His Wild Desire (Death Lords MC 1)

“Do you like my taste?” he asks and there’s a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

“It’s salty,” I answer. “I don’t dislike it.”

“You’ll learn to crave it,” he says, his blue eyes dark as night. “Put your hands around the base and lick from the top of the head down to your fingers.”

I do as he tells me. He slams his head against the door once or twice. I keep licking until he gives me further instruction. Taking a deep breath, he continues, “Open your mouth and suck on it like a straw but not too strong.”

I do as he instructs. His hand curves around my head to cup it as I swallow as much of him as I can. It’s not very much, the tip and maybe an inch more but he seems to love it. His hand comes around to my cheek where he must feel his dick inside my mouth. It’s getting me so excited that I have to touch myself.

“This turning you on, Chels?” he says, his voice stretched thin as if he’s in pain. I nod, not wanting to take his dick out of my mouth. I want this to be so good for him that he won’t be able to look at another girl. “God. God. This feels so goddamned good. I knew it would be like this. Knew it.” He pulled out of my mouth. I tried to follow him as he moved away.

“Wasn’t I doing it right?”

“Any righter and I’d be coming down your throat, but Chelsea, sweetness, I gotta be in your pussy before I die.” He shucks the rest of his clothes and pulls me to my feet. “This time is going to be quick but I can go all night the next round. ’Kay?”

I nod. “I trust you, Grant.”

He closes his eyes and breathes deep a few times to gather some control.

“Raise your hands.” His words are a harsh command but he means no insult. From the ruddy slash of color across his cheekbones and the heaving of his chest, I can tell he’s almost at the end of his tether. I put my arms up and in two seconds, he’s got me down to my bra and panties. “You’re a fucking tease,” he groans dropping to his knees. He pushes my breasts together and mouths one and then the other over the lightly padded cotton. “You walk around in your tight tanks and your itty bitty pieces of string you call panties tormenting me daily. I have wood nonstop.”

From some unknown well of courage, I reach behind my back and loosen the hook. He groans at the sight of my unbound breasts. The first touch of his tongue against my nipple has me crumpling at his feet. He joins me on the floor.

“Like I said, this first time is going to be fast but you’re going to love everything else tonight.”

He rolls a condom on his hard, frighteningly large penis and carries me to the bed, where he tosses my panties aside. A little roughly, he fingers me with one digit and then another. The stretching of my virgin skin is painful and a cry escapes me.

“Shh,” he whispers. “It’ll be all right. I’m going to make it all right for you.”

His fingers scissor apart as he tries to prepare me for that big dick of his. When he presses the blunt ahead against my tight entrance, I panic and press at him with my palms.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” I say. “It’s never going to fit.”

“Baby, baby,” he croons. “It’s going to fit. It’s how you’re made. You’ll stretch to accommodate me. It’ll be good. Doesn’t this feel good?”

His fingers find my button, the one I always press when I’m ready to go and it does feel good. It feels fucking amazing. I was right. It is so much better when it’s his hand rather than mine.

“Yes,” I admit with a sigh. Relaxing and arching into his touch, I encourage him. “That’s good. Don’t stop.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m going to take care of you.” He pushes his penis a little farther in, all the while playing my button like it’s an instrument. He strums and plucks and squeezes and then does it all over again. All the while he pushes inside me.

“You all the way in?” I ask timidly, feeling fully stretched.

He half laughs, half groans. “Not even a half.”

He leans down and starts kissing me again. And with his mouth on mine, I forget a lot of things because it’s so erotic having his tongue inside my mouth. He’s invading me, not allowing me to hide or protect even the smallest, most private parts. As he kisses me, plays with me, thrusts against me, my lower body gives like he said it would and there’s a flood of lubrication. Finally, the wiry hair of his body is scratching up against mine and I know.

“You’re inside me,” I say with wonder.

He raises on one arm and brushes my hair out of my face. “I am, and Chels,” his face darkens, “no one gets in here but me. Not ever. Hear me?”

“I hear you, Grant. So long as your dick doesn’t go near another girl, I won’t let anyone touch me but you.”

“There’s no one but you, Chels. No one but you.”

Present day

That husky promise replays every time I bring myself. He kept his promise. After that night that he took my virginity, Grant never looked at another girl. He applied himself to pleasuring me every spare and secret moment. He’d wanted to come clean to Judge and I told him not until I graduated. I was thinking of another promise to extract from him when he got into a fight outside Rowdy’s with another motorcycle club—the Eighty-Eight Henchmen were motoring through town and wet their white supremacist whistle in our bar.

Fortune is home to a number of Native Americans and they didn’t take too kindly to the swastikas and other symbols of hate adorning the 88’s colors and skin. Grant stood up for his friend, Mato, and ended up killing one of the supremacists. If it wasn’t for the fact that the chief of police had it in for the Death Lords, Grant would’ve gotten off on self-defense. Instead he ended up serving three years of a ten-year manslaughter sentence.

I waited for him to come home and dreaded it too because when he got out, I’d want him even more and if those feelings were returned, then our secret wouldn’t last.

I couldn’t live with myself if Judge turned his back on us. Coming clean seems to be the least positive outcome but I don’t want to leave Judge and Grant either. I have no good answers.

I rise, wash my hands off and climb back into bed feeling frustrated, unsatisfied and worried.

Grant is over at the club where there is a shit ton of available pussy. I’d turned him away and after three years of going without, would I still be the only one for Grant? I knocked myself on the head. If I wanted to stay here with my family it meant that Grant needed to move on. Maybe if he found a new girl, I can finally break free. But deep down I know that is a lie.

I only had one lover and I only want one lover.

I am in such deep shit.

Chapter Two

Grant

The clubhouse looks no different. It’s an old granary. Chelsea once pointed out that the middle section is shaped like a tall thin milk carton. After that Dad and I couldn’t unsee it. There are two sloped roofs on either side and a belt conveyor attached from the third floor into a nearby silo. The silo is empty and serves as the porthole for Bang Bang’s prepper tendencies. He’s the club’s Warlord, in charge of tactical strategy. His focus is on stockpiling weaponry, food, water tablets and who knows what else for the impending apocalypse. No one mocks this because he may be right and we’ll all have to live in an underground concrete box eating jerky and drinking reconstituted piss, but at least we’ll have food and water.

Kind of like prison.

Maybe I can convince Bang Bang to build us an underground basketball hoop because without the yard exercise daily, I would’ve shanked myself inside. Three years is a long fucking time.

At least I didn’t serve five like Saxon Gray, the president of Hellfire Riders, over in Oregon. He’d turned a Henchman into a vegetable with one swift kick to the head. Rumor has it Gray had been protecting Little Red, the daughter of a rival MC president, from rape but nothing came of that defense.

Everyone saw my attacker come at me with a motorcycle chain. When he ended up dead because I was quicker, stronger and less drunk, the Henchmen wanted someone to pay. Fortunately for them, Chief of Police Eric Schmidt is in their back pocket, turning a blind eye to the meth and guns that are trafficked along the Chippewa River. He pushed through my manslaughter conviction by riding the county attorney hard.

It is what it is and that part of my life is over. I don’t regret killing the Henchman, only that I got caught. I’ll be more careful next time.

Outside the clubhouse almost twenty bikes are already leaning on their stands. I cut the throttle, turn off the bike and climb off. Unbuckling my helmet, I wait for Dad. “Call in the troops, did you?”