Wanted: An Outlaw Anthology

by Lane Hart

  I love the taste of him, he’s salty, and musty. “Yes! Take it all! Just. Like. That,” he enunciates each word with individual thrusts, and he hollers out my name as he finds his release.

  He looks down at me and satisfaction mars his face. “Up on all fours, beautiful. I’m fixing to show you how much I fucking need you. This is going to be fast and brutal, so prepare yourself.”

  Giddiness takes over me, because I know that he’s fixing to make me come—hard. I get up on the bed and get into position. He drags my body to the end of the bed where my knees are on the edge. He moves between them and lines his cock up with my entrance.

  “Please,” I practically beg him, because he loves it when I do.

  “You want this?” he asks, rubbing the head of his dick between my soaked, swollen lips.

  “Yes,” I breathlessly reply.

  “How much?” he asks, steadily lubricating himself with my juices.

  “So much that I ache for it,” I respond.

  “We can’t have that, now can we?” When he says the last word, he thrusts inside of me and I swear I can feel him in my navel. He’s wide, and long, and every time we are together like this, it feels like the first time.

  “God, yes!” I scream out as I stretch to accommodate his girth and length. He relentlessly pounds into me as I grab the comforter in my fists. I need something to ground me, to hold me here. My body bounces up every time he enters me with the strength and power I love.

  “Take it! Take it all!” he commands, as he repeatedly slams his hips roughly to where they meet mine. Over, and over again, he pounds into me, taking me to heights that sometimes I wonder if I’ll recover from.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant, as my orgasm quickly approaches.

  “Get yourself there, I won’t last much longer.” I slide my left hand down the front of my body until it reaches my clit. I rub small circles, randomly adding pressure to get me there quicker.

  Before I realize it’s happening, stars are dancing between my eyes and I lean down to bite the comforter because the sensations are too much to deal with. I scream into my bed as he roughly grabs my hips I’m sure to have bruises from and thrusts. Once, twice, three times before he finally succumbs to his own release.

  I fall down to my stomach and he lands on top of me. “I can’t move,” I tell him, and I can’t. My body feels like a limp noodle.

  “Give me a second,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. What seems like minutes later, but are actually only seconds, he rolls off of me and lands on his back. He throws his arm over his face and I can tell something is bothering him.

  “Do you wanna talk about it?” I inquire. I know my place, but I also know my man, and sometimes we converse and come up with plans. It’s not pillow talk, he trusts me and knows I know how to keep my mouth shut and know when and where I’m allowed to speak.

  “I can’t, baby, not right now anyways,” he replies, getting up and heading to the bathroom. I hear the shower turn on and he peeks his head out the door. “You gonna come join me?”

  “Yep,” I say popping my ‘p’ for emphasis. “Be right there,” I tell him as I go to my dresser and grab a fresh pair of underwear and a night shirt. I used to sleep in my birthday suit, but that stopped the minute our kids got old enough to come barging into our bedroom.

  I lay my clothes on the bathroom counter and step into the shower. He brings me into the clutch of his arms and I feel all of his strength and power surround me. I have always felt safe in his arms, he makes everything alright when I have worries or fears. “Everything will be okay,” I whisper to him.

  “Bet your sweet ass it will,” he grumbles. He squeezes me tightly, then turns me around in his arms and moves us under the shower head. Our bodies get soaked from the spray and he lifts my head up with his fingers under my chin. “Nothing will ever touch you, I promise you this.”

  “I believe you, baby. Now, let’s get cleaned up, we have two kids who don’t believe the sun needs to rise before they do.” He chuckles at me and cleans us both. I love our moments like this, they are ones I treasure, and look forward to the most.

  As we crawl into bed after our shower, I look into his chocolate brown eyes and declare my love for him, “I will always be here by your side, no matter what. I love you, Jasper.”

  “I love you too, sweetness.” He always switches out his endearments, which is fine with me because they tell me his moods and always make my heart skip a beat with the love that comes through his voice and shines through his eyes. Men in the MC aren’t always known for fidelity, but my man has never cheated on me in all the years we’ve been together. We’re in our late thirties, and still in as much love as we were in our teens.

  We didn’t start having children until later in life. We wanted the MC to be established and knew in the beginning things would be rough as the men made a name for themselves.

  Kobe is seven and Milly is five and the apple of her daddy's eye. He is fiercely protective of them, and I fear for the day that they suffer their first broken heart or injury. So far, we’ve been lucky and there’ve been no broken bones or stitches required. Which is odd, because our son is all boy and a daredevil in everything he does.

  The day he decided he wanted to race dirtbikes is the day I mentally prepared myself for the worst. So far, we’ve only suffered scratches and bruises, but the mother in me cringes every time he sits on that seat and fires up his bike. He’s had a mini race bike since he was four years old, and is now preparing, and training, for competitive races.

  See, told you, daredevil. But as his parents, we stand by his side and encourage him to follow his dreams.

  Our princess, our Milly, is a girly-girl. She loves to take dance classes and is in gymnastics. Her father encouraged her from an early age to be as girly as she could.

