Three Hitmen: A Triple Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 2)

by Alice May Ball

  Carlie pressed back against Beanie. Hammer said, “Didn’t go unnoticed, Beanie. Could be you earned your top rocker there.”

  Hammer’s dark eyes fixed me. My stomach dropped and my knees felt like they turned to liquid. He said, “Hawk’s still our guest. Might be time to do some earning yourself.”

  I looked at him, not sure that I understood. His voice rumbled. “Hawk could do with having some hospitality demonstrated.” Hawk rose up. So did the bulge in his pants.

  All the time I’d been in the club I knew that I might be called on for sexual favors. While it was an abstract idea, I hadn’t had to confront my feelings. Now there wasn’t time and I felt unprepared.

  Watching Hawk’s huge chest as he stamped around the ring, feeling the shock of his powerful thighs as the floor shook, I was insanely turned on. During the fight, as I saw Carlie absently run her hands all over the men around her, my hips squirmed and my thighs parted and flexed.

  I wanted to do the same. To feel the bulk of a strange cock harden as I squeezed and stroked. I yearned to feel my breasts press up against hard flesh. The sight of Hawk’s big, hard hands made me want to feel him force his way up my skirt, up my thighs and up me.

  Now I was nervous and indecisive. My head was shaking, but it was only a reflex from the confusion. As my head shook, though, a light gleamed in Hawk’s eye. If I was, or if I seemed to be unwilling, the way he bared his teeth said that would be fine with him.

  I let out a groan and took a small step back. Hawk grabbed my hair. I looked in his eyes as I said, “No.” But I didn’t move, except to lift the bottle to my lips.

  I made an elaborate show of sealing my lips around the neck of the bottle then slipping it in before I took a great gulp. Hawk’s hot breath and his scent intoxicated me.

  The bourbon went off like a crackling string of firecrackers on my tongue, on the back of my mouth. It tipped a cascade of fire down my throat. Over Hawk’s shoulder I saw Hammer watch me. Now, Hawk stood and dragged me by my hair, down onto my knees.

  Carlie turned to Beanie with her hands on his chest. Beanie watched me as she stroked his chest. She slid her arms into his jacket, then she opened hers to press her big, bare breasts against him. His eyelids lowered, but he still kept looking at me.

  Carlie didn’t mind. She slid down his legs.

  Carlie hauled out Beanie’s cock, and I freed Hawk’s beast, almost like we were dancers with a rehearsed routine. I held Hawk’s hard, fat mast up straight and felt its pulses zing. I drank in the dark musk from his velvety ridges as I licked him from head to sac.

  Hawk’s thighs parted wider and he pulled my mouth over the slick, bulging head. The smoky tang of precum slid along my tongue as he forced the hot shaft into the back of my throat.

  My eyes were wide and sweet saliva gushed like a faucet as he jammed his bulb into the soft, wet contractions of my neck. To my side, Carlie had her mouth wide and her lips all the way down over Beanie’s pole. Her nose nuzzled in his wiry pubes and her head ducked along him.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw that even while he gasped and groaned, Beanie still watched me. Hawk jerked my head savagely on his cock and drove it into my throat without hesitation. He took what he wanted and that was all.

  He leaned over to slide his hands down my t-shirt. When his fingers got tangled at the scooped neck, he just ripped the shirt. He pulled me up so that my breasts pressed against the bulging denim on his thighs.

  My nipples stung and elongated from the friction. I pulled on them, hard. Hawk’s hands went back into my hair and he gripped as he slammed his hips into my reddening wet face. His balls bounced under my chin.

  As he pushed in even harder, he leaned over to smack my ass and my tits. At each strangled yelp from my throat, every time my neck contracted on his pulsing cock, he rammed himself harder, deeper into my face.

  He growled as he piled harder and I felt my front teeth drag into the skin at his haft. He roared like a burned bear and his big hand whacked against the side of my head.

  It jerked me sideways, and my vision and hearing were momentarily blurred. I looked up and saw Hawk’s neck was swollen and red. His eyes blazed.

  I was unsteady on my knees and my arms waved uselessly. He gripped my hair at the back of my head with one hand. The other hand raised high above his head.

  “HAWK!” Hammer’s voice shocked the air and Hawk momentarily froze. He stretched his arm farther back to swing. The air rushed at my face ahead of his hand.

  It all felt like a slow-mo movie sequence. Through nothing but unbalance and lost coordination, I had slipped sideways. At once I felt the pain of my hair tearing in the back of my head and the hard breeze as Hawk’s fist missed my cheek by millimeters.

  Through it all was the grating noise of Hawk’s growls and roar. Just as suddenly, Hawk’s fingers fell open and his muscles all relaxed. Beanie stood behind him. He held a piece of two-by-four like a bat.

