Devil's Heart, page 4
part #1 of Executioners MC Series
“You think I’ve got a problem with that last bit?” I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re outta your damn mind. If I wanted to fuck her, I’d fuck her.”
“So you haven’t fucked her yet?”
“Fuck you. You’re interrogating me, you prick.”
He shrugs again. Every time he does it, it makes me want to punch him right in the nose. I never would, obviously. But the urge is there.
“Maybe I am,” he agrees. “But it seems to me somebody’s gotta do it. If not me, who?”
“I don’t reckon anybody needs to do it. Maybe the world would be a much better place if folks stayed out of each other’s business.”
“I don’t think it would,” Danny says quietly. “Goddamn, are they cooking a Thanksgiving dinner in there? What’s the holdup?”
“They’re probably just partying.”
“Four guys in a room all alone?”
“Poker, drugs, who knows? We wait, we fight. If they’re not out—”
“We draw them out. I know. We’ve been over this.”
“Then stop being an impatient bastard,” I growl.
He winks at me. “If I was a patient bastard, I’d be dead by now.”
“How’d you figure that?”
“Patient men are slow, and slow men die. In our game, that’s how it is. You know that.”
I nod begrudgingly. He’s not wrong.
He pauses, and then grins at me from ear to ear. “So how many dreams have you had about this girl? Oh shit—”
He ducks down, gesturing to me that three men have walked out of the hut. I nod, creeping to my side of the rock.
They’re all Pagan’s Sons.
Light spills out of the hut, their shadows lengthening into the night. One man with a flat face and a scar across his forehead lights a cigarette. The others do the same.
“I’ve got right,” Danny mutters.
“Yep. My count.”
“Yep. Here’s the fourth.”
“Three. Two. One…”
Four gunshots ring out in the darkness.
The men hit the dirt like fallen trees. Poor bastards. They had no idea we were here, after all. They had no clue we were tailing them.
“Sloppy work,” I murmur as we drag the limp bodies into the hut. “I reckon we’ll set this place on fire,” I go on. “No trees, no breeze. Nothin’ to cause a wildfire. You gotta love the desert, eh?”
When we’ve piled the stinking corpses up in the corner, we go around the hut collecting ammo, guns, money, anything we can find to take back to the club. Danny smashes a lockbox on the counter and a bunch of cash spills out. He stuffs them into his pocket and carries on.
I go over the bodies one by one, searching their pockets. I don’t look at their faces. These men chose the life. They knew the risks.
“We good?” Danny asks a few minutes later.
I look around the room: nothing but four walls, a dingy rug, and a table and chairs with some whiskey and some playing cards. I take a quick slug of the whiskey and then start splashing it all over the room.
“Yeah, we’re good.” I toss the empty bottle into the corner. It doesn’t smash, just bounces with a glassy echo against the floor. “Let’s get outta here.”
About ten minutes later, we’re back at the rock, watching the building burn. It crackles loudly, spitting whiskey and bone and wood into the night.
“Could do with a woman after a job like this,” I mutter, thinking of Jasmin. Of her fine legs and her tight ass and her beautiful face. The sort of face a man could kill for.
“Club girl?” Danny arches his eyebrow. He’s just messing with me. He knows I’m not into club girls. “Or you could swing by her place again. Maybe this time you’ll have the balls to go inside.”
“Go fuck yourself.” I dissemble my rifle and stow it away in my bike. Danny does the same. “Be safe,” I tell him as I bring my bike to life. “Try not to crash on your way home, okay?”
We ride in separate directions. I try not to think of Jasmin, but it doesn’t do much good. In truth, Danny knows me better than I’d like to let on.
I don’t feel bad about the killing, but I do feel … something, I’m not sure what. I just keep thinking of her face when she came; how it twisted up in pleasure. How badly I wanted to fuck her. But I didn’t press the issue. Why?
I decide then and there that I’ll be fucking her tonight if it kills me.
