Devil's Heart, page 6
part #1 of Executioners MC Series
What I haven’t told Tiffany is that for the past two nights I’ve been checking my phone almost nonstop. It’s a weird thing to do, since as we all know, a phone makes noise when somebody calls it, but I still check it. I’ll whisper things in my head like: Maybe the sound is broken. Even though I know full well that the sound is not broken. It’s just me being crazy.
“Of course you can!” Tiffany snaps. “Really, girl, you’ve got some really funny ideas in that head of yours.”
“You’re not my mother,” I murmur.
“If I was your mother, I’d be spanking you right about now!”
I curl my lip in absolute disgust. “You. Make. Me. Sick.”
I hold my face expressionless for a second, then break into laughter. We giggle together, then I hiss: “Fuck it.” I grab the phone and find Mason’s number. I press call before I have time to chicken out. The bar is clear right now, but serving a customer would be the perfect excuse not to do it.
It rings a few times and then Mason picks up. “I can’t talk,” he grunts. “Later.”
He hangs up before I can say a single word.
“Did he answer?” Tiffany asks.
“No,” I lie, but she can see right through it. Thankfully, she doesn’t press the issue.
“Another drink!” she cries, finishing hers with a flourish. “You’re having one, too!”
I don’t argue.
Later, when my head is spinning with too much wine and my heart is crushing with too little Mason, Jackie comes walking over to us. It’s near the end of my shift. I only have an hour left until the next barmaid starts.
“I’ve got an errand,” he says. He slides a brown envelope across the bar to me. “If you take this to the Executioner clubhouse, you can have tomorrow morning off.”
“What?” I snatch it. “With pay? What’s inside?”
“Some money we owe them,” he mutters. “I’d go there but …” He shakes his head, looking appalled by the very idea. “So yes, take that package and you can leave now and have tomorrow morning off … with pay. What do you say?”
“I say hell-to-the-yes.” I stuff the envelope in my pocket and smile at Tiffany. This means we can do more drinking tonight. Plus, with the wine swilling around me it doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Maybe Mason will even be there. “You coming, Tiff?”
“Uh, yeah.” She leaps off her stool as I walk around the bar. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she tells me as we leave the bar.
We head down to the bus stop together. I feel naughty somehow, like I’m missing school.
“I’ve time-traveled an hour,” I giggle.
“Yeah, and now I get to find one of these big biker men of my own.”
“We’re just dropping off a package. We probably won’t even go inside.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see.”
The bus pulls up. Tiffany leaps on with a spring in her step. I hesitate for a moment and then climb on after her.
9
Mason
“Fuck!” I roar, kicking my bike as hard as I can. It falls sideways, landing with a loud clatter. I kick it a couple more times before I realize I’m just making myself look like an asshole. I turn away, striding around the parking lot.
One of our fellas, Bones, was just killed on a job; a freak shot to the belly. He bled out like a damn pig in that lot. His leather was soaked through with blood.
Danny walks over to me. Most of the other fellas are inside now. The music plays loud and already, glasses are smashing. I don’t reckon it’ll be long before Yates sets up the boxing ring and lets the fellas take chunks out of each other. Either that or they’ll head out.
“You good?” Danny asks.
“Yeah, yeah,” I grunt. “I know I shouldn’t’ve trashed my bike, before you give me a fuckin’ lecture.”
“Well …” Danny shrugs. “We got more of them. But still …” He shrugs again. “Whiskey?”
I sigh. “Yeah, whiskey.”
Danny and I sit in the corner with Ken and Rex, two good brothers who’ve been in the club longer than us. Ken is a skinny man with pale skin. His hair is white and his eyes are almost red. Rex is exactly the opposite, a huge bastard who always makes his clothes look too small. He’s got a childlike face though, always smiling. Like me, except tonight I ain’t smiling. And it’s been years since I felt like a kid.
