Vengeance MC Box Set - Volume 1: Call Me...Vengeance ~ Fury ~ Jonas

by Natasha Thomas

  That’s one of the only traditions I’m vehemently opposed to when it comes to MC’s. The principal of losing your ink refers to the patched brother’s club tattoo, which in most cases, isn’t small. Nor is it in an easy to hide location. For example, Boss’ is on his back, taking up the entirety of it shoulder to shoulder, the base of his neck to his waist.

  It’s the brother’s choice whether he wants the club to cut it off, or use whatever they have on hand to heat up and burn the skin until their patch is no longer recognizable. Further adding to the pain, every full-patch member gets to take a turn at disfiguring the deserters ink. It’s fucking barbaric if you ask me.

  “To answer your question; burn,” he grates out through clenched teeth.

  “You’re fucking joking right? Tell me you are not fucking serious?” I snarl.

  Shaking his head despondently, Boss flexes his hands, finally crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Nothing to joke about, brother. Thank fuck Gage was smart choosing where he put his patch, because anywhere else, that shit would have landed him in the hospital probably septic or worse. Ever wonder why he doesn’t wear a T-shirt, that’s your answer. The inside of his left forearm, elbow to wrist is burned to shit. They didn’t go easy on him either. Used a branding iron, Jay. The motherfuckers were determined. At best guess, I’d say no fewer than thirty times they went at him.”

  Fuck. Me!

  “I talked to Miles about that shit when he took over the gavel, planned on filling him in on what the piece of shit before him was up to but he already knew. That was part of the reason the asshole was “persuaded” to stand down, apparently. Miles wasn’t there when it happened, he was on a run out west, nobody bothered filling him in on what was going down. Good thing too. Miles might not be known for his tolerance, but that shit, he would’ve put a stop to it fucking immediately,” Boss says with conviction. “Miles’ VP, Charlie was there, though, and to hear him tell it, Gage didn’t make a fucking sound. Not one. They had to have had him for a good hour to do the kind of damage I saw, and not once did the man say a word.”

  “That’s a whole different kind of fucked up, brother,” I growl.

  “No shit,” he volleys. “When he was due to get his Vengeance ink, I thought long and hard about doing something unheard of in our world because of it,” Boss admits tersely. “In the end, I left the choice up to Gage. It wasn’t a test, but he chose right. I told him he could opt out of his ink, but it would have to be kept quiet. That or, he’d have to explain why when the other boys found out he wasn’t wearing Vengeance’s patch. You did his ink, so no question what the right choice was.”

  A knock on the door puts a stop to the conversation immediately.

  “Yeah?” I call out, hoping it isn’t Torr.

  Torr and I have come to an understanding of sorts in the little over two weeks Blaine and I have been together. He doesn’t look, touch, or flirt with her, and I won’t kill him. That said, he’s tested the limits of those boundaries almost religiously every time Blaine walks into the shop.

  Through the door, smart enough to know not to open it unless I explicitly tell him he can, Goff yells,

  “I recommend you get out here, big man, and you do it quick. My brother’s a fucking moron, putting the moves on your woman again.”

  See, what did I tell you? If pissing me off was an art form, that asshole has it down pat. If it weren't for the fact he’s a fucking talented artist, I’d have fired his ass hundred times over already.

  Chuckling, Boss suggests,

  “You better get out there, brother. No telling what that kid can achieve if he’s left unattended for five minutes.”

  “I know what he can do, that’s why I’m gonna kill him,” I grumble wrapping Boss’ ribs.

  Without another word, I dispose of my gloves, slam the door open, and shove past a highly amused Goff. I don’t’ know what he’s smiling at, his brother is about to die.

  I reach the front of the shop and stop dead at the sight in front of me. The space is large, doubling as a reception and waiting area comfortably accommodating twenty.

  Two leather couches butt up against opposite walls with a display cabinet (a recent addition) showcasing the different piercings available in the corner between them. A long, wide slab of polished concrete, mounted on six solid timber legs eight inches in diameter acts as a reception desk, laptop attached to cash drawer the only things out on display.

  Everything else; aftercare sheets, business cards, flash books, and the printer is located in a locker similar to one you’d find in any high school except double the width. It’s beat to shit, old, and long past its prime, but Beth refuses to let me get rid of it. She says it’s awesome, adding to the industrial vibe of the place.

  I didn’t decide on the exposed beams or ducting as part of the overall design, the place came like that. I just didn’t see the point of dumping a whole shit ton of money into the shop when, initially, I wasn’t guaranteed a return on my investment. Now, I dig the look. It works, and I have yet to get any complaints.

  But none of that is what has me freezing in my pursuit to end, Torr. On his side in the fetal position, head tucked to his chest, both hands cupping his crotch, Torr is currently groaning in agony while my woman looks at him with a smile quirking her lips.

  “What in the ever-loving fuck is going on out here?” I bellow from the doorway separating the public from the private workrooms out the back.

