Bishop: Dead Legion MC #1

by Krane, Kasey

  She smiled back at me, her even white teeth glinting in the darkness. “Well, I did sneak up on an armed man in the middle of the night in the middle of the desert. I kinda deserve whatever happens at that point.” She laughed, and a shiver went up my spine.

  No matter what shit went down with the club, I had to keep Jules out of it. She was one of the few pure things left in this fucked-up scenario. More than protecting the club, I had to keep the truth about the Dead Legion from Jules to protect my relationship with her. She’d never trust me if she knew what I’d done in the name of the Dead Legion.

  She’d never love me if she knew the truth.

  I reached out and drew her to me. “Well,” I said seductively, staring down at her green eyes that sparkled even in the dim light, “I can think of at least one way for you to beg my forgiveness.”

  “Oh really,” she said, laughing up at me, biting her lower lip. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to suck her bottom lip into my mouth and make it mine. Taste its sweetness and never fucking let her go.

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” she teased. “Who knows what an outlaw biker would want an innocent girl like me to do?”

  Her words, teasing and light and funny, struck at me like darts thrown dead center. They echoed my thoughts exactly - what the fuck was a girl like her doing with a guy like me? I’d done things to people that she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Sure, she was from the big city and sure, she’d probably seen some shit that wasn’t pretty.

  But she wasn’t an Old Lady. She didn’t know how fucked up things could get in an MC.

  Anger covered up my self-recriminations and instead of asking myself what I should change to be the person she thought me to be, I lashed out instead. My arm shot out and I wrapped my hand around her upper arm and dragged her towards me. No questions, no possibility of telling me no. She was mine and she was damn well gonna start acting like it. Fuck the consequences.

  I crushed my lips against hers, pulling her up onto her toes, wrapping my arms around her body. I thrust my tongue into her mouth cruelly, pushing, sucking, moving against hers.

  It took me a moment to realize that she was meeting me, thrust for thrust. Instead of pulling back and demanding me to stop, she was sinking against me, wrapping her arms around me, giving me as good as I got.

  I calmed down a little and began kissing her with not just anger, but passion. She may not know I loved her, and she probably never would, but I could tell her with actions.

  Even if I could never tell her with words.

  26

  Jules

  Bishop scooped me up and carried me back to camp. I was cradled in his arms as if I weighed nothing, despite what my bathroom scale told me every morning. He was going to hurt himself if he continued to do this.

  “What—”

  He cut me off with a quick dip of his head, pressing his lips against mine. He kept walking though. He kept one eye open to watch for holes and snakes and cacti - shit the Sonora Desert loved to surprise people with. Finally, he pulled his head up.

  “You’re going—”

  He dipped his head again, cutting my words off. This time, I got the message and leaned back into his arms, allowing him to carry me without questions. I always wanted to be in control. I always wanted to know what was going on, and plan accordingly. For once, I was going to do my best to let that need go.

  I was going to try to trust Bishop.

  We stopped outside of the tent that we erected earlier, and he gently set me down, sliding my body against his on the descent to the ground. I felt his hardened cock press against my belly as I slid down, and my stomach jumped in anticipation.

  I quickly kicked my tennis shoes off while he unlaced his boots. He stripped his cut and shirt off, revealing his bronzed chest to the moonlight. I opened my mouth to ask him why he wanted us to be so quiet but he pressed his finger against my lips, stopping my words before they could escape.

  I finally, fully and completely, gave myself over to him. Like a physical weight that I’d been carrying around with me, I let it go - everything. I let Bishop become my all. We crawled into the tent, Bishop cupping my ass before we fully got in. He reached behind him and pulled the zippered door closed, and then set about to undressing me in the confines of the tent.

  I’d never tried to fuck in a tent before, let alone tried to do it in complete silence, but somehow, these restrictions just made it more forbidden. More sexy. More naughty.

