Breaking It All (The Hellfire Riders Book 3)

by Kati Wilde

  Strawman pushes away from the post. “All right.”

  Gunner lifts his chin, indicating the clubhouse door. “She going to have any problems in there?”

  “No,” Strawman says. “I told the others she’s off limits.”

  Gunner narrows his eyes and looks to Muncher, who nods.

  “He told us she’s under your protection and not to be touched.” Muncher’s lips curve a little but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Because you’ve got a friend who you feel more obligated to than you do your family.”

  “And without that friend, I’d be in the ground and you’d have one less brother.”

  The other man tilts his head as if considering that, before offering a slow nod. “All right, little brother.” His gaze is slightly warmer when it shifts to me. “Welcome to the Notorious Few, pretty girl. You might want to close your eyes.”

  22

  Gunner

  There’s nothing Anna hasn’t seen before—in small doses. Because she gets an eyeful of all kinds of shit at the Den, but she’s never been to the Hellfire Riders’ clubhouse.

  It’s a weekday, so most of the Few who hold down day jobs are gone. Those that are here, either they’re on security duty or they’re enjoying what the club has to offer—pussy, drugs, liquor. A smoky haze swirls near the ceiling. The odors of weed and sweat and sex thicken every breath.

  Anna’s fingers tighten on mine. Her gaze is darting everywhere.

  There’s a small group gathered in front of a widescreen television, idly watching a recorded UFC event—last year’s championship. Chunk’s on the couch, a bottle of beer in hand and a redhead bent over his dick. He tips the beer at me as we pass by, before looking to the screen again. Two heavy patchholders are spit-roasting a tiny blonde between them, grunting like they’re in a race to come.

  Maybe they are. First woman I ever went down on, it was in this room, and it was a race—the first Cooper brother to make his pussy come. Muncher won, because he’s got his name for a reason. But I was so fucking proud to place second, so fucking proud of the way my father clapped me on the back and told me job well done.

  Now I wonder if the woman I was with faked her orgasm just to get an inept fourteen-year-old boy off her. It sure as hell never would have occurred to me then. Not when I grew up hearing how every woman was gagging for any Cooper’s touch, that they’ll always come on our cocks. I didn’t learn differently until I was in the Marines and hooked up with a few women who didn’t hide their disappointment with my performance—which was a far cry from the wild, crazed moans of the women I fucked here as a teenager.

  But listening to similar moans now, it all sounds about as real as a porno—and the memory feels like a crust of filth on my skin.

  Anna shouldn’t be clinging to my hand. She shouldn’t even be touching me. I sure as hell shouldn’t have touched her.

  And it never felt like this with the Hellfire Riders. I never touched any of the club pussy there, but it didn’t turn my stomach seeing and hearing and smelling the other Riders with their women. Hell, more often than not, I was hard as a rock, watching it all go down and picturing Anna with me.

  But this fucking place. None of it feels right. Knowing the girls are free to come and go, but that my brothers use their faces to draw them in—and once they’re in the clubhouse, they’re fair game to every member of the Few. They can say no, but if they do, they’re out permanently. So a lot of them don’t. Not with my brothers sweet-talking them into staying, making promises they don’t keep, making them feel special just long enough to persuade them.

  We follow Strawman toward the back of the clubhouse, toward the rooms reserved for the Coopers and the club pussy they’ve chosen.

  Adam’s chosen a dozen—all lying naked around the room, some tangled together, most looking exhausted. He’s got a brunette bent over the arm of a sofa, pounding into her, his jeans hanging loose off his ass and sweat dripping down his bare back. His fingers are fisted in her long hair. Abruptly he pulls her head back and grunts, his body a solid wall of muscle as he comes inside her.

  We head across the room toward the table in the back. Sprawled on the sofa bed in the far corner, Six-Point stirs awake between a pair of nude women.

  Adam spares us a glance as he pulls out of the brunette. Absently he strips off his condom, tosses it onto a heap of used latex on the floor, then points to another girl. “You. Suck until I’m hard again, then I want your ass.” He points to a pair cuddled together on a recliner. “And you two. Start eating each other out. Get your pussies wet for me.”

