Why is he so good at this?
He repeats the motion on the other breast, this time lingering to savor my skin. I take the opportunity to wiggle my arms underneath his large chest and grab at the black, skin-tight t-shirt. I yank it free from the belt enough to push it up his smooth body. As it crawls up his back, I push my nails into his skin, causing him to lurch forward in shock. I don’t stop. I continue my path from spine to neck and up the back of his head till his t-shirt wraps around my own body.
He grabs the shirt and stands straight up. In the dark of the room, I hear him say, “Kitten can scratch, I see.”
I drop myself down from the desk and stand before him, naked except for the pair of red panties I am wearing. I reach for his belt and pull him closer to me. As I unhook the buckle, I look him in the eye as I say, “I can do more than just scratch.” And with that, I lower myself to my knees, taking his pants and black boxer briefs with me. He only has seconds to realize what I’m about to do before I can take the long cock dangling between his legs in my warm hands.
I hate to admit this, but I’ve lied. I’ve never pleasured a guy before—not once. It always seemed so dirty, so slutty. But I want to show Tank that I can hold my own, that I’m not one to be totally dominated. And part of me wants to reciprocate what happened in my apartment nearly a week ago.
So I do what I’ve seen in the few pornos I’ve seen. I take the long, girthy length of cock in my hand, and I begin to stroke gently out and in, out and in. I go from his hips to the very tip, being careful not to twist or to pull too hard. After a few long, deep strokes, he lets out a moan that I can feel vibrate even in his shaft. “God, that feels so fucking good.”
I speed up a bit, knowing that it’s what guys want. Smooth friction is the name of the game. My hand lurches forward before heading back down the same path. He leans back as I go faster, moving more rapidly. This time, I add a bit of a twist at the top, just enough so that he can feel a different sensation. In return, I can feel his cock practically pulsating against my hand, as I struggle to hold onto such a big instrument.
“Take it in your mouth,” he commands, completely out of breath. I don’t even second-guess it. I remove my hand and slowly open my lips just enough so that his cock slips inside. My tastebuds sense the salty drips of liquid coming from the small slit. It’s deliciously warm as I lap at it for more. But he wants more. “Deeper,” he says. And I make his wish my command.
I take as much of his cock in my mouth as I can before I feel as if I’m going to gag. As I get to the end, I feel his hands wrap around my long hair to form a ponytail. With one swift motion, he pulls my head back as the cock slides nearly out before I can catch it with the suction of my lips. He then dips my head back in. I start to get his rhythm down, as I begin to pick up speed once again. He lets go of my hair and allows me to take him in. And I move at just enough speed so that I can still taste every centimeter of him growing in my mouth.
My hands wrap around his thighs as I start to grow tired. But I can’t quit now. I want him to come. I want to make him explode from just my mouth. And I won’t stop until he’s there. I look up at him; he’s completely transfixed in his own world. His head is cocked up to the sky as his hands rest on his hips. He looks like a Greek God surveying his kingdom, and a bit of me jumps in glee, as I think about how I have managed to make this giant of a man succumb to me.
I bring all the moisture I can get to the front of my mouth and swirl my tongue around him as I continue to stroke him. I feel his body start to tremble slightly, his knees softly dipping, his thighs tensing under my palms, his fists pushing into his skin. Even his mouth parts, as I hear a loud groan. I see his hands go for the fistful of my hair again as he pulls me completely off his cock and lifts me high enough so that my breasts wrap around the underside of his now pulsating dick.
His hands wrap around his shaft as he pulls twice to keep up with my speed. And in one exquisite second, I watch in awe as the white, frothy juices pour from his cock onto my skin. A bit travels down my nipples, causing me to shake as if I’ve been out in the cold. In reality, I’m practically jumping for joy. This is exactly what I wanted—for this man to submit to me.
When he finishes his long, slow descent, he looks down at me in awe. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that so good?”
I smile wickedly, as I stand slowly. My hand reaches out towards his chin, scratching at the hint of stubble coming in around his jaw. I pop onto my tippy-toes and bring my lips to him. Before they can touch, I whisper softly so that he can feel the heat of my words, “I’ll never tell.”
Chapter 9: The Kingpin
I hate leaving her like that, sprawled naked in that huge king-size bed. But I wasn’t lying when I told her I had business to attend to. Even her dirty mouth couldn’t keep me from meeting with Guzman and his men.
As I make my way through the Casa de la Belladona, a safe house my men and I use when we visit the town, I find my man, Manuel. He’s been keeping this home at its best for years now, and I know that I can trust him to keep his mouth shut. “Manuel,” I shout towards him, as he finishes speaking to two of the groundsmen. “I need you to head to town now and purchase a robe and a dress for the woman I am with. Knock and then leave it outside her doorway. She’ll be wanting it soon.”
“Yes, señor. Certainly.” Manuel’s eyes grow in anticipation as I begin counting the money out of my wallet. He knows he can keep whatever is left over, and there is always plenty for him. It’s payment for him keeping quiet. He has seen a lot, more than even I can really fathom. But his loyalty has never been questioned.
