Her Secret Pleasure (Death Lords MC 2)

With shining eyes, she holds on to me and we rock together until we both come again in a quiet storm.

Afterwards, I exit the bathroom with a washcloth and two other things

“What is that?” She picks up the small purple finger shaped rubber plug I picked from the club toy chest.

“It’s a plug. You’re going to wear this and then tonight, after I’m done taking care of business, I’m going to fuck this ass.”

“Is that used?” She wrinkles her nose in disgust.

I burst out laughing. “Fuck no, baby. Fresh out of the package from the toy chest. This is just for you.”

“Of course you have a toy chest.” She slaps me on the shoulder.

“You’re going to appreciate it later. Roll and over and present your ass.”

With a wary glance she rolls over. I wipe her with the warm cloth and lean down to lick her swollen pussy. “Mmm, you are tasty,” I say. Applying a generous amount of lube to her ass and the plug, I work the tip in. “It’s going to burn a little. Press back.”

“I don’t know Judge,” she begins but presses back anyway and I slide the plug in all the way to the base.

“I do.” I slide a finger in her cunt and feel the ribbed edges of the plug against my finger. A gasp escapes her. “Yeah, baby girl, that feels good doesn’t it. It feels real good.” Thrusting lightly, I whisper. “You’re going to be so full tonight. Shit. You are so fucking tight. I can’t wait. I can’t fucking wait.”

I keep thrusting, keeping the base of my palm against the plug.

“Please, please,” she begs.

Flipping her over, I add my mouth to my fingers and she comes, squirting onto my hand. With a sigh, she collapses. I’ve worn her out. Swiftly I wipe my hands on the washcloth and then pick her limp body up.

“No more,” she moans.

“Shh baby girl. I’ve got you.” I strip the covers back, lay her down and climb in beside her. She immediately curls into me, entangling her limbs with mine and is out like a light before I can get the covers up around her shoulder. “I’ve got you,” I vow again. I’ve got you and I’m not letting go.

Chapter Nine

Judge

A soft knock at the door rouses me and I slip out from under Pippa’s soft body. I’ve worn her out or maybe it’s worry and sex making her drowsy. Either way, she can sleep safe until her body tells her it’s hungry. I pull down the sheet to drink in a long look of her ass filled with the plug that I inserted after I’d fucked her that last time.

Gathering up my clothes, I make sure the metal end of the belt is muffled and creep out bare-ass naked into the hallway. Shutting the door quietly, I gesture for Easy to move down the hall and give me space. He grins. “Good thing we put in soundproofing.”

I grunt and start dressing.

“Maybe we oughta have dressing rooms too so you can put on your clothes without disturbing the little missus.”

“Maybe we should take a trip to the basement so I can punch you in the mouth.”

Easy leans against the wall and laughs. “Oh ho, so it's like that.”

Zipping, tucking and buckling, I straighten, shrug on my cut and give him a short, serious nod. “It's like that.”

He releases a long, low whistle. “I have so many librarian fantasies.”

“For your sake they better star the tall thin brunette.”

“The only thing better than having a librarian is having a librarian who is also a preacher's daughter.” Easy grins.

“Hope that works out for you and Michigan then.” I clap him on the shoulder and move toward the stairs with my boots in my hand.

His ready smile dies away. “It's why they're called fantasies, Pres.”

“Give the girl credit. You don't know what she's into until you ask. Never thought the two of you would be too afraid to go after what you wanted.”

I stop into one of the party rooms on the second floor to pull my boots on. Downstairs, our two prospects are sitting at the bar. Only one of them is worth a shit. Handfield, the younger one, is too hot headed for my taste but before I cut him loose, I'll talk to Wrecker about him. Maybe someone his age can knock some sense into him.

At the rear of the granary is a narrow room with a long table and uncomfortable wooden chairs. The walls are concrete and there is a hollow steel exterior door that can stop bullets from an assault rifle. The Death Lords have held church in this room since the days when my granddad was president. We've made changes like adding the bulletproof door and reinforcing the concrete walls. There's a trapdoor under the table that leads into a cellar. From there a tunnel connects the basement of the granary to the silo where Bang Bang, who has doomsday prepper issues, is planning for a time of anarchy. If something bad should happen to the outside world, we can bring our families here and protect them.

When you become a Death Lord, a man is given a bike, a room, some cash and access to a few secrets like this.

It's not much but for a lot of men, knowing that they aren't the only ones watching their backs and their families makes it easier to sleep at night.

The fourteen men that form our club are all here, including Wrecker who will leave immediately after to take Chelsea to Minneapolis and out of range of Schmidthead's reach. We don't all live in Fortune. Diesel, the patch sitting next to Bear, lives in a town about thirty minutes away but you don't miss church unless you're dead.

I take my seat and get the meeting started. “Thanks for coming. It won't surprise you that we have an incident prompted by our favorite law enforcement officer, one Eric Schmidt.”

The rumbles start immediately around the room. Schmidt has been a thorn in our side for a long time but because of his position, untouchable. Fuck with a cop and law enforcement is up in every aspect of our business. Nobody, even clean citizens, wants that kind of harassment.

“He sent a couple of punks from up north after Chuck Lang's daughter because she didn't want to sleep with him. I'm taking it a little personally seeing how his daughter is currently warming my bed and will be for a long time. Schmidt took the two boys to the Manheim farm. Easy and Michigan retrieved them and they're sitting in the basement. We'll deal with them later. What you're here for is a vote about Schmidt. In an hour or so, Schmidt's going to come out to the Manheim farm to check on his guests. We can be there and give Schmidt a Death Lords visit. If we do this, he'll know we are watching him very closely and it might make him draw back from his activities, making it harder for us to nail him on something bigger. It's a call we make together.”

“I'm for beating him bloody.” Easy leans back in his chair. Michigan, our enforcer, nods.

“Flint?” I turn to my vice president.

He rubs his jaw. “My first inclination is to beat him but I think you're right. If we reveal that we know about the Manheim farm then he's going to be more cautious.”

“Or more reckless,” Bang Bang inserts.

“The goal is to get Schmidt out of our hair for good,” I repeat. “Beating him is a one-time pleasure.”

“But how good it would feel.” Wrecker smiles evilly. Out of all of us, he probably has the most cause to give Schmidt a beat-down. I'm sorry he won't be able to wield the tire iron. Another time.

Grouch, the treasurer, slaps his hand on the table. “Let's vote. Who's against the beating?”

The occupants at the table look around and then we all break out laughing. Everyone's in.

“Wrecker, I'm sorry you can't be there.” A muscle works in his jaw and it's a sign of his maturity that he doesn't argue but none of us want to see him go back to prison. “Michigan, Easy and I will take care of it. Church is dismissed. Have some beer. There'll be entertainment later.”

To Michigan and Easy, I jerk my head and we roll out.

•••

The Manheim farm is an abandoned property about three miles from the granary. We take a black rat truck, a vehicle we put together out of scrap parts. It’s matte black and on the dark country roads, it?

?s virtually invisible.