Bud (Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book 10)

by Candace Blevins

  Bud had warned her ahead of time, but when he’d merely replaced each paper without saying anything, she hadn’t tried so hard to keep them intact. Her hands had come down more times than she could count — surely there wouldn’t be another punishment for that?

  She counted time in her head. The first thirty seconds were bad, but the pain grew exponentially as she wiggled and moved until every nerve ending in her knees was on fucking fire. Each piece of rice was a little pebble of hell that dug into skin, bone, and nerves until her sanity threatened to slip. She squeezed her elbows with her fingers to try to remind herself she had nerves in her body other than the million blazing ones in her knees, but it didn’t help. When the phone finally beeped she wasn’t crying, but water streamed from both eyes.

  Instead of telling her she could stand, Bud lifted her into his arms once again, and when he sat on the sofa with her, he gently brushed the rice stuck to her knees onto the floor.

  “It’s over, Brat. I have you.”

  “My hands…” A sob took over, and then another, and she couldn’t finish the sentence. He reached for her hands and looked them over, but she shook her head. “Came down. Sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head. “They stayed on your head while you were in position. You moved them on top a few times when your arms were tired, but you didn’t move them to stop me, or just because they were tired. No more consequences. They only came down when you totally broke position, and you paid for that when the stroke didn’t count. We’re good, Brat.”

  He kissed her tears, and then nuzzled below her ear. “That’s it. Cry and get it out. I’ll hold you. Someday, I’ll want to stuff my cock down your throat while you cry, but not tonight.”

  Nickie was both relieved and disappointed he didn’t want to fuck her throat while she cried. Relaxing in the security of his embrace was perfect… and yet, being tossed to the floor and made to suck his cock right now would kind of be the icing on the cake.

  “We aren’t finished. Gonna fuck your ass good in a little while, but want to hold you first. My dick can wait.”

  Bud awakened Nickie the next morning by pulling the covers off her, rolling her onto her stomach, and rubbing an arnica and coconut oil mixture into her ass and thighs. She’d be sitting easy for a week, at least. Logistically, it might’ve been better to hold off on the antenna until the seventh night, but he knew it was right to do it up front. They’d needed the bonding, and his brat had needed help submitting.

  Eventually, she’d push him to punish her, but he hoped to push that as far into the future as possible. He’d continue to give her consequences, but he didn’t want to have to deal with a true punishment until after she’d figured out she loved him. He’d have to give her one if she earned it, so he’d work the situation to give her enough pain to keep her curiosity at bay for a while.

  Her ass was pliable under his fingers, and she whimpered when he rubbed the mixture directly into the welts. He changed things up and massaged long strokes from her thighs up her ass, and she moaned and whined and pushed her bottom up to him. His nose told him exactly how horny she was, but he had other plans.

  He slapped the side of her thigh, where the bruising wasn’t too bad. “Gag training starts this morning while your stomach’s empty. Let’s move to the sofa.”

  “Need to use the restroom, Sir,” she told him as she rolled to her side.

  He looked at her, inhaled her scent, and turned to sit with his back against the headboard.

  Nickie gingerly got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, and Bud told her, “I’m not Sir when we’re like this. I’m more than pleased to hear it come out of your mouth when you’re deep in subspace, but not for this kind of conversation.”

  She finished her business in the bathroom and waited until she was coming through the door back into the bedroom to say, “I don’t understand. Why don’t you want me calling you Sir?”

  “I don’t want you calling me Sir in front of anyone. Ever. As far as the rest of the world’s concerned, we’re equals. My men will know we get kinky behind closed doors because they know what I like, but they’ll see you by my side and they’ll know we’re a power couple. Both of us in full power.”

  She’d climbed back into bed and under the covers while he talked, and she rested her head on his leg, perfectly comfortable with the intimacy of it.

  “And if I call you Sir now, I might slip up and say it in front of others.”

  “Right. If you want to use it while you’re brattin’, we’ll see how it works.”