  On the sharp, angled edge near the end was a patch of dark red. Hawk turned unnaturally slowly. He lunged at Beanie. The wood made a dull thud and a crack as swung under his ear. Hawk’s head bobbed comically sideways.

  Hammer called a contact at Hawk’s club.

  “I wouldn’t call, bro, but we’ve had to knock him out twice in less than an hour. If he’s here much longer, I’m worried you could get him back in a bag.” He paused, “Right. And as a guest here, I’d sooner say ‘so long’ while he’s still breathing… yeah… hospitality. Exactly.”

  Two bikers arrived with a van to carry Hawk away. Fortunately he remained out cold the whole time.

  After Hammer closed the door on them, he looked around at Carlie, Beanie and I. “I’d say we’re in need of some recuperative recreation.”

  Beanie looked at me and I felt the bottom of my stomach fall. Hammer opened his jeans and Carlie fell hungrily on the swollen, reddened beast that emerged from Hammer’s hips. His eyes swept over my damp curves, while he stroked Carlie’s hair and she swallowed his sword.

  Was I afraid of Beanie falling in love with me, or was it that I was frightened of me falling for him? Either way, here it was, so I let it be. His bulging, silky, golden thighs were too lovely for me to resist any longer.

  I sat him down and slid my happy hips along his golden thighs. I gasped loud as I took the head of his cock into the opening of my wet petals. My buzzing lips gripped and slid over the thickness of his gorgeous shaft.

  My big, soft breasts enveloped his pretty head and I rode my ass down his cock until I felt his neat pubes tickle my bussing clit. The heat of my hips ground down into his pelvis and I held him close.

  All the time I fucked Beanie, my eyes were on Hammer and Carlie. He stood and slung her, face down with her thighs over his shoulders. As she gobbled his grinding rod, he plunged his face into her tight, squirmy puss.

  Pounding down on Beanie’s cock, a brimming tide of pent-up energy bubbled, rose and overflowed as I realized I was envious of both of them. Equally. As much as I wished I had Hammer’s wonderful weapon in my throat, I pined for the lips of Carlie’s soft, wet pussy.

  With my hands in my hair I shouted and yelled. While I gasped and squealed, first Carlie then Beanie and finally Hammer all came. We all grabbed for each other as we rose and crested together. We became, right then, a single wet, sticky, noisy frenzy.

  Next morning a hot, lazy breeze blew through the clubhouse. Deserted like a ghost town in a western, there were glasses on tables, jackets a pair of red high heels even, but nobody else in sight.

  I looked for coffee, but I had no idea how to work the machine. I didn’t want to wake any of the others, I was glad of a little morning time to myself. I should be making decisions and plans. Should I stay or should I go? Where next… all that.

  But I felt a calm afterglow. The climaxes of last night, in both senses, had brought me a kind of peace. A pause, a break in the battle.

  Wearing just my little skirt and the ripped open remains of my t-shirt, I stood on the deck an
d looked out over the desert. From behind me inside, I heard a familiar sound. An annoying chirrup. My cellphone.

  How could that be? Back inside I found my bag and fished the phone out. It went to voicemail before I got to see the screen, but a shock like a physical blow hit me when I did read it.

  ‘Larry.’

  As I sat down the beep for voicemail sounded.

  My fingers trembled as I pressed the button.

  The robot recording, “You have one new message. First message, sent today at nine fifty-seven,” then a beep and my heart thumped hard when I heard Larry’s voice.

  “Hey, Belle. How’s life in biker world?” how in the living fuck did he know where I was? “I’ll be there in a couple of hours, doll. Stay sexy.”

  © Alice May Ball, TzR Publishing, 2014

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

  Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or to any actual events is purely coincidental.

  All the people portrayed in this story are over the age of eighteen, and entirely imaginary. If you think that you know some of them, or that you may be one of them, then you should consider writing fiction yourself.

  Cover Design by Signs of Desire for TzR Publishing

  CHOKEHOLD

  Knights of the Lost Highway MC

  Alice May Ball

  For Gat, my rock.

  Without you, it wouldn’t mean a thing.

  Beanie’s chuckle sent a shiver through me. Close-shaved swirls of his dark hair rasped on the insides of my hot, clenching thighs. I pulled his head tighter in. I trembled and vibrated where his strong lips pressed into me.

  In his hands, I felt my body completely possessed.

  Face down beside me, Carlie moaned louder into the wet pillow. Hammer’s knuckles whitened as his fingers tightened in her hair. He hauled her ass higher and pulled her thighs farther apart. She jolted as his hand thwacked on her ass. His breath speeded up and it scraped like a saw.

  Beanie’s shoulders rolled beneath my calves and his big hands came up to explore. I squeezed my thighs together as another jet stream of sensation set my limbs quaking. His strong mouth, his wicked tongue propelled me.

