Biker in Black_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Damned Angels MC

by April Lust

  Her body started to shake and with a loud, long cry, all of her tension released. She was gone, over the edge. I continued to pound into her, losing my rhythm, lost in her body, my eyes fixed on her face, on the sexy mess that our fucking brought out. Her hair was tossed all over her head and down her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open and gasping, her skin flushed and beautiful. I felt like a fucking superhero, pounding into her softness, her tight cunt gripping me, squeezing me, sucking me, encompassing me fully.

  In moments more, I felt my body surge and I let loose. With a roar I exploded inside her, my orgasm ripping through my system, and I lost all thought and awareness of the outside world. All I knew was I was where I was meant to be, buried in Erin.

  # # #

  After the single most satisfying ejaculation of my life, after I came back to myself and saw Erin was getting herself under control again, too, we cleaned ourselves up and got dressed to exit the club via the back door, the usual employee route.

  I didn’t stop to think much about what had passed between us verbally. At some level of my consciousness, I was aware I had finally laid claim to what my body had been screaming at me for weeks: this woman was mine. I know she kept saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” but I wasn’t sure if that meant she agreed with my demand, or if she was just wanting more of my cock in her. At this point, I figured we had time to work that out; it wasn’t the most important thing to define anything tonight. I was just happy to have finally gotten in there. I hadn’t felt so good in ages.

  We only saw one of my Damned Angels brothers in the back hallway, standing guard near the back door, watching as we exited the private room. He was eyeballing me something fierce, and not without amusement of his own.

  “Yo, dude, see you got that pussy on lockdown, man. You gonna be buyin’ her a kutte? Or is she fair game for shares?”

  Fucking Teeth. Always the fucking instigator. Kuttes were for Damned Angels MC members and their old ladies, exclusively. Taking a woman’s pussy was a far cry from making her your old lady. That was more serious than marriage, the way I saw it.

  Not that Erin was just any other woman, either. She was not fair game. She was mine. I didn’t want to think it beyond that point.

  So I wasn’t gonna touch Teeth’s “old lady” reference with a pole, but I also wasn’t gonna stand for any of his shit. “You keep your fucking hands to yourself, Teeth. Your face is ugly enough as it is—you don’t want my help rearranging it again.”

  A quick lift of his chin at me and Erin, and he sucked in one side of his mouth. “You took the pick of the litter, dude. Can’t blame a man for tryin’. Fine piece of ass, that one.”

  “I’m standing right here, and I can hear you just fine, asshole,” Erin piped up. Fucking hysterical, this woman.

  I looked down at her fondly and hooked her neck with my arm, bringing her in close to my side. “Go find your own piece of ass, man. This one is gonna be busy for a while.”

  Erin elbowed my ribs, apparently not pleased with my response. I moved my palm to the nape of her neck and gave her firm pressure. It seemed to do the trick, calming her. I’d probably be getting an earful later, but in public and for now, she’d behave. This was important in the MC world. Good girl. She was doing so well.

  I tipped my chin to Teeth with a half-smile, and he winked at her in appreciation. We left the building.

  But we were both beat, done for the night, so I walked her to her car and saw her settled inside. Remembering myself, I said, “Give me your phone.” She did, and I programmed my number and messaged myself. After handing it back, I leaned in and gave her a hard, deep kiss. “Drive careful,” I told her. Then I watched her take off, made my way to my bike, and rode home.

  As soon as I got inside my place, I poured myself a healthy two fingers of bourbon on the rocks and spread out on my favorite armchair, thinking about the past few hours.

  It finally dawned on me, the profundity of what had passed. From the purview of Damned Angels, I had effectively claimed Erin as my own when I took her away from Manos. So now I had to decide—and fast—how best to play this in the days ahead, how to make the most of the situation, given all that I also had going on with regard to retaliation for Franco and the problems within the MC.

  I knew Erin was used to being in control and calling all the shots. I didn’t hold any illusions that tonight marked the end of her bossiness. This would have to stop. I was known in the MC as a leader; hell, I was a dominant guy by nature, and no way would I play backseat to her driver. So we had that issue to get clear. It was going to be a battle of wills.

  I felt my cheeks lifting, my lips tipping up at the corners, and I realized I was looking forward to it. Damn, that woman entertained me. This was actually going to be fun.

  I shook my head, realizing I had had very little going on in my world that gave me any kind of pleasure in recent months, with the singular exception of Erin. So, pain in the ass or not, I figured it was probably also going to be great for me, having her as an outlet. And not just a sexual one, because I also thrived on our verbal play. Hell, every interaction. She gave me a serious boost in energy I could use, first to revenge Franco’s death, and then either to extract myself from Damned Angels, or to lead a full-on mutiny against Slim’s inept leadership. Fuck my life, this shit was unreal. You couldn’t write this stuff.

  My biggest concern with regard to Erin was keeping her compartmentalized, keeping my focus on the MC issues and on taking care of business with that asshat boss of Centerfold, Danny Fletch, that murdering motherfucker. With Erin in the picture, I’d now also have to worry about making sure she was safe from any ramifications from my actions. Fuck. It was a really fine line I’d have to walk, on all sides. I’d have to navigate carefully on all fronts, or risk getting myself—and her—entangled in the complexities, even putting our lives on the line.

