by J. C. Allen
I’d let him have his fun. But it only seemed fair I got to fire the last shot.
“Oh fuck! It feels so good!” he groaned.
I blushed under the compliment and reached over, grabbing the detachable showerhead. I was still super jealous of that. I smiled, moving the water over and began to rinse the soap off of him. He shivered as I rinsed him off and I grinned at the reactions I got as I continued. Once I finished, I moved the showerhead back and kneeled down in front of him.
Payback, boy.
“Wait, are yo—”
I wrapped my mouth around his cock-head, working to push it down my mouth. With the size, I wasn’t able to get more than halfway down. I continuing anyway, working my tongue over his cock as I moved my hand up and down the rest of his shaft.
“Oh fuck! Your mouth feels so good!” he groaned.
I went on, using every trick and technique I’d acquired. He leaned back against the shower wall, moving his hands to my hair. Motivated by this, I moaned around his length, letting the vibrations work their magic, and let my eyes drift up until I could see his face
His expression spurred me on that much more. His eyes half-lidded and his mouth working in small gasping moans, only a few of which actually produced any sound. I shivered at that, pushing further, and actually managed to take another few inches in the process.
What had before been something annoying and suffocating was suddenly exhilarating and thrilling. I felt eager to push myself to take more and more of him down my throat, actually feeling a growing sense of pride for the growing distension in my neck.
For the first time, I was actually enjoying giving a blowjob.
“Oh fuck! I’m close!” he groaned.
Excellent. Two can play this game.
I would have smirked if my mouth wasn’t so stretched around my task. Like a jockey rounding the final lap—finish line in sight—I put every last bit of effort I could muster into completing the task.
I pushed a little further, gained another inch, and used my tongue to measure the remaining distance. The tip found the top of his sack, teasing his tensing balls, and the sensation seemed to push him further ahead in the race.
He groaned, moving his hands to my shoulder, obviously intending to try and pull me away.
I resisted.
I wanted to show him just how much I was enjoying what I was doing.
And besides, I only had, like, a half-inch left to…
“Oh god, Eve!” he cried out, his knees slightly buckling as he let loose a loud groan.
Realizing it was now or never, I held my breath and pushed myself forward with everything I had, gripping the cheeks of his ass in my hands and actually pulling him forward, burying the last bit of his length into my sucking mouth and clenching throat as he began to cum.
Then, finally, I released my death-grip on his ass, let him slide free of my throat, pop free of my mouth, and watched as he began to deflate just a few inches from me. Grinning, I gave the head of his dick one more loving kiss before standing.
“Wow… you are… so fucking sexy…”
“Tired?” I teased, laughing. “Looks like all’s fair in love and war.”
“You’re telling me, fuck almighty.”
I just laughed and leaned up to kiss him, an act he did not mind one bit despite me having just swallowed his load.
“I suppose we should clean up some, huh?” I said.
For a brief moment, I worried what time it was—but even my most pessimistic thoughts put it at 2 p.m. at the latest. We had flown through the museum so quickly that we couldn’t have gotten home any later than 1:30, and while this sex blew both of our minds—and him—I doubted it was some sort of marathon session for the record books.
That would come another day.
“You’re telling me,” Derek said, his legs moving like jelly on a frictionless counter.
I laughed, kissed him, and then got out of the shower. I moved as casually as I could to Derek’s phone to check the time, and saw it was only 1:45 p.m. I had a good hour and a half before it would make sense to head back to my apartment—hell, that left enough time for a round two in due time.
But for now, I was just starving, having not eaten anything all day.
And at that moment, Derek’s phone rang with the name “Front Desk Loft Suites.”
“You forgot to pay rent,” I said, teasing.
“Nah, it means food’s here,” he said.
“Wait, what?” I asked. “When did you order?”
He shrugged.
“I have my way of knowing.”
Did he… did he know we’d wind up back here and plan for this to happen?
Clever little bastard, if so.
Otherwise, lucky fucking bastard.
Either way, Derek Knight… you are something else.
Derek went down to get the food just a few seconds after answering his phone, shouting at me on the way out to make myself at home and grab a glass of water if I wanted. What’s funny is this pretty much is home for me. It’s the closest thing I have to such a thing, at least.
While I waited, I began to explore his living room. Beside an old stereo, there was a stack of papers. I tried to ignore them.
But I was too curious and too interested in who Derek Knight was. I knew it was a risky—not to mention poor—choice to look at those papers. But maybe they were just bills he needed to pay or random junk mail.
Right?
My curiosity got the better of me and I began to look through them. Fortunately, most of the papers were just old news articles on local biker bars and such…
Most of them.
Below that stack, a small photo book rested. I frowned, knowing that I shouldn’t pry. Come on, Eve. You are asking for trouble.
You do this, and he walks in, what’s gonna happen? You think he’s gonna be OK with you prying?
“You a whore or not?”
You’re acting like one right now.