I stop outside her apartment and pace to the door before I can second-guess myself. She’s number four. It wasn’t difficult to find out.
I jam my hand down on the buzzer.
“Hello?” she says, her voice crackly over the intercom. “Hello? Um, hello, is anybody out there?”
6
Jasmin
“It’s me,” he says after a long pause.
I take my hand off the intercom button for a moment. If I didn’t, he’d hear my stunned gasp, my shuddering breath.
I pace up and down the hallway, trying to get ahold of myself. I can’t just flip out because I hear his voice. Yet it does have a strange effect on me, almost as though he’s slipped me some verbal drug. I stare at myself in the mirror. Purple tank top, no bra, polka-dot pajama bottoms, big fluffy white socks. Part of me wonders if I should get changed, but then the words “screw him” bounce around in my head. It’s been a week.
“Yes?” I answer, returning to the intercom.
“Buzz me up,” he says sternly.
“What if I don’t want to?”
“If you don’t buzz me up, I’m going to kick the door down and come up there anyway, so you might as well just do it.”
“You expect me to believe that?” I throw at him.
He laughs gruffly. It’s even gruffer through the crackly intercom. “I don’t give a damn what you believe. I’m just telling you the way it is.”
“So it’s not a threat, it’s a promise? That sort of deal?”
“Just open the damn door.”
“What, will you huff and puff?”
“Yeah.” I can hear him smiling. Despite myself, I smile in response. “I might just do that.”
I press the button to let him up on an impulse. I’m not even sure if I want him up here. My one-bedroom apartment is a mess, with clothes strewn across the back of the couch from where I’ve trudged home after late-night shifts. The kitchen is not quite a bombsite, but it’s not tidy and clean either. I rush around, fixing what I can.
Then a heavy knock sounds at the door. I drop my load of laundry into the basket and go to answer it. First, I straighten my hair out in the mirror. It’s an exercise in futility, however. For some reason I will never understand, my hair decides to turn hedgehog whenever I am home alone.
I throw the door open.
He stands slightly away, thumbs looped through his belt. He’s wearing a jet-black hoodie that hugs close to his body, showing off his massive chest muscles. It takes a lot of self-control to resist leaping at him. His wolfish eyes flit to my breasts straightaway. My nipples poke through the tank top.
I turn on my heel and walk away. He follows, closing the door after him.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” I mutter. “I mean, to see me—again. Not after the way we left things.”
“I don’t give a damn about that.”
I sense him walk up behind me. I don’t turn around. The apartment is dead-quiet apart from Mr. Johnson playing some old jazz record from next door. Sweat slides down my chest, sticking my tank top to me. He gets close now, his breath touching my neck.
“What do you care about then?” I counter.
His hand comes to rest lightly on my shoulder. Then he squeezes with more force. If he wanted, he could just flip me around. Still, I don’t turn. But just his touch is enough to send warbles of anticipation through me. Right down to my toes. They curl tightly. No matter how much I try to uncurl them, it’s like they’re stuck that way.
“You can’t just come here and—”
As quick as a viper, he darts his hand down my tank top and grabs onto my breast. He pinches my nipple softly, massaging it. My body reacts before I have a chance to. I twist, almost hunching over at his touch. It’s like electricity is coursing right around my nipple. He grabs onto my breast harder now.
“Fuck,” he snarls.
I move away from him, disentangling myself from his hand. I turn to him as I move around the couch. “You can’t just come in here and start grabbing me!” I protest. I don’t know if my raised voice is more from outrage or the sheer fact of what just happened. “You can’t just …”
“Can’t I?” He clears the couch with one giant step. Before I know it, he’s right in front of me. His chest heaves up and down in huge movements. His hands twitch. His eyes are somehow darker than they were before. He grabs onto my thigh with one hand. “I can’t do this?” He moves his hand to my pussy, pressing down hard through the fabric of my panties and the bottoms.
“Hmm?” he growls. He presses his body against mine.
