FILTHY SINS_Sons of Wolves MC

by Nicole Fox

  Daphne smirked.

  “Okay, fine,” she said. “But let me tell my friend.”

  “Good luck,” Xander said.

  He watched Daphne attempt to approach Margaret, who was still lip-locked with her man. Daphne stood off to the side, her body language unsure and hesitant. She reached towards Margaret, as though she were going to tap her on the shoulder. But, at the last second, she pulled her hand back and rushed away from the two, Margaret and the man having not noticed that she’d even been there. Daphne then returned to Xander, her steps uneven.

  “I gotta admit,” she said, a smile forming on her face as though she were about to share secret she’d sworn to hide, “I’m a little drunk.”

  Xander stood up, his own stance unsteady.

  “I’m right there with you,” he said, surprised at how drunk he’d let himself get.

  “Shall we?” asked Daphne.

  Xander only nodded and started towards the door, Daphne following close behind. Soon, they were out in the parking lot where they made their way through the crowd outside, which had only grown in size since he first arrived. They stepped into the gravel parking lot and, before too long, were standing in front of Xander’s bike.

  “Wow,” said Daphne with almost child-like wonder. “It’s awesome.”

  Xander couldn’t help but smirk. His bike was a Harley Davidson Knucklehead with a V-twin engine, the body all shining chrome with ink-black trim. He’d only bought it a year or so and had yet to get tired of tearing down the highway on it.

  “Hop on,” said Xander. “See how it feels.”

  Xander watched as Daphne approached the bike with some hesitation, as though wondering if she’d even be able to climb on top of it. Then, in a clumsy motion, she clambered onto it, letting out a “whoa” as she steadied herself.

  “This is awesome,” she said.

  Xander smirked. He remembered how Daphne always seemed to have a split personality about the fact that he was a biker. One the one hand, she always chided him for how dangerous his lifestyle was, offering various statistics like reminding him often of just how many accidents on bikes happened every year. Then, on the other hand, once she was on the bike, the two of them blazing down some back road, just them and the wind, he could always tell that she secretly loved it.

  “Wait till you hear the engine.”

  Daphne watched Xander climb on top of the bike with expert grace, like a big cat mounting a perch. Xander put the key in the ignition, clasped his hands on the handlebar, and gunned the engine until it roared to life. The sound was so loud and booming that the crowd outside of the bar couldn’t help but turn the collective heads and see what all the noise was.

  “Grab on,” said Xander.

  Daphne did just that, wrapping her slender arms around his body and resting her head against his back.

  Just like old times, he thought.

  He ripped the engine one last time, and then they were on the road.

  Chapter Seven

  Daphne

  As much as Daphne hated to admit it, she loved riding on that damn bike. Her arms wrapped around the mysterious man, the feeling of the cool leather against her face and the evening wind on her skin, combined with the thrill of racing down the empty road at breakneck speed—she knew that she couldn’t get enough. A small voice in her mind scolded her for falling right back into her old ways with biker guys, but she managed to shush it, instead choosing to savor the experience.

  I still haven’t gotten this guy’s name yet, she thought. It’s strange; I almost feel like he’s so familiar that I don’t even need to bother with it.

  They whipped around a sharp curve, the engine growling as the man drove. After fifteen minutes or so, they arrived at a large apartment complex in one of the denser areas of the city. The man pulled the bike into a parking spot and killed the engine.

  “Nice place,” said Daphne, craning her neck to look up at the modern building.

  “Thanks,” said the man. “Just a temporary pad.”

  Daphne steadied herself by resting her hand on the bike, the booze still racing through her system.

  “Come on,” said the man in a low voice that was almost a growl.

  That nagging voice inside of her bristled at the command, but the greater part of her loved it. Her time with Xander had made it clear to her that there was little she liked more than being led around by a domineering man like Xander, despite being taught for years just how important it was to be an independent woman.

  The man led her through the lobby and into the elevator, her heart beating faster with every step that they took that brought them closer to his apartment. Daphne’s eyes moved back and forth between every exposed part of muscle on the man’s tattooed body, and all she could think about was how it would feel to have him on top of her.

  No, the voice spoke up again, just leave now; it’s not too late.

  Daphne shushed the voice once again as the elevator doors shut. And once the silver doors closed, the tension that had been building between the two of them broke like a brittle twig. She turned to the man, a sensual smile playing on her face as he looked down at her with a matching expression. Her heart continued to pound, and she loved just how small and vulnerable she felt in front of him.

  Then, with a quick, assertive movement, the man swooped in, put his hand on the small of her back, pulled her close, and kissed her hard.