Ignoring that voice, I picked up the photo album. I knew I didn’t have a logical justification for it—probably never would—but the emotional desire to know more about Derek’s background and the things he wasn’t telling me won out.
Sitting back on the couch, I began to flip through the pages. I smiled, seeing pictures of Derek standing with what must have been his parents along with another guy. I looked down, seeing the resemblance, and decided that the man must’ve been his brother. Continuing through the pages, I stopped on one of Derek, standing behind a woman in a long white dress next to his father, looking a little bit older. Their faces were filled with love.
Then, I saw him and the same woman outside what looked like a home from Samsville, Derek’s hands rested on the woman’s stomach, with a small-yet-insistent bulge evident beneath his palm.
That meant… Derek…
“Pregnant…?” I whispered, startled at how quickly I’d begun to cry.
I shivered, cutting off my own thoughts. A stab of jealousy filled me and I tried to swallow it down.
If Derek was still in love with whoever that girl was, he wouldn’t be meeting me, right?
What if she’s still around?
What if… what if he’s been lying to me? What if I’m… what if I’m the side girl?
The other woman! The homewrecker! The…
“You a whore or not?”
Right now…
I bit my lip, my fingers digging into my thighs. Was I just trying to tell myself this? Where was all this uncertainty and nervousness coming from? Why had I been so stupid as to think I wouldn’t find something bad going through Derek’s stuff?
And then I heard the elevator come to a stop outside the door.
Shivering and swallowing away all of my pain, I decided that I’d leave it alone for the time being. I decided that Derek would tell me when he was ready.
Right?
I can only hope, I thought. If that woman was dead—if everyone in that album was dead…
Was I just a
rebound?
“Hey,” I said weakly as he walked in, carrying some pizza boxes.
Derek smiled, but his face immediately turned to concern. Caught. This is it. This is what you get for being a prying bitch.
“You okay?”
Derek’s voice was concerned, which at least suggested he didn’t suspect what I had done. I’m not sure if that was a positive in the end.
“Yeah…” I said. “Just a lot on my mind.”
It wasn’t really a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth. I had a feeling if this ever came to light, Derek would be pissed… but I just felt between having to not see Derek for a few days after this, the somewhat-dulled-but-still-present bruises on my back, and the euphoric feeling that had just transpired, I did not want to ruin it.
“I know, same here,” he said with a weary smile. “But hey, let’s indulge.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I said, eager for the change in subject. “You’re about to see me eat an entire pizza.”
“Damn!” he said with pride. “That’s my girl.”
Then he paused and looked over, seeming uncertain.
“Right?”
“Hmm?” I hummed questioningly, a slice of cheese pizza already in my hand.
“Sorry,” he blushed, shrugging. “I guess I just wanted to make sure that… I mean, at this point… can I consider you my girl?”
I stared back at him, considering his words and reflecting on the picture. The words had not hit me until then, but when he used the word “my,” it meant he was welcoming me into his circle.
A circle that had shrunk over the past few years…
I nearly started crying with realization.
Father—dead.
Brother—dead.
Friends and fellow club members—dead.
Pregnant wife…
And then, after the gap of whatever had happened to his family, a life that he’d confessed he didn’t really want.
No. I wasn’t the other woman, the homewrecker, or the whore.
I was the only thing he had left in this mad, mad world.
Well, even if that was an exaggeration, it didn’t seem to be much based on what I was realizing. The least I could do was to acknowledge his request and call myself… yes, his girlfriend.
I smiled at him, wide and loving and sincere, and I nodded.
“I would love nothing more than to be your girl, Derek.”
Your girl. My boy.
It just felt so… did this mean that we were official? Even after that I had thought, even after I had considered, it all still felt too good to be true.
I suppose the fact that I had warned him not to see me after today—for a couple of days, anyways, definitely not permanently—was the “other shoe dropping.” But honestly, Derek had yet to disappoint in the end. He was late that one day, but he sure as hell had made up for it—my body was expressing as much.
Oh, could I say it? Could I even suggest that Derek was slowly beginning to rework my instincts? Could I say that Derek was making me hope more than assume the worst?
… Maybe. Just maybe.
We spent the next hour or so munching on pizza and, this time, watching a few comedy shows. This time, our brains really did shut down, and we really did avoid the heavy topics. There would be a time for that, but for just this afternoon, I’d take whatever opportunity I could get to just… be.
When it was time to go, Derek looked as sad as a puppy, and I’m sure I did too. But we both exaggerated it for humor’s sake, and by the time I got to the bike, I didn’t even worry that much. We were leaving before 3 p.m., just to be on the absolute safe side, and he had thrown on a helmet, even, to blend in.
I didn’t bother to ask if he was also wearing it for my sake, to make me feel more comfortable.
At the last light before our drop off point, I leaned into his ear.
“Take a couple of days off,” I said. “But don’t think about me too much. I can’t make you cum telepathically, but that might have the same effect.”
