Ace: Devil’s Nightmare MC

by Bourne, Lena

  How can it be so cold now when the days are so hot? I never understood that.

  I don’t want to wake him and I don’t want to return to my life at the Sinners’ clubhouse. But there’s no avoiding it, there’s no escaping it, I have to return.

  Last night was magical. Everything about it—from the ride, to the dinner, to the sex on the beach—was just perfect and straight out of my daydreams back when I still enjoyed days and nights like that, when I still looked forward to spending them with guys. The Sinners killed that in me. Ace brought it back with flame and passion.

  Despite all my searching, I never found a guy who could make me come so hard, who made me feel as good as Ace does. It’s not fair. Not fair that I only found him now that I’m not free to have him.

  Because I’m nothing more than a slave. A sex slave to the Sinners. The only thing that saved me from getting used by every random MC guy until now was how fixated Horse is on me, and how much he also doesn’t like to share. Now, after I spent the night with Ace, he’s gonna let every biker at the club take a turn. He’s probably gonna insist on it. For all of Ace’s talk of how he doesn’t like to share, I don’t trust it. He got what he wanted from me last night. I bet I’ve lost all novelty for him now that he got to fuck me. It’s how guys are. All of them.

  The ocean is just a shinier black mass against the general blackness of this pre-dawn—menacing and gleaming with danger. Even the waves washing across the sand sound like a thousand snakes hissing. I wish I could just lie back down and fall asleep in Ace’s arms again. But what’s the point? What’s the point in stealing even one more moment of bliss, when all it’ll do is make the bad that’s coming seem that much worse.

  No use postponing the inevitable.

  No use pretending its not inevitable.

  I poke Ace’s shoulder and call his name, then have to graduate to shaking him and yelling his name before he finally opens his eyes. Cold white dawn light is creeping up from the ocean when he’s finally awake.

  He sits up, stretches, yawns loudly, then pulls me into his arms, giving me a tight bear hug and a sloppy kiss.

  “Your skin’s cold as ice,” he complains, but instead of letting me go, he picks up the blanket and wraps it around us both, showering us with sand. I don’t remember the last guy who was nice to me like this, who thought of my comfort first, before his own. I don’t know if any ever were.

  “It gets almost as cold here at night as it does in the desert,” I tell him. “I don’t know why that is when the days are so hot.”

  “Yeah, I never got that either,” he says, hugging me tighter. I think he’s just as cold as I am. “So, you’ve been to the desert?”

  “I grew up in Las Vegas, well, in a small town right next to it,” I say. “The nights were colder than this, but not by much.”

  I have no idea why I told him that about me. No one at the club, except Brenda, knows where I’m from and I wanted to keep it that way. But he’s just so easy to talk to. And the way he’s holding me so tight and smiling at me so pleasantly gives me hope that maybe he’s not done with me yet. That maybe I don’t have to worry about Horse’s revenge. Yet. Or maybe not ever.

  “I’m from Michigan. You really don’t know cold until you’ve spent a winter there,” he tells me.

  “No way,” I say, laughing. “Watching snow capped mountains in the distance is about as close to winter as I wanna come, thank you very much.”

  “I don’t blame you.” He laughs with me. “So, you’re just one of them rare desert flowers, is that right?”

  I almost tell him I’m no kind of flower, especially not a rare one, but then I look at him from the corner of my eye and think that maybe he meant it. Why would I want to ruin a moment like this with the truth?

  “If you say so,” I say anyway, because lies, unsaid or otherwise, have no place between us.

  He laughs again, then kisses me, his lips catching me off guard, but only for a moment.

  After a few minutes of our lips and tongues entwined, of his hands exploring the skin of my legs and ass, and breasts and neck, I’m not cold anymore, far from it, I’m burning with desire, lust, longing, and yearning for the same orgasm he gave me last night.

  His cock is already rock hard and doesn’t need any help from my palm, which I’m sliding up and down its velvety, throbbing thickness regardless.