  She rolled her eyes. “SAM. Not brat.” She pulled her legs in, sat up, and her clear blue eyes met his. “You’re one of the most intense sadists I’ve known, and yet you have your own rules. It has me a little off balance, but that’s okay.”

  Bud grinned. “Thought I had you off balance by half-assing your OTK spanking last night?”

  “Fuck, yeah.” She stuck a hand under each cheek, wiggled a little as she felt them. “I can barely tell the difference this morning. That antenna is wicked evil.”

  Bud had tortured men for real with them — hit them and split their skin open when they didn’t answer his questions. He’d been relatively gentle using it on Nickie, but she didn’t need to know just how sadistic he could be when he was torturing the enemy.

  He started to order her to go to the chair and kneel on a cushion, but he wasn’t up for a battle of wills just then. A few weeks from now it should be no big deal to give her orders, but she was working through how she felt about them now and he needed to pick his battles.

  “The antenna is for special occasions and last night felt important. Come, time for your gag training.” He took her hand and she slid off the bed beside him.

  On second thought, maybe a few commands might work if he gave them as a choice.

  He sat in the chair, his ass at the edge and his legs spread. “Need you on your knees. Your choice as to whether you use one of the sofa cushions on the floor or go down straight onto the hardwood.”

  “Well gee, Sir. Let me think.” Her body language was that of over-exaggerated contemplation. “Hmmm, do I want my bruised and battered knees on hardwood, or a soft-cushion?”

  She tossed a cushion to the floor, angled it so it fit between his feet, and gently went to her knees.

  “This morning’s all you,” he told her. “No face-fucking, and I’ll keep my hands to myself. If you can make your lips touch my body and hold for a count of ten, you’ll get an orgasm this morning. If you can’t do it, once you give up you’ll have ten minutes to get me off. If you don’t, I’ll fuck your ass and make sure you can’t get off.”

  17

  Nickie awakened the fourth morning and roused Bud. She needed her butt plug out so she could use the restroom. This one was heavy and didn’t stay in when she sat on the toilet. Bud’s rules were that only he could put them in and take them out, so she didn’t feel the least bit guilty about waking him.

  They’d gone to a kink-superstore and bought real nipple clamps and butt plugs, and one of Bud’s MC brothers had taken them to someone’s home to buy good quality wrist and ankle cuffs. He’d warned them ahead of time the couple had a twenty-four/seven relationship, so Nickie wasn’t terribly surprised when the man was dressed and the woman was naked. No one said anything about her state of undress or the steel collar around her neck — or the fact she called her husband Master.

  The couple had a few dozen sets made, but offered to custom make whatever they wanted if necessary. Bud tried four cuffs on her wrists before Nickie fell in love with the feel of a set, and the woman went through the ankle cuffs to find a set made from the same piece of the leather.

  Bud had also bought four floggers and a horse whip from them, though he’d only used the floggers on her, so far. She was looking forward to seeing him in action with the whip, but she hoped he’d warm her up first.

  She rubbed her eyes as she sat on the toilet, happy to have the plug out. He’d likely be set up for gag train
ing when she came out of the bathroom, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. They’d done it every morning since that first time, and she still couldn’t get her lips all the way to his body.

  Last night, he’d told her it was time for him to help her along this morning. She figured that meant he’d pull her onto his cock, or press it all the way in.

  They’d gone to her condo for a day, but were back at his house again. The music was an instrumental version of a ballad from the eighties, but she couldn’t put a name to it. She wondered if his playlists were designed around time of day, but didn’t wonder enough to ask. She was still uncomfortable with the knowledge it would always be in the background because he had to dodge law enforcement. Though, if it kept anyone from hearing her beg for pain, he could turn it as loud as necessary.

  She drug her feet a little on the way back to his bedroom. She hoped he’d just jam his cock down her throat and get this over with, because getting fucked in the ass and not being allowed an orgasm every damned morning sucked. She was horny all fucking day when he did that, and even getting herself off when he was gone didn’t fully scratch the itch he set up.