  The brunette stumbles away from the sofa on shaky legs. Muncher crooks his finger at her, and she actually lights up as she changes course toward him.

  He catches her around her waist, nuzzling her ear. “My brother didn’t take care of you real well, did he? Just plowed your pussy and left you wanting.”

  She only dips her head. Probably too afraid to say aloud that she didn’t have an orgasm with Adam inside her.

  Chuckling, Muncher swats her ass. “Get up on that table, then, and I’ll have myself some breakfast.” He looks back at me. “She’s a squirter. It’s fucking amazing.”

  I bet. I squeeze Anna’s hand, letting her know I’m still right with her, despite the line we’ve drawn; she squeezes back. Doing all right, in the middle of all this.

  She’s fucking amazing.

  The table’s a circle, so I can’t sit her away from the others. My jaw clenches when Strawman takes the chair on her left side, and his grin widens when she scoots a little closer to me.

  I study her face. Her eyes are wide and her cheeks flushed, and she’s looking everywhere but at Adam. Then the brunette spreads herself across the table, her head within arm’s reach of both Anna and me, and Anna’s gaze settles on the woman’s tits, then her pussy, then Muncher’s mouth between her legs.

  There’s nothing fake about the way the woman starts moaning.

  “Take your time,” Strawman tells him. “It doesn’t look as if the firstborn is in a rush.”

  Six-Point joins us, dragging on his shirt and carrying a half-empty fifth of whiskey. He grins at Anna. “Hello again, sweet thing. I don’t suppose you want to be my breakfast?”

  “Fuck off,” I tell him.

  “Oh, and someone’s in a bad mood. It’s okay, baby brother. We could share her.” He winks at Anna. “That’d probably make him feel better.”

  The only thing that would make this better is getting the fuck out of here.

  “If not her, you sure you don’t want to pick out another one?” Six-Point turns and indicates the women spread around the room. “They can change your mood quick. They’re all real good at sucking dick.”

  They probably are. “I suppose it’s easy to suck you off when you’ve barely got enough cock to fill their mouths.”

  Muncher snorts out a laugh, his face still buried in the girl’s pussy, his mouth riding the wild undulations of her hips.

  Six-Point grins and drops into the chair next to him. He looks across the girl’s writhing body to Anna again. “So what’s your story? Strawman tells us you were sleeping in different beds. So why the hell aren’t you fucking my brother? You prefer women? Because if you do…” He indicates the room with a sweep of his hand. “We’ve got some for you.”

  Anna shrugs. “He’s pretty to look at, but…I don’t know. He was never interested. I asked him out once and he said no. So I moved on and we just kept things simple.”

  “You said no?” Eyebrows shooting together, Muncher lifts his head and stares at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “There’s a whole damn list,” Strawman says. Lips tight, he stares at Adam, who’s rolling on another condom and smearing lube down the length of his cock. “Get her off and let’s start talking. We’re not waiting for the firstborn. He can catch up later.”

  Muncher and Six-Point exchange a glance. In the next second they’re both on the brunette, Six-Point fucking her mouth with his tongue, fingers pl
ucking at her nipples while Muncher redoubles his attentions to her pussy. Within seconds she’s coming, her screams muffled by Six-Point’s mouth and Muncher groaning as he laps her up.

  They’re both looking damn pleased with themselves as Muncher helps her down off the table and steers her toward the nearest couch.

  “I just realized,” Anna says suddenly. “None of you guys wear tats.”

  Strawman stares at her. “That’s what you’re thinking about after watching her pussy squirt all over my brother’s face?”

  I’d never admit it, but I was marveling at the same damn thing.

  “Well, I mean”—she waves dismissively at the table, where some of the girl’s juices are still pooled in front of Muncher—“I see that kind of thing on my bar practically every day.”

  Not even close to every day. But I’m happy letting my brothers go on thinking that if she wants them to.

  She continues, “But what I don’t see is five bikers together and not one of them inked. Not that I’ve seen every inch of your skin, but—”

  “Hell.” Six-Point stands up, unbuttoning his jeans. “We can fix that.”