  “I do believe young Torr here just received an education as to what is, and what is not classified as appropriate behavior toward women,” Beth replies from her position on the couch, where I assume she’s been waiting for me to finish up with her man.

  Rubbing my palms over my face, I sigh,

  “Come here, baby. Kiss.”

  Blaine doesn’t hesitate to leave the man, now complaining loudly about his poor abused balls, lying on the floor to step into my waiting arms.

  “Hi, honey,” she murmurs softly into the wall of my chest.

  “Kiss,” I repeat, lowering my mouth to hers.

  It isn’t as long, deep, wet or ending in her naked with me buried inside her, but it’ll do for now. Touching the tip of my tongue to hers, I lift my head and jerk it in Torr’s direction, asking,

  “Are you the one responsible for that mess?”

  “Maybe,” she mutters trying to hide a grin.

  Wrapping my arms down low so that my hands can find purchase on her belly, saying a silent hello to our son, I grunt,

  “What did he do this time?”

  Blaine has been a good sport when it comes to Torr’s flirting, sexist jokes, and the obvious way in which he checks her out. Until now that is. Apparently, whatever prompted Blaine to give him an education was worse than usual. And that’s saying something because the usual is pretty fucking bad as it is.

  “I’m sorry,” Blaine hedges, without the slightest trace of apology in her tone.

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, Bee,” Beth states resolutely. “Torr deserved everything he got and then some.” Turning to me, Beth adds, “He was an asshole, making comments about how he really hopes once Blaine loses the baby belly her boobs will stay the same size they are now. And then something about how they are the perfect size to rest his head between at night.”

  “Motherfucker,” Boss hisses. “Shut up, babe, and come here.”

  Smart man getting his woman out of the way because I’m about to kill the little prick.

  “I-I didn’t mean anything by it,” Torr grumbles, edging his way closer to the couch at his side. “I was kidding. I thought it would make her laugh.”

  The kid really is a fucking moron. No joke, straight up, stupid.

  “Shut the fuck up, man,” Goff interjects. “You’re lucky Jay hasn’t fired you already, or worse, kicked your ass. I’m starting to think maybe Mom dropped you on your head as a baby the way you’ve been acting lately. This wasn’t your regular kind of stupid, Torr, it was a whole new level of s
tupid.”

  I couldn’t have said it better myself. I’m all for a casual working environment – happy staff make more money and all that – but acting like an asshole, disrespecting my woman, any woman for that matter, I’ll never be cool with that.

  My arms spasm around Blaine, pulling her deeper into my body as I grit out,

  “No shit, this is your last warning, Torr. I hear that you’ve made my woman uncomfortable, said anything that can possibly be taken as disrespectful, or even think about mentioning her tits, her ass, her legs, or any other part of her again, and you’re gone. No warning. No second chance. Fucking gone. And if it weren't for Blaine dropping you on your ass already, you and I would be taking a little trip out back so I could see to your education personally.”

  *****

  Balanced on my lap, reclined against the backrest of my tattoo chair, legs crossed at the ankles, Blaine claps her hands excitedly, causing the swell of her ass to brush across my hardening cock.

  “Do you have any idea how much I want to strip you down, lay you out on this chair and lick your pussy until you come in my mouth?”

  Blaine whimpers quietly, wiggling her ass, letting me know she’d be absolutely okay with that plan. To reward her enthusiasm, my hand finds its way underneath the hem of her dress, slipping up and in. Trailing my fingers across the soft skin of her inner thigh, I don’t stop until I reach the elastic of her panties at the crease of her thigh and her mound.

  Cupping the tender, heated flesh, I grind the heel of my palm against her clit, eliciting a ragged moan from her.

  “You’re gonna have to be quiet if you want me to finger fuck you, baby. No one else gets to hear you come. Only me.”

  Nodding her agreement, Blaine parts her legs offering me without direction what she knows I want.

  Blaine and I have done a lot of exploring over the past two and a half weeks. She’s learned how I like my cock sucked, how hard, when to engage her teeth, and how to read when I want her to swallow or if I want to come on her tits. I taught her how I like her to position for me to take my cock deep too.

  Testing her limits, I’ve finger fucked her, used my mouth on her, had a toy at her clit as I pounded into her sweet pussy, and started training her ass to take my dick eventually.

  We talked, and she assured me she’d try anything with me, trusting I’d take care of her, firm in the knowledge I’d never hurt her. I shared with her some of what I want to do to her during the same conversation, and Blaine shocked the shit out of me when we finished by stripping bare, holding her pussy open for me, and fingering herself so that I could watch her come. Another fantasy of mine.

  It might sound one-sided, but Blaine’s inexperience means she’s only just learning what gets her off, makes her hot, and how much of each she can take. I haven’t pushed her too far – she is pregnant with my baby after all – but everything we have done is in preparation for the main event.

  Taking hold of the gusset of her panties, I tear the flimsy lace from her body, continuing to rub the outer lips of her pussy, not giving her the penetration she’s desperately wanting.

  Blaine moans and writhes on my lap, my cock jerking in response. Slapping her inner thigh, Blaine’s body shivering at the contact, I growl,

  “Use your fingers and spread for me.”

