“What?” Honey squawked. That was even worse!
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Whiteshirt asked. “Not many people know where you live.”
Ironside smiled as Honey nodded her head furiously, but she didn’t fool him for a moment. She wasn’t as concerned for his safety as much as she didn’t want him taking another woman home with him, especially the one who had mopped the floor with her.
“What do you suggest I do with her?” Neither of them had a quick answer for that. “What’s in that bag of yours?” he asked, turning to Peyton.
“A few clothes. Why?”
“Let me see,” he said, taking the bag from her. He unzipped it and began to pile her clothes on the table, pausing to look at a racy pair or underwear. “Nice,” he said, holding them up for display before adding them to the pile, then pulling out a bright scarf. He sat it aside and piled everything back in the bag and zipped it closed. “Blindfold,” he said as he folded it over into a thin band.
“Thanks for keeping everything neat,” she muttered.
“Go show Paul the picture,” he ordered.
“Are you sure about this?” Whiteshirt asked softly as Peyton stepped away.
“We don’t beat women for no reason. You’re right about the clubhouse, and you’re right she might be a spy. But until I know for sure, I’m not going to hurt her.”
“But you don’t trust her?”
Ironside smiled. “Hell no! If she’s lying, I’ll personally kick her ass.”
“How long are you going to wait?”
“If this Melissa chick doesn’t show up tonight, then we’ll know. But I want to pump her for information before we send her anywhere. She may know more than she realizes. When you get back to the clubhouse, get together a list of things we want to know. Be sure to put some things on there we know the answer to so we can tell if she’s lying. I’ll bring her by in the morning and we’ll squeeze her before we take her to the train station…or I kick her ass off on the other side.”
Whiteshirt nodded, mollified Ironside wasn’t thinking entirely with his little head.
Peyton turned away from Paul, her eyes down, and Ironside watched as she walked toward them. If she was acting, she was damn good at it. “Let’s go,” he said as he started for the door.
CHAPTER FIVE
She’d never ridden a bike before the Saracens picked her up, and wasn’t completely comfortable riding yet. Now, with the blindfold on, she was anything but comfortable. Not being able to see she felt like she was falling off the bike the moment it started to move, so she leaned in close and held on tight.
She had no idea of direction or distance, only that they rode on an interstate, then exited first onto a major road, then quieter roads. The bike healed hard right, then bumped slightly before accelerating easily then pulling to a smooth stop before falling silent.
“You can take your blindfold off now,” Ironside said.
She reached behind her and slipped the scarf off her head. They were sitting behind a small mottled brown brick house with a matching detached garage. “This where you live?”
“Yes, why?”
“Just asking.” She stepped off the Harley and looked around. Andrew lived in a huge house, but this house was much smaller, and considerably older, with a steeply pitched roof and small windows. As she waited, he typed some numbers on a keypad to open the garage door, then sat on the bike and kicked it inside and parked it beside a beautiful old car.
“What kind of car is that?” she asked.
“’68 Chevelle SS Convertible.”
The car was gorgeous. A deep, rich, metallic blue so dark she first thought it was black, the car sat hunkered low over its big, fat, tires. It looked fast just sitting there. “Did it always look like that?”
Ironside laughed as he stepped off his bike and removed the helmet. “Hardly. I spent five years and God only knows how much money to make it look like that. It’s a new car underneath. It has the same LS9 motor as a Corvette ZR1.”
She was new to bikes, but she loved fast cars. “Take me for a ride?”
“No,” he said as he pressed a button to start the door down.
She followed him to the back door and looked around as he unlocked. This was obviously an older neighborhood, but the houses were lovingly maintained. Ironside’s was no exception, and his landscaping looked like a golf course.
She followed him inside. Ironside’s house might be smaller, and older, than Andrew’s, but it had a charm that Andrew’s lacked. While Andrew’s house was far more spacious, it was garish, pull of expensive trinkets, loud colors and animal print fabrics. Ironside’s house, on the other hand, was warm and cozy, with hardwoods extending through the kitchen into the rest of the house. The kitchen was painted a light butter yellow with complimentary tile accents on the walls and Corian counter tops.
“Want a beer?” he asked as he opened the fridge, offering her one. When she took it, he pulled another out for himself.
“Nice house,” she said as she twisted the lid off and took a pull, smacking her lips. “First Guinness I’ve had. It’s good.”
“Thanks. Want the nickel tour?”
“Sure.”
“Kitchen, obviously,” he said as he moved from the kitchen. “This is the family room.”
