by K. L. Savage
And then I’m going to dirty her up and ruin those fucking sheets with sweat stains and cum. Fuck, I’m getting hard thinking about it.
“Let’s fucking go. Jesus, wipe the pussy juice off your face and get your ass in gear, Jenkins!” Tool bellows, nearly busting in the door again from the hard force of his fist. The fucker won’t call me Boomer.
“Wait for me, okay?” I tell her, snatching the bag off the floor as I head to the door.
“I’ll always wait for you, Boomer,” she says.
I almost stop again, but I trudge ahead and open the door, leaving the only woman I’ve ever loved. I never thought it would be so damn difficult. Hearing her say she’ll wait for me, damn it to hell; I’m a lucky a man.
Women don’t wait for guys like me.
I’m nowhere near perfect, but I’ll do my damn best to be perfect for her.
I make my way out the door and jump off the porch, landing soundly in the sand. As I walk from the room to my bike, I think about all the things I want to do when this is over. I want to make things right with my family, with my sister, and apologize to her even though it will never be enough. Maybe I can go home and start my life again now that I’ve found what I was looking for to quiet my mind.
Scarlett.
“Jesus, thought I was going to have to tackle that big ogre again about coming to get you. He doesn’t shut his damn trap, does he?” Homer bitches as he sweeps the walkway.
“Ha! You should tell him that, Homer. He’d love it.”
“Maybe I will. I’m old, but I got a lot of fight left in me.”
“I’ll see you later, old man.”
“Ah, fuck you, shithead,” Homer grumbles, sweeping the dust and dirt at me. I try to get away from the cloud, laughing, but it sticks to my jeans anyway.
“’Bout fucking time. You think evil waits, Jenkins?” Tool says behind a cigarette as he lights it. “Typical. Fucking careless.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. I toss my bag down and charge him. “You got something to say, Tool? Let’s go. Fucking say it. I’m done with you. No more snide comments; say what you need to say.”
Tool pushes against my chest, and I stumble, but not enough to lose my footing completely. I let out an angry cry, tackling the big fucker to the ground. I lift my fist back to slam it against his jaw. “You don’t know fucking shit about me! You don’t know anything!” I scream at him, and Reaper grabs my fist before I can throw another punch. “Let me go,” I seethe.
“We don’t have time for this shit. Get your head on straight and get on your bikes. You two can figure out your shit later, when there aren’t abused women needing our help.” Reaper pulls me off Tool in one tug, making me fly backward. Next, he grabs Tool by the cut and pulls him up too, his bicep flexing with the heavyweight. “I expect more from a seasoned VP. You’re almost twice his age, Tool. He’s young. He fucks up. He learns. Maybe you should do the same.”
“Yes, Prez,” Tool and I mumble at the same time. I don’t give the VP another look. I go to my bike, mount it, start it, and fly out of there. The roar of the bikes follow behind me, and the adrenaline from fighting with Tool is coursing through my veins. I go faster, letting go of the throttle to gain more pavement in a shorter amount of time.
Ten minutes later, we’re closing in on the clubhouse again, but we park down the road so they can’t see us. This isn’t about hanging out and shooting the shit; this is surveillance. Reaper and Bullseye are the only ones going inside.
I’m stuck with Tool. Luckily, I have the rest of the guys at my back, and I have a feeling Tool doesn’t give a fuck about it. We push our bikes into the woods to hide them, and Reaper and Bullseye continue down the road, disappearing behind the cloud of dust.
“Know your way, boy scout?” Tool snips.
“Shut up, Tool. You know what Prez said. Just keep your mouth shut.”
I appreciate Poodle more right now. I always thought he was just a big goof, but maybe there’s more to Poodle than meets the eye. I slap him on the back and give him a tight smile. And good old Poodle, he gives me a happy-go-lucky grin.
Hunkering down, I push through the thin branches and wet leaves. A few briars catch my skin, pricking the surface enough for it to bleed. I watch my step, carefully placing my boots on clearer surfaces that don’t have twigs or leaves. Our goal is to not make noise.