  “Sit your ass down,” I growl at him while Anna laughs, shaking her head.

  “No need. I’ve already seen you without your shirt. I’ve seen Zach without one. Adam.” She points to where he’s working his cock into the girl’s ass, then looks to Muncher. “And there’s nothing on your arms, where it’s most common to see some ink. But you don’t have any. Unless I’m wrong?”

  “Not wrong,” Muncher says, wearing a slight smile. “We were born looking this way for a reason. So we aren’t messing with that.” Smile fading, he eyes me. “Unless you did while you were gone?”

  I shake my head.

  Strawman looks so pleased by that answer, I wish I’d had another to give. “Then maybe you weren’t gone all that far—which makes it a hell of a lot easier for you to come back. So why don’t you start telling us about the trouble her brother is in?”

  “And tell us who did that to her face,” Muncher says.

  I do, laying it out in broad strokes. The missing fighters. The rumors about the Cage. How Strawman’s comment at the rally got me looking at the Iron Blood. Then Stone going missing after he just happened to win a fight against Paladin—and how a man resembling their enforcer showed up at Anna’s place.

  Six-Point and Muncher both study her carefully then, and I know what they’re thinking: the same damn thing I did when I saw the blood between her thighs, on the chair. And they’re wondering if that’s why I’m not fucking her—because she’s been hurt too bad and is still recovering.

  Strawman doesn’t give a shit whether she was raped. He’s sitting back in his chair, looking at me as he works it over. “So you’re here because you want to go through us to get to the Iron Blood.”

  “I don’t want to fuck up the business you’ve got going with them. I just want info on the Cage so I can get Stone out of there.” And our friends in the Bedlam Butchers, too, but my brothers won’t give two shits about that.

  “And helping you with that won’t fuck up our business?” He scoffs. “You’re asking a hell of a lot for someone who isn’t wearing our colors.”

  “I know it.”

  Eyes narrowed, he leans forward. “You willing to wear those colors? And not just until your friend’s out. You willing to wear them permanent? Because that’s what we’ll be asking from you in return.”

  I know Anna’s staring at me, holding her breath, but I don’t glance her way. One look at her and I don’t know whether I could force this out of my mouth.

  “I’m willing.”

  “Shit yeah!” Six-Point crows. “Then we’ll get your boy back. Hell, we’ve got a run with the Iron Blood coming up—”

  He abruptly falls silent as Strawman raps his knuckles on the table and looks to Anna.

  “That business isn’t for outside ears,” he says. “And our brother’s not wearing our kutte yet.”

  Muncher smirks. “That won’t take long. Mama had one made up for you years ago. Just waiting for you to come back.”

  “Then I guess I’ll be wearing it soon enough.”

  “And about fucking time,” Strawman says, then points to the whiskey bottle at Six-Point’s right hand. “Why don’t you pass that around and we’ll drink to that.”

  “Should we get Adam over here first?” Muncher looks over his shoulder, calls out, “Heads up, firstborn! We’re sharing a round. Zach’s gonna be putting on his vest.”

  “Is that right?” Abruptly he pulls out of the girl’s ass and pushes her away from him, stripping the condom off his still-erect dick. His flat gaze is on me as he heads to the table, hauling up his jeans and tucking his cock away but not bothering to fasten up. Bringing with him the bleached odor of cum and sweat, he reaches for the bottle Six-Point holds up for him, then tips the neck toward me in a salute. “Well, then. Looks like Mama’s got all of us home again.”

  He takes a swig, tosses the bottle across the table to Strawman. Going in order of birth. I’m last, and by the time the whiskey reaches me I can barely choke down a single swallow. But that’s easy to cover when Six-Point is grinning and thumping my back.

  I glance at Anna. She’s watching me give my life away, her eyes dark and troubled, and slowly shakes her head when I hold out the bottle to her.

  “No thanks,” she whispers in a strained voice. “This looks like a family thing.”