“Fuckin’ assholes.” We all drink to that, two glasses each. Just keep knocking them back. “What the fuck do they think? They can just kill ours and we’ll lie down and take it? I’m telling you, fellas, we’re gonna gut these fucks. We’re gonna gut them like pigs.”
“Damn right,” Ken growls. He might be small, but he knows how to use that butterfly knife. He flips it around casually as he talks. It makes a metallic hissing noise. I can just barely hear it over the loud talking and the loud music and the loud rushing in my ears from where that Pagan fuck boxed my ears.
“One hell of a job,” I snarl.
“Yeah,” they all agree.
The night goes on like this until some of the fellas head out to a club. Really and truly, they’re heading out hoping that there’ll be some Pagan’s Sons in town.
“You comin’?” Ken asks me and Danny.
We shake our heads together. I know why Danny ain’t. He wants to get home to his wife and his kid. But I’m not sure why I’m not. Maybe I’m just not in the mood for partying and drinking and going wild when there ain’t gonna be a woman at the end of it. I guess I could just fuck some club girl, but the idea doesn’t appeal to me at all.
“I’m gonna sit here and think of all the different ways to skin a Pagan’s Son.”
Ken bumps my knuckle. “All right, see you tomorrow, Wolf.”
“Yeah, take care, brother.”
When Danny heads off, I go and sit with a couple of the old fellas. The one they call Grizzly must be at least ninety. He sits in the corner with a glass of whiskey. I’ve never seen him take a sip of whiskey in my life, but somehow, he always gets through that one glass before the end of the night. We call him Grizzly because of his voice, which is like rubber over gravel. We call the other fella Old Man, which is a joke since he’s about twenty years younger than Grizzly. He’s still got his own teeth and hair. I once watched the Old Man knock somebody out with a vicious elbow to the nose. He’s still got it, that’s for damn sure.
“Not in the mood for causin’ trouble tonight?” Grizzly growls.
Junker’s across the bar, working on his boxing technique. He’s around twenty years old and built like a brick shithouse. He wears his hair in that modern Viking-style thing all the fellas’ve got these days. Plus, he’s got a hipster beard. But he’s a good brother, and a damn good fighter.
We watch him as we drink and talk.
“Nah,” I mutter.
“He’s got a girlfriend,” the Old Man snarls, laughing when he sees my face.
“Danny talks a lot, eh?”
“Can’t stop him.” Grizzly claps his hand on his knee in slow motion. Then he laughs. “So you’ve got yourself a girl finally?”
“No, it’s not like that. I just … shit, man, the fuck you want from me?”
I’m almost certain I’m hallucinating when Jasmin and her friend come walking into the clubhouse bar. It just seems too surreal. Here’s the bar with the pictures of brothers on the walls and license plates and all sorts of shit scattered all over the place. Poker chips and pool cues and Junker’s boxing gloves hanging from the window handle.
And then there’s Jasmin, who’s from a completely separate world.
“Is that the package?” Junker walks over to them, eyeing Jasmin’s friend up. I’m glad he doesn’t eye Jasmin up. I might not be able to contain my emotions if he crossed that particular line.
Jasmin walks over to me. I’m on my feet, I realize.
“Is that her?” Grizzly asks.
“That’s her.”
“Don’t leave the girl standing there, boy.”
“Yeah, all right, Old Man. Just relax. Do me a favor and drink yourself to death tonight.”
“Ha, ha, fuckin’ ha.”
I turn to Jasmin. “What’re you doing here?”
It’s a stupid question. I just watched her give Junker the package. Junker and her friend are already talking, her friend commenting on his boxing gloves.
“Will she be okay in here on her own?” I ask.
Jasmin nods, smiling. “She’s okay anywhere on her own.”
“Come on then.”
I take her by the arm and lead her through the hallway, past the first president’s first bike and down another hallway into the dormitory wing. I take her into my bedroom. It’s not really mine though. It’s just the room I sometimes crash in. There’s some playing cards on the desk, as well as a laptop I hardly ever touch, and some crackers.