After a few minutes, we come to the tree line behind the shed that has my interest. I reach up and push a branch out of the way, shaking a bit of water down from the leaves onto my face. Reaper is outside still, talking to Venom. We have to wait for him to go inside. It’s the only way. We left too early. The sun hasn’t set yet.
“Shit,” Tool hisses softly and hides behind a skinny tree. His shoulders show from either side.
A member of the club is walking behind the house, arm wrapped around a girl who’s clearly strung out and unwilling. I lay down on the earth’s floor, and Poodle, Badge, Knives, follow suit. I’m hoping they go into the shed, but they don’t. The man stumbles and laughs, almost tripping over his drunken feet. Reaper sees the guy and points, laughing at him to show Venom that he’s all in. Venom gestures the drunk asshole toward him, and they walk inside, the poor girl still attached to the man’s arm.
Not for much longer. Not if I have anything to say about it.
Music blares from inside, and a few more bikes show up; not Ruthless Kings, but a different club. I can’t see the backs of their cuts from here.
“What the fuck?”
For once, Tool says what I’m thinking. Surely other people aren’t in on this.
I’m not sure how long we wait there, but it’s dark, and the party inside is roaring. “Now’s the time. Everyone ready?” Tool asks us.
“Yeah,” I say. “And what makes you think that tiny tree can hide your fat ass?” I chuckle. What an idiot.
“I panicked, okay? Let’s go.” We inch from the woods like stealthy trained professionals. There’s a glass breaking somewhere in the house, and it makes all of us freeze. “Jesus, I want to get out of here.”
Me too. There are only a handful of us and an army of them.
“Hey, what’s this?” Bullseye asks, stopping near a pair of doors that look like they go into the basement. The doors are old and rusted, yet another chain holds them down. Only certain people can get in, so no one can get out.
“It leads to the basement, where the girls were. I don’t remember seeing another entrance, but I wasn’t really focused on that. I wanted to get them out.” I keep my voice as low as I can.
“I really want to kill these guys,” Tool growls, taking out his screwdriver and putting it in the lock. I’m not sure how he manages to unlock shit with one screwdriver, but he does, and I’m not going to question it.
I look over my shoulder to the shed, knowing this has to come first, but whatever is in there deserves our attention too. “We have to be quick.”
“I know,” Tool grunts as the lock pops free. “Bingo,” he says happily. Slowly, he slides the chain free, so it doesn’t clink loudly against the metal door. Tool looks around, making sure no one is around, and it makes the rest of us nervous, so we check too.
An owl hoots, and it causes me to jump.
Poodle chuckles, and I smack him on the back of the head. “Shut up.”
“Still funny.”
I mock him as I grab the rusted handle of one side of the door, and Tool grabs the other. We lift simultaneously, and it’s much heavier than I expected. I plant my feet into the ground and huff out a strangled breath. Tool barely breaks a sweat.
The big fucker.
“Two of us go in. You guys be the lookout.” Tool points to Badge, Knives, Tongue, and Poodle.
“You sure? You might need me,” Tongue drawls, whipping is blade out. “I can be quick.”
“You know what? Yeah, Tongue. Get down here,” I tell him.
Tool hardens his eyes at me, and I lift my hands. “Better safe than sorry. I’d rather have his crazy a
ss down here than Poodle.”
“That’s not nice,” Poodle mumbles.
“Sorry, Poodle. You aren’t violent enough.”
He nods in understanding and kicks the ground. “That’s fair.”
Jesus, never thought that would hurt someone’s feelings.
“Okay, enough fucking pillow talk. We only have an hour to scope the place. Let’s go.” Tool heads into the darkness first, and Tongue follows, then me. Whimpers and cries echo through the basement. I’m reminded of Scarlett and her fear, and I want nothing more than to help these girls, but we can’t today. We don’t have the time or the resources. It’s only about gathering information.
“I’m going to cut the tongues out of every member in the chapter for doing this.” Tongue’s voice rattles with bitterness and the promise of bringing hell down on the men that did this.
“Please, don’t hurt us,” one of the girls cries. She’s bundled up in a corner in a tight ball, the same collar around her neck that Scarlett once wore. “Please.”
