by Hamel, B. B.
Caralee stood next to Burke. They just nodded to each other without speaking. Burke had been in a bad mood all day long, probably because his plan had fallen apart. At least his plan to kill me and take over the club. The wedding was probably never meant to happen, but there was nothing they could do it about it now.
“When the music starts, you two go,” Clutch said to Burke and Caralee.
Burke grunted and Caralee smiled.
“Nervous?” Larkin whispered into my ear.
“Yeah,” I said, “but I’ll be okay.”
“Good. You’ll do great.”
The music started a minute later and Clutch pushed open the door. “Go,” he said.
They walked out and Clutch shut the door.
“When the music changes, it’s your turn,” he said to me. “Good luck. I’ll be nearby.”
I smiled at him. “See you out there.”
And then the music changed.
Clutch opened the door.
We stepped out into the main bar room.
The aisle led from Larkin’s door between rows of folding chairs. The men from each club were sitting on either side, hard biker men packed into those little white chairs. The bar itself was decorated in white and black, streamers and balloons and tables and alcohol everywhere. There were flowers and centerpieces, most of them in the shape of Harleys.
Larkin walked next to me as we moved down the aisle. Ahead, Ford was standing where the preacher usually stood, grinning his face off. He was acting as the officiator since nobody much cared about having a priest at a biker wedding.
And standing to his left was Jetter. He looked completely at ease in a white tux that stood out from what the other men were wearing, which was a mix of suits and normal leather vests over jeans. Burke was standing next to Jetter as his best man.
Larkin moved slowly with me, and I felt butterflies take over my stomach, rocking through my body. I really was nervous as hell as we got closer and closer.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. But the whole club was out here for this, including every one of the Rebels. I was about to get married, and that would be the end of it.
As we got closer to the front, I looked around the crowd. I couldn’t see Clutch anywhere. I glanced back, but the door to the office was open and he was gone.
I looked forward reluctantly as we finally made it to the front. Larkin kissed my cheek and then took his seat up front. Caralee leaned forward and whispered in my ear.
“Clutch is nearby. Don’t worry,” she said, smiling.
I nodded and turned to face forward as Ford held his hands up, silencing the music and the crowd.
“Okay, everyone,” he said loudly. “We’re here to witness the wedding of Janine and Jetter.”
“No shit,” Dow called out. “Get to the good bits, brother.”
There was laughter in the crowd.
“Yeah, some people are impatient, but fucking listen up,” Ford said. “This union will bring our two clubs together, the Rebels and the Demons, so if you’ve got a fucking problem with that, speak up now.”
There was dead silence among the men.
“Make them kiss already,” Noble yelled.
Ford grinned. “Okay, shit, fine. Fuck.” He looked at Jetter. “Do you take this fine-ass lady as your wife?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said, staring at me.
You bastard, you sick bastard, I kept thinking over and over. You wanted me dead.
“And, Janine, do you take this guy as your husband?”
“Yes,” I said softly.
“Good. Boys?”
And suddenly someone grabbed me from behind, pulling me harshly back, spinning me away. Caralee was dragged along with me, strong arms picking us up and practically throwing us aside as the crowd burst into roars and screams.
32
Clutch
All eyes were on Janine and Larkin as he walked her down the aisle, which was exactly what we wanted.
My heart was beating slowly in my chest as I snuck out of Larkin’s office, heading to my right. I moved along the outskirts of the room, going wide around the Rebels, getting into position.
For the past few days, we’d been planning for this. Everything we’d done had led to this moment, and the gamble we were about to make could go horribly wrong, but we were hoping the men in this room were smarter than we had given them credit for so far.
I saw a few other men moving along the outskirts just like me, dressed in suits so as not to draw attention, but they had the same aim I did. I caught Dow’s eye, and he made some inane comment that got a laugh, but it was actually a code for Ford to keep his bullshit going a bit longer to let us get into position.
Finally, I was back where I needed to be, and I nodded at Dow again. Noble made another stupid joke, which was the sign for Ford to move ahead with the ceremony.
We were ready. We were in place. There was no turning away from this anymore. We were going to make this happen, no matter what, and let the chips fall where they may.
I glanced to my right and nodded at Spoil. He’d been quiet about this merger for a while, but when Larkin had asked for volunteers, he’d jumped at the chance. Since he was the other big enforcer in the Demons, it made sense that he was with me in this crucial moment.
“Do you take this fine-ass lady as your wife?” Ford was saying. I looked back toward them, ready and prepared.
“Yeah, I do,” Jetter said. I reached into my suit and gripped the knife handle, taking a step forward.
“And, Janine, do you take this guy as your husband?”
“Yes,” she said softly. I moved even closer, my whole body prepared, tingling with excitement.
I’d dreamed of this moment since this all began. Ever since Janine had been put under my protection, I’d pictured what it would be like. And now, finally, I was doing exactly what I’d wanted to do for so fucking long.
“Good. Boys?”
Four pledges came darting out of the shadows. They grabbed Janine and Caralee and dragged them away, practically throwing them to the side.
I moved forward, drawing the knife from my suit. Everything happened so fucking fast, just like we had planned and prepared.
