 
An Outlaw Torn – Book 1

An Erotic Romance

By

Laila Cole

Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/bqLWpf

MsLailaCole@gmail.com

Copyright 2016 by Laila Cole

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 1 - Trent

To the unsuspecting eye I was just another asshole riding too fast on a motorcycle too loud. To my fellow Desert Reapers MC members I was their President, or "Prez" for short. To the cops I was an outlaw. To my momma I was Trent. And to the women I'd fucked over the last fifteen years I was a bastard. Imagine that.

The truth of the matter is that I was a bastard, I am a bastard, and I will always be a bastard, and that's just the way it is. I long ago accepted that fact as immutable.

But all the things that make me a monster; that make me incompatible with "polite" society, are all the things that have made me an outlaw that is not only admired but also feared. And I've fed on that fear.

When I took over the Desert Reapers MC in a display of power most vulgar I promised them change and I delivered in spades. Three years was all it took to turn a group of pussies into hardened, steel-steed riding outlaws who lived up to the name of their MC.

The Desert Reapers MC was now a household name in Needles, California and the surrounding desert wasteland areas. I was looking to expand that circle of fear and influence for the sole fact that I was a greedy, manipulative, cutthroat bastard. If the Desert Reapers MC wanted a future outside of this godforsaken desert wasteland we were going to have to ride out and take it by force. Just like I took my women. Just like I took the Club.

It was Sunday and on Sunday's we left our automotive repair shop called "The Axel" and raised hell all over town, only on this particular Sunday we were heading West to lands unknown.

We'd all hit the freeway at noon and drove 40 miles through the hot desert sun to the Raging Piston, which we were told was a shitty dive bar about 30 miles east of Palmdale in the middle of nowhere that never closed its doors and didn't know what "last call" meant. It was just my kind of place. Supposedly.

We pulled up to the Raging Piston and found the parking spots half taken. Most people around these parts probably had their hands clasped together and were praying to some deity that hated their guts but not the people that came here. These were true "salt-of-the-earth" types, or perhaps they were just salty.

I parked my bike in front of the Raging Piston, shut off the ignition, and whipped out the kickstand with my black, steel-toed boots. Placing my helmet on the handlebar I walked toward the saloon style doors with my men trailing behind me. Pistol, Blaze, Iggy, Joker, and Dust were all just as eager as me to get their fill of whisky, pussy, and if we were really lucky, violence. I just hoped there would be enough to share.

I went through the doors first and pushed it open with my fists.

Just about everyone in the bar turned to look at us as we piled in perhaps a bit too eager. Two men were playing pool, others were surrounding a jukebox fighting over a song selection, and a few other silver-haired old men were behind a slab of polished wood sipping on ice-cold pilsners. The head goose of a gaggle of crusty looking bitches flashed me a come-fuck-me smile, but I was certain I could do better and refused to return it. My dick had seen it's fair share of questionable tail, but only when I was drunk. And I wasn't yet drunk. That was a problem.

Walking to the bar I pulled out a metal seat and looked back at my men. "Come on boys, drinks are on me! Let's get this Sunday started right!"

All of them cheered and readied their gullets for a good time.

Dust walked up behind me and slapped me on the back. "Thanks, Prez. Really, man, from all of us. We appreciate it."

"You got it, Dust. It's the least I could do for all of your commitment to the Club. Now get your hands off me and find some pussy before I knock your front teeth out."

He laughed. "Yes, Sir!"

I wasn't joking.

A curly blonde haired bartender with a perfect smile and jostling d-cup tits caught me off guard. "I see you've brought the cavalry in to drink us all under the table?"

I snapped. "Where did you come from?"

She giggled. "I was in the back smoking a cigarette. Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Then what can I get you?"

"Whisky. Neat." But what I really wanted was to sneak behind the bar, bend her over it, and fuck her from behind. She was way too beautiful for a shithole like this.

She turned to grab a bottle of whisky and her ass made my dick hard and my heart beat double time. Not many asses could do that, not anymore. She grabbed a bottle of Walker Red Label off the bottom shelf.

I barked at her. "No. Black."

She whipped around. "Aren't you going to say please?"

"No. I'm not."

She turned, poured me a glass of Black Label, and slid it over the bar toward me. I pushed it right back. "Make it a double."

"Sir, yes Sir!" She taunted.

I wasn't laughing. I was too busy staring at her undulating, hypnotic ass and was determined to fuck it. This was the first time I'd ever seen her, and I was going to make goddamn certain it wasn't the last.

She turned and slid the double across the bar. "Satisfied now?"

I took the entire glass down in a single gulp and slid it back toward her. "No."

"Jesus Christ, buddy. Are you thirsty or what?"

"My name isn't buddy. Don't call me that again."

Her eyes widened. "Ok. What would you like me to call you?"

"Trent. My name."

She slid another double of whisky across the bar. "My name is Jenny, but you can call me Jen."

"Jenny what?"

"Jenny Fitzpatrick."

I sucked down my second double and slammed it on the bar. "I have one question for you, Jenny. What the hell are you doing in a shithole like this?"

Her hands started to shake a bit.

"Well?"

She panicked. "Trent, behind you!"

Someone grabbed my shoulder, spun me around my bar seat, and slugged me in the stomach. I stumbled backwards barely able to maintain my balance.

Before me was a man bursting with muscle in a tight white tee and light blue jeans who was cracking his knuckles as he stared at me. His eyes were open and red like he'd been tweaking for days. "That's my woman you're talking to asshole. And you're going to stop."

I regained my breath and started laughing. "You and your muscles don't scare me, asshole."

Joker walked up behind him with a pool cue and swung it into his head like a bat. The cue snapped in half and sent him tumbling to the ground.

He never saw it coming.

Joker pulled a chain whip from his belt and began striking him with it. With every lashing he was leaving bloody welts and ripping open his skin, which stained his muscle shirt red.

I grabbed Joker's arm mid-swing. "Enough, Joker. I want to hear what this asshole has to say for himself." I knelt beside him. "Do you have any idea who you're fucking with?"

His mouth was bleeding and he spit out a piece of a tooth. "No. And I don't care. You leave my woman alone or else."

I laughed and looked up at my men. "Do you hear this guy? 'Or else' he says." I looked back at him. "Or else what?"

He was quiet.

I grabbed his head and pushed his face into the ground. "What's a matter with you? Did you all of a sudden lose your ability to talk?"

Jenny ran up to me. "Stop, Trent, please. He's just confused."

I looked up at her. "Then un-confuse him."

She started to cry and knelt down. "I told you, Danny, I'm not your woman anymore. We've been divorced for three months now. I've even got a job and am making money of my own. Please stop coming around here and causing trouble. It doesn't do anyone any good."

I let Danny go and he stood. He was a beast of a man but he was no match for a motorcycle chain and a pool cue and he'd gotten that point loud and clear. "That's fine. Just know that no man will ever love you like me. Do you hear me? No man!"

Jenny burst out with anger. "And no man will ever hit me like you did either! Now get out of this fucking bar!"

I stood in shock and my dick stood at attention. She was just my kind of girl and her smoldering eyes confirmed it. Yes, I had to have this woman. Immediately.

Danny stumbled out the saloon doors and my men applauded Jenny as she walked back behind the bar and poured herself a whisky.

I approached the bar again. "You're a tough bitch, aren't you?"

She slammed back the whisky. "What can I say? I don't like getting hit. And I don't like jealous men."

I could tell right off the bat that we were a match made in hell by the devil himself. I never got jealous and I sure as shit didn't hit my women, not unless they asked me to.

She poured herself another shot of whisky, sucked it back, and slammed the glass on the table. "Would you like anything else? My shift is up in five minutes."

"Yea. Pour me another whisky while the bottle's still open. Where's my tab?"

"Don't worry about that, Roxie will take care of you."

Jenny fixed my drink and placed it on the bar. "It was nice meeting you Trent, sorry about Danny. He's a slow learner."

I killed the drink. "I think he's finally come around. Wouldn't you say?"

She laughed a bit. "Yea. I think so. Finally."

Another piece of ass entered from the back door and approached Jenny. I assumed she was Roxie. "Any tough customers today?"

Jenny nodded at me with her head. "Just this one. Watch out for him. He might drink this entire place out of liquor."

"I can see that." Roxie laughed and smiled at me. I'd fuck her too if given half a chance.

Jenny poured herself another drink and slammed it back. "Alright, Rox, my shift's up. I'm heading home."

"No problem. I'll take it from here."

Jenny headed for the back door and my dick pulsed. I didn't want to run after her like some douchebag but she'd left me no choice.

Chapter 2 - Jenny

I let out a sigh of relief as I exited the Piston. As much as I couldn't stand this bar it would have to do for now. I'd left Danny with nothing. And now I was here. Go me.

I pulled a pack of Virginia Slims out of my purse and jostled one loose. I lit it with a hot pink Bic lighter and took a drag. Nothing mixed better than cigarettes and whisky and I had nice, clean buzz going on.

The back door to the bar opened and startled me. I expected to see Roxie, I didn't expect to see Trent, but that's exactly who sauntered out of the door.

This guy. First he was rude to me. Then he was nice to me. And now he probably wanted my number. I took another drag of smoke. Men...they're always working an angle even when it seemed like they weren't.

Trent smiled as he approached me. "You don't think you're going to get in your car and drive out of here after drinking all that whisky do you?"

I nodded and took another drag of my cigarette. That was exactly what I planned to do, just like I had for the last two months since I started working at the Piston. "It's fine. I do it all the time."

Trent inched closer to me. "That's what everyone says until they end up dead under a white sheet and the coroner has to scoop them off the asphalt with a shovel. I won't let that happen under my watch."

The gall on this man. "I'm not under your watch."

He smiled. "You are now."

I exhaled a cloud of smoke. "You don't own me, Buddy. And I'm not on my shift so I don't have to be nice. If I want to drive home then I will."

Trent stole the cigarette from my fingers and took a drag. "I told you not to call me Buddy. I'm trying to do you a favor so you don't get hurt."

How rude of him to just snatch my cigarette like that without asking. "I appreciate that. I just don't need the favor. Really." He was so full of it. He just wanted to get close to me. His eyes made that much clear. They hadn't stopped staring at my breasts since he'd walked out. Men, they're all the same.

He shrugged. "Well ok then, hot shot. I guess you got it all figured out, don't you?" He handed me back my cig and walked away.

My heart beat faster as he approached the door. That wasn't how things usually went with men. No one had ever turned me down like that before and I had to know why. Just as his hand touched the door handle I capitulated. "Wait."

Trent turned. "I'm losing my patience with your games."

"Maybe you're right. I do feel a little woozy."

"That's the whisky. That's what it does best. And that's why I won't let you drive."

What a hypocrite. "What about the whisky you drank? I do recall a few double shots if I'm not mistaken"

He smiled. "That was lunch."

I laughed out loud. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really."

I snuffed the cigarette underneath my shoe. "Where's your bike? I don't see it."

"It's in the front."

"What about your friends?"

"They're grown adults. They can get drunk without me."

He had a rebuttal for every objection, a truly persistent man. When you stripped away the leather, tattoos, the long beard, stringy hair, and stubbornness it was clear he had a good heart. And whether or not I wanted to admit it, I was attracted to that more than anything else. "Why don't you show me your bike?"

"Only if you end up on the back of it. I don't really know what you're so afraid of. You're going to like the ride."

I giggled. The bastard.

Trent held his hand toward mine and I reached for it. The moment our skin touched was like electricity. His hands were rough and coarse. There was nothing that turned me on more than men who worked on machines, with their hands and who ended up covered in used motor oil like body paint. I had to stop myself before I pinned him against the sidewall of the bar and did something I would regret.

We walked around the front toward his bike and he handed me a helmet. "Put it on."

I placed it on my head and tightened the straps under my chin. "Where's your helmet?"

"I've been riding motorcycles for 22 years, I don't need one. Are you going to tell me where we're going or am I going to take you back to my place?"

I was tempted to keep my mouth shut but I wasn't that easy. "Take the second exit after heading east from here. My apartment's two blocks south of the exit on the right. It's called The Palms. You can't miss it."

"I know where it is."

Trent mounted his motorcycle and grabbed the handlebars. "Get on."

My heart was beginning to pound. I hadn't been on the back of a motorcycle since my oldest brother died on one ten years ago. But I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that.

I climbed on the bike behind him and slipped my hands around his cut.

Trent turned his head over his shoulders. "Hold on tight, baby."

I clenched my hands around his chest feeling his hard body beneath the leather. "I'm not your baby!"

He ignored me and started the engine. The rumble of the pistons triggered painful memories. I squeezed him tighter and hoped they'd go away.

The guzzling engine thumped at a low frequency as he walked the bike out of the parking lot and toward the freeway.

When I was least suspecting it he let the throttle rip and left a cloud of dust behind us.

He took no time at all in accelerating up to speed. Wind was ripping by us and slapping against his chest. My heart beat faster.

We zipped passed the first green exit sign and the vibration of the seat tickled my clit. And it had been a long, long time since anything had tickled my clit but my first two fingers.

He shifted gears and the throb of the engine groaned deeper. Fear and excitement were mixing with pleasure and it was a dangerous combination.

We were coming up on a small red Toyota fast. He pulled into the lane for opposing traffic and accelerated right passed it. At the second exit he pulled off the freeway and stopped at a red light. He looked over his shoulder again. "Aren't you glad you didn't drive home?"

"Yes!" I started laughing. It had been a long, long time since I laughed like that.