“Darlin’, no one is going to hurt you, okay? We’re the good guys.” Tool inches forward softly. “I know you see the cuts and the same name, but we’re a different chapter. You don’t know what that means, but we’re safe.”
“Are you going to get us out of here?” another woman says from the other side of the room.
“Not tonight. We’re sorry.” Tool doesn’t beat around the bush, and it makes all the women sob uncontrollably, nearly sending me to my knees. We’re their only hope, and we’re letting them down.
“Don’t leave us down here, please,” another says.
God, how many are there? They keep speaking up. My head starts to swim with anxiety, and I clutch each side when the thoughts scream at me.
You’re a failure. You’re weak. You can’t save them all. They’re as good as dead, and you killed them.
“No, no, no.” The words are small and distorted as they fall from my lips. No one hears me … except Tongue.
“Don’t listen to it,” Tongue whispers to me. “You’re better than the enemy in your head; believe me.”
I think I’m going crazy.
“Please,” a woman’s sad voice, still full of hope, calls out.
“We’re gathering information on how to help you guys. Just a few more days, okay? I need you guys to hang in there.” Tool looks just as hopeless as I feel as he looks at each woman. He knows they might not have a few days. “We will come back for you, okay? As fast as we can. We aren’t prepared tonight.”
“You swear?” the one who spoke first asks. “Because you have no idea what they’re going to do to us in those two days.” She turns away, disheartened, and a part of me wonders why we have to wait. Why not take them now?
Because they’ll come to the motel, and we need more men. Reaper needs to call in the cavalry.
“We’ll come back. I don’t care if the effort kills me,” Tool tells all of them. He turns his back, and all his brothers follow—me included—and it’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done. We climb the steps out of the basement, and every damn time my foot hits the ground, I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing by leaving these women to their own defenses. Poodle, Knives, and Badge are standing there, looking vigilant and at the ready.
“That bad?” Poodle asks.
With heavy hearts, Tool and I close the doors with a resounding clatter, trapping the girls inside once again. We slide the chain through the handles and lock it. “Worse,” I say to the guys. “So much fucking worse.”
Tool blows out a breath, staring at the closed doors that lead to hell, and I feel like the devil for having to walk away. A loud commotion from out front makes us pause, and then we look for a hiding place, but nothing is in view. “Behind the shed, go!” Tool hisses, and we all sprint behind the one damn place we came here to look in.
We place our backs against the wood, my chest heaving, but the small promise of having to light something on fire to protect us has me trembling with excitement.
“Reaper, this is what I have to show you,” Venom slurs, and the familiar rattle of the chains sliding out of the doors let us know he’s about to go inside the shed. “The ultimate paradise, Reap. You’re going to love this.”
The creak of the doors is loud even through the beat of the music from the house. “We made each stall a room. You know, for the men who want to have a little taste of their product before they buy.”
“What are they doing up there?” Reaper’s asks.
“Those are the fucking traitors who don’t agree with me. Isn’t that right, Kansas?”
I give Tool a questioning look before hearing a low moan of pain. It sounds like a man.
“That’s Kansas, One-Eye—don’t let the two eyes fool you; one is made of glass—and that’s Arrow, my old VP. How’s it hanging, Arrow?” Venom cackles. “They get to watch as I live out what I’m destined to do. Since they hate it so much. Don’t have room for traitors, Reaper.”
“Me either, Venom.”
There’s an underlying tone in each statement they said to one another. A silent threat.
Question is, who’s going to make good on that threat?
21
Scarlett
Boomer barely speaks to me when he returns from the clubhouse. Whatever happened tonight really got to him. He looks defeated, and the battle hasn’t even really begun. The shower turns on, and I debate if I want to go in there to comfort him. He doesn’t seem like he wants company.
Too bad. I won’t let him lock himself away in his mind. I’m here to help him, and he’s going to have to get used to that. I take off my shirt and slip off my panties. When I get to the bathroom, I pull the shower curtain back and see him leaning against the tile, eyes shut, head hanging as the water sprays against his back.