  He nipped his way up my thighs and to my exposed, wet pussy. He licked, broad strokes of his tongue, on the outside of my lips before delving between them and focusing on that button of pleasure that made me writhe on the sleeping bag, gasping with joy.

  Obviously not content with my quiet whimpers, he reached into his bag and pulled a clean red bandana - packed for tomorrow’s ride back, no doubt. Instead, he rolled it into a long strip and tied it around my head, gagging me. It was, bar nothing, the hottest thing I’d ever done in the sack. Knowing that I couldn’t protest even if I wanted made a mini-orgasm roll through me.

  He reached up and grabbed my wrists in his, holding them above my head. He shifted and began sucking on my nipples, one and then the other, flicking the hard nubs with the tip of his tongue, and suddenly, the gag was not just hot but incredibly necessary. I had always had sensitive nipples and during sex, was able to come just from nipple stimulation. But this…this was so much more. I was so horny, I wanted to scream it to the world, but instead could only grunt my pleasure.

  He reached out and began playing with my other nipple as he suckled on my breast. Suddenly, he left my breasts, which made me groan even louder.

  Come back! I shouted in my mind.

  And then he was, but without his leather chaps or Kevlar jeans. His cock, freed at last, pulsed hot against my leg, and I shifted, trying to get him to shove it inside of me.

  Just fuck me!!!

  And then, as if he’d heard my plea, he slid between my legs and pushed the head of his cock against my moist entrance. I arched my hips, trying to get him to move - Move inside me! - when he finally did. With one smooth motion, he pushed into me, up to the hilt, buried inside of me. He paused for a moment to let me adjust to him, but I didn’t want adjusting. I didn’t want accommodations. I wanted fucking, pure and raw and right. I bucked my hips and he took the hint.

  Faster and faster, he pushed into me, drawing out, pushing in harder, faster, his breaths shallower, and then she was bucking wildly, the orgasm pulsing through me. Waves radiated through me, from my pussy to my fingertips. He finally let go of my wrists and I wrapped my arms around him, digging my fingernails into his back, begging him to make me his.

  His hot seed spurted into me and he arched, frozen, as wave after wave came out. His breath stopped, his eyes scrunched close, as he poured his come into me.

  Finally, after an endless eternity, he collapsed, his breath returning, his cock softening and slipping out of me. He reached up and pulled the gag out of my mouth.

  “Sorry about that,” he whispered, his breath hot on my cheek.

  Still shaking from orgasms, it took me a minute to regain my presence of mind enough to speak. “No problem,” I whispered back. “In fact, feel free to gag me anytime.” I grinned at him in the darkness, and he grinned back.

  Fuck yeah, he could tie me up anytime he wanted to.

  27

  Jules

  I woke up with a groan, rolling over and up against something warm. My eyes popped open and I stared into the deep brown eyes of Bishop.

  “Oh!” I yelped in surprise, and he laughed.

  “Good morning to you, too. How’d you sleep?”

  “Fine, except there was this rock right here,” I pointed to my left shoulder blade, “that was doing its best to dig its way into me. Camping is fun, you know, minus the whole lumpy ground part. People seriously sleep on the ground on purpose? On a regular basis?”

  He let out a belly laugh. I felt a tingle skitter up my spine.
/>
  What a gorgeous sound to wake up to.

  “I think most people try to avoid rocks, but yeah, people do this on purpose. On a regular basis.” His voice mimicked my New York accent and I laughed back at him.

  “I guess I deserve that,” I said. “So, curiosity killed the cat over here - are you gonna tell me why the requirement for silence last night? It’s not like people are going to be surprised to see me crawl out of your tent. I didn’t bring one of my own to erect.”

  “Oh that,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I just wanted you to shut up for more than 20 seconds at a time.”

  I gasped with outrage and began beating him over the head and shoulders with my pillow. He laughed and rolled and dodged my whacks, until finally he couldn’t breathe anymore. “Fine, stop, I surrender,” he got out between gasps.

