Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(84)
An older man with long gray hair seemed to be in charge. He looked at the man holding my sister, another hard faced man with barbed wire ropes tattooed across his face. Jackie's eyes were bulging, shimmering like wide, frantic pools, pulling me in.
I'm sorry, I hissed in my head, breaking eye contact. One more second and I might've lost it. The only thing worse than being down here at their mercy was showing them I was already weak, broken, helpless.
They had my little sister, my whole world, everything I'd sworn to protect. No, this wasn't the time to freak out and cry. I had to keep it together if we were going to get out of this alive.
“Well? Any sign of the haul upstairs, or do we need to make these bitches sing?” Gray hair reached into his pocket, retrieving a cigarette and a lighter, as casually as if he was at work on a smoke break.
Shit, for all I knew, he probably was.
“Nothing up there, Blackjack.” The man who'd taken me downstairs stepped forward, leaving the basement echoing with his smoky voice, older and more commanding than I'd expected. It hadn't just been the rough whisper flowing into my ear.
“Fuck,” the psycho holding Jackie growled. “I like it the fun way, but I'm not a fan when these bitches scream. Makes my ears ring for days. Can't we gag these cunts first?”
Nobody answered him. The older man narrowed his eyes, looking at his goon, taking a long pull on the cigarette. My head was spinning, making it feel like the ground had softened up, ready to suck me under and bury me alive.
Oh, God. I knew this had to be about the mystery money the moment those rough hands went around me, but I hadn't really thought we were about to die until he said that.
Gray hair turned to face me, scowling. “You heard the man, love. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. I, for one, don't like spilling blood when there's no good reason, but some of the brothers feel differently. Now, we know your loot's not where it was supposed to be – found this shit all torn up myself.”
Blowing his smoke, he pointed at the mess on the ground. I could've choked myself for being too stupid to clean up the mess earlier.
“You've got it somewhere. It couldn't have gotten far,” he said, striding forward. “Look we both know me and my boys are gonna find it. Only question left is – are you gonna make this scavenger hunt easy-peasy-punkin-squeezy? Or are you gonna make all our f*cking ears ring while we choke it out of you?”
I didn't answer. My eyes floated above his shoulder, fixing on the man across from me, stoic green eyes.
“Well?” The older * was getting impatient.
Strange. If Green Eyes wasn't so busy hanging out with these creeps and taking hostages, he would've been handsome. No, downright sexy was a better word.
My weeping, broken brain was still fixed on the stupid idea when Gray Hair grunted, pulled the light out of his mouth, and reached for my throat.
II: A Day in the Life (Brass)
Hours Earlier
Fuck!
Twinkie's mouth on my dick woke me up. Didn't have a clue how long she'd been sucking, but I was ready to blow. Growling, I opened my eyes and shoved one hand behind her ass, reaching for the wet, pink silk I'd f*cked and filled before I crashed out around noon.
Soon as she saw I was awake, the slut began to purr. She did this desperate, throaty thing that vibrated through her cheeks, a special twist that always sent hot pulses straight to my balls. No joke – her trademark finish was like having the world's greatest vacuum hooked to my cock.
I found her clit and pinched it 'til she moaned. Bitch never skipped a beat, furiously bobbing her head up and down.
Too much. Too goddamned early.
“You better swallow every f*cking drop. Don't want none of that shit leaking where it don't belong when we're done. Ah...shit. Ah – f*ck!”
Her tongue went full fan on my dick. I stuffed it as far as she could take down her throat and let loose, grinding my hand between her legs like a madman, feeling her * gush while my load filled her mouth.
Fuck, she was good. But not half as awesome as a hit of the shit that still filled my dreams while I was out.
It took months to get clean, get my head straight, remember there was more to being a full patch member of the Grizzlies Motorcycle Club than easy smack and endless *. Thank f*ck for Fang and the brothers, especially Blackjack. If it wasn't for our Enforcer taking me under his wing since I got to Redding, it would've been all too easy to fall back into old habits.
My balls pulsed and shot pure sweet fire to my head. The fire lashed through me as it left my dick in waves.
Too bad my f*cked up brain hadn't stopped missing the orgasm on steroids good smack used to give me. Now, this was the best I could do, f*cking every *, ass, and mouth I could find, hoping it'd give me one one-thousandth of the ecstasy I got from pouring that crap in my veins.
“Mmmm,” Twinkie purred, wiping her mouth. “Was this the kinda wake up call you were hoping for, baby? I know what you like, old man...”
I blinked, reaching underneath the bed for my pants. “I'm not your baby, Twink, and you're sure as f*ck not my old lady. Get yourself a glass of water and get the f*ck out.”
She pouted. I grunted, throwing on my boxers and wriggling into my jeans as she headed for my cramped bathroom. The slut really wanted to latch herself onto somebody in the club – she'd be back between my sheets tomorrow if I wanted her.