The light turned green and he hauled ass through two blocks and pulled up to my apartment complex on the right. I was embarrassed by this place. It was a gang infested dump and I knew it, but it was only temporary, and aside from catcalling the gangbangers never bothered me.

Trent drove inside the complex to find my apartment, which was nestled in the middle. The gangbangers here all belonged to The Treces, and they were out in droves because it was Sunday, not that any of these dirt-bags worked during the week aside from slanging meth, committing petty crime, and cashing government assistance checks.

Trent continued around the complex and looked for parking but all the spots were taken. He finally stopped behind a gang of four tattooed Mexicans who were standing behind their low-riders drinking 40-ounce beers and throwing dice. They didn't seem to phase Trent one bit. I liked that.

Trent killed the engine and whipped out the kickstand. We both hopped off the bike and I took the helmet off and placed it on the seat.

One of the gangbangers approached us. "Ain't no parking for white boys on bicycles in stupid vests here aye."

I reached out and grabbed Trent's hand. It was the first time I'd ever been scared in my own place.

Trent laughed at the guy. "You don't tell me where to park."

The Gangbanger's buddy approached him with concern. "Cool it esse, esta es Desert Reapers MC vato."

The Gangbanger put his head down and we walked right through them without so much as a whistle. That had to have been a first. "It's this way," I said.

I led Trent up the stairs toward my apartment. As we approached the door I pulled out the keys from my purse. "Thanks for the ride. I should be going. I need some rest."

"The whisky made you tired, that's all." He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward his cut. "Let me in for a drink. I'm thirsty."

My voice quivered. "I...I'm all out." I wanted to open that door and let him in, but in doing so I mine as well have stripped my clothes off and laid down on my bed with my legs spread.

Trent looked me in my eyes. "Not even a cup of water?"

Every bone in my body wanted to get closer to him but I pulled away. "I'm sorry, Trent. I can't. I just can't."

He pinned me against the door. "You can and you will. I won't take no for an answer."

He leaned in to kiss me and I pulled away. "I'm sorry, Trent. I can't. It's not you. It's me. I've got to go." I sunk my key into the door and opened it.

"Wait, before you go in. Give me your number."

He handed me his cell phone and I punched it into his phone and called myself. "There. Are you happy?"

Trent smiled at me and walked away without saying a word. What a bastard.

Chapter 3 – Trent

Jenny closed the door and locked it with a bolt. My jaw dropped as I stood there with a giant fucking unused boner. That was a first. I wasn't used to women turning me down. And I didn't like it. As I walked down the stairs to my bike I almost pulled out my phone and deleted her number. If she wanted my cock she'd call. And I expected her too, at some point. She just needed to simmer a bit before she boiled.

My phone started buzzing. Damn that was quick. I pulled it out of my pocket and answered. "Jenny?"

"Na, Brother. It's Iggy." Motherfucker. When he called it meant something bad had happened or was about to happen. And by the sorry ass tone in his voice I was betting on the former.

Iggy sounded choked up bad. "I don't know how to say this so I'm just going to blurt it out."

My pulse quickened. "Speak your piece, Iggy. I don't have the patience for this shit."

"While you were out getting your dick wet the Confederate Riders shot up the bar with AK-47's. They shot it up bad too. Joker man..."

Sweat oozed from my pores. "What about Joker?"

"Joker's dead, Brother. He took a stray bullet to the head."

"God dammit!" Joker was the second one this year and it was only June. "Anyone else?" I started running down the steps toward my hog. Iggy kept giving me shit news.

"Yea, Prez. That piece of ass bartender got clipped too, her name was Roxie."

Jesus Christ. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"That's it man. Wait, some old man sitting at the bar took a bullet to the chest, he died too. Fuck, it was crazy. They rode in twenty deep and unleashed hell like I've only seen in Iraq."

For the second time this year I fought back tears and I made a commitment right there that it would be the last. "Are the cops there yet?"

"Yea, man, there's more pig here than the BBQ joint on I-40."

"Shit."

"Na, it's cool. They aren't hassling us for once. They're just as pissed off as we are. The old man that got clipped was a retired cop."

"Good. I'll be there in five."

Jenny was going to flip when she found out but I needed to be there for my Club.

I ran down the steps to find the Vatos Locos staring at my bike. "This is a nice bike esse... for a white boy."

I wasn't about to put up with this motherfucker's shit. "And you need to step off it, homes."

"I was just fucking with you, homes. Relax." He played it off with a laugh, lit a fat blunt, and turned around to throw some dice with his cholo friends. Fuck them.

I mounted my bike like I wanted to mount Jenny. I couldn't get my mind off of that ass and those tits. They would forever jiggle in my mind but for now there were other priorities.

I turned on my bike and revved the throttle, making sure to drown the Mexicans in exhaust before I split.

I rode out of the apartment complex like a bat out of hell and blew two red lights on the way to the freeway. There wasn't a copper in sight given that every available unit was probably dealing with the mess at the Piston.

I rode to the Piston with white-hot hate in my heart. It was now my duty to put the Confederate Riders out of business for good. Up until now we'd only hit them with half-measures and that had cost me another Reaper. It was an unacceptable outcome of a failed strategy.

The Confederate Riders and the Desert Reapers had coexisted for years as competitors in the methamphetamine business in and around Needles, CA. Our true rivalry was never fully coaxed out because we could never fill the demand for meth in the area, there was always enough to serve us both. That worked for a while, right up until the point we began importing meth from Mexico at dirt-cheap prices to resell in the States. Call me a capitalist.

Once we were able to fully supply the market ourselves we made the necessary moves to do so. That put the Confederate Riders in a precarious position to find new markets to sell their wares, and they were struggling. Last I heard they were moving heroin but they weren't moving much.

We'd even negotiated a deal with the Panthers MC, a black biker gang from South Los Angeles who distributed our shit straight into the heart of LA. The Confederate Riders had used them too but I put a stop to that. My only stipulation to the deal with the Panthers was that we cut the Confederate Riders out. And they didn't like that one damn bit. The hit at the Piston was payback. And it wasn't going to happen again. Not on my watch.

I pulled into the Piston with my jaw hanging low. It looked like some third world ghetto. Bullet holes riddled the building. Cop cars, ambulances, the coroner, and even a news van were already surveying the scene. I stopped outside of the parking lot and walked inside the bar. No one even bothered to stop me. Everyone was still in a state of shock, even the cops.

There were four body bags on stretchers.

Iggy ran up to me. "Trent, dude. This shit was poppin' crazy."

Dust wiped a tear from his eyes, he always too soft for this game. "It was a massacre man."

Pistol and Blaze were hanging out in the back sharing a cigarette, their faces stoic.

I lost it. "This is fucking shameful!"

Everyone looked up at me, even the cops. They knew who I was, what I was capable of, and I bet they knew what was coming next.

I looked at my men. "Are you boys free to go?"

Iggy nodded. "Yea. We've already given our statements. We were just waiting for you."

I nodded. "Good. Get your asses back to the clubhouse. We need to have a chapter meeting."

There wasn't a squeak out of any of them.
Chapter 4 – Jenny

Trent's name rattled around my mine like the rumble of his motorcycle rattled me. Hard.

I was wet.

Too wet for a man I just met.

I wasn't about to lie to myself, though. I wanted Trent and all that came with him, as dangerous as a package as that may be.

The truth was that I was attracted to dangerous men like Trent, like Danny, my ex-con junkie ex-husband, who one day, for no reason at all other than being knee deep in cans of Natural Ice decided to give me a black eye that took three weeks to heal.

When Trent asked me what a girl like me was doing in a shithole like this, well, I couldn't exactly tell him the truth. I'd been to the beaches, the valleys, the cities, and everywhere in between. Nowhere on earth were there more rough edged men than the sun-blistered California desert. Apparently I hadn't learned my lesson.

If Danny was rough around the edges then Trent was jagged. I just didn't know if that was jagged good or jagged bad, but I was destined to find out.

I locked the door with a bolt and headed for my bedroom, wondering if I should have let him in but the decision had been made. Running down the stairs to him now would just make me look weak and give him all the power. I wasn't going to do that, not again.

As I walked into my room Trent fired up his hog and my windows and walls started to shake. That Harley had power and was probably finely tuned by Trent himself, which would explain his calloused hands.

I peeked out of my bedroom window and looked down at Trent on the back of his bike. That cut. That long, stringy black hair. Those boots. That beard. That bastard.

The sight of him commanding his Harley did things to me. And it didn't take much to get swept up by a fast moving, fuel induced fantasy.

As I peered through the window with one hand I unbuttoned my jeans with the other, just enough so that I could stick my fingers between my panties and rub my swollen, throbbing clit.

I worked my clit in circles with my middle two fingers. My fingers and hands were getting wet and slippery, similar to how Trent's hands probably turned black and greasy after working on the bolts of his motorcycle with a hard, metal wrench.

The thought of it all drove me wild with passion.

With his hands on the grips of his handlebars he looked back up at my apartment, though there was no way he could see me given the glare of the sun off the window. I felt comfortable rubbing myself as I peered into his piercing eyes.

And then I penetrated myself, imagining him on top of me, or slamming me into a wall as he took my body with his greasy black hands, which left my body smudged with used oil.

I'd strayed to close to a climax and I wasn't yet ready to cum. This fantasy had more legs on it.

Trent turned the throttle on the handle of his bike and gave his beast one last guzzle of gas, which rattled every damn thing on my walls before he took off and left all the cholos in a cloud of black exhaust.

My mind drifted to the ride over. I was on the back of his bike again, the roaring engine inching me ever closer to climax as it vibrated beneath me. And as I got closer I gripped his chest so tightly with my hands I'd almost rip the emblazoned patches on his cut right off.

And then he drove faster, burning through traffic until we were in the middle of the desert where he stripped me raw, bent me over his hog, and took me from behind.

There was no way to avoid it. I came. Hard.

Covered in sweat I sat on the bed and took a deep breath as I tried to jar Trent out of my mind, but he wasn't going anywhere.

My phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse hoping that it was Trent. It wasn't, it was a blocked number, and blocked numbers never meant anything good in the entire history of cell phones. I never should have picked it up, but I did anyway. "Hello?" There was a silence on the other end of the line. "Danny? Is that you?"

A man sighed. "No, Jen, it's Marshall. I'm afraid I've got some bad news to deliver."

Marshall owned The Raging Piston. And I was pretty sure I was about to get fired, especially after what happened with Danny. Marshall had a zero-tolerance policy for bullshit and I respected that even if my ex-husband didn't. I kept my calm in the face incoming financial ruin. "Hi, Marshall. What's up? I can take it."

"I don't know, Jen. It's terrible so I'm going to come right out with it."

For a man wanting to spill the beans he was certainly avoiding it.

Marshall continued. "After your shift there was a shootout at the bar and it was bad. Real bad. I'm still scratching my head at the whole thing. Roxie, Old Man Jack, another man I don't know, and some biker dude named Joker were all killed."

I was prepared to lose my job. I wasn't prepared to lose my friends and fellow customers. My hands locked up. I dropped the phone and started to cry.

Marshall's voice rattled through the speaker. "Jen, are you there? Are you ok? I'm sorry."

In a state of devastation and shock I picked the phone back up. "I...I'm here. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything but I have to say something. And I don't want to say it."

"Ok." A ball of phlegm emerged in my throat as Marshall prepared to drop the hammer.

"Well, damn, Jen, the bar has been destroyed and I've got to shut it down. And unfortunately that means I've got to put you out of a job. I know you were just getting back on your feet and I feel terrible. I'm going to give you a month of severance, including average daily tips, but that's the best I can do."

I started to sob.

"Jen? It'll be ok. Hopefully the insurance covers the repairs and I can get back to business sooner rather than later. Marge and I just bought a house, shit we need the income too. Obviously I'll hire you back if you haven't found something new by the time the bar reopens. Christ, this is a tragedy and I really feel terrible about this."

I wiped my eyes with my wrist. "Who did this? Does anyone know?"

"The witnesses here are saying it was the Confederate Riders MC, but the statements I heard were weak. I guess they were wearing monster masks when they came in and shot everyone up. That's all I know. The cops are here and the place is a fucking mess. Hopefully whoever's done this will be brought to justice."

I fought back tears as I squeaked. "Hopefully."

"Goodbye, Jen. I'm sorry. I've got to go. And I'll be in touch about your severance."

"Thanks Marshall, I appreciate it." I hung up the phone and broke down. I could barely afford this ratty, gang filled dump and in a month after my severance ran out I'd be out on the streets.

In that moment of desperation I picked the phone back up and entered Danny's number, but I didn't press dial. I was better than crawling back to him. I could find another job, but if I lost my self-respect to Danny like I did before I didn't know if would I'd ever get it back.

Chapter 5 – Trent

Behind The Axel was a clubhouse that I had constructed to manage charter business and host parties. It was the first thing I did after I took this Club over from the last asshole that ran it straight into the ground. Hell, the Desert Reapers were ready to disband before I came around and snapped these motherfuckers into shape.

My reasoning, and the reasoning of those supporting me was that if we wanted to be a real MC we had to act like one. Acting like one meant having a legit meeting place that wasn't some random asshole's backyard where we'd stand around, drink coronas, and eat burned carne asada. It also meant we would conduct business like men instead of whining and moaning like little fucking girls. It meant voting and accepting the vote. It meant doing what was necessary to succeed and obeying the hierarchy.

Within two years every single one of the Desert Reapers in my governmental body was able to quit his job and earn three-times as much money from the Club than they could at a day job. And they knew just who to thank. Me.

I walked into the clubhouse where a few other Brothers and their Old Ladies were crowded around the bar. They were all worried sick and I wanted to slap that worry off their faces.