  Daphne was shocked at first, not expecting—though secretly hoping for—such a pounce. He was on her in a way that reminded Daphne of a predator taking a prey animal, quick and primal. At first, her arms shot out, as though she didn’t know what to do with them. But soon, as the man’s tongue slipped into her mouth, she found her footing. Daphne clamped her hands down on the man’s shoulders, taking in the feeling of his solid muscles as he continued to kiss her hard. Breathing in through her nose, she smelled that intoxicating scent of cigarettes and whiskey that was, to her, the most heavenly cologne imaginable. She and the man kissed as the elevator rose, their hands moving over one another’s body. Daphne loved how he touched her, how he took her forcefully and didn’t bother to ask permission. The man kept one hand on her back, holding her in place as the other moved down her body, lower and lower. Daphne took in a sharp gasp of air as he moved down, the anticipation of his rough hand on her pussy almost too much to bear.

  But just before he was right where she wanted him, the elevator doors opened with a shrill ping.

  The man didn’t say a word. Instead, he grabbed Daphne by the wrist and led her down the hallway, coming to a stop in front of one of the apartment doors. He pulled out his keys, opened the locked door, and pushed open the door so hard that Daphne couldn’t help but look to see if he’d knocked it off the hinges.

  But she didn’t have a chance to take in much else.

  The man slammed the door shut, not bothering to turn on the lights before he was all over Daphne again, continuing what they’d started on the elevator. Daphne opened one eye into a squint, trying to see what the apartment looked like. But though the moonlight from outside illuminated the place in a ghostly glow that allowed her to get a sense of where things were, it wasn’t bright enough to see anything in detail.

  She then closed her eyes, focusing all of her attention on the man who seemed ready to eat her alive. They continued to kiss hard, their hands resuming the business of exploring one another’s bodies. Daphne slipped her hand into the man’s leather vest, her pussy growing wet as she took in the sensation of his solid, smooth muscles. She caressed the curve of his square, stone-solid pecs, her fingertips moving down to his sculpted, trim abs.

  Goddamn, she thought to herself. He’s built like a tank.

  And the man didn’t waste any time doing some exploring of his own. His rough hands moved up Daphne’s shirt, pulling it up and off her head as he went. His touch moved all over Daphne’s now-bare midriff, sliding along the exposed curves of her hips. Daphne’s heart continued to pound, her pussy now tight and hot
with arousal.

  She needed release, and she needed it fast.

  The man’s fingers slid into her bra, and he kissed her deep as he fondled her now-pert nipples. He handled her with expert skill, and Daphne couldn’t help but notice through it all that he seemed to know her body in a way that almost seemed to her that he had some sort of familiarity with it. He knew just how to fondle her breasts, just how to kiss her, just how to subdue her with his animal strength.

  But before she could give the matter anymore thought, the man clamped his hands hard down on her hips, spun her on her feet, and shoved her up against the wall in a manner that was forceful enough to drive Daphne wild on the spot. She took in deep, full draws of air, her body tingling in anticipation of just what he was going to do next.

  The man’s hands still firmly grasping her hips, he began to move upwards at a steady pace. The sensation of his fingertips against her back sent cool shivers up Daphne’s spine, and a moan slipped out of her mouth. Once the man reached the clasp of her bra, he undid it with a deft, skillful motion and pulled the thing off of her body, tossing it to the side. Then, he reached around her and took her full, heaving breasts into his hands, kneading them in a fashion that was so pleasurable that Daphne could hardly stand it.

  Once he’d had his fun with her breasts, his hands continued their upward ascent, grabbing her wrists in the process. Moving her hands above her head, he pinned her against the wall, holding her in place with one hand while moving the other back down. He was holding her down, and there was nothing she could do about it. Part of her wanted to squirm against his forcefulness, but the greater part of her savored being restrained by him in such a way.

  His free hand moved down to her legs, then, slowly, began to move up and under her skirt. Daphne moaned again as he brushed against her inner thigh. He soon reached her pussy and began rubbing it through her panties as he continued to hold her pinned against the wall.

  “Oh God,” Daphne said, the words tumbling out of her mouth as he fondled her.

  He rubbed her in just the right way, stimulating her clitoris with his fingertip as he continued to press her wrists against the wall. He moved closer to her, and Daphne could feel his hot breath shooting from his nostrils in hot snorts, like those of a bull about to charge. After he’d teased her in that way for a time, he moved his hand further up, and grabbing her panties by the waistband, pulled them down so hard that the coarse sound of the fabric being ripped sounded through the otherwise quiet apartment. Moments later, the panties were off and tossed, like the bra, to some far-off corner of the living room.

  The man then flicked the skirt up and onto Daphne’s ass, which she then realized she’d been unconsciously sticking out towards him. His free hand came down hard on her exposed ass, clapping firmly on her right cheek and sending out a brisk sensation of pain and pleasure all mixed into one. Daphne gasped as he spanked her, but as soon as the feeling faded, all she wanted was for him to do it again.

  He was happy to comply.

  Right as the second spank sounded out, the intoxicating pain-pleasure rushing through her body, Daphne then heard the sound of a belt buckle being undone and a zipper being pulled down. A shiver of anticipation ran through her body, and peeking over her shoulder, she watched as the man yanked from his pants an enormous erect cock that she could’ve sworn was thicker than her wrist.

