She positions herself better on the bed, then holds out her arms.
So fucking carefully to avoid putting pressure on her ribs, I lower myself over her. I take her mouth again as one handed, I position my dick, then with one thrust push all the way in. Her own lubrication eases my way but it’s still a tight fit. I pause until her face relaxes, and her internal muscles flutter and start to massage my cock.
She feels so fucking good, I pull out, and then back in. Mindful of her injury, I pause and have the sense to ask, “Is this alright?” Hoping like hell she’ll say that it is.
She literally growls, “If you don’t keep moving, I’ll fucking kill you, Freak.”
Taking that as permission to proceed, I resume my movement, slowly pushing in and out. It’s fucking torture.
“Freak,” she wails. “Fuck me like you mean it.”
Oh, I mean it. I want to show her everything she means to me. I repeat my actions.
“Freak, for fuck’s sake. Do it like you did before.”
“Before you weren’t my old lady.” Then she’d been just a club girl, a vessel to be used.
“I loved it before, Freak. Now fuck me properly, damn it!”
The slow pace is killing me too. I don’t need further encouragement to rid myself of the self-imposed leash and start hammering into her. Her gasp shows I’m hitting her G-spot, and to give her extra stimulation, I reach down and strum her clit. I’m so close to the edge I fear I’m going to have to start mentally stripping down a motorcycle engine to stop blowing my load. But then I notice the flush rising up until it covers her body, can feel her muscles gripping me, can see her eyes fluttering, her mouth dropping open, her fists twisting the sheets…
I can’t hold back, cum bursts forth and a roar leaves my mouth at the very moment a scream leaves hers.
Our bodies pulsate as one, me pumping cum, aftershocks racking her. For a moment there’s stillness, then we both start breathing heavily, trying to get air into our lungs.
Keeping my weight off her chest, I lean my head down and attack her mouth greedily. She responds, her fingers tangling in my hair. This kiss is short, we both still need oxygen.
I can’t resist. A smile curves my lips as I look down at her. “Are you sure you weren’t faking?”
“I never needed to with you,” she replies, smiling shyly.
Then she grimaces, and I remember she’s injured.
Fucking hell. I promised I’d never hurt her. And I just did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TRIXIE
Five years ago I escaped from an abusive husband. To stay safe and under their protection, I went for the lesser evil and became a whore for the Kings. Now, I’m an old lady to one of them.
I’d used the pocket money the club had given me and the savings I’d accumulated over the years to buy myself some clothes more fitting to my new status. I gleefully threw out the skimpy bits of material that had been my old uniform, swapping them for more respectable shorts and a few full-length t-shirts. Freak had bought me a leather jacket and boots for riding his bike and insisted that I purchase some figure-hugging jeans. I loved them, feeling more sexy than I’d ever felt half-naked.
I’ve already experienced being his backpack, and quickly found there was no feeling that could compare to being on the back of his bike. I felt freedom like never before, and knew I’d soon become addicted. It brought a new closeness between us.
Unfortunately, there was a downside to being an old lady, and that was when I was around the club members. Despite their initial congratulations, things had fast become awkward.Now dressed respectfully, the transition from club girl to old lady proved difficult. I carried on cooking, cleaning, and helping out where I could, but I was overly conscious that I needed to refrain from the teasing and flirting that I’d previously engaged in. On the brothers’ part they’d tried to be mindful that I was now Freak’s and have the property cut to prove it. But old habits die hard. For five years they’d been able to lay hands on me, a palm on my ass, a brush of my tit when I was serving them food, a knowing wink or a suggestive word.
It was Rat who first learned how volatile my old man can be where I’m concerned. Whether he’d truly forgotten, or whether he’d decided he was going to wind up Freak, he’d stepped into my path, placed his hands on my arms, turned me around and had fondled my tits. Unfortunately it happened right in front of Freak.
Rat’s now sporting two black eyes and a swollen out of shape nose, which Bronwyn had tried to straighten for him. From his screams she hadn’t been too gentle. He’d gotten off lightly, if Short and Tempest hadn’t pulled my man away, Rat might be more badly injured, or worse, no longer breathing.
It was a lesson they all learned, and instead of being the same friendly men I’d been used to, they started to keep their distance. While, realistically, I knew it was out of respect for Freak, it didn’t stop me feeling devalued. They joked with Pippa, were kind to Bronwyn, Trip, and Ace, but ignored me. I began to feel I was no longer a club girl, but neither an accepted old lady.
Though I wouldn’t change a thing and loved being with Freak, I was also becoming increasingly unhappy. Oh, Pippa and Bronwyn accepted me, but Pippa was busy with Jade and her work alongside Genie, and Bronwyn seemed always to be away at the hospital, or in their house with Short and Trip. With Freak returning to work at the strip club and Ace attending a summer school program for computing studies, I was alone alot of the time. It was going to get worse. Soon he was going to be spending the nights with his nana again. Both Freak and I had agreed, the bunkhouse wasn’t suitable accommodation for an impressionable boy. I started to spend most of the days hidden away in Freak’s room, rather than venturing into the clubroom where I didn’t feel welcome. Of course, when Freak was with me, I was the happiest I’d ever been, our relationship growing stronger by the day, and the sex being out-of-this-world amazing. Freak had dusted off the handcuffs once my ribs had sufficiently healed.
I tried to remain friendly with Star, Heaven, and Sweetie, but whether they were jealous of me becoming an old lady, or simply didn’t know how they were now expected to treat me, our conversations were awkward.
I didn’t bother Freak with my problems, but I think he saw more than he let on. When Ace came back to the club on Sunday, Freak mentioned the plot behind the clubhouse that had caught his eye, and showed me the ideas for a house he’d been working on before we’d gotten together. I liked the basic style, but now we were going to put our heads together to come up with a layout that would suit us all.