I walked behind the small bar we'd put in and grabbed a bottle of whisky as well as five shot glasses. I filled each one up to the brim and took one for myself.

One of the men at the bar named Jessie wiped the mist from his eyes and reached for a glass. I grabbed his wrist and stopped him dead in his tracks. "Whisky's for men. Not cry babies."

He looked at me like he'd offended God himself.

His Old Lady, a brunette with fat tits and a big fat ass eye fucked me as I emasculated her so called "man."

Members weren't supposed to fuck members' Old Ladies, but if I saw him cry again he would no longer be a member. I'd rip his cut right off and give it to someone who deserved it. And then I'd fuck his woman.

Pistol, Blaze, Dust, and Iggy walked through the door to the clubhouse stoic and angry, like men.

The entire clubhouse sank into silence as they approached me.

Pistol reached for his glass first and held it in the air. "For Joker!"

Everyone else grabbed their drinks and held them in the air.

I held my glass up too. "Joker was a good man and a good brother, he will be missed! Let's drink to that!"

"Amen!" Blaze said.

Everyone fired the hot liquor down their throats and slammed their glasses back on the table. I was quick to refill everyone's glass until brown whisky was spilling on the bar. "One more for Joker and we'll take this quorum to the Chapter Room."

Everyone nodded and killed their drink.

I grabbed the handle of the whisky bottle. "Leave the glasses here. We don't need them."

Walking into the Chapter Room I sat at the head of the table and waited for everyone to sit.

The last one standing was Iggy and he shut the door and sat down. I slid the bottle of whisky toward him.

I slammed a metal gavel on the rounded wooden table. "Today is a difficult day for this Club. Joker is the second Brother we've lost this year and I won't lose another. Not on my watch. Now before we discuss the nitty-gritty of what that means I want to do discuss Joker's funerary expenses. Now we all know he was doing well here, but he's got a family, estranged as they may be, and I want the Club to do right by them. My first order of business is to put to a vote whether or not the Club should cover 100% of his burial costs. Remember, we're flush with cash to afford it. Let's here 'em."

A unanimous yay blurted toward me. I slammed the gavel into the table. "Done. Iggy, as the Club Treasurer I want you to execute this, I also know you two were the closest."

Iggy nodded and took a nip of whisky off the bottle. "Thanks, Prez. It's an honor."

"Good. And now for the next order of business: payback."

Iggy slid the bottle of whisky toward me and I took a swig.

"How many more men are we going to lose to the Confederate Riders before we finally man up and snuff them out for good? We've been here once before when they killed Rocket and discussed the exact same thing. I wanted vengeance then but accepted a 4 to 2 vote of nay on that course of action. Fine. But now we see that the threat still exists. Shit. You are all lucky to be alive and sitting in these chairs." I pointed to the empty chair where Joker, my ex-Sergeant at Arms used to sit. "Joker wasn't so lucky."

Pistol, my Vice-President, reached over the table, snagged the bottle of whisky and took a swig. "I don't think anyone disagrees that it's time to act, we just want to know what you've got up your sleeve."

I smiled. "We're going to set them up and knock them down. Hard as fuck."

"How?" Pistol said.

"Using the Panthers. I'll call Malik in Los Angeles and let him know what we're up to. We can have Malik call up Billy Ray and say our exclusive arrangement is going south, that we're getting too greedy and killing him on margin. Malik will set up a meet with the Confederate Riders, in Palmdale, or Lancaster, somewhere in the middle. Billy Ray won't be able to afford to turn that meeting down because he still needs distribution into LA for his heroin and whatever meth he's got left. A few of us will show up there and take them out. At the same time a crew here needs to roll up on their clubhouse and offer them a deal. We can patch them over or we can kill them. My guess is 90% will take the patch and 10% will take the bullet."

Dust grabbed the whisky bottle next. "With all due respect, Prez, ain't that a little too complicated? I say we roll up on those redneck bastards with gun's a-blazin'. Fuck it."

Comments like that were why he was my secretary. No strategy, or line of sight other than pure animal emotion. That was how people got killed or went to prison. Neither of those options was on my bucket list.

Iggy laughed at Dust. "Yea, Brother. Let's get all Doc Holiday on those motherfuckers and get arrested in the process!"

Dust whipped his head toward Iggy. "Watch it."

Iggy laughed. "I'm sorry, Dust, but Trent's got this right. We've gotta be sneaky about this shit, and squeaky-fucking clean too. You all saw them fucking piglets at the Piston, right? They're expecting us to do something stupid like riding up on the Confederate Riders with guns a-blazin'. For all we know the pigs already have their clubhouse under surveillance."

Dust was pissed off, big time. Good. He took another swig off the bottle and passed it to me. "Iggy's right, Dust. If anything happens to the Confederate Riders were going to have colonoscopes up our asses. That brings up another issue. How do we know the cops aren't trying to take these bastards down themselves?"

Pistol laughed. "On what evidence? The gunmen were wearing Halloween masks and besides you know damn well we don't talk to the cops about shit. All of our statements said the same thing: we saw nothing. Everyone else withheld information too. They were probably worried about blowback. Any lead the cops will follow is all hearsay."

"Good. What other gangs are these mother fuckers in tight with?"

Blaze lit a cigarette. "Rumor has it those racist sons of bitches are in tight with the Asian Power MC. They were trying to move out of meth and into heroin and Oxy. The Asian Power crew uses it's Chinese connections to supply it wholesale to other gangs when they can. Everyone knows their main bread and butter is selling pussy up in Laughlin, they don't want to be on the street selling bags of H."

Bingo. "Scratch what I said about the Panthers. We have no dealings with the Asians. I say we hit them both and make it look like the Confederate Riders had beef with the Asians. The police will suspect us, sure, but the evidence will lead them to conclude it was a street beef and we weren't involved."

Iggy smacked the palms of his hands together. "Now that, Brother, is what the fuck I'm talking about!"

Pistol scratched the black stubble on his chin. "I don't know, Trent. Can we hit two Clubs like that? And if we fail? Shit, I don't even want to think about that."

I didn't like what he was implying and looked him square in the eyes. "Any other way leaves us exposed. As far as I can tell, with the chess pieces we've got on the board, this move makes the most sense. Have you got something better?"

Pistol was silent. Like a VP should be.

Blaze took a drag off his cigarette and blew it out. "Trent, all due respect. I think the question Pistol's asking is if we can execute this plan or not. We're running a tight ship as it is. Any kind of slip up with the Panthers or the Mexicans and hell, we'll be in a full scale nuclear meltdown of epic proportion."

Pistol swigged on the bottle. "Yea. That's exactly what I'm saying. We've expanded so fast that there ain't enough Prospects to even handle the most mundane of tasks. And now that Joker's gone, I just think we need to be careful, that's all. All due respect to you, Prez."

Maybe he was right. Then again, maybe not. "Thanks Pistol. Let's vote on it. There's five us. Three votes and we execute and I'm number one for yes. Iggy?"

Iggy raised his one. "I'm two. Those motherfuckers need to pay for what they've done."

Pistol's eyes were crossing as he stared at the bottle of whisky. "No. I think if we do this we're asking for trouble. I think we should wait."

"Noted. Dust?" I said.

His face was tense as he looked in front of him. "Sorry. I'm voting no too."

"Fine. Blaze? What about you? Are we going to do this thing or what?"

Blaze sighed and let out a cloud of smoke as he snuffed his cigarette out in a metal ashtray. He looked around the room before saying anything and then he looked straight at me. "I'm in. Let's light those motherfucker's up!"

I slammed the gavel on the table. "The yea's have it. I want to unleash hell by the end of next week. That means we need intel. Blaze, I'm looking to you for that."

Blaze lit another cigarette and smiled. "No problem."

Iggy smiled. "Fuck those motherfuckers."

Pistol and Dust got up and walked toward the door like the meeting was over.

I stood. "Where the fuck do you think you're going? I didn't dismiss you." I was ready to rip Pistol's VP patch off with my blade and give it to Blaze.

Pistol turned around defeated. "Sorry. I just need time to digest this. I thought the meeting was over."

What a bunch of bullshit. "Sit back down. I'll let you know when it's over. I promise."

Pistol's face tensed as he took his seat. "Sorry, Prez."

Dust looked at me. "I'm sorry too. No disrespect intended."

I didn't believe either of them. I was going to save my retribution toward them for another time and place, for now I needed them ready to rock and roll. "Good. I can't wait to nail those motherfuckers." I looked over at Dust. "And Dust... you better get your fucking Rolodex out and call up every god damn piece of pussy you know. Tonight we're having a party and each and every one of us is going to get our dicks wet. That's what Joker would have wanted. Got it?"

Dust smiled. "Ten-four. And I agree."

I slammed the gavel into the table again. "Everybody get the fuck out of here. You're dismissed."
Chapter 6 – Jenny

Trent. No matter what I did I couldn't get my mind off of him. Even thinking about that man was dangerous. It made me hope. It made me... strangely happy and unsettled at the same time. It made me remember the butterflies I'd had before meeting Danny for our second date, the one in which he pinned me to his bedroom wall and fucked me silly. Don't judge.

I was hooked. And all I could do was wrap myself in my sheets and try to sleep it off but it was only 9:00 PM, and it was way too early for bed. It was going to be a very, very long night.

I fluffed my pillow, turned it over, and placed my head on it. The ringtone of my phone startled me. Like Pavlov's dog I shuddered, I just couldn't take anymore bad news.

There was also the possibility it was Trent. That fact alone made me reach out and grab my phone to check the screen. It was Michelle, my last remaining friend in this wonderland desert oasis. "Hey Michelle, what's up?"

"I was about to ask you the same question. I heard about the bar. I'm so sorry, but at the same time... girl, you are so damn lucky."

I took another deep breath in to battle the tears. "I know, lucky and unlucky at the same time. I lost my job." It was getting harder and harder to stop the tears.

"I can hear you crying over the phone. Don't cry, ok? I've got a surprise for you."

"Really? And what might that be? Please tell me it's a job."

Michelle giggled like I was telling a joke. "No job. I got a call from a girl I know in Needles. There's a big ass party tonight at the Desert Reaper's clubhouse. Anyone whose anyone out here is rolling and, well, I don't want to drive thirty miles out there alone. I thought you could come with me and get your mind off all the shit that's making you cry."

An immediate hot flash hit me like the noon sun on a sweltering summer day. It sounded to me like Trent was throwing a party... and I wasn't invited, which I thought was strange given that he had my number. "When did you hear about this party and who told you?"

"A couple hours ago. One of my girlfriends in Needles told me and said I could bring whomever I wanted. I guess it was a last minute thing. I really want to go. There's going to be so many hot guys there. Are you interested?"

Good question. Of course I was interested. It wasn't a matter of not being interested. It was a matter of showing up where I wasn't wanted. It was a matter of ruining the chase before it even began. Damn this day.

"Jenny, is anyone home?"

"I don't know. I'm not feeling so good. It's been a long day. I think I should stay home."

She sighed. "You're fine. You're shaken up, that's all. Don't make me go alone. I will only know literally one person there. You're not going to do that to me are you?"

Guilt. Bitch. I sighed. "Tell me more about this party. Sell me on it and we'll see."

She laughed. "Easy. There's going to be three kegs, an open bar, and hot guys. She also mentioned something about a bonfire in the desert. Are you going to tell me that doesn't sound like a little slice of heaven in this wasteland?"

My heart was beating fast. I knew I was going to regret the words that came out of my mouth next, but I just couldn't stop myself from saying them. "I'll go."

"Hell yea!" Michelle said.

I started laughing next. "If we're going you've got to drive. My car is still at the bar."

"I thought that was implied, sweetheart. Of course I'll drive."

She was making this easy. I was comfortable around her. She wasn't a filthy whore like many of the women I'd met out here who were looking to get out by any means necessary, which usually meant spreading their legs for the wrong guys.

Michelle giggled.

"What? What's so funny?" I said.

"What if I told you I was already on the way to snatch you up?"

"You're a manipulative bitch! Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm only ten minutes out. Those cholos aren't going to molest me are they?"

I grimaced. "I don't think so. They've never hassled me, they just whistle and groan when I walk by, but you... you're fresh meat. Maybe it's best if I meet you out front."

"That's fine with me."

"And a I need about twenty minutes to get ready. My eyes look like I just went a round with Mike Tyson."

"That's fine. I'll be waiting. I'll shoot you a text when I park."

"Sounds good. I'll talk to you in a bit. I need get showered."

"Cool. Bye."

I hung up the phone and shook my head. This night had interesting tattooed all over it.
Chapter 7 – Trent

The party had started. It was 8:00 PM and there was already more pussy on the property than existed in the entire City of Needles. That wasn't saying much but all things considered, we were doing well.

Joker would have been proud, and after all, this night was for him just as much as it was for any one of the Desert Reapers. I hated losing a man on my watch but at the same time I knew that this was the life of an outlaw, and it could have just as well been me in that bar. In fact, the more we all dwelled on it the weaker we would get. We couldn't afford weakness, not given what we had planned.

At the same time though, in all reality, his loss was eating at me like a fast moving cancer, but I couldn't show that weakness in front of me men. They'd call me a hypocrite, and they'd be right. Fucking emotions. Fuck emotions.

I walked behind the bar in the clubhouse and poured myself a whisky. The moment the acrid taste hit my lips my mind wandered to Jenny and her big, fat tits. Jesus Christ I wanted to suck those things. She was playing hard to get, and that's fine. There were plenty of other ways I could keep myself occupied.