The room was painted a rich sage. The small windows would have made the room dark, but the brilliant white trim, cream-colored furniture and dazzling spots in the ceiling made it dramatic instead. The best feature of the room was the large fireplace whose stones were almost the exact color of the brick used on the outside of the house.
“Master suite,” he said as he led her into a small hall then stepped aside.
The bedroom was dominated by the bed, the largest she’d ever seen, but as big as he was he probably needed the room. The walls were a pale grey, but again accented with brilliant white trim. The furniture was sleek and modern with rounded corners, the oak glowing as if oiled.
The bathroom was stark white with a round shower, of all things, in the center of the room, the water from the ceiling-mounted showerhead contained in a large glass tube.
He led her up the steps to two more bedrooms, both with pitched ceilings, one of which contained a massive television along with a couch and a huge piece of exercise equipment. Both were arranged to where the person sitting on the couch or using the gym could see the television. The third bedroom, the smallest, housed a regular size bed and more simple but expensive looking furniture.
“I’m impressed,” she said honestly as he led her back down the step. His house was beautiful, elegant, spotlessly clean, and totally unlike Andrew’s.
“I like it. My great-grandfather had it built.”
“And now it’s yours.”
He nodded, but she thought he looked a little down. “Yeah. I moved in a few years back. The place was in pretty good shape. I had it painted, pulled the carpets up and had the floors done, updated the kitchens and bath, and that’s about it. Want another?” he asked as he led her back into the kitchen.
“Sure, why not?”
She watched as he removed his leather jacket and hung it in a small closet by the back door. When he turned away from the door she was able to get a good look at him for the first time. Ironside was fucking huge. She already knew he was tall, at least 6’4, but with his jacket removed she could see he was built like a professional body builder, his massive arms and chest barely contained by his shirt. Her eyes wandered down his body, noting his stark “V” shape before his narrow waist flared again into massive legs. She liked big men. The bigger, and the more muscular, the better.
With his strong chin and cheek bones, close cropped beard, arrogant narrow nose, long blonde hair, and striking blue eyes, all he needed was a reindeer pelt, leather forearm guards, a sword and a steel helmet with horns to be a Viking. As she thought of him standing on a wooden ship, a sword in one hand, a war-hammer in the other, his muscles bulging as he roared a challenge to his enemies, sh
e felt a moistness form between her legs.
“Do you compete?” she asked as he turned toward her with two more beers.
“Compete?”
“You look like maybe you compete in body building.”
He grinned. “Not anymore, not since I took over the Knights.”
“Did you win?”
“Fourth place was my best finish. Normally I’d finish in the bottom half of the top ten.”
She nodded approvingly. “I’d have liked to see the guys who beat you.”
He chuckled. “They were freaks of nature and medical science.”
“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, knowing what she wanted him to do to her.
“You’ll stay here tonight. If they call from the bar, we’ll go get Melissa.”
“And if they don’t?”
“That…would be unfortunate.”
“I’m telling the truth!”
“We’ll see.”
She sipped her beer, leaning back against the cabinet while glancing at the clock on the microwave. As she watched it switched to 4:00. “I hate to ask, but do you have anything to eat? I haven’t had anything since a late breakfast.”
“You cook?” he asked.
“A little. It’s not really my thing, you know?”
He grinned. “Mine either.” He turned back to the fridge and pulled out a pitcher with a vile green liquid inside. He poured it into a small glass and handed it to her. “Try that.”
She took it and looked at it warily. “What is it? It looks like something you scraped off the top of a pond.”
He chuckled. “Bananas, blueberries, skim milk, orange juice, oats, kale and protein powder.”
“Why is it green?”
“That’s the kale. It’s good for you, and filling.”
She took a sip and shuddered. “And disgusting!” She took a big mouth full and choked it down, but nearly retched. She shuddered again. “It worked,” she gasped. “I’m not hungry anymore,” she said then took a hard pull on her beer to get the taste out of her mouth.
He laughed and took the glass back from her and downed it what was left, smacking his lips. “Good stuff!”
As the evening wore on, Peyton became more and more withdrawn. Melissa should have arrived at the bar hours ago, but it was obvious now something had happened to her and she was worried. Worried for her friend, and worried what would happen to her if Melissa didn’t show up.
It was just after seven, and they’d finished eating a dinner of baked chicken with steamed squash and broccoli, and were tidying up the kitchen. She’d rather had a burger and a beer, but she hadn’t complained.
Ironside watched her as she surreptitiously checked her phone again. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Something must have happened to her.”
“Like what? You think she still being fucked after…” He paused as he checked the time. “Five hours?”
“No.”
“So where is she?”
“If I knew I wouldn’t be worried about her. Can you call the bar and see if she’s there?”