  But there was no other option. She’d proven to be a danger to herself tonight, with the boss-prick Fletch pimping her out, the asshat Owen going grabby, and her own antics getting too close to Manos. It didn’t add up, and she clearly had needed, and then really wanted, my protection, my body. Me.

  That was something.

  Too tired at this point to process anything further, I bailed and went to bed.

  Chapter 5

  Erin

  I woke up unhurriedly, my body sore and relaxed, my muscles needing to stretch. As a dancer, this was a daily recurrence, but this time there was something more to it. I felt warm and relaxed in a way I hadn’t in months, and then I remembered why.

  Torch. Damn, that man could fuck. It was brilliant. I felt used, in the best way possible, and taken and beautiful. I felt like I could fly.

  Still lying in bed, I stretched out for several minutes, taking each leg over my head, to the side, to the back. I twisted and turned, stretching my arms and my waist and my hips and my spine, breathing into each position, allowing the blood to flow freely again.

  The sun streamed in through the open blinds at the sliding door to my balcony, and I smiled at the blue in the sky. What a fucking beautiful morning. Mid-May in the Midwest was awesome. I lay there a few more minutes, thinking about Torch and sex and just feeling generally good all around. Then I thought of coffee, and I was up.

  It was only in the kitchen, as I was putting together my morning salvation, that I remembered the earlier parts of the night: the threat of Mr. O., and my thwarted plan to finally get to Mr. Fletch and be done with the whole scene. Shit. Torch had really fucked that up for me.

  Fuck.

  I couldn’t let that happen again. I mean, yes, I was so glad Torch and I had finally breached that wall, that we had crossed all lines and were finally getting it on. But the cost was too high, and I needed to get my focus back. I needed to take care of business. For Thea, and for myself. The time had come—obviously, with Mr. O. now looming ominously over my shoulder, and him being a favorite buddy or something to Danny fucking Fletch, I couldn’t afford to play Hamlet anym
ore. Action was required, and the sooner the better.

  By the time I got into work late in the afternoon, I was sorted. Focused. Determined. Energized. Tonight was the night, and I would be done. The worst part about it was that I’d have to leave town right away. A girl can’t plan to take out a man and expect no one to come after her. Not that I thought anyone would miss him, pond-sucking scum that he was. Actually, I’d be doing the world a favor. I should get a fucking reward for it.

  In any case, reality was that I’d have to go somewhere, and fast, and incognito. I had packed a bag for my run and had already loosened the screws on my license plate, snagging another plate off one of the cars that looked kind of like mine in a nearby apartment complex parking lot. I felt kind of bad about that, but luckily nobody had caught me doing it, and I figured it would buy me some time as I got myself to Union Station in Chicago, which was only a couple of hours away.

  After that, it was Amtrak all the way, baby. I had already found online that there were three trains heading to three different cities, each going out within a short time frame. I figured I’d buy the three tickets from three different ticket booths, dressed in three different wigs and styles. I’d pick one at random then, and be on my way. That should be enough to get me out safely and fast enough. Fingers crossed.

  So, I showed up at work that afternoon with my handbag hiding my blessed small-but-mighty handgun, and my regular costume duffel bag stuffed with three assorted sets of getaway gear.

  The one thing I hadn’t figured on is, of course, the one thing that had completely ruined my plan last night.

  Fucking Torch.

  # # #

  Despite the fact he had made sure to get my number last night, I had nothing but radio silence from Torch all day. That worked out well for me, as I had been super busy setting myself up for the second worst night of my life (the worst being the night I found out about Thea’s death). I had barely had time to think about him, except for the moments when my body twinged in little sore places caused by our gymnastic against-the-wall orgasm bath. My mind would get lost in that for some moments, and then I’d reel myself back to reality and continue with my preparations for the night. It was a surreal day.

  The shift was going slowly. Minutes dragged by. What made it worse than normal was that I felt like I was being laughed at by all the Damned Angels MC guys. They were smiling at me like they knew something special, and it pissed me off. I mean, yeah, I had fucked one of their own last night. So what? It had nothing to do with them. I had nothing to do with them. And Torch wasn’t even here (yet—was he coming? Fuck. I should not care. It would be better if he didn’t). So why all the special looks, smiles, and attention? It was like fucking high school.

  And then there was the cold shoulder from most of the girls. I mean, really? They were fucking pissed off that I’d had sex in the back with Torch. Okay, I could give them that. I’d have been jealous, too, if it had been one of them he had chosen. The man was a fucking god with the sex.

  But that was as far as it could go between us, and it was over now. Tonight would be the start of a new world order for me, and I was determined to keep my focus. Thea was what mattered the most. And that meant no more Torch. No more Britt, either. And no more me, not for a long time. It’s just the way it had to be.

  So five hours in, I had performed three main stage dances and was working the room when I finally saw Mr. Fletch enter the clubroom. He looked peeved, and he was looking straight at me. This did not bode well.