I grabbed Jetter by the back of the head. “You lose,” I whispered in his ear.
Then I dragged my knife across his throat, cutting it wide open.
The place exploded into chaos. Next to me, Spoil rammed his knife into Burke’s back, twisting the handle. He cried out and Spoil pulled the knife out, hamming it into his neck. Burke fell to the ground, dead.
Jetter, meanwhile, clawed at the blood pouring from his throat. I kicked the back of his leg, dropping him to his knees. He didn’t say a word, couldn’t say a word. He simply bled out at my feet. My shoes and clothes were all drenched in his blood, and I grinned out at the Rebels, madness ringing in my ears.
Meanwhile, the whole Demons club were on their feet. Every single man had a gun out, and every single gun was pointed at the Rebels. Even Ford had ripped off his jacket and pulled out a small machine gun, pointing it at what was left of the Rebels.
They were shouting, on their feet, some of them drawing weapons. I simply stood there, covered in their leader’s blood, holding the knife in my hand.
I’d killed men before and for a lot of reasons, but this death felt the fucking best, because Jetter deserved it the most.
I wished I could have known what he was thinking just before I cut his throat wide open. He probably thought he’d won, despite his original plans failing. He probably thought he had outsmarted the Demons somehow.
But he hadn’t, not by a long shot. Once we figured out what his plans were, Larkin knew Jetter had to die.
And so that night, in Larkin’s office, he told us the plan. It was simple. We’d move forward with the plan to marry Janine to Jetter, but we’d murder him and Burke in front of the whole Rebels club. Then we’d give them a choice: join or die. We’d slaughter the whole club if we had to.
<
br /> And so Larkin stood up, smiling calmly, and stood in front of the room. He fired his shotgun into the air.
“Shut the fuck up,” he yelled.
The men slowly quieted down.
He fired it again, a deep, booming blast. “Quiet, or you’ll all be fucking slaughtered like pigs.”
The men slowly stopped talking.
Larkin sighed. “That’s better. As you can see, we just killed your leadership. I’m betting that pisses a lot of you off, and I don’t blame you. But I’m not really such a bad guy, as many of you will come to find out. So here’s the deal: join or die, fellas.”
There was a general murmur among the Rebels. I couldn’t tell which way it was going to go, and most of them probably didn’t know either.
Suddenly, one of the Rebels pulled a gun. “Fuck this,” he hollered.
Five guns went off at the same time, riddling the Rebel with bullets. He dropped to the ground, dead on impact.
Nobody else moved.
“See, boys,” Larkin said, “you really don’t have much of a choice. Join or die.”
“You fucking heard him,” I barked. “You want to join the Demons, you strip off your fucking clothes. Now.”
The men stared at me. I grinned. I was covered in blood and probably looked pretty fucking terrifying.
“He’s not kidding,” Larkin said. “Take off your clothes, down to your fucking nutsack. Then we’ll work out what to do with the lot of you.”
Nobody moved for half a minute, until finally one man began to strip. He looked around. “Well, strip, you fucking cunts,” he said to the others. “We’re Demons now. Your president just gave you an order.”
I laughed as the men all began to take off their clothes. Twenty big, badass bikers all turned into fucking pussies as they stripped naked, tossing aside their weapons.
“Disgusting,” Ford said. “Looks like a bunch of fucking hairy bears.”
“Yeah, but bears with terminal cancer,” Dow joked. “Look at them, hairy and fucking patchy.”
“And a bunch of tiny little cocks,” Spoil added, grinning.
I turned away from the show, not interested anymore. I headed over to the bar and found a towel. I stripped off my jacket and shirt, tossing them aside, and wiped the blood from my face.
I knew what was going to happen now, and it wasn’t something I needed to be a part of. The Rebels would be herded into the back room and interrogated one at a time. Any man that seemed disloyal or angry would be killed on the spot, and the rest would be made pledges. Eventually we’d probably pick up a bunch of new, hardened recruits.
And that would do everything for this war. Maybe a lot of death and suffering had to happen first, but we’d won this little battle.
Our numbers were swelling. We were stronger by an entire club now.
I grabbed a bottle and poured myself a whisky. Before I could drink it, someone walked up beside me.
“Got one of those for me?”
I grinned and turned. Janine was standing there, smiling at me, still wearing that fucking sexy wedding dress.
“Sure, princess,” I said, pouring her a drink. “You deserve it.”
“I saw what happened,” she said softly. “I’m glad he’s dead.”
“Worked out,” I said.
“Think the Rebels will really join us?”
“Some will. Some won’t. We’ll work it out. But the important thing is, it’s over.”
“To Jetter, may he rot in fucking hell,” she said. We clinked glasses and drank.
She put her glass down on the bar and stepped toward me. “Clutch, listen—” she started to say, but I stopped her. I grabbed her by the hips and pressed her against me, kissing the girl hard on the mouth.
She kissed me back without hesitation.
Fuck, nothing ever tasted sweeter in my whole life. Not whisky, nothing. I wanted her, and finally I could have her in front of everyone without any second thoughts.