But as I am handing him the cash, a thought comes over me. “Manuel, I need you to also pick up some groceries.”
“Some groceries? My wife is here to cook dinner, señor.”
“Yes, and I will pay her for her time, plus a few extra hours if she could come by tomorrow morning to clean. But please have her leave the food she has purchased for us. After I come back from my meeting, you are dismissed. Just leave the guards outside with instructions that they are not to let anyone out or in besides me after seven tonight.” He nods enthusiastically and takes the large roll of money, slipping the bills between each of his fingers as he turns towards the servants’ corridors.
I go the opposite way, through the front gate towards where the men have brought my motorcycle. I hitch back on and head towards the back alleyways where men are smoking and women are drying clothing. They all turn and head indoors when I pass. No one dares to cross my path or be ahead of me as I pass.
Around here, I am known as El Corazo, or the Armor. They started calling me that after I first fought it out with the drug lord, Henrique and his men. We managed to only lose two that night. Henrique was not as lucky. With him out of power, I appointed Guzman, a local businessman to take his place. Guzman was surprisingly more of a snake than Henrique. Legends of his iron grip over this town has not escaped me, especially since it always comes with the threat that El Corazo would return if anyone disobeyed Guzman’s commands.
A year after I took over the Apaches and Guzman was put into power, he started branching off and selling to other MCs along the border. I should have cracked down, but the goods he was sending through to my men were as pure as gold. Compared to the other dealers I have in place, nothing quite matches the supply and demand for Guzman’s string of narcos.
So I let him double-cross me and do business with the Aztecs, the Johnnys, and the Valpos—all with the understanding that only I get the best stuff. And that when I want answers or intel, he gives me what I want. When he told my man, Rafael, that he would only talk to me, it signaled that something was amiss. There were bigger forces at work here.
I pull into Guzman’s hideout, a heavily guarded old fort from the early 1900s. Ladies dressed in black and red lace saunter around the henchmen, distracting them enough so that I practically walk in. It’s not till I’m halfway up the stairs when I’m caught. This time, it’s by my own man. Rafae
l smiles, as he reaches out a hand for a quick embrace. “Brother, it’s about time. They were expecting you hours ago. And they’re not so patient today.”
I follow him the rest of the way through the open-air terrace and down the sandy-colored stairwells. “Do you know what’s going on here?” I ask, as we get to the doorway of the old great hall. “Why the fuck does he need me here?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. I heard from one of his seconds that he wants to renegotiate the contract. But his head of security says he has info that you need to hear. Either way, no one is talking to me.”
Rafael has always been my head spy. Fourth in command for the Apaches. He may not be my right-hand-man, but I trust him more than any other. Not only is he great at the business side, he can also read people better than anyone I know. It makes him invaluable when I am dealing with assholes like Guzman.
“Where are the rest of our boys?” I whisper. It’s not a secret that I sent Rafael with backup; it’s common sense in our line of work. But that still doesn’t mean we’re giving their location away.
“I sent them to the bar across the street. They came in a gunner van to keep a low profile.” Guzman touches his nose, a signal that he is alert and aware of the situation. I nod back and then open the double doors with a bang.
The sound echoes the hallway as a dozen men stop what they are doing and turn towards me. All of them are hunched over a map while a man in a chair remains seated at the head of the table. When he sees me, he raises his arms out and shouts, “Apache! I was wondering when you were coming.”
I say gruffly under my breath as I shake his hand, “I don’t see why I needed to. You could have told my man.”
“Ah, but where is the fun in that? When it comes to business, I prefer to deal with the man in charge.” He claps his hands and the men quickly pick up the map and head back out the door we came in through. Rafael stares up at me, and I, too, motion for him to leave. With the room cleared, Guzman points at a nearby chair that I pull up to his round table.
“What do you want? Is this about Rafael’s question about the girl?”
“I’m afraid yes and no. I’m still working on that girl’s case. I know something, but I want to be sure. I should have some news for you tomorrow. Tonight, I want to talk business.”
“I didn’t come here to talk business, Guzman.”
“You’ll want to hear this though. It seems as though the Aztecs are no longer wanting my services.”
“What?” I am in complete disbelief. Even if they were not getting the quality stuff we had in our arsenal, they were still getting premium quality goods at a reasonable price.
“Yes, I was just as shocked as you. It seems that Abe and his men are now doing business in Carlitto with a new kingpin by the name of Jerrico. I sent my men down there last week to raid, but they came back empty. So I have to ask, if Jerrico doesn’t exist and the Aztecs are not working with my supply, what are they planning on doing?”
I don’t have an answer for him. Abe has always been off the rail. Ever since I kicked him out of the Apaches for the killing of one of our enforcers, he has been on the warpath against me. He started the Aztecs, drew out new territory that we hadn’t covered yet, and did business with our enemies. All of this in a quest for vengeance.