I step inside and close the curtain and get on my knees, wanting to service him tonight. He deserves it. I run my hands down his slick body, and the ridges of his abs roll against my palm. His cock lays against his thigh, and the dark hairs on the white of his flesh are wet, sticking to him. It’s beautiful.
Just like him.
“I don’t know, Scarlett. I have a lot in my head tonight,” he says, squeezing his eyes and turning his upper body away from me. “I want nothing more than your mouth on me, but—”
“No buts,” I say, trailing my hands down the tree trunk of his thighs, so hard and defined. “I want you to let go. I’m here to cleanse your mind, Jenkins. Let go. Let me take care of you.” I take his flaccid cock in my mouth and flick my tongue across the head. His hand flies to the back of my skull, and he groans, digging his blunt nails into my scalp.
“Fuck, you may be right, sugar. Your lips need to be wrapped around me more often.” He tosses his head back into the rush of water.
He quickly firms up, and his nine-inch cock becomes too much to fit my lips around. I love looking at his dick. The plum-shaped head is a deep burgundy color from all the blood rushing to his girth, and I palm his heavy sack in one hand, loving how big they are just like the rest of him. I can’t fit both in one hand. They’re so full of his cum, and I want to release the pressure for him and make him feel at ease.
I lick the vein up the muscle and then back down before taking him in my mouth again. “You are so fucking good at blowing me, sugar. Yeah, just like that.” One hand is flat against the tile behind me, and the other is still on my head as I bob up and down, slurping him as if he’s a popsicle melting in the summer.
I need to make sure I get every inch before it’s too late.
I roll his orbs in one hand, and he hisses. “Harder. Tug on them.” I give a test tug, and he grunts. “More, fucking pull, sugar.” The thin skin stretches as I tug and give a twist, hoping I don’t hurt him. “Fuck!” He slams his fist against the wall. “Yes, just like that. Oh, fuck me,” he groans.
I smile around the mouthful, feeling more confident than ever. I quicken my pace and flicker my eyes up at him through wet lashes. Water has soaked
his hair, causing it to lay over his forehead and drip down on me like a waterfall. His eyes are almost black as he watches me.
He’s a wicked want, a sinister promise.
And I plan to give in to both.
His defined body is sculpted with muscle and decorated in a few scars that I want to ask about. He hasn’t had an easy life, one he doesn’t really talk to me about, and I want to know it all. Why won’t he give it to me. It angers me, and it makes me suck his cock with more vengeance. I’m here for him; why doesn’t he know that?
I tighten my lips and take him to the back of my throat, giving him a tease of teeth along the way.
“I’m going to come!” He thrusts into my mouth until I gag, and I squeeze his balls tighter for making me do that, but I love it all at the same time. He holds my head down until my nose is buried in his thick brown bush. “Oh, fuck,” he moans, pumping me full of the salty goodness. It slides down my throat as I swallow greedily, loving the taste of him.
He slides out of me, still hard and aching. My clit is throbbing, and my hole is spasming for him to fill me up. I slide my hand down between my legs to ease the pressure, and he picks me up and flips me around. “Did sucking my cock turn you on, sugar? Does my dick in your mouth get you needy for me?” The words sound bitter, laced with poison as he rocks his cock between my cheeks.
“Please, Jenkins, please,” I beg, hoping he makes me feel just as good.
Without warning, he plunges into me, and the unexpected force makes me cry out. Our wet skin slaps as he fucks me hard and fast, without gentleness, without care, just pure anger. “This pussy is so good. It’s mine, isn’t it. All fucking mine. No one else’s. Not them. Not them. Not. Fucking. Them. Mine! Son of a fucking bitch; you’re mine.” He falls against my back, pumping his cock in and out of me as he kisses the back of my neck. “Tell me, sugar.” I’ve never heard him sound so desperate before.
I push him back with my ass and flip around, wrap my legs around his waist, and circle my arms around his neck. “Yours, Jenkins.” I lay my hand on his heart, and he slides in and out and hits all the right spots, deliciously sending all of my body into a frenzy of fireworks.