  Yanking her dress up over her hips so that I have an unencumbered view, I watch as her small, French manicured hand delve into her folds, separating them with her index and middle fingers. Fuck me, she’s wet, I note as her clit is exposed to my view, the length of her slit drenched with her juices. So much so, they’ve leaked out of her cunt down the crease of her ass.

  Not able to control myself, I swipe the tip of one finger through her wetness, bring it to my mouth, and suck it clean.

  The taste of Blaine explodes on my tongue making me want to follow through and bury my face in her pussy until she’s screaming my name and coming all over my face. Not this time, though. I’ll save that for a day when I have the time to worship her body, not in a room out the back of my shop where anyone could interrupt us.

  Covering her hand with mine, I shift my middle finger replacing it with hers instead.

  “Keep your pussy spread just like that, baby,” I encourage, thrusting my cock against her ass. “Now, push your middle finger into your pussy and fuck yourself.”

  After a few beats, she whispers,

  “What are you going to do?”

  Placing one arm behind her back, the other under her knees, careful not to dislodge her fingers, I lay her back on the chair, unbuttoning my jeans as I say,

  “I’m going to pull my cock out and jack off to the beautiful image you’re giving me.”

  “No,” she breathes.

  To prove it, I fist my cock, tightening my hand just under the crown and give it a few hard strokes. Pre-come immediately leaks from the tip, rolling down my shaft. Collecting it to use as lubrication for my palm, I step closer to Blaine until I’m only half a foot away. Her eyes are riveted on the sight of me touching myself. If I’d known that got her off, and by the looks of it in a big way, I would’ve done this sooner.

  “Like what you see?” I ask unnecessarily.

  “Yes,” Blaine hisses, her middle finger finally dipping into her pussy.

  Looking on as she struggles to get the friction and depth she needs to make herself come, I grin at her and jack my cock harder.

  “What do you need, baby?

  This is new for Blaine too. Telling me exactly what she wants and what she needs doesn’t come easy for her.

  “You,” she ends up stammering.

  “Specific, Blaine. I can’t help you if you don’t give me details, baby,” I remind her.

  “Your cock. I need your cock, Jonas.”

  Lowering my voice and taking another step forward, I demand,

  “Where?”

  “Inside me.”

  “Your mouth it is then,” I decide, rubbing the wet head of my cock across the seam of her lips.

  Blaine doesn’t argue, but I know this isn’t what she meant. Pushing in, I feed her the tip and a few inches before retreating and then thrusting forward again. Once I’m firmly ensconced in the heat of her mouth, I command,

  “Suck hard, baby. Get me nice and wet.”

  At her hum, grabbing her hair in my fist, I begin to guide her mouth up and down my shaft. That lasts all of a minute before I can’t handle not being buried inside her anymore.

  I straddle the chair, my feet on the floor, hips aligned with hers, I bend my knees until the head of my cock is prodding against the entrance to her pussy.

  “Knees up. Feet flat on the chair. Drop them open as wide as you can.”

  Following my instructions to the letter, I slam inside her causing the air to rush from her lungs, and her back to arch violently off the chair.

  “Jonas,” she whimpers.

  I’m not hurting her, that I do know. Blaine can take my cock hard; she’s proved that time and time again. This is a whimper of pure pleasure. Keeping up the relentless pace I’ve set, I order,

  “Get yourself there. Hand between your legs and play with your clit.”

  Snaking her fingers between us, Blaine manipulates her clit until the walls of her pussy ripple, alerting me to how close she is. Half a dozen more thrusts and I’m right there with her.

  At the first sign of her orgasm taking hold, covering her mouth with mine, I swallow the sounds of her coming, rearing back to slam into her one final time.

  “Fuck, yes,” I snarl, shooting spurt after spurt of come deep inside her tight, still rippling pussy.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ~ Jonas ~

  “You know you need to get laid when; the cashier says strip down toward me… and you don’t realize she meant your fucking credit card.”

  - Jonas’s Saturday afternoon

  After cleaning my woman up, I sent her to hang with Avery while I headed to the Vengeance clubhouse to find out what information Lord has. B
laine wasn’t impressed at being ordered to change her plans for the day, but she gave up fighting me quickly when I explained where I was going and why.

  I fucking hate that she feels like her freedom’s been stripped from her. But what I’d hate even more is if one hair on her beautiful head was harmed.

  Rolling up to the Vengeance MC’s compound, which is exactly that, a fucking compound, not a clubhouse, a familiar truck pulls in behind me. I jump down, round the hood, and come face-to-face with Knight, who’s looking more haggard than I’ve ever seen him. That includes the time me and him, along with nine other men were bunkered down in a burnt-out shell of a house for four days with no running water, having to dig goddamn holes to shit in.

  “Good to see you, man,” I say, extending my hand to him. “But what the fuck are you doing here?”

  Knight has no affiliation to the MC, and as far as I knew, the only member he knows well enough to consider a friend is, Fury.