  But maybe it would give me the opportunity to get time with him one-on-one, which was exactly what I needed to pull off my scheme. So, I’d play dumb and regretful, or sexy, clueless, and eager, whichever might seem to appease him, to get that time in his office, alone.

  The main difficulty here was that in my work uniform I could hardly carry my handgun. I mean, a G-string and nipple pasties don’t hide much. The gun was still tucked safely away in my handbag in the dressing room. So I had to wait until the end of my shift to get dressed and hope that the fucker was still in the building. But I needed to make some moves soon to make the office meeting happen.

  I waved to him across the room and smiled like an airhead, big eyes and innocently raised brows and all. I even tossed in a little wave. He ate it up, though he still looked peeved. Still, he nodded at me and the guy I was chatting up for a lap dance, like he was watching me, but I was doing a good job.

  James was one of my regulars, a really nice guy, typical story. Married, but he had a history of wandering. His wife knew it, and they had agreed that he should frequent the club and keep his hands to himself, but lap dances with dancers were okay with her as long as that was the extent of his wandering. It had been working for a few years for them, and he was really sweet and respectful with me, and he was a good tipper, so it worked out great for me, too. He even said I was saving his marriage. I don’t know I’d have gone that far, but if he wanted to give me the credit, who was I to argue?

  We went to the back rooms, I gave him the lap dance, he tipped me well, and we returned to the main room. I searched again to locate Mr. Fletch, my heart rate speeding up in anxiety as the time to pull the literal trigger came closer. Shit was starting to feel real. The throbbing beat of the rhythm and bass music was not helping matters; it only made me more aware of the blood pounding through my heart and veins. I was starting to feel a little nauseated.

  Shit, I’d never done anything like this. I wasn’t normally a violent person. I was kind of freaking out. If I had only gotten it done last night, when it was more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of plan, it would have been so much better. But spending the whole day planning and preparing and packing and…Well, suffice it to say that my emotional turmoil level was pretty damned high.

  But then I thought about Thea, my only sister, the one I was supposed to take care of. And I knew I had to go through with it. There was no way I would let Mr. Fletch get away with killing her and live freely for the rest of forever. No way in hell. I had to do it. I had to take him out. And do the best I could to survive beyond that.

  I swallowed hard and kept sweeping the room with my eyes until they snagged on Torch.

  Fucking Torch. Who looked so delectably, fuckably fantastic, my heart about jumped into my throat. My skin pricked up, and my face started smiling right into his eyes. He smirked.

  Goddamnit. I had no control over myself. This did not work. This had to stop.

  Very purposefully, I forced my cheeks back down and my mouth to straighten out. Still locked in with his eyes, I lifted my chin in as cool a greeting as I could manage and continued to scan the room again in search of my fucking boss.

  Apparently, that did not satisfy. Torch immediately beelined to me in his confident swagger, and he had lost the smirk. When he got within grabbing distance, he had the nape of my neck in his hand and pulled me in for a no-holds-barred declaration of rights and possession. His tongue swept into my mouth, rubbing along my own, circling and sucking. My knees about dropped out from under me, and I had to grab on to his wrists to keep myself upright. After god only knew how long, he lifted his head, looked into my eyes, and growled, “That’s the proper greeting. Use it.”

  My eyes popped. “Excuse me? What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t know what you think is going on here, but it’s not like—”

  “Oh, but it is.” He shook his head at me. “You need to clue in, little one. Did you forget already? What did we cover last night?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. And I didn’t really want to know, because something told me it was not going to work well with my plans that would finally end the Centerfold chapter of my fucked-up life tonight.

  “I’m pretty sure we had amazing sex last night. That’s what we covered. So, this is cute and all, but I don’t have time for fun and games tonight, Torch. I’ll see you when I see you.” And I turned to walk away.

  He grabbed my arm and swung me back around. “Yeah, it was amazin’, baby. So
, no, I am not gonna let you just walk away from this. And I am not gonna sit back and watch you self-destruct, which is definitely where you were headed when I found you upstairs last night. Remember that, Erin? You got a problem. And I’m tellin’ you—again—what your body already knows.” He slipped his arm behind me and across to the opposite hip, and pulled my body flush with his. My nipples immediately went hard, and my pussy flooded. My body was a freaking traitor to my mind. “You need me. And you want me. And I’m not lettin’ you go.”

  “Oh no? Well, sweetheart, you have to let me go. There’s a no-hands rule here.” I smirked at him, thinking I’d found an easy out.

  “Sass. You’re too much fun. Lucky for me, the lovers’ loophole gives me full rights.”

  “There is no lovers’ loophole.”

  “You don’t think? Baby, I can show you how to make one anytime. You just say the magic word.”

  Gah! He was messing with me. And my body was totally buying it; he was so quirky and animated, totally enjoying himself, and his twisted logic and witticism had my brain searching for rejoinders in equal kind. Damn him and his hotness—he was turning my brain on, too. I was super wet. And leaning into him. And he was basically holding me up. And my head was tilted back so I could meet his eyes, which were shining. And I couldn’t stop myself from wanting him more.