  I crawled over him and sat on his chest, my head brushing the side of the tent.

  Only midgets should sleep in tents.

  “I think you should apologize before I let you go,” I pronounced, looking down at him, trying to be serious but failing miserably.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. He dropped his hands and ran them up my naked thighs. “You’re right, I shouldn’t say such things about a lady like yourself. I really did it last night because I wanted you to be quiet for more than 52 seconds at a time,” and then began tickling me ferociously.

  I squirmed, laughing and fending his attacks off, and then he was growing hard, and there were much better things to be focusing on.

  * * *

  Packing up camp was a lot less fun than putting everything out, I discovered, but eventually we got it all put away and into the van. We got onto his bike for the ride home and I winced. Between being on a bike for hours on end, the athletic activities we indulged in in the tent, and sleeping on the ground, my body wasn’t real happy. Bishop reached back and popped open the visor on my helmet.

  “You want some ibuprofen or something?” he asked, the concern evident in his eyes. “Riding can be rough on the body when you start out.”

  “Yeah, that’d be great,” I said gratefully. I swung back off the back to allow Bishop off, and then stood by it, watching, as he headed to the supplies van. I took my helmet off and let my head breathe a little. I pulled my hair back into a braid that morning in preparation for the ride back but without a mirror or a way to bathe, I was sure I looked like hell. I was surprised Bishop wanted me on the bike with him.

  He made his way back with water, ibuprofen, and a trail bar. “You should eat something too,” he urged me. “We don’t stop on the way back, so it’ll be a long ride.” He shoved an apple into my hand. “Eat this too. It’ll help tide you over until we get back to Deming.”

  He was right - the ride back was long. And hot. And even though I’d been religious about slathering on SPF 50 sunscreen every day, my light skin was still starting to burn under the hot desert sun. By time we got back to Deming, I wanted to eat, drink my way out of a bath tub, take a bath, and sleep. I wasn’t even particularly choosy about what order those activities came in.

  Bishop went through a drive-thru and bought me a burrito - finally, the Mexican food I’d always thought of when I thought of Mexican food - and then drove me back to The Hideaway. With a kiss, he let me off the bike and into the cool of the motel room.

  “I gonna go run back to my place for the night. I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked as I made my way to the door.

  I nodded, too exhausted to respond and pushed myself into my room. I sat on the bed, the anemic AC blasting on high, as I scarfed down the burrito. Feeling a tiny bit better about the world, I realized that I needed to do one more thing before crawling into the bathtub and dying: I needed to call Evan.

  I grabbed my cell phone and dialed Blush. After being patched through the various secretaries, I got Evan on the line.

  “What?” he barked into the phone. This was his classic greeting to everyone, so I didn’t take it personally.

  “Hey Evan, it’s Jules,” I said, trying to keep the exhaustion out of my voice. “I know I’m supposed to be leaving on Sunday, but I’m having a hard time pinning Ghost down. He’s pretty busy with, you know, being an MC president.” I scrambled to say something that didn’t involve ‘bastard’ or ‘asshole,’ so I stuck with the G-rated descriptions of his commitments.

  “Jules,” he said, drawing my name out, disappointment dripping from his voice. “Ghost was so excited to have you there. I can’t believe you’ve just been fucking about and not working with him like he wants.”

  I gritted my teeth. There was no way my salivating boss would believe anything but the best about Ghost, and I knew arguing with him on the topic would only piss him off.

  “Well, he’s been pretty busy. Important man, you know,” I added, trying to sound as if I’d been impressed by the asshat. “But the bottom line is, I need to stay here longer. I’m thinking maybe Tuesday or Wednesday of next week.”

  “Jules, it’s only Friday! What on earth would take you so long?” Evan was starting to sound seriously annoyed.