I bat at his hand, but weakly. The apartment fills with the sound of my moans, drowning out the jazz music. “I … Mason …”
“Moan for me,” he whispers in my ear as he slips his hand down my bottoms. He slides under my panties and finds my clit, stroking it softly. “Moan for me, Jasmin. I want you so damn badly. I need you. Fuck, I need you right now.”
I push my ass back into him. He grunts, thrusting forward. His jeans grind against me. I lean forward, shifting with my pussy now more than my ass.
“I want you too,” I whisper, letting go for the second time in just over a week. I’d challenge any woman to put up a defense right now. “Oh, Mason …” He slides his hands even deeper into my underwear, pressing his entire palm against me. His knuckles presses against my clit.
“I’m gonna fuck you so damn hard,” he snarls in my ear. His breath is thick and warm, caressing me. “Tell me you want it.”
“I want it,” I moan with naked honesty. “Oh, oh…”
I reach back for his cock. I don’t care anymore. Our bodies know what to do. It feels good to just let my body react how it wants to react instead of overthinking everything all the time. I grab onto the front of his jeans, finding his belt. Then I groan and turn around, unlatching it quickly. I pull it free and fumble with his buttons, pull his jeans down—
His cock springs up so quickly, I almost leap back in shock. It’s massive; easily the biggest cock I have ever seen. It must be ten inches or more. And thick. I just gaze at it for a moment, wondering how it’s going to fit inside of me. He leaps on me, pulling my tank top over my head and then yanking my pants down. I step out of them, standing there naked.
He takes a step back, just looking at me.
“Come here. Get on your knees.”
I fall to my knees gladly. Strange, considering all my high-and-mighty ambitions of resistance. Yet it feels good to grab his cock in my hand, stroking it softly. I bring my mouth to the tip. It’s so huge I have to open my mouth as wide as it will go just to take him in. I bob my head up and down. Mostly I just listen to the grunting noises he makes, deep vibrations that sound like the first rumblings of a volcanic eruption.
“Stand up,” he snarls barely a minute later.
I find myself doing what he says as soon as he says it. It’s so refreshing to have a man take control. So often these days men are fumbling and nervous, as though I am made of glass and if they touch me in the wrong way, I’ll break. I stand up, amazed that I don’t feel even slightly self-conscious. Mostly I am just hungry for him, his hands, his lips, and his cock … even if the size of it makes me nervous.
He stares at me with those intense wolf’s eyes. And that’s how it feels. He’s a wolf, and I’m his prey. Nothing is going to stand in his way. He’d die before he let anything stop him from fucking me. That’s if his gaze is anything to go by. It’s deep, dark, intense, almost mean. It’s like he wants to fuck me even if the world ends while we do it. No man has ever looked at me like that before.
“Bend over,” he whispers.
My entire body floods with a heat unlike any I have ever felt. I can barely breathe as I turn around and lean forward, resting my hands on the edge of the couch in front of a mirror. He walks up behind me, bringing his cock to my opening. He grinds it up against my clit. I dig my fingernails so hard into the cushion, it’s a wonder it doesn’t rip—or that my nails don’t break. His rock-hard cock grinds against my clit for a time, and then …
My body collapses almost completely forward as though by some otherworldly force. His cock drives up deep inside of me, a sharp rod of pure heat. For several minutes, we rock back and forth slowly. Wetness floods my pussy, waves and waves of it. His face is a tight, screwed-up mass of tension as he stares down at my ass cheeks. I reach back and touch his hand. He grabs onto my ass.
Finally my pussy opens for him.
“Oh fuck, fuck,” I whisper as the pain and the sharpness vanish completely.
In its place, an all-consuming tingling feeling rushes into me. His massive cock slams into me, until it feels like he’s in my belly. I push back in rhythm with his thrusts, all thoughts of stopping him flown far away from my mind. The very idea seems ludicrous. I’d rather die than stop this.
He tears off his hoodie and his shirt at some point, revealing a chest of glistening muscle. He has a single tattoo over his heart. His MC’s patch. Sweat flies from him as he gets quicker and quicker. His balls slap against my clit, back and forth, back and forth.