  “Little different today,” he told her when she returned from the bathroom. “Lie on the bed with your head over the edge. We’ll see if altering the angle helps.”

  When she was in place, he had her plant her feet beside her hips and grab her ankles.

  “Don’t let go of your ankles. There’ll be consequences you don’t like if you do.”

  He stepped to her, and his body went over her face as his cock went into her mouth. Nickie wasn’t claustrophobic, but his balls over her eyes, the odd angle of her neck, and his cock in her mouth was a lot to deal with first thing in the morning. He let her get used to it with shallow strokes for a few minutes before he ordered her to take a deep breath.

  Her heartbeat moved between her legs, but she followed instructions — and then tried not to panic as his cock came in, and in, and in, and in some more. He didn’t back off when she gagged, just held in place while the contractions in her throat grew more and more violent until she wasn’t sure how he was staying still. She felt like she was trying to puke his cock up, and she had to squeeze her ankles to keep from reaching up and pushing him away.

  She hadn’t safeworded on him yet, but she was seconds away from letting go to push him away so she could safeword when he pulled out.

  “You’ve really never had anyone train you to this? Swallow, Brat. You have to try not to gag. Mind over matter.”

  “I can’t. You’re so big, and long, and I’ve deep throated guys before but they weren’t as fucking big as you.”

  He gave her a cocky laugh and she rolled her eyes. “It’s a serious problem. You’re too big to deep throat.”

  “I can assure you, I’m not. Get another breath and open. Ten seconds in your throat, twenty seconds out, ten back in. Use the twenty seconds to re-oxygenate, not to talk.”

  “So fucking bossy.”

  “Just the way you like me. Open wide, Brat.”

  Nickie tried to swallow around him this time, but it didn’t seem to help. It wasn’t until maybe the fifth round of ten seconds that she managed small gags instead of the giant, forceful spasms that felt as if she were trying to throw up dinner from last week. Four more rounds of ten seconds and he pulled back.

  “Better. Roll over and do it on your own.”

  “Permission to let go of my ankles?”

  “Sure. You might be fun to hog-tie and torture, but we’ll save that for another day.”

  He told her she could use her hands, and she put them on his hips for balance to get started. He hadn’t been wrong about the angle being different, and she knew right away this wasn’t going to work. A quick map in her head, and she pushed her body back a little so her neck was elongated similar to the way it’d been before. Still not the same, but she had more control.

  Cool air flowed into her lungs with her deep breath, her fingers squeezed his hips, and she both brought him towards her as she pulled herself to him. She swallowed around him and tried her best to ignore the reflex gags, and opened her eyes to watch his body get closer and closer as she forced her throat onto his thick, hard, length.

  It was unbelievably hard, but she set her mind to it and finally managed to touch his body with her nose and lips but it’d taken so long she was out of breath so she pulled off him and sucked in air.

  “Excellent, my beautiful little brat. Again. A little faster so you can hold for a count of ten this time.”

  She glared at him, and he lifted his brows. “How badly do you want an orgasm this morning?”

  Five tries later and she couldn’t make it past a count of six, but she was pleased with herself even if she didn’t earn an orgasm. She’d quickly realized Bud was one of those men who’ll never get off from a simple blowjob. He needs to be the one doing the fucking to get off. For him, it was as much about his hips moving as the sensations to his cock.

  “I’ll pass on the attempt to get you off with my mouth,” she told him. This meant she had to lube the condom and her ass, and she’d have to take him without pre-stretching, but she’d been in the butt plug all night so her ass was gonna hurt no matter how this happened.

  As much as she hated having to bend over and take him up the ass knowing she wouldn’t be allowed an orgasm, it was pretty fucking hot. She’d had dozens of orgasms from just the memory of each time he’d done it — and the knowledge he could do it whenever he wanted until the seven days were up.

