Clicking open the bottle, I coat my own fingers, reaching for his cock and slathering it in a thick coat. He shuffles forward, throws my legs over his shoulders, and drives himself inside in one powerful thrust. I clench around his length, whimpering like a bitch, he’s so fucking thick, but he feels so goddamn good too.
There’s a series of thuds on the wall, but it’s further away from us than I thought it would be. Rex’s condescending laugh is obnoxiously loud and is followed by the noise of people being fucked, and fucking. It’s not what I want to listen to when I’m getting railed, but knowing Rex is still busy is a small price to pay if I get this time with Steel.
“Now who’s gonna be a good boy? You want more? I mean, I’m good with your come filling me up, but then you’d be without…” He teases as he leans down over my folded body, demanding my mouth. Steel’s tongue is on mine, and a wave of release that he’s with me washes away all the simmering anger inside. Even if this was all I ever got from him for the rest of our lives, I’d take it. Every part of me relaxes and he moans into my mouth as his cock glides in, his swollen knot pressing against my body. “Don’t you make one little noise as I ruin your asshole, or you won’t come.”
The whole fucking shit show of a life we live in, all the threats hanging over our head, the regret in my bones about what kind of person I am, the disappointment I breathe at not being a better person for someone like Tristan, disappears as Steel takes me.
The room we’re hiding in is thick with our mingling scents—butterscotch so warm I can taste it in the air, my own blackberry perfume adding a sharpness, but both are full of the heady notes of our pleasure and need.
Steel purposely hits my prostate; the mix of pain and pleasure is real, and I must make too much noise because he drops a thick hand around my throat and squeezes, trapping my air and noise. He brings spots to my eyes as his fingers tighten, guiding me with each thrust to a promise of roaring release. He lets my throat go at the very last moment of consciousness, and grabs my cock, jacking me off as hard as he fucks my ass. A flick of his head is the sign I’ve been desperate for and as I take huge gulps of air, fighting through the lingering fog from being choked, he groans, his hot come spilling inside me drives me alert again. I come again in his tight fist.
Chapter
Twenty-One
STEEL
I‘borrow’ a couple of sprays of one of the club sluts’ cheap-ass perfume after I ran out of time before Rex was yelling we were rolling.
It was pretty lucky I’d managed to change my jeans and put on a clean black t-shirt and even pack a few things, but a shower would have to wait. And considering we were going to be riding for a solid day, Maverick’s lingering scent on my dick would be a constant reminder of why I wasn’t putting a bullet in the back of Rex’s skull right this very second. The reasons why seemed almost cowardly but it was pretty simple too, we weren’t ready.
Either way, planning a dozen or so different ways to kill Rex is a solid distraction. Even after hours of thinking, I’m wavering between making it really fucking obvious or leaving it a mystery to haunt the club for years. Both have solid merit, and both bring me closure.
I’m grinning so hard for most of the ride that my jaw aches from trying to stop smiling or laughing. Although I was already in a good fucking mood, ecstatic really, because us riding out meant the girls had more time to hide before the hunt for them started. There was no sugar coating that. Rex wouldn’t stop looking for them, he’d make it a fucking game or some shit.
Like I knew another showdown waited when we got back and Rex was told his other son had won an award with a tonne of money. Rex would be down at the hospital waiting for his slice of the pie. In some ways that confrontation worried me more because Tyson had been done with Rex and his bullshit for a while now. And once Ty has made a decision, he’s a stubborn bastard, which makes me anxious as hell because I know how fucking far Rex will go to get his way.
It’s clear that the fantasy of killing Rex may eventually be our only option as a way to escape him. Until then we all need to keep our heads down and our guards up.
Towns flash in a blur as we gun through them in typical Rex-is-the-best formation, everyone protecting him. By the time we were pulling into the house of the local Chapter, my back and legs are screaming to be stretched out. But any sign of weakness is not an option with this company.
“I’m taking a piss, then you and me are out for a bit,” Rex says before spitting at my feet with a sly tip of his lip.
Sure thing, cunt.
I climb off my bike and go round the back of the house without saying hello inside, the walk doing good for my temper and my legs. And since Rex is already holding the stage inside, I take a piss behind a tree and shoot off a quick text wishing Mav luck in his upcoming fight.
Mav is a hard one. I can’t fucking think of this world without him by my side, I need him like I need air to breathe but asking him to do this whole happy-ever-after thing with me is like wearing a necklace made of boulders… I mean, what have I got to give him? A whole lot of fucking trauma is it? I haven’t got one fucking dime to spare, no real education. I’m good at fixing shit with my hands, but Maverick is built for better. And even though it hurts me in the solar plexus whenever I think about him not being around, I don’t want to hold him back either.
Lighting a smoke, I sit on my bike waiting, wondering what sort of dodgy shit Rex has got lined up for us. A poor little rich boy needing some muscle behind him is nothing new, but it feels like Rex is hiding a whole lot of the details from the Death Riders.
He comes out, a new slut climbs on the back of his bike, and he guns it again, expecting me to follow. His taillights and the low thump of his exhaust mark my way. I come to an idle but don’t turn my bike off when he stops out of the front of a dive motel and I blatantly ignore the slut’s open invitation for me to join her and Rex, delivered when she flashes me her naked gash. Never been so put off by pussy in all my life.
I get waved up next to him and he shouts over the rumbling bass of our bikes, “This kid has got cops in his pocket, and his contact will be there.” Of course, Rex hands me over his collection of weapons and the packs of blow and smoke. I ride off when he tries to pass over a black dildo. His malicious laughter eventually gets drowned out when he roars past me again.
We pull to a stop in front of a house that screams money and power, the egotistical fuckers even have a family crest on their gate. I climb off my bike and follow Rex as he goes down the side of the house. Obviously he’s been given directions. We’re met at the front of a pool house that’s bigger than any house I’ve lived in by an all-American pin-up boy.
“I’m Reid Anders,” the pretty boy snaps. His entitled ego stinks as much as Rex’s does.
“Let’s talk inside,” Rex says, walking through the space.
Inside the walls are covered in photos of all different politicians posing with an older couple, Senator Anders and his wife. The air is still stained by a woman’s expensive perfume which in itself lets us know they’re all in this together, whatever this is.
“This is Steel.” Rex points at me and he never does that shit. Instantly I’ve got a sick feeling in my guts. But Reid doesn’t acknowledge me or the introduction. Instead he points to the table and a pile of photos.
“Beer?”
“Scotch,” Rex demands, chuckling as he passes over a photo of King Grady, The Fallen’s President, to me though his eyes stay on Reid when he speaks, “You know this prick?”