  He didn’t want a tomboy, but to an extent, she is. She loves to go to the garage and watch her father and uncles work on their bikes. She asks about everything they're doing, and helps them maintain and work on their bikes. Much to her father’s dismay, she’s decided that she wants a bike of her very own.

  She has also announced that she wants to be a mechanic. If I could’ve captured her father’s face that day, I would have. He was dumbfounded and kept looking to me for guidance.

  But I, for one, will never tell my kids that they can’t do something that will make them happy. If she wants to work on bikes then I say let her, if she wants to serve in the military, I’ve got her back. I wouldn’t like it, but I wouldn’t discourage her either.

  The day my children were born, I decided then and there that I would always be supportive and the kind of mother they could come to and talk about anything. I may not always agree with them, but I will listen and try to be supportive in anything they decide to pursue.

  At the end of the day, they need to know that I’m trustworthy and they can come to me about anything. I want my children to be independent to a degree, and follow their hearts and minds. My husband on the other hand, wants to control as much as he can.

  He constantly worries about their safety and puts all kinds of protective measures in place to ensure that outcome. It can be annoying at times for both them and myself, but I wouldn’t change a thing about him or them.

  My life may not be perfect. It may be dangerous at times, but I wouldn’t change anything about it.

  I wake early the next morning, to pounding feet in the hallway, and the innocent giggles of my children. Those giggles let me know my children are up to no good. I slide out from underneath my old man and grab some leggings to throw on. As I walk out the door, I grab my flip-flops and place them on my feet. We have hardwood flooring throughout the house and it can get a bit nippy first thing in the morning, even in these dreadful summer months.

  I quietly sneak down the hallway so I can spy on my babies and see what they’re up to.

  “We should make Mom and Dad some cereal too,” Milly says to her brother.

  “Nah, let them sl
eep, we’ll eat in the living room, and turn on cartoons. We’re big now so we can make our own bowls, we don’t need Mom to do it for us. Plus, they never get to sleep late, we should let them do that more often.”

  “Okay, bubby,” she says, and tears pool in my eyes at the thoughtfulness of them. I sneak back into the bedroom, shut the door slowly so they don’t hear the closing of the door and slip off my flip flops, placing them next to the bed and crawl back under the covers and slide in next to my husband.

  He instantly wraps me in his arms and I drift back to sleep cocooned in his love.

  An hour later I wake again when I feel my husband stirring in the bed.

  “Morning,” he says to me in a raspy sleep-filled voice.

  “Good morning.” I then proceed to tell him about what I overheard with our kids this morning and he smiles proudly.

  “Those little shits are growing up too fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud.

  “That they are,” I agree.

  “I need to get to the club, baby. We’ve got church in...” He pauses and looks at his bedside clock before continuing, “thirty-minutes. I need to get a move on.”

  “Alright, babe. You get dressed and I’ll make you some breakfast really fast.”

  “You’re too good to me,” he states, slapping my ass as I pass him.

  “And don’t you forget it,” I wink over my shoulder, which causes him to chuckle.

  “Too damn much,” I hear him mumble as I leave the bedroom. Have I mentioned I love my life?

  Chapter Three

  Jasper

  We’re sitting in church and I’ve just relayed the conversation I had with Lorenzo yesterday. The brothers are unimpressed, pissed the fuck off and I hear a lot of cursing in the background, which I expected.

  “We need to put an end to these motherfuckers and put a stop to their skin trade operation,” Cobra demands.

  “Agreed,” Bowie responds.

  “I’m in,” Machete announces.

  “Let’s put it to a vote,” I bang the gavel on the table. “All those in favor of going to war with the Valdez organization vote aye, all those opposed vote nay.” I begin to make my way around the table, officers are always last.

  “Machete?” I ask… “aye,” he votes.

  “Kong?” ... “aye,” he votes.

  “Dawg?” ... “aye.”

  “Cobra?” … “aye.”

  “Prowler?” … “aye.”

  “Malice?” … “aye.”

  “Bowie?” … “aye.”

  “Blaze?” … “aye.”

  “Reaper?” … “aye.”

  I turn to my VP and ask him, “Knuckles?” … “aye.”

  “The last vote is mine and I vote, aye.” Looks like it’s a unanimous decision.

  “We go to war!” I announce. The brothers go wild stomping their feet and banging on the table. “This means lockdown once I make that phone call,” I inform everyone. All heads nod in agreement, our gates will be locked and security will be tight.

  “Prowler, I need any and all intel you can find. I want to know what they eat morning, noon, and night. I want to know each and every time one of them takes a shit. I want to know their every move and thought. Don’t leave any stone unturned. I want to know their weaknesses and strengths. It’s time to strategize, brothers. Plan on having church at least once a day until we’ve got all the information we need to start war and chop these assholes off at the knees. Church dismissed for now.” I bang the table indicating their dismissal and I go into my office and contemplate what I’m going to say to Lorenzo to hold him off until we have a plan in motion.

  A couple of hours later, I’m no closer to figuring out what to say, so I dig into the club’s businesses and work the financials. The one thing I hate about my job is this paperwork bullshit. We have several legit businesses to cover for our illegal ones. We funnel money through those so that our money always looks clean and legit.