There was no hesitation in me, not a single ounce of it. The girl was mine. Janine was fucking mine, and I was going to take her right then and there.
We broke the kiss off.
“You’re mine now. You know that?” I said to her.
“I know,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I witness this claim.”
I looked over and saw Larkin grinning at us.
Janine stepped back. “Dad,” she said.
“It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t act like I didn’t already fucking know this was happening. You two aren’t exactly subtle.”
I laughed. “Why didn’t you stop it?”
“Didn’t think I needed to. You did your job well, Clutch.”
She shook her head, smiling. “I can’t believe you.”
“Looks like you’re claimed by me now,” I said to her, pulling her against me again.
“Calm down, you two,” Larkin said. “We have a lot of work to do.”
“Yeah, we do,” I said, “but it’ll be easier now.”
I didn’t know when Larkin walked away, because I was too busy kissing Janine like my life fucking depended on it.
My hands were still practically stained with Jetter’s blood, and there were a bunch of men out in the world who still wanted our heads, but none of that seemed to matter in this moment.
I was finally with her. We could cut through all the bullshit, all the confusion and the anger, and finally just be what we wanted to be.
Janine was what I wanted. She knew me, understood me better than anyone. She was stronger than she realized, full of fire and fury, not to mention how hard she made my fucking cock whenever she was around.
As I kissed her in the clubhouse, I knew I’d always want her around. I’d kill for her, again and again if I had to, without a second thought.
Because she was mine.
I’d claimed her, and I’d make right by her.
Epilogue: Janine
Fourteen months later
I laughed, fumbling in the dark for his belt.
“Fuck I’m starving,” Clutch said, pushing me back. “Forget that. I want this sweet pussy.”
“Shh,” I said. “You’ll wake Ryan up.”
“I think you’re the one who needs to work on being quiet.” He pushed me back onto the bed, and I landed, giggling, as he pulled down my panties, tossing them aside.
His lips found my neck, kissing me softly, his hands between my legs, working my soaked clit. “I think about this all fucking day long,” he said in my ear.
“Me too,” I whispered.
His lips moved down my neck and down my breasts. He dropped down onto his knees and spread my legs wide, his mouth pressed against my clit.
Pleasure rocked through me as he began to suck my clit, licking me and eating me ferociously. It’d been almost a day since he’d last touched me like this, and that was too long. Clutch had been out on a job with the club, and I had been back at home taking care of our little son, Ryan. He was four months old, and it was a miracle when we could get him down for a nap. Ryan was just like his daddy, full of energy.
But I wasn’t thinking about that. Instead, the only thing I could think about was Clutch working my pussy as pleasure rolled through me in waves. Whenever he was gone for a while, he always came home and rewarded me with this, making me come so easily with his mouth. He licked and sucked me, his tongue rolling down my skin and pressing inside me.
“Clutch,” I moaned, trying not to be loud. I grabbed a pillow and bit down on it, afraid of making more noise.
“Fuck,” he grunted. “Nothing sexier than you biting a fucking pillow.” He went back to work with serious enthusiasm, his tongue rolling around my clit, sucking and licking it.
He pressed his fingers deep inside my pussy the way I loved. That never got old. He was just so damn skilled at what he did. Clutch masterfully worked my body, his strong hands pressing against me, his fingers fucking my pussy, his tongue working my clit in circles.
I writhed, moaning into the pillow. I began to roll my hips against his mouth, working into his speed and rhythm, losing myself. Any stress of raising an infant melted away instantly under Clutch’s touch. He was incredible and could make me feel good no matter what the day was like.
His fingers worked me faster, harder, his tongue and lips sucking expertly. My hips rolled as his fingers fucked me, working my body, his mouth incredible. Pleasure rocked me, rolling through me body, wiping out my mind.
There was only Clutch. Ever since my fake wedding, my bloody, red wedding, there had only been Clutch. He’d claimed me that day and never let me go, and I never wanted him to leave.
My pussy was ringing like a bell as he worked me, and I could feel that I was on the edge of an orgasm. He was so skillful and easily brought me to that spot every time, like he could read my body like a map.
His fingers worked, pressing deep inside me, fucking me in and out. His tongue kept licking, working, sucking my clit, and I came, my whole body stiffening.
I had to press the pillow down into my face as my body tensed, unable to make myself stay silent as the orgasm washed over me in big, heavy waves. I came and came hard into his mouth, and he kept licking and sucking me, savoring my taste.
Slowly it passed, and he gave me one long, last lick before rocking back onto his heels.
“Shit,” I panted. “Okay, that never gets old.”
He sucked his fingers. “Same to you, princess. I could eat that pussy all day every day.”
I smiled at him. “You basically do already.”
“Can you blame me?”
I laughed and pulled him on top of me, kissing him deep and hard. He returned my kiss, and I could feel his thick, big cock pressing against me, hard as hell in his jeans.
“And now do I owe you something?” I asked him.
“You owe me nothing,” he grunted, “but I’d love it if you let me fuck you until you had to bite down on that pillow again.”
I smiled, biting my lip, and felt a thrill run through me again. “Okay. I think I can handle that.”