Guzman, noticing my furrowed brow, continues, “So that’s where the girl comes back in. Rumor has it that Abe is gunning for you. The attack on the girl is an attempt to rally his troops and when you’re least expecting it, he plans on hitting your men. One of his men told this to my border patrol just two days ago.”
I stand up immediately, feeling the familiar heat of rage creep over my body. I walk towards one of the empty writing desks and place my hands around the cold edges. In one swift move, I take the heavy piece of furniture, and I slam it onto the ground. My yells echo throughout the hall in a burst of sound.
Behind me, over the sound of my loud panting, I hear Guzman’s chair scratch on the tile surface. He walks towards me slowly and places a hand on my shoulder. I spin, grabbing him by the neck and throwing him down to the ground. “Don’t you ever touch me, you snake!”
The older man shivers as pulls at my grasp. His wispy voice chokes back, “I am trying to help you, you idiot!”
“What do you mean, ‘help me?’ How can a son of a bitch like you help me?”
I watch as his face turns a sickish color of blue, and his throat begin to cave under my grip. I let go a bit, just enough to let him talk. He coughs, struggling to find his voice. Finally, he clears his throat enough to whisper, “Backup. I’ll send backup. In exchange for you moving an extra hundred kilos in the next two weeks. The feds are on me, and I need it gone. You do that and my men are yours.”
“These men are fighters? Not like the ones who let me walk straight into your fortress?” I am intrigued. If Abe wanted to start a war, there was no stopping him, especially after Carmen’s attack. And the only way to stop a war is to strike back. Having extra men could weigh heavily in my favor.
“These men are my enforcers—former soldiers. They will provide twenty-four seven security to you and your team. I will provide them with weapons as well.”
“A hundred kilos?” I ask again. It’s double our normal pull, especially with the police following MCs even closer now. It’s not impossible, but it was going to be a risk, especially with Abe’s men on our tail.
“A hundred kilos by the end of this month. If the job isn’t done, my men come back and we renegotiate the terms of our agreement.”
I stand up, brushing the dirt from the tile floor off of my knees. Guzman follows behind me as he struggles to recover. I reach out my hand and shake his. Before I can leave, I give him a warning, “I’ll be back tomorrow for your men. In the meantime, load up my boys with the supplies. They’ll ride out of here at dawn.”
Chapter 10: Dinner Parties
When I manage to wake up, it’s pitch-black outside. Compared to the city lights I’m used to, there’s not even a streetlight to illuminate my room. My hands search for a light switch or a lamp along the side of the big brass bed, but I come up with nothing. I am forced to slide out of bed and towards where I think the bathroom door is. I manage to find the wall, and the bathroom springs into my view.
My eyes take a second to adjust before I can find the main room’s lamp. Once turned on, I finally get a decent view of the bedroom I’m staying in. It’s massive, I’ll give Tank that. The stone floors are covered in blue painted flowers and yellow brush strokes while the rest of the room is in bright, burnt reds. It’s a mix of rustic and vintage that I love.
To the corner is the large desk where we began our hot and heavy session, and next to it is an equally large chest of drawers. I spot my discarded dress in tatters near the bench. That’s not going to work for the rest of the trip. I walk to the bed, the same bed that Tank lifted me onto and placed me in hours ago, and tear off the cream-colored sheet. Wrapping it around my body, I promise myself that this is just going to have to do for now.
I take a deep breath and pray that those groundskeepers are gone as I open the door to the courtyard. It’s the same kind of darkness from my bedroom earlier with the dark sky above covered in sprinkling stars and a yellowish crescent moon. Despite the area being empty, I hear music in the distance. It’s some old rock and roll song I haven’t heard in years. I spot the light coming through from the far corner of the terrace, and I quickly walk towards it.
From the small crack, I spot Tank standing over an open fire. A black apron is tied around his waist and his hand is covered in a bright pink oven mitt. I push the door open even further and give a little cough. He spins towards me, a steaming pan in one hand and a spatula in another. “What are you doing?!” I cry out to him, laughing at the sight.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, as he gestures to his ridiculous apron that is covered in frilly lace. “I’m cooking you dinner.”
I walk towards him, hitching up the sheet around m
y ankles. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” No motorcycle guys in my world would dare to cook for themselves. That’s what greasy take out joints and their old ladies were for.
“You tell me.” He hands me a spoonful of a red bubbling broth. I take a quick taste, expecting it to be far from appetizing, but the basil and tomato hit me instantly as I’m brought back to my grandmother’s old tomato soups. I take another spoonful, letting the warm liquid fill my mouth.
“That’s incredible,” I finally say. “How did you learn to do this?”
“Go sit at the table, and I’ll explain. Dinner’s almost ready anyways.” He turns back to his stove before adding, “There’s a robe out by your door if you don’t want to eat naked…though I’d prefer if you did.”
He gives me a wink before I dash out to the courtyard back towards my room. In a pile sits a perfectly folded black, plush robe, along with a new pair of clean, black lace panties. They’re completely see through, but I’m grateful for anything to wear. I’m not the type of girl who loves being exposed like this.
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