  I hear a light knock on the door. “Daddy? Are you in there?” I hear my princess ask. The first true smile of the day graces my face.

  “Sure am, baby girl. Come on in,” I call out.

  She walks through the door and comes over to me. I push back my chair and she jumps in my lap. “Bubby wants to go riding on his dirtbike and I wanna go too, but Mama says she can’t watch us today because she has a doctor’s appointment. Can you and our uncles take us?” Since most of the brothers’ boys ride, I decide to see if they want to make a day out of it with our kids. It may be awhile before we have the chance to do it again, war isn’t a time for fun and games and we need to enjoy our families as much as we can now.

  “Let’s go ask your uncles and maybe we can make a day of it.”

  “Yes!” she responds, wrapping her arms around my neck in a bear hug. “I love you, Daddy, you’re the best!”

  “I hope you remember that when you’re sixteen,” I say, hugging her back.

  She giggles. “You’ll always be the best daddy.” I really hope she remembers this when I’m running boys off that she’s interested in. Because I’ll be damned if some punk ass kid gets his mitts on my baby girl. We walk out of my office, holding hands, and make it to the media room where the men are relaxing watching some tattoo ink show.

  “My kids wanna go riding, who’s game? Thought we’d take the kids and make a day of it.”

  “Hell yeah!” they respond, and I see phones come out and texts being sent.

  “Libby is going to make us a picnic, need a headcount,” Knuckles tells us.

  We do a quick count and give him a number. He texts his old lady back and she says she’ll bring it out to us in the field we’ve turned into a track and trails. The kids all run out to get into their gear and I grab my girl and we head towards the quads that the brothers and I use when the kids wanna do their thing.

  I don’t do dirt bikes, crotch rockets or anything that doesn’t have a Harley emblem on it. The three and four wheelers are as far as I’m willing to go. I don’t count it against the kids for enjoying their rides, it’s just not for me.

  An hour later, we’re all in the fields and making sure everything is gassed up and ready to go. The kids jump on their bikes and take off jumping hills and running their hearts out. The guys and I get into the cooler and pop our beers as we hang out and talk shit.

  Around lunch time the old ladies pull up on their own quads and I see a few coolers on the backs. We help the old ladies unload then gather all of the kids to come and eat. It’s easier said than done, with so many club kids between all of us, keeping up with a head count is a pain in the ass.

  I don’t know how the old ladies do this shit on a daily basis, I have to give them props for keeping up with them all. Usually, they don’t trust us men to care for the kids on our own, but they all hate watching the kids do their dangerous stunts and shit.

  Us men, we encourage them while the women all cover their eyes, as if they can’t see them, nothing bad will happen. It’s funny as fuck to watch. As I look around and focus on my family, that of blood and my own making, I can’t help but worry what this impending war will be bringing to them.

  We may not all make it out of this unscathed, but I have a positive outlook on the upcoming event that we will come out the victors. I have to keep positive thoughts, however, whatever may become of it, because negative ones have a habit of coming to fruition.

  As lunch is wrapping up, I see my wife coming up the hill in her four-wheel drive SUV. She has tears streaming down her face which puts me on instant alert. I rush over and fling open the door. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I quickly question her.

  “I got some news at the doctor’s that I’m not sure you’ll be terribly happy about,” she says through her sobs.

  “Are you sick?” I ask, the first possibility that pops into my head.

  “No, it’s not what you’re thinking,” she states, wiping the tears from her face using the back of her hand.

  “Give me something here,” I
plead with her.

  “Oh God, Jasper. I’m pregnant.” She starts hysterically balling again. I nearly hit my knees with the announcement. We’re fixing to go to war and now I have to not only worry about the safety of the children I already have, but now a new baby, and pregnant old lady. Fuck me! Doctor’s appointments, shopping, and sleepless nights.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, when the realization of what that truly means hits me.

  “I’m so sorry,” she buries her head on the steering wheel. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” she cries out. I grab her out of her seat and pull her into my arms.

  “I’m not angry or upset with you in any way. It’s just a lot of things are fixing to go down in the club and the timing is just off. I still consider this a blessing, but I’m worried at the same time about the issues the club is going through may affect our happiness.”

  “Is it that bad?” she looks up at me and asks.

  “It is, babe, it’s really bad.”

  “War,” she whispers.

  Ding, Ding, Ding. She nailed the hammer on the head first thing.

  “Yeah, babe. War,” I announce.

  “Fuck.” She stole the word from my mouth.

  “Yeah, babe. It’s fucked all the way around.”

  “Will we be okay?”

  “I hope so, Miracle. I really do.”

  Chapter Four

  Jasper

  I cannot believe my old lady is pregnant. She is on birth control, but she was sick last month so that counteracted her preventive measures. I can’t be angry with her, I was in the bed the same time she was. A baby, I need time to wrap my head around this.

  I went home, had dinner with my family, and put them all to bed, then walked on over to the clubhouse. I need some alone time to process everything and figure out what safety measures I need to put into place. As I’m sitting here staring at my beer lost in thought, Knuckles sits down next to me.