  He lays me down on my back without taking his lips off mine. I don’t release his cock, not until he’s kneeling between my legs, holding them spread wide.

  I release him so he can enter me. He does, more slowly than last night, easily, gliding in deep, past all my resistance, making me moan and gasp and groan and wish for more. I’ve been ready for more of him since last night, since I woke up this morning, since forever, maybe.

  He kisses me again, deeply yet not wildly, as he pulls his cock out just as slowly, all the way to the tip. Then he pushes back in, and pulls out slowly again, going deeper each time, caressing every inch of my pussy, showing me spots of pleasure I didn’t know I possessed. Soon, I can feel every inch of his velvety hardness, every ridge and bump, every beat of his heart through the thick vein running along his cock.

  The slow strokes keep coming, turning my entire body into a pool of softly bubbling water, sweet and warm, pleasant and right, as nothing else is or can be. Every slow thrust of his cock adds to the warmth, the pleasure, the perfectness of this moment, yet none make the waters of bliss overflow.

  I’m no longer cold, I don’t even remember ever being cold. All I know is this pleasure, this bliss, this serene rightness, which is better than the soft fuzziness right before dreams claim you, or that sleepy, perfect moment as you wake up from a great dream. But I’m wide awake. This is perfect. And it’s not a dream.

  I stop thinking. I simply focus on his cock caressing my pussy, waking sensations that ripple out all through my body like soft rings on a still pond after a pebble is tossed in. His lips are worshiping mine, our tongues entwined, the pleasure from both those origins colliding in the center of my body, multiplying, radiating outward and filling me, caressing everything I am, inside and out.

  Soon, too soon, these waters of bliss and pleasure grow beyond what my body and mind can contain. The orgasm that washes through me as I surrender is perfect too, in pitch, strength and timing. I’m shuddering with it, moaning as I try to breathe past his lips.

  Not that I need to do anything other than enjoy this moment and make it last, other than remember this moment for as long as I live.

  9

  Ace

  The second time I woke up on the beach I was hot from the midday sun beating down on us. Desert-like indeed. Stormi wanted to return to the clubhouse right away, but I insisted on buying her breakfast first. Eating it took almost as long as our dinner last night did.

  She makes me forget all the other things I’m supposed to be doing. Women often have this effect on me, but none as strongly as her. She’s probably doing it on purpose, seducing me in a way I can’t say no to. All women know how to do that. But at the same time, I haven’t detected her doing anything of the sort. And at no time that I spent with her did I get the sense that I’m doing anything other than exactly what I want to be doing.

  As we finally pull into the clubhouse lot, I’m already planning on spending the rest of the day near her. We could start by taking a shower, then maybe retreat to her bed...

  Horse is standing by the back entrance into the bar, smoking a cigarette and scowling at us as we approach.

  “About time you got back, Stormi,” he says, ignoring me completely. I put my arm around her shoulders reflexively. They’re rock hard with tension. “Didn’t I tell you to be here last night?”

  She trips on her own feet as we walk toward Horse. I’m guessing it’s because her whole body has now gone rigid.

  “That’s my fault,” I interject. I’m trying to sound hearty, but it comes out more like a challenge, seeing as I’d much rather punch Horse in his long, scowling fac
e than talk to him. “I wanted to get a bite to eat, so we did, then one thing led to another, you know how it is.”

  I finish with a laugh, but he doesn’t even crack a grin. In fact his scowl grows blacker. I want to wipe it off with my fist.

  “She’s got things to do around here if she wants to keep getting paid, and she knows that very well. But she’s a cagey, conniving little bitch, so I’m not surprised she tricked you into keeping her out all night,” he says, looking at her not at me.

  I shouldn’t get this mad at hearing him call her a bitch, but the vein in my temple is throbbing in anger regardless.

