It Ain't Me, Babe (Hades Hangmen 1)

Pit’s head rolled to the side and he puked all over the floor. Flame held Pit’s cheeks back upright. “Who are you working for, motherfucker!?”

“No… no one. I… swear. I SWEAR!”

The shed doors burst open and Bull, Tank, and Smiler walked through. “Number was traced to… have a guess…” Tank said glaring at Pit.

Seething, I spat at Pit’s feet.

“The great f**kin’ Senator Collins! Our insider in the office tells me several men in suits have been turning up once a week for the last few months to ‘do business.’ Insider thinks they are ATF related or maybe mafia,” Tank informed.

Mafia? I signed.

Tank shrugged. “Could explain the shift in activity. New blood. New tactics. It sure ain’t nothin’ we’ve seen before.”

Stomping over to Pit, I took my knife back off Flame and held it to Pit’s throat.

“Prez, it ain’t true,” he croaked out. Clenching my fists, I turned and threw the knife into the wall.

Glancing over my shoulder, I gave the nod to Ky to take down the rat. One by one, the brothers had their fun until Pit was just a bloodied heap on the chair.

I looked over to Rider, who was leaning against the wall, fury in his gaze as he watched Pit. I held up my hand to stop the brothers.

Ky whistled and the room fell silent. I walked back to Pit, holding a new boning knife. His teeth were littered on the floor, eyes sealed shut with blood, his arms and ribs broken in pieces.

Circling Pit’s chair, not once did I take my eyes off Rider, who shifted nervously in my constant glare. Stopping behind Pit, I lifted my knife and plunged it into his right shoulder. Why? Some shit I’d read the Romans did.

Hands now free, I signed. This is what happens to a brother who turns coat. No brother works undercover for the Feds or another club… and no brother f**ks with another brother’s property…

Rider’s eyes widened, but he stayed still—he got my meaning. I signaled for Flame to pass me another knife, and I stabbed it into Pit’s left shoulder. The brother stopped moving, just the sound of erratic wheezes slipping from his lips.

I retrieved my knife, my treasured German blade. I stepped four paces in front of Pit and, on the turn, launched the five-inch blade arcing through six yards of clear air. The knife flew true and drove in where intended, right between Pit’s f**kin’ rat eyes.

Pit, the rat, went to the boatman with no dimes on his eyes.

The brothers watched me leave, mouths gaping as I stormed out of the shed. No one dared follow. My stomach was churning with the betrayal by Pit. I felt sick at the thought of a rat slipping under the radar for nearly a f**kin’ year. He’d infiltrated MY club and shared intel on OUR business.

I smashed through the door of my room and made a beeline for the bed. I froze. Mae was fast asleep, naked. Her back-length straight black hair fanned around the pillow.

Fuckin’ stunning. And she was all mine. That calmed me the f**k down.

Mae shifted in her sleep and a long, slim leg kicked over the sheet… her tight pu**y now on show. I slipped off my jeans and crawled over her relaxed body. Skirting down her thigh, I pushed her legs open. Still unconscious, she moaned quietly.

Smirking at the thought of what I was about to do, I laid a row of kisses from her knee to her thigh, passing the scars that once had me running for the hills. Mae’s hands suddenly threaded through my hair; as she looked down, those hooded wolf eyes were fixed on my pu**y-hungry lips.

“Styx…” she moaned in a sleepy voice.

I didn’t waste any time and took a long lick along her slit. Mae’s long groan told me how much she liked it. My hands gripped her thighs and I dived in, relentlessly sucking at her clit, my finger plunging in her pu**y. Her hands became frantic in my hair with every lick, every suck, every kiss, every thrust.

My woman f**kin’ loved it.

Mae’s breath shortened in labored gasps and her thighs tensed around my head. Momentarily, she stilled; then a scream ripped from her throat. My tongue slowed into lazy circles and I wound her down. Drawing back, I smiled at her flushed-out body.

“Styx… what was…?” She trailed off, squeezing her thighs together and rolling her eyes in pleasure. “Lord…”

My hands crawled beside her head on the mattress until my whole body hovered over her. “You l-liked it, babe? L-liked me eating y-your wet pu**y?”

“Yes! Styx… yes! But…” Her gaze dropped as her hands covered her scars.

I pressed a kiss to her lips, pulled back, and declared, “Th-the scars d-don’t mean sh-shit.”

Tears filled her eyes and she pulled me beside her onto the bed, then launched into my arms. We stayed silent for a long while.

“Did you get your… business sorted?” she tentatively enquired.

“D-done,” I answered curtly.

Mae leaned on her elbows and stared up at me. “Can I ask what the business was?”

I shook my head, signaling an emphatic “no.”

Mae sighed loudly, indicating her disappointment.

“Way c-club life is, b-babe. Old ladies d-don’t get involved in club sh-shit. Same for y-you too.”

She slumped down, now dejected. “Okay.”

I ran my hand up and down her spine, staring unseeing at the brown ceiling, just thinking shit through, when Mae said, “Play me a song, Styx. Sing to me.”

I smiled and, kicking my leg off the mattress, fetched my Fender. I held it out for my woman to take. Her brow furrowed and her nose twitched. Stifling a groan, I placed the guitar in her hands. “P-play.”