I took a nip of my whisky glass as three blonde bimbos walked in to the clubhouse. I was pretty sure I'd seen them before. In fact I was almost positive I'd put my cock in one of them at some point in the not-too-recent past, and I was definitely going to put my cock in one them again. I just didn't yet know who.

The question of who was answered quickly. The chick in the middle cast her gaze at my direction and eye fucked me. Yea, she was about to get piped.

I smiled back at her and she deftly slipped from her friends, approached the bar, and sat in the metal seats in front of it. "May I have a vodka tonic?"

I pulled out a Marlboro Red 100 and lit it. "No, you may not."

She pulled back shocked. "I thought there was an open bar tonight."

I took a drag of my smoke and ashed into a glass. "It's open if you ask nicely, and that includes saying things like please and thank you."

She smiled at me. "May I please have a vodka?"

I should have kicked her out for having an attitude like that. I'd handle that part later, after I fucked her. I poured her vodka tonic and slid it toward her. "And what do you say now?"

She smiled again as she brought the glass to her lips. "Thank you."

Dust walked up to me from the side and whispered in my ear. "Enough pussy for you, Prez?"

I laughed and took another drag of smoke. "You bet. Did you pick yours out yet?"

He smiled. "I'm working on it."

I slapped his back for encouragement and he wandered off toward a cluster of anti-social broads on the other side of the clubhouse. He wasn't the smoothest operator in the business but he was definitely effective.

I returned my eyes to the floozy in front of me getting drunk on my charity as I sucked down a hot drag of smoke. "What's your name?"

Her eyes were already glossed over. "Destiny."

"I'm Trent, President of the Desert Reapers MC."

"I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are."

That they did. "Where do I know you from?"

"Nowhere."

She leaned over the bar so I could get a damn good look at her tits. They were big and plump and juicy. I knew those tits from somewhere. They weren't the kind of tits you could forget. "Don't bullshit me. Where do we know each other from?"

She laughed a bit and looked toward the ground. "Ok. Ok. You're right. I work at The Naughty Lady. I may have given you a dance a few weeks ago. Do you remember me?"

Ah, yes. A stripper. Now I remembered. I'd fucked her that night in the dance booth. "Oh yea, I remember. How could I forget?" I took the final drag of my cigarette and snuffed it out in an empty glass.

She smiled. "Good."

"So the two other girls you came in here with. Do they work there too?"

She nodded. "Yea, but I think I have the nicest body. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't know. It's been a while since I've seen it. I can't make that kind of statement without something to base it on."

She looked toward the bar and sipped her vodka, clearly disappointed.

Women like her were easy. She was looking for daddy's approval, and I'd give it to her eventually, along with my cock. "Why don't you show me it?"

She smiled. "My body?"

I nodded.

She looked toward her friends and sipped the rest of her vodka. "Where?"

"There's a private room in the back. No one will bother us in there. Kinda like your booth at the strip joint."

She giggled a bit and looked back at her friends but Blaze and Iggy were on them like flies to shit. "What are you looking to them for? They aren't going to save you from me."

She laughed. "Who said I needed saving? I do what I want, when I want."

I looked right into her pretty green eyes. "That's exactly what I'm counting on."

She took my hand and I walked her to the back room. It was a room that anyone of the Club members could use if they were in trouble with their wives, or for any other reason. It was complete with a bed, a bathroom, a chest of drawers... and not much else.

I opened the door to find Pistol standing up while some skank sucked his cock. She was bobbing on it hard too.

Pistol laughed. "What's up, Prez. Look at her go. She's giving this thing a spit shine!"

I laughed. "Don't mind us, man. Handle your business."

I caught Destiny staring at the act in front of us. I couldn't tell if she was disgusted, turned on, or both. "What are you looking at him for?"

She didn't answer me. Instead she grabbed my bulge and pushed me toward the bed as she tried to kiss my lips. I pulled away. I didn't make a habit out of kissing women I just wanted to fuck. "No. There's only one spot on me you're going to kiss and you haven't seen it yet."

"Ok, baby."

"And don't call me baby. You're oh for two."

Still eager for my approval she unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them to my ankles. I wasn't wearing any underwear and my cock almost poked out here eye. She giggled a bit. "I'm not wearing undies either." She proceeded to put my cock in her mouth.

Pistol looked over at me and laughed as I continued to feed her my monster. I'd pushed it in too deep and she gagged pulled away. "It's so... big."

I smiled back. "I know. Can you finish the job or not?"

She was trying hard to please me but the blowjob was just mediocre. From what I could remember I'd vastly preferred her pussy. I grabbed her hair and pulled my dick out of her mouth. "Why don't you show me what you came in here to show me?"

She rose from her knees and began to unbutton her shirt. "Did you mean these?"

"That's exactly what I meant." I was licking my lips as my mind flashed again to Jenny as I pictured her head on the woman in front of me. Her tits were overflowing from a too small bra, and her nipples were stabbing through the fabric.

"What about this?" She unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them to her ankles. Her pussy was glistening wet. She walked toward me and hovered over my knees as I sunk my middle finger inside her. She began to grind on my hand.

I fingered her hard and slipped in my ring finger too. "I seem to remember this position... and how much you liked it."

She moaned. "Me too. Deeper."

I sunk my fingers in as far as they would go and rubbed her clit with my thumb. She was really getting into it, riding me like she was giving me a lap dance as I fingered her.

Pistol blew his load from across the room with a loud groan, zipped up, and walked his piece of ass out. She was nice, but Destiny was nicer. Jenny was nicer then both of them combined. I should have called her. Fuck.

Destiny gently touched my face and moved my eyes back toward hers. "Look at me, not her. Just for now."

That was all well and good. I'd look at her and imagine Jen because that's the only fucking way I was going to cum.

I returned my attention to her glorious tits and undid her bra, which fell to the ground. I began sucking her nipples as I continued to finger her. Her entire body was vibrating.

She grabbed my cock. "You're lucky. I don't normally fuck guys on the first date."

I pulled my fingers out of her pussy. "What about the night at the club?"

"That was business," she moaned.

"I'm going to be straight with you. This isn't a date. We don't have a future passed the moment I blow my load. In fact, we probably won't even see each other again."

"Wow!" She was in a state of shock. "Really?"

"Really. Now are we going to fuck or what?" I stretched out on the bed and put my hands behind my head. "I know you want to fuck me. And I know you're going to, so cut the suspense and get on my dick already."

She paused for a moment to think about it. I knew she'd say yes. In fact I'd known that she'd made up her mind to fuck me the moment our eyes met when she first walked in.

She climbed on top of the bed and I reached under the mattress to pull out a box of condoms. I ripped open the package and slid one on my dick. I never took risks with strange pussy.

"Ok then, tough guy. Let's see what you've got." She straddled my cock and slid her tight, hot pussy on it. My money was on her thinking she would fuck me so good I'd change my mind. But we'd already fucked once before and I never called her. And the exact same thing was going to happen tonight.

I was a bastard. And a bastard I would stay.

"Oh, God!" she moaned as she slid up and down my cock. All I could do was grab her tits and hold on for the ride. She was going crazy and her body was shaking. I had that effect on women. I always had.

Right as she was about to cum I flipped her over, grabbed her hair, and fucked her from behind. Just like a Prez was supposed to, like a man.

I pounded her hard, deep, and fast, and I was damn sure every fucking person in the party heard her screams of pleasure, even over the death metal that raged out of the speakers.

Chapter 8 – Jenny

I was equal parts nervous and sad as we drove to the party. I still couldn't believe the Piston had been destroyed, and I still couldn't believe so many people had been killed. It just seemed so surreal and insane.

It was probably a bad idea to go out in such a condition, but I just couldn't help myself. My heart wanted what it wanted and it wanted Trent, and I'd secretly been kicking myself for not letting him in for a drink earlier in the day.

Butterflies zipped about my stomach as Michelle pulled off the freeway and took the first exit into Needles.

I was in my hottest, black, form-fitting mini-skirt with black leather boots that went clear up to my knees. I wore a white shirt with a black bra that showcased my tits given the fact Trent was so preoccupied with them at the bar. Yes, I looked like a whore, but I felt like a million bucks.

A few minutes later Michelle stopped in front of The Axel to peep inside the perimeter of a big black gate with razor wire on the top of it. It was packed with people, some in the Desert Reapers MC, and some not. Scantily clad females were everywhere, each and every one of them eager for some outlaw love.

I'd expected there to be a lot of people at the party, but I wasn't expecting as many as I saw. It looked like a recipe for trouble and it made me nervous.

I knew all to well that these types of men were quick to anger, and with this many of those personalities in the same place drinking and doing drugs I wondered how long it would take for the night to turn deadly.

Michelle was nervous too. "This looks... fucking crazy."

"Of course it does. The Desert Reapers have quite the rep, that's why you wanted to come, right?"

"Right." Michelle continued driving slow as she looked for a parking spot. There were so many cars up and down the dirt roads near The Axel that we couldn't park without signing up for a quarter-mile hike.

She parked in front of an old, beat up Honda Civic and we hiked across the dirt road to the party.

Michelle giggled. "I hope there's still some keg left, I'm thirsty."

"Or some barbecue. I'm hungry. I haven't eaten all day."

We approached the black gates of The Axel to find a man in a leather cut that said PROSPECT on the front and back. He was controlling who got in and who got out. "Hello ladies, we're currently at maximum capacity and I'm sorry but I can't let you in until someone leaves."

I laughed. "Really?"

His eye twinkled in the moonlight. "Well... if one of you gives me a peck on the lips we can work something out."

This one was a smooth operator, though I spotted his game from a mile away.

Michele giggled like she always did when she was interested in a cute guy. She approached the metal bars, placed her lips through them, and gave the Prospect a kiss.

He smiled. "Open sesame."

I couldn't help but shake my head as we walked through the gates. "He totally played you. He's probably done that to every group of women in this party."

Michelle was all smiles. "I know. Wasn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

"Oh yea, for sure." She could have cute. I wanted outlaw. And I wanted one outlaw in particular.

We walked passed cliques of men and women. There was one bunch huddled around a burning trashcan smoking pot. Yet another group was huddled in a corner and passing around a meth pipe, damn that stuff stunk. Other men and women were drinking, laughing, and fucking around. Off in the shadows was a woman getting fucked doggystyle as she held on to the black gate. The sound of her getting nailed turned me on, though it was quickly drowned out by the sound of death metal blaring on the other side of the property. We walked toward it.

On the back of the property near the clubhouse were a few Desert Reapers and a handful of scraggly looking females snorting cocaine off of a sun-cracked plastic table. Next to them was a row of shiny Harley Davidson motorcycles that were parked next to the clubhouse. My thighs quaked as I spotted Trent's in the very front. He was here. He was close. And my heart was pounding.

A fight broke out right beside us as two cut, shirtless bikers with shaved heads began to beat the shit out of each other. I couldn't tell whether it was serious or they were just fucking around.

Michelle froze and stared at them, nearly drooling as she watched.

I tugged on her arm. "Drinks are inside, right?"

She moved toward me but her face was still glued to the fight.

"Come on, Michelle. Let's go inside. This could get ugly."

She finally pulled herself away from the heathens. "Man those guys were hot."

"Hot and dangerous," I said.

She smiled. "Precisely the way I like them."

I took a deep breath in, this was the moment I both wanted to experience and avoid at the same time. I just knew I was going to see Trent. I just didn't know how he was going to act when he saw me.

We opened the door and stepped inside as two other drunken women stumbled out looking about as trashy as you can get with throw up stains and dirt all over their clothes. Garbage.

I couldn't even hear myself think over the blaring death metal music as an intense guitar solo peaked with a piercing harmonic.

We'd finally made our way to the bar when a man in a cut leaned over it. "I'm Dust. What can I get you two?"

I scanned around the room refusing to make eye contact with Dust given that I'd seen him earlier in the day with Trent, whom there was no sign of.

Michelle ordered for me. "She'll have a whisky on the rocks."

"Wait, no rocks," I said.

"Right," she said. "And I'll have a shot of vodka."

Dust wasted no time in pouring our drinks and then continued on to help two more scantily clad whores that looked like nothing more than cleaned up strippers on three-inch stiletto heels. Yuck.

I grabbed my drink and took one sip before it slipped out of my hands and shattered on the floor. I'd spotted Trent. He was walking out of the back of the clubhouse with a smile from ear to ear. Behind him was a woman with tussled, just-been-fucked hair and a glowing face like she'd just had an orgasm. The bastard!

Dusty ran toward me with a broom and swept up the glass as Trent looked right into my eyes and smiled. My heart sank to my fucking ankles.

The woman kissed Trent on the cheek and thanked him before running off to another clique of whores not more then ten feet beside me.

Rage.

Anger.

Sadness.

Jealousy.

Disappointment.

I couldn't decide what I was feeling. All this for a man I'd just met. Crazy.

Trent walked over to me. "Hey, I didn't know you were coming tonight. Who invited you?"

My heart was beating faster. Now he was acting like I wasn't supposed to be here. What an asshole. I looked back at him and forced a smile. "A friend."

"Well, good. It's... good to see you. It looks like we're going to have that drink after all. I'll get you another one."

I wished I could have been glad to see him. Instead I turned away from him. Nothing that was going to come out of my mouth would have been constructive to conversation.

Michelle whispered to me. "Are you ok? Do you know him?"

My emotions were raging as I whispered back. "I'm fine, and yes I do, unfortunately."

Trent grabbed my arm. "I was talking to you."

I turned back and snapped. "I know. Don't touch me with those filthy hands. God only knows where they've been."