  “I’m here now,” Stormi says defiantly, but she’s leaning on me with almost her whole weight. Her voice is firm, but she’s still as rigid as a concrete wall. The throbbing in my temple increases, and I pull her closer to my side.

  “The work’s gonna get done, don’t worry,” she adds in a small voice.

  “It better,” Horse says. “It fucking better, Stormi. You know very well it’s just by our good will that we keep you around.”

  I heard the threat between the lines of what he said, and she heard it too, because now she’s shivering. I have no fucking idea how to respond. How much fucking money did she steal? A million? He’s talking to her like she stole his right arm, not a bunch of cash.

  And what’s Horse doing here anyway? Was he waiting for us to get back so he can scold us? The small mound of cigarette butts by his feet suggests exactly that.

  I wish I didn’t know what to make of that, but I do. I should let Stormi go. But at one point last night I seem to have decided I’m not gonna do that just yet. I’m gonna find out if she’s really unlike any other woman I’ve ever been with, and that I’m gonna protect her from all danger while I do. I hope I don’t live to regret it, I hope I don’t end up finding out she’s just using me to get back at Horse for whatever beef they have going on.

  “She’s here now, and the day’s young yet,” I say, trying for lightness. “Besides, I’m sure you can give her a day off here and there, right?”

  He shoots me a very nasty look, but then cracks a tight grin a split second later. I think it’s because he remembered I saved his life without me having to remind him.

  “I prefer her to stay close to home,” Horse says. “With all the crap she’s already done, it’s safer that way. I’m sure you can understand that. And she knows better.”

  “I do know better,” Stormi says. She squeezes my hand then steps out of my embrace, while smiling at Horse. “I’m sorry about last night, Horse.”

  She heads for the door to the bar, giving me one little look over her shoulder before disappearing inside. I know I’m just goggling after her in confusion, but I can’t fucking help it. What the hell was that? Why’d she smile like that at him? Like she likes him way better that she’s been letting on for the last couple of days?

  Am I completely wrong about her? Is she just leading me on?

  It can’t be.

  I take a step to go after her to get those answers, because I’m the type that needs answers like that as soon as the questions come up, but Horse blocks my path.

  “We gotta ride, we’re late as it is,” he tells me.

  “Yeah, in a minute. I’m just gonna go shower and change first,” I tell him.

  I’m gonna do neither. I’m gonna go after Stormi and ask her what the hell kinda game she’s playing with me.

  I try to sidestep Horse, but he moves with me. “No, we gotta go right now. We’re already late.”

  I could just ignore him and do what I want to do. He can’t actually stop me physically, but amid my anger, confusion and need to know what’s what with Stormi, I am still holding onto a tiny thread of cold logic.

  I gotta go with him and stop making waves, or I’m really gonna fuck this job up.

  “Alright, lead the way,” I tell him.

  He grins, tells me to follow him, and I do it without saying anything more.

  Why can’t women be simple and easy to figure out? And why do I always gotta choose the one that’s hardest to figure out of them all? Life would be so much simpler if I didn’t.

  But the world does seem brighter and more colorful despite the anger and confusion still making the vein in my temple throb. And it’s because of Stormi. She woke those colors. She woke my temper. My lust too. It’s been awhile since anyone or anything did that.

  * * *

  For all Horse’s urgency in making us leave right away earlier, we’ve been doing nothing but following Bullard around all day. It’s the easiest surveillance job I’ve ever been on, since we’re basically just following the old man around, riding after him when he goes anywhere then stopping in plain sight when he arrives at his destination. The Devils use junior members and prospects for work like this. I haven’t had to do anything like this in years. It’s a brainless job. And it’s giving me all the time I could wish for to think about Stormi. I wish I had no time for it.

  For awhile, Horse left me to keep an eye on Bullard alone, while he trailed his son, which translated to me sitting on my bike under the scorching afternoon sun by the marina, watching the entrance to Bullard Construction Company and making sure the old man didn’t leave. It didn’t improve my mood in the slightest.