Jasmin looks around the place with a sideways smile. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Yeah,” I growl. I wonder if I sound sulky. I sure as hell feel it. It pisses me off. I stride to the window and throw it open. No cool air comes in, just the thick Californian night.
“What’s wrong?” She walks up behind me, placing her hand on my shoulder. It feels good. I reach up and touch it, tracing her knuckles with my fingers.
I tell her. I don’t even mean to, but it just comes out. I don’t give her the details, but I tell her the basic truth of it. “One of my friends died tonight.”
She takes my hand and leads me to the bed, shoving me down softly. I don’t fight her. She sits next to me and lays her head against my shoulder.
“This war is starting to …” I trail off. “Don’t worry about it,” I growl.
“Don’t worry about it?” She shakes her head. I don’t see it. I feel it. “How can I not worry about it, huh? Believe or not, I actually care about you.”
“Why? How?”
She giggles. Damn, it’s still the sweetest sound there is. “I don’t know. Do I need a reason right now? You can talk to me; that’s all there is to it.”
“There’s nothin’ much to talk about except that it gets pretty damn tiring having your friends die all the time ’cause some fuckin’ assholes decide they wanna move in on your town. We’ve been here longer, and now these pricks think they can take what’s ours? They’re living in a goddamn dreamland if they think they can get away with that shit here. I’ll die before I let that happen.”
“I don’t want you to die.” She snuggles even closer to me.
It feels right to lift my arm, to hug her back. “Yeah, well, that’s the life.”
“Do you ever regret it? What you do?”
“No, the only thing I regret is not killing those Pagan’s Sons back at the bar, the ones who were hassling you and your friend. Real regrets are for cowards.”
“Or for people who don’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
“What about this?” I grab onto her leg, sliding my hand up. I love the way she shivers; the way her tights feel against her thigh. Warm and cold at the same time. Maybe that’s us. Warm and cold at the same time. “Is this makin’ the same mistake twice, eh?” I move all the way up to her pussy.
“Mason,” she moans, grabbing my wrist. She pushes me away, but weakly.
When I drive my hand up under her skirt, she lets her hands fall away like she’s melting.
“Mason,” she moans, louder now.
10
Jasmin
I don’t think I’ll ever understand the effect his hand has on me. I’ve been with other men before and it’s never been like this. When his hand drives up between my legs and crushes against my panties, my mouth falls open and lets out singing moans. It’s almost as though I have no control over it, it’s so intense. It’s like a giant is grabbing me from above, crushing me hard.
“Mason,” I whisper.
I throw myself at him, finding his lips in the madness of pawing hands and panting breath. He smashes his lips against mine. We take each other in, stripping the other as quickly as we can. He tears my clothes off me as though they’ve offended him.
I lie back when he collapses atop me. He is completely naked, his pec muscles pressing my breasts flat. My nipples are hard. H pushes me down into the bed, his chest so solid against mine. He pushes me flat, nibbling my neck. Tingles move down my body.
“I want you,” I whisper, cradling his face.
His wolfish eyes take me in. His face is not the same as it’s been all the other times. He’s more serious. And there’s something else in his eyes. Something more than wild lust.
“I want you,” he whispers in response.
I grab onto his shoulders as he reaches down and guides his cock to my soaking wet pussy. He pushes inside of me slowly, as if expecting me to wince in pain. I don’t blame him. That was the way it was last time. But tonight I am drunk and relaxed and part of me suspects that I may care about this man. He glides into me as though our bodies were made for each other. I bite down on his shoulder to stop myself from screaming. He tastes of sweat and smoke and man.
“Make love to me,” I cry in his ear, my words shuddering like they could break.
He kisses me, propping his arms either side of me. When he thrusts into me, I rock my hips with him, giving way to his unbelievably big dick. I arch until I feel his balls pressed against me. He slides out slowly, watching me for each tiny movement. I don’t know what my face does, but it seems to make him happy. He keeps watching me, an almost curious look on his face.