  Our four voices melted into a whirl of gasps and groans. Beanie’s hooded gray eyes gleamed from between my thighs. Carlie’s wet mouth stretched wide and she moaned. I shook at the sight of pleading eyes.

  I touched her neck. My eyes clamped shut and my back arced.

  This long, hot night, all of us were wild. We clutched and clawed for escape and release. I threw myself into the melting pot of flesh, to be swallowed up by the fire of need. Wrung out and worn out. Consumed in the short break from the battle.

  The battle that I knew would resume, and soon.

  Hammer’s arms were out straight to the short bars of his Harley. His hands in black, fingerless gloves made twists of the throttle, small snicks of the clutch and brake levers. The metal beast crackled and roared.

  My thin shirt flapped and barely covered me. My short, tight denim skirt stretched wide as I gripped Hammer’s hard ass with my thighs. His muscles moved like music to guide the bike.

  Gray and purple desert wheeled below as the dusty pavement curved up the rocky mountainside. Six riders in black, plus me on the back. Hair and bandana knots trailed out behind them. All the men wore shades and leather cut-offs.

  The men rode low on the roaring iron steeds, swept around the wide curve like the shadow of a dark wing. We arced upwards through the cool, thinning air toward the ridge.

  I hung on tight to Hammer’s broad back, taking his warmth on my stomach as the saddle throbbed beneath me. The bikes leaned, fanned out, gathered together, then spread again as they rose with the road. I hung on behind Hammer. I felt out of place but privileged. Chosen.

  Like a high school prom queen, abducted by passing barbarians.

  I liked that image. The thought of being swept away, plucked out of every aspect of life that was familiar. There was nothing left in my life that was familiar and that I still wanted.

  I’d happily make the trade just for the wind in my hair.

  Beanie moved up alongside and inclined his head toward Hammer. They were able to talk easily over the rasping howl of the bikes.

  My ears weren’t adapted to it, so I had no clue what they said. Then they both laughed and Beanie peeled away and fell back.

  As we crested the ridge, a couple of low and wide wood buildings rose into view. About a dozen Harleys were parked out front.

  Over the door, a carved wooden sign announced that it was Thunderhead MC’s clubhouse.

  From the porch, smoke clouds billowed off the glowing tip of a fat joint. Behind the haze, huge and hulking, black-haired with a thick bandito mustache, Hawk was out on the stoop. He squinted and raised the spliff as six Harleys crossed the dusty lot in a line toward him.

  Hammer was the last to cut his engine. He waited for me to climb off the back of the bike before he leaned the cycle onto its stand. Standing behind him, my breath skipped as he hauled his leg over the big bike.

  Hawk’s head was sunken low into his big, round shoulders. His frame was drawn inward. His lips were tight, his feet shuffled, and his dark eyes were thin slits as he waited for Hammer.

  His face was all apprehension. The previous night at the club, Hawk had lost it in the worst way. He would have done some serious harm if Beanie hadn’t stopped him. Twice.

  Hawk was mostly muscle and there was a lot of him. Beanie had shown skills as well as fast thinking.

  It was definitely the best thing for Hawk. He had been a guest at the Knights of the Lost Highway clubhouse. What he did could have had him killed, for sure.

  When Hammer asked him how he was feeling, Hawk’s face puckered with the look of a teenage boy caught stealing.

  Hammer extended a hand. His voice rumbled, low and soft, “Look, it's history, Hawk. No biggie, okay?”

  Hawk’s jaw tensed, “Is that why six of you came to rip me a new asshole?”

  “That isn’t why we're here.” Hammer's voice was soft, almost gentle.

  Hawk glowered over Hammer’s shoulder at me. “And you brought the little sweetbutt to watch.” His dismissive sneer stung me.

  Hammer said, “Nothing like that, Hawk.”

  Hawk looked at each of the six bikers. “Why the platoon, then?”

  For a moment there was no sound in the desert hush except for the metal ticks of the bike engines as they cooled.

  Hammer said, “Are you having fun watching us bake in the dust out here,” he reached out to Hawk, “or are you going to pass that blunt and offer us a beer, bro?”

  Two big bikers with heavy-duty beards turned slowly on their barstools as we stepped inside Thunderhead’s clubhouse. When they saw us, they both reached over the bar counter fast.

  Big, round bears of men, I was surprised at how quick and agile they were. Metal buckles on their cutoff bike jackets scraped on the bar counter as they swung back to face us.

  In the dark far corner, three figures, two men and a writhing girl, huddled around the pool table and stopped whatever they were doing to watch us come in.

  Hawk lifted a palm toward the men at the bar. He said, “They come in peace, Crank.” The bigger of the two men cocked his head, but he turned with a pistol in his hand and a growl in his voice.

  “That’s what they all say.” He held the gun with both hands, but he didn’t raise the barrel.