“I’d say the same to you, but I know you’ll think about me anyways.”
“Oh, ho! Well, cocky, are we?”
Derek looked back at me, a smug smirk on his face, but one that was morphing to a genuine smile in rapid fashion. The words he uttered next stuck with me, and I knew he was being as truthful as a man could ever be.
“No, confident,” he said. “Confident we’ll work out. And confident I’ll rescue you very soon.”
25
Derek
I hated to leave Eve.
But then again, didn’t I always hate to leave her?
But this was much, much different. See, Eve hadn’t just teased me for much of the day. What she had done… it should be goddamn criminal to be as sexy as she was and to tease me like she did.
She had no idea. I really would have fucked her right there in the museum if she had not pushed me away when those teenagers came by. You think I cared about prying eyes? I saw I’d teach those teens a lesson or two on making a woman feel good.
Of course, that’s exactly what I did when we got back to my place and we had some intense, wild sex.
The only thing I had not commented on—and, I’m sure, had hidden from Eve—was the bruises. They were visible. She’d told me when we’d first gotten to the museum, but I had not realized how bad they were.
If not for the fact that we were in the middle of sex and in the shower, I might have just left on the spot, locking her in my apartment for safety, and hunted down the asshole who had done that to her. As it was, that was still very much in the cards—he was a dead man; I really didn’t know who I would go for first, Rock or him—but for Eve’s sake, I kept my mouth shut in the moment.
Aside from that, though, things were looking up. I couldn’t see Eve for a few days, but I began to see that as a weird positive—it would force me to focus on the only thing that mattered: freeing her. That alone drove me to the back of the bike shop, where I found almost all of my entire crew surrounding something.
None of them looked happy at all.
“What’s going on?”
A few people turned to me, their looks nervous and sad, but before I could see what they were surrounding, Roost approached me, blocking my view—and at his size, he could quite literally do that.
“Where the hell have ya been? Been blowin’ up yer phone all day.”
Had I really not noticed that? I only grabbed my phone when Eve mentioned it… she wouldn’t have known or noticed the missed calls or texts… she wouldn’t do such a thing.
“What’s going on, Roost?” I said, not wanting to waste any time—something bad had happened.
He sighed, paused for a second, and went on.
“Brick got murdered this morning walking down 10th Street.”
“The fuck?” I said.
It didn’t make any sense. A broad daylight killing? The Black Falcons—there was zero doubt they would have committed this crime—were heinous, savage, and disgusting, but they usually weren’t stupid. They committed their atrocities in the shadows, away from the public eye.
“Believe it, boy,” Roost said, but his words were tinged with sadness, and with good reason.
Brick was one of our beefiest, most physical guys—the kind of guy my father brought along for security purposes or intimidation tactics. He was a loyal member of the Saviors, the kind of guy we’d brought in from a troubled past and pointed just enough in the right direction to get his life together. No one fucked with Brick. No one.
I hadn’t thought too much of if the Black Falcons had specifically picked up Brick or not or if he had just found himself on the wrong corner in the wrong place, but it was definitely not an accident that a Savior was dead. This wasn’t someone who had drunk driven himself into a wall.
This was murder.
“The Falcons took his body an’ dumped it right back here,” Matty said, making my blood pump with fury. “God bless his soul, Brick…”
He didn
’t go any further. It was just as well. I had seen too much death in my life—hell, just the death of Maggie was too much—to be grossed out by much, but I could tell by Roost’s hesitation that the murder was not the work of a single bullet.
“At least we got him to a hospital,” he said. “Ain’t nothin’ but a cleanin’ service at this point, but at least it’s proper now.”
“Fucking hell,” I said.
The implication couldn’t be clearer. The Black Falcons had not killed one of my own since the death of Maggie—even Rock, it seemed, knew when to back down for the sake of mutually assured survival—but I must have twisted the scales by killing the bodyguard at his party. Rock must have seen that as an unforgivable offense.
If that was the case, this was something I was not bound to forget anytime soon.
“I don’t need to tell ya, Derek, this is the first shot,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I sent the first shot. But this is the first escalation.”
Roost nodded. The details didn’t matter. What did matter was that this was likely to foretell of much worse action, including…
Yes, quite possibly including Eve’s life being at stake.
And that was something I could not and would not tolerate.
“We need to decide right now, Derek, how we’re gonna respond,” he said.
I looked over his shoulder at the rest of the Savage Saviors. I saw that they had huddled in a form of prayer, and now they turned to me, as if I was their actual savior.
I was in no way ready for this. I had, frankly, operated the club as a sort of passive enterprise, waiting for me to die so Roost could have a much more hands on role or, sickeningly, perhaps for something like this to spark me.
Well, I’d gotten my wish. And with all eyes on me, one thing was clear. I could not cower before the moment. I could not throw my hands up and say “sorry I’m not my father or Dustin. We’re probably all going to die, so pack your bags and get the hell out of town.” I could not show even a hint of hesitation.