  Would she want a relationship under these terms?

  Yes. She would. Not with just anyone, but she knew Bud wouldn’t push if she were sick, and while he’d demanded quickies during the middle of the day a few times, he hadn’t interrupted her workday to the point of aggravating her. If anything, the quickie-and-back-to-work had energized her and fed the muse.

  Her readers were going to benefit from Bud’s creativity, that was for sure. She worked to make each scene she wrote different from what Bud did, but she incorporated little pieces here and there.

  “No,” his tone of voice brought her back to reality with a quick jump of her heart. “Failure isn’t an option today. Try again. If you don’t make it, you’ll feel my belt on your clit three times. If you don’t make it the next time, it’ll be four strikes on your clit, then five, then six. You’re smart, you get the idea.”

  She made it to a count of seven before she pushed back, and her heart raced in her chest as he took his time fastening the new leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles. He put her on her back in the middle of the bed, and attached the right wrist and ankle together, then the left wrist and ankle. A spreader bar she didn’t know he had went between her ankles, and he went to retrieve his belt.

  “Three. Fast. Why am I doing this?”

  “Punishment for not being able to deep throat you.”

  “Wrong. Incentive so you’ll hold out a few seconds longer next time.”

  She glared at him, and he asked again. “Why am I doing this?”

  “Incentive, so I’ll deep throat you the full count and hold next time.” She’d have mouthed off to anyone else on the planet, but Bud was being serious and she was learning when it was okay to cut up and when he demanded respect.

  18

  An hour later she’d had seven strokes to her clit, but when she’d finally lasted the entire ten-count, he’d gone down on her and given her explosive, shattering orgasms until she was dizzy from the raw, unadulterated pleasure. She’d have sworn he had a magic tongue capable of hitting her g-spot, and she’d come so hard and so often, her spine still felt like overcooked spaghetti.

  They’d been together nearly every non-working minute for five days straight, but Bud hadn’t abused his right to have her and use her whenever the urge struck. They’d spent more time talking than fucking, and she knew he was just as interested in her mind as her body.

  She was still figuring out exactly how she felt about that. He’d be so damned ea
sy to fall for, but she didn’t know enough about how he made money to let herself be blindsided by his charm. Or his cock. Or his tongue — no matter how damned talented it was.

  Part of her needed some space, but she didn’t need it just yet. She’d find a way to suffer through amazing, mind-numbing, pounding, feral, untamed, wild-as-fuck kinky sex for another couple of days.

  Not to mention Bud’s tendency to make fantastic breakfasts every morning. She spooned some peach preserves onto a biscuit as she chewed some bacon, and wondered if life could get much better.

  “You need to be in top shape when we go to North Carolina,” he told her as he leaned back in his chair. “I propose we pause the seven days as of now, and we’ll pick back up at breakfast once we’re back in Atlanta.”

  If he’d said this when she’d just been denied an orgasm, she’d have been pissed, and she began to understand his ‘failure is not an option’ mandate. That was the thing about Bud — if you paid attention, his rules and orders made sense. Eventually.

  “Nathan and Ranger are going to take you to the MC’s gym for some self-defense review today,” he continued. “I’ll be in my office this morning, but I have some meetings off site this afternoon. If I’m around when they bring you, I’ll try to pop in. Either way, I’ll see you this evening. I’ll bring dinner — burgers and orange shakes from The Varsity.”

  “And fries, and maybe a peach pie.”

  “Are we having a peachy day?” he asked with a grin.

  It took her a second to realize she was eating peach preserves, and she rolled her eyes at him. “Will there be no sex at all while we’re on a break from our deal?”

  His face softened and he gave her a lopsided smile. “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you until then, but you need to heal. Your pussy’s red and raw from the multiple poundings a day I’ve given it, and while I know I could easily give you a series of screaming orgasms despite the pain, I want you in top shape when you face the traffickers.”