  “He…uh…” I scrambled to think of a lie, “is going to be out of town for a couple of days, so I won’t be able to interview him until he comes back.” There was no way I was going to tell my boss that I wanted to stay longer because I had to figure out what the Dead Legion were into, and what was about to go down. I liked to pretend that it was my journalist instincts that were telling me shit was about to get real, but honestly, it didn’t take journalist instincts to feel the tension in the group. And something had happened to make Ghost change his original plan of escorting me around himself. I was just sure it was all interconnected, and I couldn’t give up on the puzzle yet.

  “Fine,” Evan harrumphed, “but the hotel bill is on your dime from tomorrow night forward. If you’ve been fuckin’ around, Blush sure as hell shouldn’t be footin’ the bill.”

  I bit back a sharp retort, knowing it wouldn’t do me any good. My boss sent me into the middle of the desert in July to report on a dangerous MC and its prez, booked me into a motel that even roaches would turn up their noses at, and then was upset with my work ethic? I swallowed my anger.

  “Sounds good,” I finally got out.

  “I’ll have accounting call the airlines and change your ticket,” he grumbled, and then hung up without another word.

  Grateful I could quit playacting, I tossed my cell onto the bed and walked into the bathroom. Hopefully this piece of shit hotel could at least provide a hot bath.

  28

  Jules

  I woke up and stretched, the burns and the aches and the bruises all screaming at me that this whole ‘awake’ thing was a bad idea. I rolled over looked, bleary-eyed, at the alarm clock on the nightstand. 9:02 am. Bishop would be there soon.

  Dammit.

  A quick shower, some more ibuprofen, and some aloe vera slathered onto my thighs and shoulders, I felt more human.

  Today was the day. I had to find out what was going on in the club. I had to figure out what Ghost was hiding from me.

  And Bishop, but that was a thought I didn’t want to contemplate, so I pushed it away.

  Speaking of, there were three quick knocks and then Bishop was opening the motel room door.

  “You should lock your door,” he admonished me in lieu of a greeting, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

  “Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t,” I said, surprised. I lived in New York City - I locked everything. I knew was tired the night before, but good hell, I must have been worse off than I realized.

  He strode over to me, wrapped his hands around my head, and kissed the fuck outta me. Finally stepping back, he smiled down at me. “Good morning,” he said softly. I ran my hands up his tats and onto his shoulders.

  “Good morning to you,” I whispered softly. How a fuck-gorgeous man like this was interested in me was beyond comprehension, but I was starting to realize that I just didn’t car
e. I’d let Bishop think I was beautiful. Who was I to argue?

  “So, I have a very important question to ask,” he said. His eyes were lit up, teasing, and I couldn’t help smiling up at him.

  “Oh, 42!” I exclaimed.

  He gave me a blank look and I realized that the chances that an outlaw biker from Deming, New Mexico had read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was pretty damn slim.

  “Never mind,” I said, laughing. “What were you going to ask?”

  “Have you ever been to Mexico?”

  “No, why?” I asked, curiously.

  “Well, we deliver cargo down there and bring it back all the time, so it’s nothin’ to me, but I was thinking that you might want to have a day trip down there. Did you bring your passport?”

  “I did,” I said excitedly. “I really didn’t expect anything to come of it, but I brought it just in case.” I rummaged around in my bag and pulled it out, waving it around enthusiastically.

  I was excited to go to Mexico, no question about it, but I was even more excited because the timing was perfect. Bishop had to be going down there to meet with the Sangre, or spy on them, or something. I’d be able to go along for the ride and watch his every move, which to be honest, I was doing anyway. It was hard to be around a guy like Bishop without drooling over his every move.

  But here, finally, was a chance for me to put a few more of the pieces of the puzzle together. With any luck, Bishop would let something slip and I’d be able to connect a few dots.

  29

  Bishop

  As we roared along the freeway towards the border, I chewed over the day’s plans in my mind. Ghost was getting antsy about Jules, and he hadn’t even heard about the library incident. He would’ve gone ballistic if he had.