I trace the line of his jaw with trembling hands. I could lose myself in those eyes. I’ve heard people say that before, but this really feels like it. I could sink into him and dissolve into this moment. His cock scorches between my legs, hurting; the pleasure is so close, so wet. Any moment it could explode, spreading its rushing flames through me.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, cupping my breast as he holds himself up with one hand. He rubs my nipples softly. “So damn beautiful.”
“Fuck me,” I moan. “Fuck me, Mason.”
He grins sideways. “Yes, ma’am.”
I giggle, but then the giggle breaks in half as he grinds his cock deep inside of me. He does it fast, a snapping movement that obliterates any chance of thought. It’s all I can do to grip onto his shoulders to stop myself from falling off the bed. The bed creaks and whines as he thrusts quicker and harder into me. I buck into him again and again, biting down to stop myself from bringing the whole clubhouse down with my moans.
The pleasure expands, the skin stretching almost to bursting point. Our tongues dance together in fleeting moments, coming apart when our bucking bodies will them to. I close my eyes.
I moan into his shoulder when it erupts inside of me. It spreads like it’s going to break me. My pussy is one giant squeeze, getting tighter each moment. Mason grunts and thrusts into me harder. His cock drives a path up through my tight core, getting tighter as it constricts under the pleasure. I float atop the euphoria, feeling almost disconnected from my body. I am just that fire. That fire and his big dick driving somehow deeper. He attacks my sweet spot over and over. Everything burns. Even my thoughts burn.
I gasp, releasing his shoulder as another wave washes over me. This one is even hotter. My nipples get hard as he plays with them, squeezing one breast and then the other. I find his lips again. The warmth from his mouth travels down my body and connects with all the other points of warmth. I close my legs around him, trying to link my ankles around his hips. Trapping his giant length inside of me.
“Ah!” I gasp as the orgasm drains out of me, everything shaking, everything exploding—
Crash! From across the clubhouse. Crash! Crash!
It’s the loudest sound I have ever heard. It’s like a truck has just barreled into the side of the building. The walls tremble. One of the bed legs breaks, sending us rolling over and over. It’s only when we land on the floor that I realize this is not the sex. It’s something else. For a wild few moments, I thought it was our lovemaking. Mason was coming, too, as we rolled off the bed.
He stands up with cum still dripping from his cock, a confused look on his face. The confusion only lasts a second though.
“Under the bed—” He looks at the bed leg. “No, in the bathroom. Lock the door. Get in the bath and stay there until I come and get you.”
He’s pulling on his clothes quickly. I sit on the floor as the sounds of mayhem spread through the clubhouse. Somebody is shouting.
“Jasmin!” Mason roars. “Now!”
His face is red. Tendons stand up in his neck like they are trying to burst out of his skin.
I jump to my feet and run into the bathroom, wetness sliding down my thighs. I shut and lock the door and then leap into the bath. I sit down, legs crossed, the porcelain cold despite the oppressive heat of the night. I hug my knees close to my chest and try to convince myself that this is really happening. But it doesn’t seem real. We were making love. Right now, just now, we were making love and…
I press my hands together, squeezing tightly. I can’t let myself fall into panic. I can’t just sit here, naked and afraid, letting it take me over. I breathe slowly, try to control myself.
“No!” a woman screams from across the clubhouse. Her voice is quiet beneath the shouting of the men, the rat-tat-tat of what must be gunfire. “No! No!”
I leap to my feet, throwing myself at the bathroom door. That’s Tiffany’s voice. I didn’t recognize her at first because I’ve never heard her so panicked. She’s always laughing, always making a joke of everything. But she’s not making a joke out of this. I quickly pull on my clothes, fumbling the clasp on my skirt.
When I’m dressed, I creep out into the hallway. I try not to think about Mason’s face when he told me to hide. I try not to think about how stupid this is. I was the one who brought Tiffany here, after all. Even if she volunteered, she’s my friend. I can’t just let… what? Well, whatever is happening, I can’t let it happen to her.