  Before she could wonder just how he was going to fit that in her, the man spread her legs apart, pressed the head of his cock against her pussy, and shoved it deep inside of her with a swift, forceful motion. Daphne’s toes curled as she stood in place, the sensation of being filled by a cock as thick and big as that beyond compare. Once the man was fully buried in her, he took in a rough draw of air. He still had one hand on her wrists, holding her in place. The other was on her ass, rubbing the firm flesh of her rear.

  Then, just as Daphne was almost on the verge of begging, the man began to move in her, his cock sliding in and out of her. His pace was slow and steady at first, penetrating her over and over again, the pleasure almost more than Daphne could stand. Each time he drove back into her, each time he filled her full, she wondered if she just might buckle. His pace eventually quickened, and soon he was pounding her hard and rhythmically, driving into her over and over, the sound of his hips colliding against her ass filling the room above her moans and his grunts.

  And despite the pleasure that turned her mind more and more into mush by the second, Daphne couldn’t help but notice just how familiar his cock felt, as strange as the thought was to her. At first, she felt like the man was filling her up in a way that no man had ever done before. But the more he pounded her, the more he plunged deep into her, the more she wondered just how he knew the right way to make her feel so goddamn good.

  But she wasn’t able to hold those thoughts in her head for long. An orgasm had been building in her, and with each penetration, the man pushed her closer and closer to it until she was right on the precipice.

  “Don’t stop,” she said, pleading. “Don’t stop. I’m gonna … oh!”

  Right at that moment, the orgasm broke free, rushing through her body and overwhelming her with a pleasure that was so exquisite she could hardly stand it. She screamed and squirmed in place, wriggling her body against the man’s forceful grip, her knees weakening and wobbling so much that she nearly fell where she stood.

  Then the man came, grunting hard as he emptied himself into her, the feeling of him exploding deep within her bringing Daphne up to even higher reaches of pleasure. As he came, her orgasm sent waves of pleasure through her body as it faded.

  Soon, they were both done. The two of them stayed in place for a time, both taking in deep breaths as they recovered from the vigorous activity. Then, without thinking, Daphne collapsed onto the nearby couch. The man joined her, lying at her side.

  Moments later, her body exhausted from the night she’d had, Daphne fell into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Daphne

  When Daphne came to, the first thing she was aware of was the pounding of her head.

  Goddamn, she thought. Way too much to drink last night.

  At first, her vision was bleary, and she couldn’t quite remember just what she’d done.

  Then, when she saw the sleeping form of the man on the couch with her, it all came back with perfect clarity.

  Oh no, she thought, her eyes moving over the man’s tattoos. Did I seriously sleep with a fucking biker last night?

  She heaved herself off of the couch, careful not to disturb her partner. As she walked quietly to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, the events of the previous night played through her mind in fast-forward bursts. She remembered Margaret, she remembered the bar, she remembered having drink after drink, and she remembered … him.

  Drinking down the water in deep gulps, her mouth dry and sticky, she tried to remember anything about the man she’d slept with last night. But all she could bring to mind was the vague image of how he looked, coupled with that strange sense of familiarity that she couldn’t shake as she spent time with him. But the specifics of his face just didn’t come to mind.

  And the sex wasn’t too bad, she thought, a sly smile forming on her face. Wait, who am I kidding—it was fucking amazing.

  As she continued to drink her water, her eyes settled on the man sleeping on the couch. He was shirtless, but still wearing his pants. And right above his waist, on the left side of the small of his back, was a jagged line. Daphne moved closer and saw that it was a long scar formed over a ragged wound. Her eyes hung on the scar, the thing striking her with the same familiarity that she’d felt the night before.

  Where the hell have I seen a scar like that before? she wondered.

  Saving a little bit of water in her glass, she walked quietly into the bathroom and searched around for a bottle of pain reliever. Finding one, she dumped out a couple of blue pills and tossed them back. But as soon as she swallowed them, it hit her—Xander had a scar like tha
t.

  Daphne set down her glass so hard on the bathroom sink that she worried for a moment that it might break. She rushed into the living room and stopped a few feet away from the man. Kneeling down, she inspected the scar carefully. Sure enough, it was the same scar as Xander’s.

  Is this some kind of coincidence? she wondered. Or …

  She turned towards the rest of the apartment. In the clear light of day, she could now see that the place was filled with many of the same photos, decorations, and knick-knacks that Xander owned when they dated. She darted around the living room, picking up one thing or another, realizing that she’d seen so many of these things before.

  Impossible, she thought. There’s no way I was so drunk last night that I’d hook up with Xander and not even recognize him. There’s just no way.

  But before she could think the matter over too much more, the man on the couch shifted as he slept, rolling over to face her, his eyes still shut.