“Paul would call if she came in.”
“Please!”
He sighed and pulled out his phone. “Paul, it’s Ironside. That chick we’re waiting on, has she come in?” He paused to listen. “You’re sure?” Another pause. “Okay, thanks, man.”
“Nothing?” she asked quietly.
“Nothing. I’m starting to believe Whiteshirt and Honey were right about you.”
“I’m telling you the truth! I swear! She just got held up somehow.”
“Fucking?”
“I don’t know! Maybe!”
“Why don’t you tell what you were really doing at the bar.”
“I did, goddamnit! You want me to make up something? Okay, fine! I heard what a hot lay you were so I decided to check you out for myself! There! You happy?” He frowned at her. “No? Okay, how about I came in because I heard the Knights were opening a new whorehouse? I heard you were having to operate it by hand until you could hire some women, and I wanted to the first one to apply.”
“Your mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he warned.
“What do you want me to fucking say?” she yelled. “If you’re going to kick the shit out of me, then come on, big man, and let’s get it over with! Then I can go find out what happened to Melissa!”
“I don’t hit women…unless they deserve it.”
“What do you want from me, then?”
“The truth.”
“I told you the fucking truth, you asshole!”
He took two quick steps and grabbed her jaw. “One more word out of you and you’ll regret it, do you understand?”
She tried to pry his hand from her face but his grip was like steel and the heat of her fury became a cold lump of fear. She nodded her understanding. He held her a moment more, his eyes blazing, then released her with a light shove.
“I’m sorry,” she said, a slight quiver in her voice. “I don’t know what else to say to you. If you want me to lie to you, just tell me what lie you want me to tell.” She paused a moment then began to unbutton his shirt. “I don’t want to fight. I’d much rather fuck.”
He didn’t stop her so she kept going. She did want to fuck him, but more importantly, she wanted to head off the ass kicking that was probably coming her way. If she fucked the shit out of him, maybe he would go to sleep and she could slip away, or at least temper his attitude to not beat her so much. She didn’t know where she would go, maybe back to the Saracens and find out what happened to Melissa.
When she slid his shirt open to lick his nipple he grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. “You’re not fooling anyone. I know what you’re doing,” he growled.
He wasn’t hurting her, not like Andrew did, so she smiled up at him. “Does it matter?” she asked as her hand snaked into his pants. She was surprised he wasn’t wearing underwear.
It had been a few days since he’d nutted, and he had been looking forward to fucking the shit out of Honey tonight. As she gripped his cock he wondered if she could fuck as well as she could fight. There was only one way to find out, and he pulled her lips to his.
CHAPTER SIX
They began shedding clothes right there in the kitchen, their passions spooling up as the heat of their argument fueled the heat of their desires. Peyton dropped to her knees and unbuttoned the five closures on the front of his jeans. She didn’t gasp as she dragged his manhood out, but Ironside was the largest man she’d seen outside of porn videos, and the largest she’d ever held. She might have started fucking him to try to head off or minimize the pounding he was likely to give her with his fists, but she was going to enjoy him pounding her with another body part, and she hoped the pounding would be long, hard and relentless.
He sucked in a breath as she swallowed him, taking most of him in, more than any other woman had been able to. He grabbed her head and tried to force himself deeper still, but she fought back, her nails digging into his balls as she pulled them down, her teeth digging into his cock in warning.
“You bite me and I’ll break your fucking jaw,” he snarled.
“Then stop trying to force your horse dick down my throat,” she growled in return before swallowing him again.
He pulled her in hard again, but not as hard as the first time, and she didn’t fight him, even gripping his ass and pulling herself down a bit harder. He stood still, his hands on her head, breathing deep as he watched his cock disappear into her mouth.
Peyton was a goddamn knockout. He liked big women, women he could get his hands on and not worry about snapping them in half, women he could throw around in the bed and fuck the shit out of. Peyton was that kind of woman. She was only a few inches shorter than him, and big without being fat. She looked up at him, his cock still in her mouth, her large dark eyes crinkled in amusement. She was good at giving head, and she knew it.
She ran her hands over his hard legs and ass, delighting in c
ontours of his muscles. He was steel hard, everywhere, and she felt like she was dripping on his floor. He was the stuff she dreamed off, the type of man who controlled her in her fantasies and fucked her long and hard as she cried out in pleasure over and over again.
He shoved her off his cock, but she came back for more. He shoved her away again, and hauled her up, kissing her hard as he gently mauled one of her breasts. She melted into the kiss, sucking hard on his tongue as she pulled him in. She was one wild bitch, and he looked forward to taming her.
CRASH: The Rogue Sinners MC Page 31