I drive my entire body back, my ass cheeks crushing against his abs.
“I’m so close,” I whisper, my pussy ready to burst. “I’m so—Mason, fuck me hard. Fuck me hard.”
If I thought I knew what hard fucking was, I was wrong. He unleashes himself on me like a starving beast. It’s all I can do to grip onto the couch to stop my knees from buckling. Everything feels like it’s spinning over and over. I just about manage to buck in time with him. But then I can’t do anything at all.
“Fuck!” I scream, far louder than I mean to. But the rushing in my ears is loud. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
The orgasm explodes against my sensitive spot, searing it. For several blinding seconds, minutes, hours, years … for a long, long time I float atop a million tingling tendrils of euphoria. I am barely conscious of where I am as each scream escapes me, louder than the last. I scream so loud I’m almost certain the walls are going to fall down. I scream until the tendons in my throat hurt.
I return to earth just as the orgasm is beginning, which is crazy to me. All that screaming and it’s only just starting?
“Ah!” I moan, struggling to stop my legs from trembling so badly I collapse in a sweaty heap. Nothing can stop this pleasure, nothing.
“Come on my dick!” he barks.
“I am, baby!” I moan in response.
The intensity expands within me so quickly, it’s all I can do to ride it. His cock pummels into me. Over and over, our bodies making loud noises as we writhe together. I close my eyes so tight all I see is red. Just the red of the orgasm and nothing else. My clit tingles like it’s going to set the rest of my pussy on fire. But mostly I just feel the hot center of sensation, a deep ball inside of me that must be full of starlight, of napalm, of something vicious and sharp and incredible.
Finally I collapse onto the couch, biting into the cushion to stop myself from roaring out like a lioness.
Mason grabs me, hauling me up to a half-standing position. He thrusts his cock into me one last time and then lets out a trembling grunt. I just about manage to reach back and grab onto his tight-with-muscle forearm as he releases himself. Then we both collapse, his come sliding down my leg warmly.
“Excuse me,” I mutter, running naked into the bathroom while trying to stop the come from falling to the floor.
I clean myself up and then stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. A sideways smile I can’t seem to shake. But then the girl in the mirror frowns.
I head outside to find Mason already getting dressed, methodically putting on all his clothes. Suddenly I’m self-conscious. Maybe that’s crazy considering what we just did, but I dive for a blanket and throw it around myself, hiding my private parts. Private parts which are still sore from his touch, but still …
“So you’re just leaving now?” I mutter.
He glances at me. There might be a shred of guilt in his eyes. Or maybe he’s just annoyed that his fuck-toy is challenging him.
“I need to warn you,” I go on when he doesn’t reply. “If this is it—you show up, fuck me, and we’re done—this is the last time we’re ever going to see each other. I know you’ll laugh, but I’m not that sort of girl. I won’t be some fuck buddy. Some piece of ass you use whenever you feel like it—”
He listens to me. When I’m done, he nods. “All right, then. Go get dressed. I’m taking you out.”
The sun has set. It’s past ten.
“Now?” I ask.
He grunts out a laugh. “I didn’t realize you were a choir girl. My bad.”
I toss my head at him. “I’ll need half an hour at least.”
He shrugs and drops onto the couch, changing the channel to a football game. “All right then.”
7
Mason
She comes out of the bedroom looking like a princess. Her hair is arranged on her head in a complicated twist. Her dress is green and sparkly, matching her heels and her eyes. It all makes her look wilder and sexier and more beautiful. My breath actually catches for a second. I thought that only happened in movies.
I stand up. “Ready?” I ask, grinning at her. Even though I’m nervous as hell. Shit, I’m more nervous than when we go on a job. I’d much rather have three Pagan Sons assholes jump me than deal with this. I’ve never been on a date in my life.
What the fuck is this girl doing to me?
“Yes,” she answers. “Where are we going?”