  Why’s Griff sending his sons on these brainless jobs?

  Is it some kind of punishment?

  Probably.

  Useless to try and analyze it, but try I did. Because the other option was worrying about Stormi and about whether she’s just playing me. And about whether she isn’t and she’s really in danger and I’m the only guy who can help her. Like a fucking knight in shining armor type of thing. I’ve never been that to any woman, as I’m sure all the ones I’ve been with would readily admit. But once, a long time ago, I styled myself the lone avenger doing what was right against all odds. This situation Stormi’s in and my role in it feels a lot like that did. But it’s all ancient history and I’ve never cared as much about a cause bigger than myself than I did about that one. The problem is, I care now. I care about protecting Stormi from Horse. And every time that thought pops into my head I wish I didn’t have time to think at all.

  I’m thirty-two years old. That’s way too old to still be having these kinds of teenage romantic notions. Plus, I now know that’s not how the world works. After ten years with the Devils, I know that very well.

  Fucking nonsense! The sun and the heat are messing with my head.

  She stole from the Sinners and now she’s paying off her debt. Her mistake, her problem. End of story. I’m not risking my life or my club to do anything about that. Why would I?

  There’s a bunch of reasons that spring to mind, including, but not limited to how skilled her little mouth is, and what a perfect fit her pussy is for my dick. Not to mention how good she smells and tastes. It’s more than just that though. No woman has ever captivated me this completely, this fast. I think I’ve thought about Stormi more in the past few days than I did about any of my past girlfriends in all my failed relationships.

  Fuck, I told her I’m from Michigan.

  The thought hits me like a bolt of lightning, rendering everything else I’ve been racking my brain with pointless. Her knowing that could blow my cover. The Spawns were from Illinois, and part of my cover story was that I grew up in the same town they called home.

  I didn’t mention that part yet to any of the Sinners, did I?

  I don’t think I did.

  Bullard’s son arrives before I can sink too deep into worrying about it. The top of his red convertible is down and the tinted windows are shut tight. I already see and hear Horse trailing him, and about a minute later he pulls up beside me.

  “Anything happen while we were gone?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “He looked out the window a couple of times to see if I was still here, but other than that, absolutely nothing happened.”

  “Junior just went to the construction site to check over a shipment of some tiles or flooring or
something,” Horse says. “It took him hours. Very boring.”

  “So now what? We sit here until they go home?” I ask. “I’m starving, and I could use that shower we didn’t have time for this morning even more after sitting in the sun all day.”

  “We stay until we have to,” Horse says, a commanding edge to his voice. Does he actually think this is a worthwhile job?

  “You know, with the Spawns, we’d use prospects for low level work like this,” I tell him, pulling out a cigarette. I’m down to my last two, and that’s another reason I’d like to call it a day. Now, if Cross told me to sit around in the sun all day, letting some old business man see me doing it, I wouldn’t question it, and I probably wouldn’t even complain much. But Cross would’ve also sent someone to relieve me in a reasonable time. I’ve been here for over eight hours. But the Spawns weren’t very disciplined. A Spawn would complain about a job like this.

  He doesn’t say anything while I light my cigarette and take my first puff. I exhale the smoke past his face.

  “Well, you’re not exactly a prospect, but you’re not a high ranking member either,” he finally says.

  It took him this long to come up with that comeback?

  I could point out that he’s right here doing this low level job with me, and that he was the one I was actually referring to, but I stop myself. Most of my reason behind taunting and insulting him is the way he treats Stormi, and the fact that he threatened her life today. I’m almost sure that’s what happened this morning, but I could be wrong. It could just be some other beef between the two of them.

  It doesn’t matter. She could be playing me, and I need to stay on friendly terms with this guy. So I don’t say anything. Let him make of that what he will.

  I don’t like the guy, not even a little bit, but it’s my job to stay on his good side. I’m already messing with the woman he wants all to himself, I don’t need to add insults on top of that.