  But what she’s really saying is she won’t drink to that. I nod, thankful that someone won’t, and she averts her gaze, staring blindly at the wall.

  Adam swipes the whiskey out of my hand, takes another drink, his hot eyes focused on Anna. Still gripping the bottle, he extends his forefinger, points to her.

  “I want that one next.”

  Her head whips back around, face paling.

  My blood runs to ice. Six-Point might joke and tease her. Adam fucking means it. I surge to my feet, get right in his path, so he’s pointing at me, instead—and so he’ll have to get through me to get to her.

  That’ll never happen.

  “You turn that finger in another direction, brother.” The cold steel in my voice is a warning.

  But Adam’s always been stupid. So instead of turning that finger away, he pokes it into my chest.

  “You brought her in here, brother.” His smile is thin, cruel. “It’s been a while since you left, running away from here like a weak fucking pussy, but it’s not so long you’ve forgotten the rules. Because I’ve been in a goddamn cell that same amount of time, and I still know the rules. You bring a woman in here, and unless she’s a bride, she’s for all the brothers to share. Are you saying she’s a bride?”

  I’d love her to be. But if I said that, I’d have to kill him where he stands. “She’s not mine,” I say, and because it protects her, the lie comes easy. “She’s just mine to protect.”

  With a hard laugh, Adam drops his hand away from my chest and gets up in my face—maybe thinking that’ll intimidate me like it used to. He’s always been the tallest, the biggest. And he’s only gotten bigger in prison, as if he spent most of his free time pumping iron.

  I’ve gotten stronger over the years, too. But more importantly, I’ve learned to fight a hell of a lot smarter.

  From behind me I hear Strawman tell Six-Point, “Get all the other pussy out of here. Now.”

  Though I don’t take my eyes off Adam, I’m aware of Six-Point heading for the brunette, her scrambling over to the other girls, their frantic whispers, the rush to the door.

  Adam ignores it all.

  “So you’re protecting her—and that means protecting her from my cock? You come here asking for help from the Few and then treat me like a threat?” Rage is building in him, hardening his face. Years inside have faded the tan from his skin, but now he’s going tomato red, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “Are you denying me what’s rightfully mine to take?”

  “Yeah, I’m denying you.” I say it ea
sily, as if I’m telling him he needs to tie his shoe.

  His eyes bulge. “Muncher, start getting her pussy wet for me. If he’s worried I’ll hurt her, then we’ll make sure she likes it. Fuck, she’ll be begging for it. And you, little brother, stand aside. That’s an order from your goddamn president.”

  My wide grin isn’t enough to express how glad I am he said that. Because, “You’re not my fucking prez. Not yet.”

  The roundhouse swing I anticipated finally comes. Fingers still wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle, his fist flies at my head.

  Smoothly I duck under his arm. A sharp jab to his stomach doubles him over. A knee to his chin sends him stumbling back, spitting blood. The bottle drops from his hand and thunks to the floor.

  But he doesn’t go down. Good. Because I’ve been waiting seventeen fucking years for this.

  Face red, nostrils flaring, he charges like a bull. Stepping out of the way would send him right into Anna so I meet him head on, gripping the back of my chair and hauling off on him, whipping the solid pine straight into his path.

  Wood splinters in my hands. Knocked sideways off his feet, his head bleeding, Adam roars and rises to his knees, swinging at me though I’m out of reach. A red haze swimming in my eyes, I toss the broken chair aside and then I’m on him, cracking my fists against his jaw, knocking him back down every time he attempts to rise.

  Though the haze, I barely hear Strawman say, “Pull him off,”—I just feel the hands that touch me aren’t Anna’s, and send Six-Point flying. Because Adam’s still trying to get up, but David’s never getting up again.

  So I’ll keep going until Adam stays down.

  I hear Six-Point’s wild laugh, then Muncher’s “Holy shit, that’s brutal,” and they’re both on me, struggling to get a grip, dragging me back, then grunting in pain as my fists and elbows connect with muscle.

  “Stop this!” A familiar voice cuts sharply through the din and the pounding of my blood. “What is going on here? Stop!”