His face turned beet red as he leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Don't you ever disrespect me like that again."

In a state of shock I turned toward him. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really. We're all here celebrating Joker's life and his commitment to this Club. A commitment that cost him his life! You're either with that and not causing bullshit drama or you're out! You choose. Right now."

Michelle was embarrassed and coiled up with her drink as everyone started to look at us.

My will broke as I stared into Trent's eyes and nodded.

He stared right back into mine. "I want to hear it."

"I'm fine. I'm so sorry for being rude." But I wasn't fine and I sure as shit wasn't sorry. I was pissed off. Even though I really had no reason to be given that we'd just met. I didn't care. I was mad and he knew it.

"You're coming with me." He grabbed my arm and hauled me off down the same hallway he'd emerged from with the slut. "I can't believe your attitude. You have no right to come in here and act like this." He opened a door to a sparsely furnished bedroom where one of his men was butt-fucking some random skank on the bed. "Jesus Christ, Blaze, at least where a fucking rubber! They're right under the mattress within arm's reach!"

The woman didn't even care that we were in there and neither did Blaze. "I know, Prez. It's cool." He continued shoving his dick up her ass with wild abandon and she loved every second of it.

Trent grabbed my arm again. This time he hauled me out of the room, shut the door behind him, and slammed me against the wall. "I'm eager to hear what your dysfunction is."

"Nothing. I just... never mind."

Trent was irate and looked me square in the eyes. "You listen to me and you listen good. I barely fucking know you. I know why you're mad so don't get me wrong. I get that you're jealous because I was with that other woman. And yes, I fucked her. And I'd fuck her again, so let's just get that out of the way right now. You and I are not together, you don't control what I do, and you've got no right to be angry and throwing some fucking hissy fit in my clubhouse, especially on a night like tonight."

He had me pegged. Hard. "That's not it, I swear. I'm just emotional today. I shouldn't even be out."

"Bullshit. Excuses. Don't sit here and act like I'm some fucking idiot. I'm not. And if you're mad for Christ's sake own up to it and move-the-fuck-on."

"Stop cursing at me. I don't have the right to be mad at you, you're right about that and you don't have the right to curse at me."

Trent's face tightened. "Fair enough."

"Well, are you sorry at least?" I said.

Trent sighed and pulled out a Marlboro Red. "Do you want a smoke?"

I wanted an apology and it was clear I wasn't going to get it.

"I asked you a question. Do you want a smoke?"

I nodded. "Yea."

He placed the cig between my lips and gave me a light. I took one puff and handed it back to him. I couldn't stand Reds. "Come on now, Jenny. Snap out of it and let's have fun. That's what Joker would want. And hell, I bet that's what your friend Roxie would want too."

He was right on all accounts. I let his lack of apology slide, though I'd be watching closely to see if he did it again.

When it came right down to it Trent was an outlaw, and he lived an outlaw life. He wasn't going to let a woman like me manipulate and boss him around. It was only then that I realized the men I'd been with, the men that I thought I liked, were nothing like Trent. They were imposters. Trent was a real outlaw and I didn't care where he'd been or whom he'd been with, I had to have him. I would have him. "I think I need that other whisky now."

He laughed. "I can make that happen if you give me a kiss."

"Excuse you?"

"You heard me." He placed his hand around my neck and grabbed a tuft of my hair in his hands. He pulled my head back as he kissed me. My entire body tingled as our lips touched. He let my hair go and pulled back. "Now... let's get you that whisky."

I no longer wanted the whisky. I wanted him freshly showered and on top of me. The bastard.

He grabbed my hand and walked me toward the bar. Michelle looked over at me with a smile as a man in a cut stood there with his arm slung around her. I think his name was Iggy and it looked like they were moments away from hooking up.

Trent looked over at Dust while pointing at me. "Get this one a whisky." He then scanned the clubhouse. "Man, where the fuck did everyone go?"

Dust shrugged as he poured my drink. "I don't know. The kegs and meat ran out twenty minutes ago. I guess that was that."

Trent laughed. "Fucking freeloaders. Good. Fuck 'em. More booze for us."

Dusty slid me my drink and I didn't just sip it, I chugged it until a nice warm buzz settled in my bones.

Trent looked at Michelle and I. "Listen, it's starting to die down around here. Me, a few of the Brothers and their Old Ladies are going to head out into the desert and have a bonfire in Joker's honor. It's a tradition and you're both coming."

Iggy laughed and looked at Michelle. "Hell yea, she's coming."

Michelle was all smiles. "Hell yea I am!"

They kissed.

Trent pulled up next to me. "And you, baby, are riding with me."

Chapter 9 – Jenny

I made sure my helmet was strapped tight underneath my chin as I wrapped my arms around Trent's chest. He started the engine and it began to rumble between my legs for the second time of the day, and it was just as good as the first.

I was a mental mess as I tried to make sense of the evening's events thus far. First we were fighting and now I was on the back of his bike. And baby... who in the hell calls someone baby? Was I his baby? I was confused to say the least.

I was no longer mad, or jealous, or even disappointed. I was strangely excited and happy. After all he hadn't asked that other skank to the bonfire, he'd asked me.

Deep down I knew there was more going to be more to him and I than casual, mindless sex. There was a connection, something unspoken in the way we talked, in the way we looked at one another. I couldn't explain it I just felt it.

Trent unleashed the throttle and my thighs came to life as the vibration against the seat intensified. If he knew how wet I was he would have taken me back into the room and fucked me silly. I just hoped he would have the courtesy shower that whore off of him first.

Behind me were about six other motorcycles. Iggy was directly behind us and Michelle had her arms tight around his chest and was smiling. I was happy for her. She deserved to find a man that would treat her right after so many years of being single.

We began to move in a straight line out of the back of the property and passed the burned out trash cans, potheads, and tweakers in the front who looked at us with suspicion. I hated tweakers. They gave me the fucking creeps.

Trent approached the front gate and gave the Prospect a nod. The gate opened on its runners and holy moly were we off.

Trent hit the throttle so hard I thought my stomach was left at The Axel.

We were instantly hauling ass. All of us.

I had no fucking clue where we were going, but we were going there about as fast you could go without getting killed.

Trent's headlights were shining bright in the night and flashing off Joshua trees, sand dunes, junk dumps, and other assorted bushes as he made his way deeper into the desert.

The road narrowed a few miles out and he slowed down as he continued on. Twenty minutes after that civilization was just a memory. We were deep in the desert amongst a giant collection of pointed, jagged rocks.

All six of the motorcycles pulled up to a spot by the rocks and parked around a clearing in a circle. In the middle of the clearing was a large mound of wood, junk, and other flammable objects that had been dumped in the desert.

Everyone killed their engines. I took off my helmet and handed it to Trent who placed it on his handlebars.

Blaze walked up to Trent and I and handed him a bottle of whisky. "For Joker, man. Drink up." He returned to the seat of his bike to snuggle with the woman he was butt-fucking earlier.

Pistol hopped off his bike. "It's time to get this party started Brothers!" He walked toward the pile of desert detritus and sprayed lighter fluid all over it until there was nothing left in the small, white plastic canister, which also got tossed in the pile.

Trent pulled out another cigarette and lit it. He took a long ass drag as he stared at the pile. He walked toward it quiet, and stoic holding a cig in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other. "This night is for Joker! This night is for Roxie! And for anyone else who was killed by those fucking bastards. Tonight we remember their lives as friends, brothers, and co-workers. This is our second bonfire this year. Let's let it be our last!"

His words melted my soul. He was a good man that much was clear. It was also obvious how hard he was fighting not to cry. And he did so successfully.

Trent took a three second swig off the whisky bottle as he turned to face the pile. He flicked his cigarette in it and it engulfed in a whoosh of flames.

Flames began crackling and licking at the sky in a matter of seconds as the desert wind caught the hot black smoke and carried it into the opposite direction.

He walked back toward me with the scent of whisky on his breath as he offered me a swig. I grabbed the bottle and took one.

"I'm sorry about your friends, Jenny. I really am. We're going to make sure nothing like that happens ever again. Rest assured." He grabbed the bottle and took another sip.

"It's ok, Trent. It wasn't your fault. I don't blame you for that."

"You don't have to. I blame myself. We should have taken action long ago and now it's too late to get these people back."

"You can't blame yourself. You'll go crazy."

The fire was really starting to build and sparks were snapping off of it in all directions. The flame was at least twenty feet high and licking at the midnight sky. The heat from it was nice and relaxing on a cool summer's night.

I was sitting on the bike with my legs off to the side and he inched up between them. "You shouldn't have worn this skirt."

I laughed. "Why?"

He ran his rough fingertips on the tops of my thighs. "It's making you irresistible."

"I'm not irresistible without it?"

He took another swig of whisky. "I didn't say that. Don't put words in my mouth."

My heart started pounding.

He moved his fingertips up my legs and then caressed my upper arms. And then he kissed me. My god did he kiss me.

The heat of the bonfire was nothing compared the heat of the passion between us that was taking us closer and closer to our flash point; the point at which neither one of us would be able to resist the other a moment longer.

From my lips he moved to my neck, sucking it, licking it and I wasn't going to stop him.

I began to sweat given the heat of the bonfire and the tension between us. His hands moved to the bottom of my white shirt and pulled it off of me.

"Is that better?"

I nodded. "Perfect. Don't stop."

He placed his mouth between my breasts and kissed them softly. Reaching behind me he unhooked my bra and tossed it into the desert as he grabbed my tits and squeezed them together. "I've got an idea."

"And what's that?"

He pulled up the whisky bottle and poured it on my chest, sucking up every drop as it ran through my breasts.

"Haven't you had enough for the night?" I said.

He looked me in the eyes. "Not even close."

This wasn't just sex. This was more. And it was intense.

He kneaded my breasts with his hands as he kissed them. Every kiss was turning into pleasure and causing me to want more until I exploded in a fit of ecstasy, but he was taking it nice and slow as he tortured every last nerve in my breasts.

Finally he took one of my hard, bullet-like nipples into his mouth and sucked on it. As he rolled his tongue around my bumpy flesh I began to shiver and my body erupted in goosebumps.

I placed my hands on his head and ran my fingers through his long, black hair as he scraped his beard across my flesh on his way to my other nipple.

He was good. He was dangerously good.

A woman whom I thought was Michelle started to moan out as she was getting fucked. The sound of it turned me on even more until I was swimming in my own juices.

He slid his hands up my legs and scraped them ever so gently with his fingertips. "Damn. You've done dripped all the way down your legs."

"Then don't keep me waiting."

He snuck his hands up my skirt even further and pulled my panties aside.

I started to moan as he brushed my clit with his thumb. "Right there. Don't stop."

He reached his head up to kiss me. Our tongues connected in hard, deep strokes. I wanted more. I wanted his tongue on my clit and then I wanted him to fuck me right there in the desert where I could scream out as loud as I wanted without having to worry about my neighbors listening to me get railed.

With his thumb on my clit he sunk his middle finger into my tight, waiting pussy. I let out a deep breath as he probed my depths. "Deeper," I said, wanting more.

"Don't worry, baby. I'm just getting started with you."

He fingered me as deep as he could go, shoving it in and out as he loosened me up so he could wiggle another finger inside. I gasped as he did and he continued to thrust inside me. He was banging me hard too, and it was so damn good.

My pussy was in a full on spasm within a few minutes and I fought every instinct telling me to let go and cum. I wasn't ready. Not until my pussy was latched onto his cock like a vice would I ever let go.

He pulled his two fingers out, which glistened in the light of the fire. "I'm going to taste you, baby." He put both fingers in his mouth and sucked them clean.

I just about lost it. "There's more where that came from, you know?"

He smiled, knelt into the dirt, and put his head right up my skirt. Holy hell was it awesome. He started to tongue my clit with all the ferocity of a vibrator until my entire body was shaking.

I pinned his head between my thighs and ground my clit and pussy all over his face and beard. No longer able to resist the urge to come I exploded.

Trent stood up with my pussy juice smeared all over his face. "How'd you like that, baby?"

I couldn't even talk. Instead I basked in the hot wind coming off the fire. "I don't even know what to say."

Spent he walked toward me and whispered in my ears. "You didn't know it, but I came too."

I was snapped out of the moment by the roar of motorcycles off in the distance. "Are there others coming?"

"Must be."

The lights stopped about thirty feet out, and then the gunfire started in bursts.

Chapter 10 – Trent

I grabbed Jenny, turned her away from the gunfire and laid over her for protection. "Don't worry, baby. It's going to be ok. I've got this. I can protect you."

She started to cry from the panic.

I grabbed her face and squared it with my own. "Do you trust me?"

She nodded as tears streamed down her face and into the dirt. "Good. We've just got to wait this out. These white trash bastards can't shoot worth a damn anyways. Trust me."

More bullets whizzed passed us and slammed into the dirt.

Another round slammed off the metal of our bikes.

I was going to cut Billy Ray's nuts off for this. God damn those motherfuckers. I couldn't believe they had the nerve to hit us at one of our bonfires. It was like spraying down a bunch of gangsters at a funeral, and every outlaw knew that was off limits.

Another round of automatic gunfire drifted closer and Jenny screamed.

"Stop baby. It's ok. Just stop!"

There was a pause in the action and I reached into the personal compartment in my bike and pulled out an Uzi. "My turn."

I jumped up and fired it at the Confederate Riders, and I was damn sure I missed every one.

Blaze ran toward me and dove to the ground. "How did they find us here, man? It's like someone told them. I think we've got a snitch!"

