voice right now and to say some things to her that I didn't want the rest of these assholes listening in on. "Babe," I answered, groaning as I thought about our time together last night, when I had her pinned against the wall next to the bed, my cock deep inside her as her nails dragged along my back and pressed so deep into me that they cut right through my skin.
; Some memorable shit. So much that I was still carrying the scars from it.
Ever since I had told her the truth about both Vegas and Lorenzo, she was willing and damn eager to give it up to me eight nights straight without a break in between. The shit wore me out, nearly making me late for work every morning after, but she wasn't doing much better, especially since she can never seem to get enough.
In fact, I've had to carry her out of bed just to get her in the shower more than once. In no way do I mind it when I'm able to have her tits in my mouth or she's on her knees down in front of me, ready for another taste of my cock on her tongue while her hand tugs my balls just before I come. But I'd be lying if I said that in doing so, it didn't help in speeding up the process.
"Hey." I heard a smile in her voice and could tell she had bitten down on her lip. "I was just calling to see how your day was going so far."
"It's alright. We just got outta church and I'm about to work on a few cars out here in the garage. What's going on with you at the school today?"
"Same old, same old, you know...."
I grew concerned when she trailed off and straightened my back. "What's going on out there, Colette?"
"Nothing," she said. "I just... wanted to know if you would be too pissed about me going out with Perla and the girls tonight. It's Vetta's birthday and they want to celebrate at some new bar that's opened up downtown."
"Some new bar?"
"Yeah, Vinnie's or something, near the coast," she told me. "I wouldn't be out too late but I haven't seen them in a few days and I think it might be fun."
"Are you calling me up to ask for my permission?"