That was the biggest load of shit I'd ever heard. My men were loyal. "No fucking way! I don't believe that shit for a second. It's more likely they were spying. You should be with your woman!"

He laughed. "She spooked like a god damn bunny and ran off into the desert. I don't have a fucking clue where she went."

"What about everyone else?"

"They're fine. I think."

"You think? Make sure."

"Yea, there are. They're protecting their women like you."

"Good. You've got to do the same. Go find your Old Lady, man, make sure she's ok before you leave. That's priority one."

Another round of gunfire shot off and slammed into the dirt beside us.

The Confederate Riders were going to die a most brutal and punishing death. And I was going to make certain of it.

With rage in my veins I jumped up again and emptied the clip of my Uzi at the lights. Just like them, I was almost certain I missed every one.

I ducked back down and covered Jenny.

Blaze army crawled back toward his bike.

The incoming gunfire finally stopped. I hopped up. The engines in the distance were crackling and thumping as the bikes turned around and hauled ass in the opposite direction. I needed to get Jenny out of here and hopped on my bike and started the engine. "Come on, Jenny. Let's roll."

Jenny was quiet.

"Jenny, it's ok. They're gone!"

She was still quiet. "Jenny?" I hopped off my bike to another fucking nightmare. Jenny had been shot in the side and was passed out from shock as she lost blood and the dry desert sand sucked it right up.

How had I not noticed?

Panic.

Fear.

Two emotions I wasn't used to started to clang like church bells in my head. And I hated church.

I snapped out of the daze. "Fuck! Jenny's been hit!"

Blaze ran over. "Don't worry about us, man. We'll follow them. You've gotta get to the hospital!"

There was no way I would allow them to put any more innocent lives in jeopardy. "No! You guys need to get your Old Ladies home safe. I'm going straight to Needles Regional. We know it was the Confederate Riders, right? We're going to get our payback, just not tonight." I looked down at Jenny who was starting to shake. "Shit, man, I've got to roll!"

I reached down and hauled Jenny up by her shoulders. Blood was dripping off her body and down her legs. She opened her eyes and groaned out in pain. "What's going on?"

"You've been shot, baby, and we're going to the hospital."

Jenny started to cry as I placed her on the bike seat and slid behind her. "I know it's going to hurt. But you've got to let me hold you and we've got to move fast."

"Ok!" Blood continue seeping out of her wound and all over the shiny chrome of my bike.

I fired up that fucking hog, revved the throttle, and sped out of the desert. The towering bonfire was soon just a speck of flickering orange in my side view mirror.

I took a shortcut off the dirt road and cut across the desert at a 45-degree angle, which saved me at least three minutes. I wasn't sure Jenny had three minutes to waste.

I blitzed passed The Axel, which was now deserted and entered the freeway at top speed. I was going to save this woman's life if it killed me. I had to. I couldn't stand another fucking death on my conscience.

My engine was roaring so loud I thought the pistons were going to snap and leave us stranded, but I rode that bitch harder. She'd taken me through some hard fucking times and she was going to do it again.

I was doing a smidge over 110 miles per hour when I flew by a squad car on the side of the freeway trying to pick off drunks. His red and blue lights were behind me not more than ten seconds later as he caught up to me.

If this pig thought I was going to stop he had another thing coming. I wasn't stopping for anything or anyone except for a hospital. I'd deal with the cop later and I just hoped he'd understand my sense of fucking urgency.

I accelerated even more with one hand on my handlebars and the other clutching Jenny's lifeless body as I reached top speed.

The exit for Needles Regional Hospital was coming up fast and I took it. Coasting toward the exit I scanned oncoming traffic and blew through the red light at the end of the off-ramp when I knew it was safe. Fuck it. Every second counted and I wasn't going to apologize to anyone for trying to save a life.

The cop blew the light just the same as me and was still on my ass like white on rice, though no other cop cars had showed up behind him so I was certain he hadn't yet called it in.

The hospital was a few blocks in front of us and the red lit emergency sign was as clear as day. Just a little further.

With one last twist on the gas I pulled into the emergency intake, stopped my bike. I hoisted her on my shoulder and ran toward the front doors of the emergency room.

The cop stopped behind me and turned off his lights. He rushed up behind us. "Let me help, please. I had no idea until right now."

I barked at that pig. "No. I've got her just fine."

I didn't need any help from him. I was a man. And a man took care of his woman.

Jenny was groaning deep and heavy. "My side hurts. It's throbbing."

"I know, baby. We're almost here." I kicked open the glass doors to the emergency room and yelled out for triage nurses who weren't at their station. "I've got a gunshot wound to the stomach. She needs help now god dammit!"

A bunch of tweakers and other assorted addicts looked on at me with wide, bugging eyes as they picked at their skin. They knew exactly who I was.

Jenny started to cry again. "It hurts, Trent. I need help!"

"Just hold on, baby."

I bypassed the triage station and kicked the door to the emergency room open. "Listen up you motherfuckers! I've got a woman with a gunshot wound to the stomach and I need help! Now! Where they fuck are you, huh?"

This shitty ass hospital was nothing more than a den for junkies to get their uppers and downers. I wasn't certain they'd seen a real emergency in months.

A team of nurses and two doctors scurried toward me with a hospital bed, which had IV bags strung up on metal poles. "Sir, we're sorry, we just had another intake."

I laid Jenny on the bed. "You're going to be ok, baby."

The nurse grabbed my arm and held a tablet. "Sir, do you know her name?"

"Yes. Jenny Fitzpatrick."

The nurse entered her name and scanned the tablet. "Bingo. We've got her."

Jenny wasn't responding to the doctor's questions.

I looked over the nurse. "Oh, fuck! Is she dead?"

The doctor took her pulse at the neck. "No! She's got a pulse. It's low but it's there. Step away, sir. We need to get her to surgery, immediately!"

I was enraged and ready to break something. "Jesus Fucking Christ!" I ran out of the emergency room to the waiting room and slugged a hole right through the drywall. The tweakers scrambled away from me for their lives.

The cop approached me. "Cool it, Trent, please. I don't want to have to take you in."

I snapped my head toward him. "Do you really think you can accomplish that? You're half my size."

The cop put his hands out. "Relax. She's going to be ok. I'm not trying to start a fight with you. I just want you to calm down. The surgeon here is pretty good."

"Yea? And how the fuck do you know that?"

"He's pulled bullets out of half the people in the Needles Police Department, well a dozen or so, maybe not half. Enough to know he's good."

I couldn't help but laugh. "I guess the desert's a crazy place for a cop, isn't it?"

"It really fucking is. I used to work a beat in Downtown Los Angeles. Shit I've seen more madness out here than I ever did out there. Come outside for a minute. Let's talk real quick."

"No thanks. I'll pass. Appearances."

The cop was insistent and starting to annoy the fuck out of me. "I'm not acting as a cop right now. I just want to talk to you, it's personal."

Assuming he wasn't bullshitting me I wondered if he might give me something I could use against him in the future. Perhaps a chat wasn't such a bad idea after all. I pointed out the glass double doors with my chin. "Follow me."

I walked out of the hospital and lit a cigarette, offering him the pack.

He held his hands in front of him. "No, thanks. I quit a few years ago. Tough beast to kick."

"Right. I never bothered trying because I don't care. What's your name? I haven't seen you before."

"I'm Sergeant Jim Dearborn, Needles Police Department. It's nice to meet you."

I took a drag from my cig until the cherry was bright orange and exhaled. "Ok, Jim. What the fuck do you want to talk about?"

"I want to talk about what happened in the desert. We received a ton of civilian reports about automatic gunfire. In fact, just now, Sherriff Greg Garfield received a call from one of the deputies that went out to investigate the shots and told us to be on the lookout for bikers. They found the bonfire but it wasn't much more than embers, they also found bullet shells and get this... they found a dead man next to his motorcycle. Before you flip out, don't worry, it wasn't one of yours."

I sure as shit stinks hoped this copper didn't see me sweating. "You fucking pigs. You're all the same. What are you trying to do, pump me for information under the guise of cooperation? I wasn't born yesterday. I don't know jack shit about a dead man beside a motorcycle in the desert. Now get the fuck out of here and leave me be."

Jim sighed and looked me right in the eyes. "Give me a fucking smoke and cut the attitude. Jesus Christ, man, I'm trying to help you."

I gritted my teeth and handed him the pack. He pulled one out and I lit it for him.

"Listen, the entire town knows about your beef with the Confederate Riders. The police department's got beef with them too after today. There was an old retired cop that was killed, and that man was my dad, Jack Dearborn. He was a good man, a good cop, and a terrible father. I want these motherfuckers brought to justice at any and all costs. Eyewitnesses at the bar were saying it was the Confederate Riders. There's just one problem with that, eyewitness reports are mostly bullshit, and we really don't have good evidence that it was the Confederate Riders, just a hefty dose of suspicion. And that's not enough to move on."

I nodded. "So I've heard."

"Good. So I guess what I'm saying here is that we're on the same team."

This was a motherfucking first. I nodded. "I think I catch your drift."

"Yea, good. I think you do." He handed me a business card. "Just do me a favor. Call me on the number on the back of this card before anything happens. There's a group of us guys on the front lines that can limit the blowback on you and your boys if you know... any kind of horrific tragedy should befall the Confederate Riders. Don't tell anyone about this, doing so will get me censured and kicked off the force."

I snagged the card from his hand. "Why should I cooperate with you? What's your angle?"

He grinned. "Same as yours. Revenge."

"Does the Sherriff know about this?"

He shook his head. "Nope. And he won't find out."

"What about the strained relationship between the Desert Reapers MC and the NPD?"

He grinned again. "It drastically improves."

I understood why he wanted revenge. I wanted it too, but my angle wasn't just revenge. Getting rid of the Confederate Riders made sound business sense. And if we were going to get a pass in doing so I'd have been a fool not to take it. I shook his hand. Right before I was about to let his hand go I looked straight into his eyes so there was no confusion. "If you fuck me on this... well, I don't have to tell you what happens then, do I?"

"Don't threaten me. I can just as easily make your life hell. I don't want to do that. We have a common enemy. We're your friends on this and we won't fuck you."

He knew damn well my threat still stood. "I believe you, Jim. Now I've got a woman to see about."

"Sure thing. Take it easy. Give her my best." Jim smiled and smothered his cigarette in an ashtray as he walked back to his squad car.

I turned around and walked back to the front doors of the hospital with my mind pretty much blown. In my entire outlaw life I'd never, not even once, worked with a cop. The other Reapers needed to know about this, but I was reluctant to say a fucking word. This was a foreign concept to them, as they'd been instructed repeatedly by me to keep their fucking mouths shut when it came to cops. I'd broke my own fucking rules.

I opened the double doors and sat down in hard, plastic chair. A few moments later a nurse in pink scrubs walked toward me. "Hi, Sir. I wanted to give you an update on Jenny. It looks like the bullet may have nicked her large bowl and exited through her back. That's all we know right now. She's still in surgery and will be for another hour or so."

"When will you know more?"

"After surgery. I'm sorry, that's all I know."

"I'll be here."

TO BE CONTINUED OR GRAB THE BUNDLE

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An Excerpt From The Old Fashioned Billionaire

Chapter 1

The baggage claim at Jackson Hole airport spat my hot pink luggage out on the carousel. I readily admit that what I was doing was crazy, but crazy or not, there was no way in hell I was going to turn down a date with Damien Wesley, Wyoming's most eligible bachelor. Even the sound of his name drove me wild.

I grabbed my luggage from the carousel and headed towards ground transportation, which was right next to the baggage claim. Ruth Weinstein, my dear friend, matchmaker, and ultimately the one responsible for my date with Damien assured me that a limousine would be awaiting my arrival to take me to Damien's ranch.

I stepped out of the airport and as the automatic doors opened a gust if ice-cold wind hit me in the face. I shivered in an attempt to acclimate, it didn't work. The sun was just going down and the thin wool coat I was buried in provided scant comfort against the tail end of a Wyoming winter. I should have packed more, but I was only here for one day, and I trusted if I played my cards right that Damien would keep me warm. A girl can dream right?

I walked along the sidewalk looking for my ride, which wasn't hard to spot. A black limousine waited by the curb, a driver stood by the passenger door holding a piece of white paper with the name Laura Daniels written on it in thick black ink.

I approached the driver who was dressed in a black suit and a thick wool coat that stretched to his knees. "Hi. Are you heading to Cattle Cross Ranch?"

He looked at the piece of paper in his hands. "That all depends sweetheart. Are you Laura Daniels?"

I nodded. "I most certainly am."

"Well then right this way. My name is Denny, I am Damien's chauffeur," he said, grabbing my hot pink luggage and opening the passenger door. "It's about a twenty minute drive. Feel free to have a glass of wine, or two, while you wait." I stepped into the limo and he closed the door behind me. The entire thing just reeked of luxury. He placed my luggage in the trunk, returned to the driver's seat and drove out of the airport toward Cattle Cross Ranch where my billionaire date awaited my arrival.

I tried to not feel special, I did, but I just couldn't help myself. I still found it a shock that of all the women Damien must have looked at he'd chosen lonely, broke, and deeply in debt Laura Daniels for a date. I reached over for a bottle of wine and uncorked it. My hands shook, not from the cold, but from nerves as I poured myself a glass of cabernet. I took a sip, and then one more, followed by a gulp until my glass was empty. And then I poured another; one wasn't going to do the trick, two, maybe.

I had no idea what to expect in the coming 24 hours, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I had high hopes. Ruth told me that Damien was notorious for three things: elaborate and extravagant gifts, a temper that could tame a bronco, and rigid set of old fashioned values, though I really didn't know what she meant by "old fashioned" and I never bothered to ask.

My heart began to pound as the limousine pulled off the highway and approached Damien's estate. It was a sprawling cattle ranch on 95 acres, still lightly dusted in snow as the Wyoming winter receded into spring. He'd inherited the estate from his father who recently passed. Damien's father was Leroy Wesley, a cattle tycoon, and Damien was the sole heir to his fortune. Forbes last reported that he'd inherited close to $17.8 billion in a mix of cash, stock, real estate, and business interests. With the booming market in stocks and commodities he could have been far wealthier.

I hadn't even met him yet and I wanted it to work more than any other date I'd ever been on. Money, power, respect, and looks, Damien Wesley had it all. All except a beautiful girlfriend, and I was eager to fill that role. And if I'm being 100% honest, I was eager for Damien to fill me.

Denny opened the pane of glass between us. "Welcome to Cattle Cross Ranch. Damien will be down to greet you in a moment."

I gulped down my wine and placed the glass back in the mobile minibar. Denny headed toward the trunk and removed my luggage, and then he opened the door. "Right this way Ms. Daniels," he said.

"Thanks Denny." A girl could get used to a chauffeur service and quick.

My heart rate accelerated as I stepped out of the car into the crisp, cold mountain air. Puffs of steam escaped my mouth as I tightened my scarf to protect my skin from the elements. I walked up a winding concrete pathway to a log cabin that must have been at least 10,000 square feet.

As I walked up to the porch the front door opened and a man in a gray suit and tie wearing a black leather cowboy hat opened it. He walked toward me and down a small set of flagstone stairs with an unbreakable smile and a charismatic strut that drew me toward him. I'd long forgotten about Denny who followed behind me with my luggage.

I took a deep breath and forced a smile as I walked toward him. My heart skipped a beat as our eyes connected. "Hello Laura," he said, his voice as smooth as silk.

I reached out to shake his hand and he just stared at me. "Hi Damien," I said, like a nervous little girl.

He took my hand in to his and gently kissed the back of it. "And finally we meet." He looked down at my luggage and then back at me. "I've never seen anything so vibrant."

I wasn't sure if he was really talking about my luggage or the rapidly accelerating blush on my cheeks. "It's easier to spot at the baggage claim."

"Right," he said. He whistled to a servant who rapidly approached us. "Kenneth, would you please take Ms. Daniels' luggage to her room?"

"Yes, sir," he said. I handed him my luggage and he disappeared up the small set of stairs and into Damien's home. It was nice of him to provide me a room, but I wanted to stay in Damien's room. Ruth had warned me against sleeping with him. Well, let's just say I only had one day and I didn't intend to waste it.

Damien rubbed his hands together battling the cold. "Let's head inside, there's something I want to show you."

I grew excited, trying my best to hold down the smirk that was erupting on my face. He opened the door to his home and I stepped inside, a state of shock soon encompassing me. "Where on Earth am I?"

Damien laughed. "You're in Wyoming. My Wyoming."

I scanned around the cabin noticing studded leather furniture, iron pellet stoves and a large dining area with a chimney and a crackling fire. Next to the dining room was a kitchen with copper counters, and a large pedestal with a flat top stove. It was the quintessential log cabin just on a much more massive scale. A huge pane of windows looked out on his ranch, the snow covered ground sparkled in the sunlight as frosted trees sloped downward, their branches ready to snap. It was beautiful and I struggled to take it all in. "It's-it's—"

"Beautiful?" he said, his eyes fixed to mine.

"Something like that," I said, noticing a sparkle of light in his deep blue eyes.

He reached for my jacket. "May I?"

I nodded. His hands graced my shoulders with a firmness I didn't expect as he took off my jacket and hung it on a coat stand next to the door. "Thank you."

"Think nothing of it." He placed his hand on the small of my back and led me into the next room where a vase overflowing with bright red roses stood at the center of a rectangular wood dinner table, with place settings set for two.

"The roses are just beautiful," I said.

"I'm glad you like them, they're for you."

"Really?" I said, walking toward them and inhaling their fresh, sensual scent. No man had ever bought me flowers before, not like these.

He flashed me a devious smile. "I hope you brought an appetite."

The truth was I was starving, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him see how I really ate. "I'm ok for now. I ate on the plane."

"Really?" he said. "I have a delicious surprise that will be ready for us a little later in the evening. Let's warm up with a glass of wine. Would you like to see my cellar?"

I nodded. "Yes, I would."

"Come on," he said, holding his out to mine. "I won't bite."

I smirked. Sure, he wouldn't bite me now but if I played my cards right maybe he'd take a nibble of me later, and hell, even pull my hair while he was at it. I battled the fast erupting fantasy in my mind and took his hand, noticing the rugged texture of his flesh. His hands were much coarser than the city men I'd dated who held office jobs and whose skin was softer than a baby's bottom. No, his hands were man's hands and I enjoyed the texture as he squeezed my own.

He walked me down a hallway filled with family portraits and I stopped to look at them. My family never took any portraits like this, and as a matter of fact I hardly even knew my deadbeat dad. "These are nice," I said.

"Thanks," he began to point at the pictures. "That is my great grandfather, my grandfather and my father, and that little bundle of joy in my father's arms is me."

He looked so cute as a baby. "What happened to you? You used to be so cute."

He looked at me like he was offended. "You've got a smart mouth."

I just about lost my stomach and my hands began to shake. "I-I didn't mean it like that. I was just joking," I said in a nervous panic, hoping I hadn't ruined my chances forever.

He laughed as I squirmed. "I wasn't."

A sense of relief washed over me. Of course he had a sense of humor he had everything.

"Come on. Let's go have a drink." He tugged at my hand and led me down the hallway where he opened a door that lightly squealed on its hinges as he flicked on a bank of lights. "Watch your step," he said, helping me down a small staircase that led to a damp, cool room. "Welcome to my temperature controlled wine cellar and cigar humidor. I just had it put in. They had to carve it out of the earth."

I'd only ever seen something like this in the movies. "You've got quite the collection," I said, staring at row after row of wine, their labels facing outward and concealed in glass cabinets, ordered by name, place of origin, and year. The warm scent of tobacco filled the cellar, escaping from a humidor in the very back of the room.

In the center of the room was a small brown table with two leather chairs, and two empty glasses. "What'll it be?" he said. "French, Italian, Argentinian?"

"I prefer American," I said, staring soulfully into his eyes.

He didn't respond but instead returned my gaze. I wondered what he was thinking or whether or not he was as attracted to me as I was to him. He walked toward a row of wine and pulled out a bottle of red, holding it with its label facing toward me. "Napa Valley's finest," he said, "a delicious specimen from the west coast. Isn't that where you're from?"

I nodded. "Born and raised. I grew up near Napa Valley so I'm partial to the wine."

He returned to the table. "I'm beginning to like the west coast wines more and more." He uncorked the bottle. "They have this tendency to ... I don't know ... grow on you." He pulled a leather chair out from the table and motioned for me to sit. "Please, join me."

I sat down in the soft luxurious leather and watched him pour me a glass of wine, and then he poured one for himself. He slid the glass toward me by the stem. "Be honest. Tell me what you think of it, Ms. Wine Country."

Just because I was from wine country didn't mean I knew a damn thing about wine. My favorite wine came in a box, because even on a good night that's all I could afford. I took the glass by its stem and swirled the wine around a few times and then inhaled its aromas, like I knew what I was doing. And then I took a sip, letting the delicious fluid meander over my tongue.

"Well?" He said. "What do you think?"

I returned his gaze. "Complex. Strong. Aggressive."

"Interesting," he said, taking a sip. "I disagree. I find the taste a delicate blend of sweet, bitter, and even a little bit of tang." A shiver went down my spine as he held up his glass. "Shall I toast?"

I nodded.

"To the west coast," he said.

We clanked our glass and each took a gulp. A light buzz began to tingle in my extremities and my face began to warm. I wanted to jump over the table and take him right there. This man was devious. He sat there swirling his glass of wine and took another sip. "If only everything tasted this good."

I took another sip of wine and coughed.

"You ok?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"I'm fine," I said, fighting a lingering cough. "Sorry about that it went down the wrong pipe."

"That tends to happen sometimes doesn't it?"

I nodded. "It certainly does."

"Would you like a glass of water?"

"No. It's ok. I'll be ok."

"Excellent," he said. He finished his wine and stood up, sauntering toward the humidor where he pulled out a fat cigar. I cringed inside; I hated the smell of smoke. My stepfather sucked down cigarettes for 25 years before finally quitting by way of lung cancer and death. I hated to say it but fancying the leaf was a deal breaker with every man I'd dated before. But then again, with Damien, I had a feeling I was going to be breaking all of my rules; and perhaps an even truer statement would be that for a man like Damien Wesley there were no rules.

Damien returned with a cigar and clip in his hands. "Do you like cigars?"

I forced a smile. "Oh, yes. I do. Only every now and then though."

His eyes caught mine. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "How often do you smoke?"

He clipped the end of the cigar and placed it between his lips. "When I drink," he said, pulling out a butane torch and firing the tip, the torch reminded me of a hurricane force wind.

"And how often do you drink?" I said, my eyes inquisitive.

He took a puff and let the smoke escape his lips. "Often. It keeps me warm on these cold Wyoming nights. I'd have probably frozen to death long ago without it."

"Somehow I doubt that."

"Are you calling me a liar somewhere underneath all that sass?"

I laughed. "Sass?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He was right but I didn't respond. I just smiled and watched another wave of smoke eclipse his lips. He scooted next to me and my heart began to race. "Would you like to try it? It's from Cuba, pre-embargo, truth be told there aren't many of these on the planet earth, though I was able to snag a few. They take on a rich complex taste with age. This one here is older than us both."

"I'm ok," I said, struggling against the thick onslaught of smoke filling the cellar, although if I was being honest it actually smelled quite good. It was rich and woody, not at all like the cigarillos and cigarettes my stepfather used to smoke which stank of chemicals and cat piss.

"Are you sure?" he said. "It's a once in a lifetime experience. This cigar alone cost me upwards of $20,000."

"And now it's going up in smoke."

He laughed. "Ain't that the idea? Go on now, take a puff. It won't kill you."

"Ok," I said. "One puff."

I took the cigar from Damien between my index finger and thumb and placed my lips against it slowly and sensually. I took a slow drag, accentuating the smoke building in my mouth. "Don't inhale," he said.

"What if I like to?" I let the smoke billow out of my mouth and down my lips. It actually didn't taste too bad.

"Well I certainly wouldn't stop you. It's better than you expected, isn't it?"

"You're right. It's rich and flavorful," I said, the lingering taste of tobacco smoke on my lips. "It's not at all like what I expected."

"Look at you. From wine snob to cigar aficionado in an evening, I must say I'm impressed. You don't have to stop if you don't want to. There's more where that came from."

I took another puff, enjoying the sensation of warmth in my mouth.

"So tell me Laura, are you enjoying your stay so far?"

"Terrible wine, gross cigars, bad company, it's just awful!"

He laughed and a knock hit the door. I startled out of the moment, out of his gaze. "What was that?"

"That is dinner. I certainly hoped you've worked up an appetite."

"I most certainly have." I placed the cigar in a gold ashtray in front of me and Damien snuffed it out in a way that preserved the rest of the tobacco before returning it to a small humidor on the table.

"So are you going to finally tell me what's for dinner or keep me in suspense?"

He laughed. "As much as I'd like to torture you, I won't. We're having steak. You're not a vegetarian are you?"

I hadn't eaten meat in months. I wasn't vegetarian, but I was damn close. "No, of course not. I love steak. There's nothing quite like a perfectly cooked and juicy steak is there?"

"Not even close," he said. "These are tomahawk rib-eye cuts of Prime Wagyu beef grown by a company I own. They are going to blow your mind."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

He took me by the hand and led me out of the cellar and toward the dinner table where my jaw dropped. There was a lit candle next to the two place settings and roses, and there were the steaks in all their glory, a heaping pile of mashed potatoes accompanying them.

Damien walked to the table, pulling out the chair for me. "After you," he said.

Chapter 2

I sat at the table and scooted up to the perfectly seared hunk of beast in front of me, preparing to take it down like a wild cheetah on the savannah. No matter how many times I looked at it I couldn't get over it's sheer size. "How much does this thing weigh?"

He placed a white cloth napkin in his lap. "Are you intimidated by it?"

I fought back my fear. "Intimidated? No. Curious? Yes."

"It's two pounds, give or take. I know it's big but it goes down smooth."

"Give or take what? Pounds?" I hoped he didn't think I was too much of a smart ass. I don't know what it was about Damien; I was comfortable around him, perhaps too comfortable.

He laughed. "It's not called a tomahawk chop for nothin'."

I was instantly filled with tension. There was no way in hell I could eat a two pound steak and a pile of mashed potatoes the size of Mount Everest, but I was going to make the best of it and try. I picked up my knife and fork and began to saw into the meat, and sat there shocked when, at the slightest pressure, a delicate hunk of steak fell right off the main slab.

"Now that is tender," he said, cutting off a piece of his own and stuffing it in his mouth.

I was hesitant but stabbed the piece of meat with my fork and placed it in my mouth, it all but disappeared. I looked up directly at Damien as if I'd had a revelation. "It melted in my mouth."

"I know," he said, taking a bite of his own steak. "It tends to do that." He closed his eyes and savored the piece of meat in his mouth. "Now that is a $400 dollar a pound piece of meat if I've ever had one!"

"What?" I said, my eyes almost popping out of their sockets. "That's a designer bag or shoes!" That steak was more than I would make in a single paycheck as a waitress.

"It's ridiculous what some people will pay for luxury, isn't it?"

"Like your cigars?" I said, toying with him.

"Precisely. But we all have our vices, don't we?"

"I suppose," I said. I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want to give up my dark and dirty secrets so easily.

He took another huge bite of steak and savored it. "If we all have a vice then what's yours?"

My hands began to sweat as he homed in on my eyes. I looked down at my feet. "It sounds corny."

"Then it must be good," he said.

I took a deep breath. "Shoes. There, I said it."

"Noted," he said. "Though I will confess I had you pegged for a bag girl."

"Bags are nice but they'll never do to me what a pair Manolos will."

"And what exactly do they do to you?"

"It's hard to explain."

"I bet it is," he said.

I continued on my steak, doing my best to scarf it down. I'd gotten about halfway through when I just couldn't take another bite. It was too rich and my stomach was just too full. I folded up my napkin and placed it on the table. "Phew, I'm stuffed!"

"You're not going to finish it? You've barely even touched your potatoes."

I was afraid that I'd offended him. "Dear god no! I'm about to pop."

He looked at what was left at my steak and cracked a smile. "Well done. I'm surprised you made it that far. There's a meat eater in there somewhere."

I blushed. It was like he could see right through me.

Kenneth walked toward us, ready to bus the table. "Miss Daniels, are you done?"

I nodded. But given that I'd been in his shoes so many times before as a waitress it didn't feel right to have him serve me. I wasn't accustomed to such treatment. I'd always served myself and cleaned up after myself, and I intended to tonight as well. "It's ok Kenneth, I can clean up. Thank you."

Kenneth looked at me perplexed and Damien cracked a smile. "Kenneth, why don't you go ahead and take the night off."

"Yes, sir," he said with enthusiasm, and skedaddled out of the room.

Damien looked at me with an intense stare. "Now you've got my attention."

I stood up and leaned over Damien, letting my breasts gently grace his shoulder and the side of his face as I picked up his plate and utensils. "There really isn't much on your plate is there? You just about licked it clean."

"When something is that good it's hard for me to stop."

I stacked my plate and utensils on his and walked toward the kitchen. "What should I do with what's left of my steak?"

"Wrap it in foil and put in the fridge. I don't like things to go to waste."

I did as he asked, wrapping my leftovers with a roll of foil left on the counter and placed the steak in his oversized stainless steel fridge. I then walked toward the kitchen, placing my dishes in the sink basin, waving my hand in front of a motion sensor to start the hot water running.

I stared out the window in front of the sink, growing nervous as I spotted Damien's reflection inching toward me. He stood there and watched me work as I lathered up a sponge with dish soap and started to scrub the plates. I was really getting into it too, doing my best to give him a sultry little show as I scrubbed hard enough to make me ass and tits giggle with every stroke. If I wanted to lure a man of Damien's caliber, I had to be seductive at all times, even if I had no intent on giving him the goods just yet.

I looked down for a moment to concentrate on the dishes, washing his cup and then my own, when out of nowhere two strong hands squeezed the tops of my shoulders. He whispered into my ear. "Thank you for washing the dishes. That was generous of you."

I looked over my shoulder, my mouth almost touching his. "It was the least I could do."

Sensing he was about to go in for a kiss I turned back around toward the sink. I washed our forks and knives when his hands traced down my arms with a pressure so firm it sent a shiver down my spine. "Do you always keep everything so clean?"

"Always," I said, rinsing my hands. My entire body flushed.

His fingertips traced back up to my shoulders, gently pulling on the collar of my shirt until he'd exposed my flesh. He placed a gentle kiss on my shoulder and I trembled. I turned around immediately to find my eyes locked to his in a sensual gaze.

Our mouths were brought together by sheer passion and as they touched I lost it. We kissed, our tongues dancing passionately over one another, right there in the kitchen. My god could this man kiss. I hated to think about how many women he'd perfected it on before me. I pulled away short of breath. "Do you always kiss on the first date?"

"It depends," he said, going for my lips again.

I backed away, leaving him wanting. "On?"

He smirked. "A real man would never divulge those secrets, now would he?" He grabbed the back of my neck and kissing me again.

Was I just another fling? Or was he legitimately interested? There was no way to tell. My mind scrambled to determine the truth, though I doubted I'd get it from him. He continued to massage my neck, now lightly kissing my lips. I was fast turning to putty in his hands.

His fingertips traced down my spine to the bottom rim of my shirt. He pulled it up and over my head in one fell swoop. "Wait," I said, my bra and cleavage now exposed. "I don't want you to think I'm a slut."

He gently stroked my belly with the back of his hand. "Going after what you want doesn't make you a slut," he said, grabbing my waist and hoisting me up to the countertop. "But if you want me to stop just say so."

He began to kiss my chest gently, moving down the crevice of my breasts until his chin was lodged in between my cleavage. I moaned. "Whatever you do, don't stop."

His hands snuck up behind me and unhooked my bra, a millisecond later my breasts exploded outward and into his hands. He tossed my bra to the side. "I'll stop if I want to," he said, caressing my breasts and gently sucking on my hardened nipples. "But lucky for you, I don't want to."

"You like that do you?" I said, arching my back so that my breasts were firm and erect. "What if I told you there was something tastier?"

"Being a businessman and all that that implies, I'd ask to see the goods before I made a commitment."

Goosebumps covered my entire body as he lightly nibbled my nipples. He unbuttoned my waist and pulled until my zipper split open, revealing a triangle of white panty. "You're so aggressive," I said.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." He grabbed my jeans at my ankles and pulled them off of my body leaving me in my panties, a wet spot clearly visible making the white cotton fabric almost see through.

I closed my legs as he began to lightly rub my clit. "We barely know each other," I said, fighting the pleasure in my groin.

"Wouldn't you say that's about to change?"

I nodded. He ripped my panties in two leaving my sopping wet pussy dripping on the countertop. He kissed my belly and moved downward. "I can feel the heat from here," he said. I couldn't believe he was going down on me. Part of me wanted him to stop, but that part of me was overridden by the heathen inside of me desperately seeking satisfaction.

I was so nervous my legs were shaking as he gently spread them open to reveal my pussy, ready to be pleasured in any way he desired. His kisses descended further down my belly and over the shaven skin of my mound. He looked up at me from between my legs. "How badly do you want it?"

I couldn't bring myself to say it, instead I spread my legs open wider.

He looked up at me and smiled. "That's what I thought."

He hadn't even touched me and I'd already begun to moan. Even the thought of him pleasuring me was sufficient stimulation to cum. I couldn't even imagine what it would really be like if he fucked me.

When his tongue first stroked my clit I almost came right on the spot. I fought it off though. There was no way in hell I was going to allow myself to climax so quickly. I wanted to see what he was made of. I stopped my orgasm in its tracks by relaxing my pelvic floor, a trick I'd learned sometime in the distant past.

Damien continued licking my hardened clit until a mix of saliva and pussy juice pooled on the counter. I wasn't the only one groaning, he too was turned on to the max as he lapped at my hole, a satisfied groan escaping from his mouth.

He sunk his thick middle finger into my pussy, which showed no resistance. The truth is I was so wet he could have easily gotten two or three in there, but he was starting me off slow. He thrust deep into my pussy as he licked at my clit. The urge to cum was building again, radiating from my groin to my fingers and the tips of my toes. I fought it back, and while I may have won the battle I was losing the war.

Out of instinct I arched my back until my pussy ground against his face, smearing my juices all over his lips and chin. He sunk a second digit inside me, gently spreading my pussy as both fingers went deeper than any had before.

I looked down below to find that my pussy juice was dripping off the counter. I'd never given up so much of my fluids to anyone. He looked up at me and smiled, his face glistening. "Cum for me," he said, driving his fingers deeper and faster into my hole.

He sucked my clit and I lost the war. I thrashed about wildly as I came all over his mouth, my fluid gushing out of me like a sweet, tangy fountain.

He stood up and pulled me toward him. I slid across the counter on my own lubrication. "Do you want a taste?" he said.

I nodded. He brought his lips to my own in a passionate kiss. I tasted my own tang in a way I never had before, in a way I never thought I would. And I liked it. I pulled away, looking down at the bulge in his slacks. "Did you think you'd be the only one having dessert tonight?"

He grinned. "I guess I didn't think you had much of an appetite. You've already had so much meat tonight, are you sure want some more?"

"You've underestimated my hunger." I slipped off the counter and dropped to my knees. I pulled off his large belt buckle, and yanked his gray slacks to the ground. I didn't just want his cock to be big; I wanted it to be huge. He was a man and he needed to have the cock of a man. I grew optimistic when I spied the bulge in his white boxer briefs, and as I pulled them to his ankles my jaw dropped.

I looked up at his grin. "Everything is bigger in Wyoming," he said.

I laughed, stroking the base of his massive dick with my tongue. "I think your thinking Texas," I said, sucking on the tip and taking it into my mouth.

"Don't you sass me," he said, grabbing a tuft of my hair and pulling my head back. A grin erupted on his face as he stared me, his cock halfway down my throat.

My heart pounded. I couldn't tell if he was angry or not, but given his smile I assumed he liked it. I took his cock deeper into my mouth savoring every single inch. I sucked him up and down and over and again. And just when I thought his cock couldn't get any harder, it did. I cupped his balls gently to a pleasured groan. His heart pounding through his dick so hard it thumped on my tongue. I had no intention of letting him cum yet. "So soon?" I said.

He nodded, unable to hide the eruption building in his loins. I grabbed hiss ass cheeks and pulled him deeper into my mouth until I was just shy of gagging. I loved what I could do with my mouth. I'd often joked around with my girlfriends that I'd never left a man unsatisfied, and I had no intention of breaking that streak with Damien. I squeezed his hard, muscular ass once more and a second later he exploded, filling my mouth with cum. He pulled his cock away leaving my mouth full. "How do I taste?" he said.

I swallowed his load, letting the warmth of it slide down my throat. "I'll never tell."

He let out a yawn and pulled his pants up. "Well," he said. "That was certainly ... interesting."

I smiled. "Interesting is a word for it."

He looked at the kitchen, noticing a pile of dishes I hadn't yet cleaned. "Well?" he said.

"Well what?"

He pointed at the dishes. "They aren't going to clean themselves are they?"

My eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

He let out a small laugh. "I'm just kidding. I'll call Kenneth back to clean up."

"No, no it's ok. I'll do them. I said I would and I will." And I did, scrubbing pans and forks and knives and other soiled dishes while Damien looked on. I tried my best to play the part of a domestic goddess but it was hard when the only thing I could think about was Damien thrusting his giant cock inside of me. To say that I was sweating would have been an understatement.

Damien walked up behind me when I was done and lifted a square white plate in the air, inspecting it. "Spotless," he said. "I like it when things are spotless."

"Thank you," I said as he put the plate back down.

"Well it's getting late, I think I'm heading to bed." He grabbed my hand squeezed. "Join me?"

Our eyes connected but not a word was spoken. I had no intention of breaking the thick silence that swelled up between us. I told myself I wouldn't sleep with him, at least not on the first night. Another part of me worried that if I didn't my time with Damien Wesley would be through. "Well?" he said, breaking the silence as his inquisitive eyes locked onto mine.

I smiled back. "You haven't had enough of me yet?"

He laughed. "Men like me don't ever have enough and that's why we have so much. We're not keen on taking no for an answer."

I grabbed his spare hand and squared up with his body. "The only other thing you're getting from me is a goodnight kiss."

His face was ripe with tension and he clenched his teeth until his jaw pulsed. "Is that so?"

"It is," I said, leaning in to kiss him.

He backed away just as our lips touched. "Naughty girl. Affection is a two way street." I was shocked. I'd never been turned down for a kiss.

"So is that how the night ends?" I said.

"It doesn't have to. Come on. Let me show you to your room."

We walked through his cabin hand in hand, the tension between us thicker than it was before. He led me to an area that I hadn't seen when I first came in. It was some kind of game room filled with a foosball machine, an air hockey system, arcade games from the 1990's, and an ivory bodied pool table with bright green felt. We walked through it to another room that contained a small spa and a sauna that led to a hallway with four rooms. "This is where you sleep," he said, pushing the door to my guestroom open. Inside was my hot pink luggage, patiently awaiting my arrival thanks to Kenneth. He pointed toward the end of the hall. "I sleep down there in the master bedroom. I'll leave it unlocked in case you change your mind."

The gall on him to assume I'd come creeping toward him in the middle of the night. "Thank you for a wonderful evening," I said.

"You're most welcome. If you need anything tonight, don't hesitate to ask."

I nodded. "Thank you."

"And Laura," he said as I'd stepped foot into my room.

"Yes?" I said, turning around.

"You'd better get some shuteye because tomorrow's going to be epic." He was trying to remain serious but had trouble containing his smile. "And with that I bid you farewell," he said, bowing and placing his cowboy hat over his heart.

I laughed, my sarcasm so thick it dripped off every word. "Oh my, you're such a gentleman."

He laughed as he sauntered toward his bedroom, opened the door and disappeared.

I retired to my room and closed the door. At this point I didn't trust he wouldn't sneak up on me when I was least suspecting it. Damien had proved unpredictable, and far more cunning than I'd ever imagined.

I walked into the adjoined bathroom noticing fresh towels and showered off the day. By the time I laid in bed I was no longer tired. All I could think about was what he had planned for me. With a billionaire like Damien Wesley it could have been anything. And that's what scared me the most.

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