Axl (Sons of Chaos MC #1) (8 page)

Axl’s forehead wrinkled, his eyes squeezed closed in thought.

“You gotta tell ‘em to get outta here. They can go to the cops if they need to.”

A lump formed in my throat.

“Fuck,” I whispered. I looked at the two men lying on the ground next to their van. “What happens when the cops find them?”

“That ain’t happening. Somebody’s gonna come clean this shit up stat,” Axl said, grimacing. “I’m gonna stash these guys in the back of their van for now.”

“What about the blood?”

He grimaced again. “It’ll be gone before dawn. Right now you gotta get your stuff and leave a note for your parents. Tell ‘em to bounce.”

I swallowed hard. “Okay.”

I hurried back toward my house. As I started across the street, out of the corner of my eye I saw Axl dragging the men’s bodies into the back of their van.

While Holly grabbed her stuff, I crammed the two dirty Reaper carcasses into the back of the van. I thanked fuck that this had gone down in boring-ass Coppertail; not a soul drove past while I loaded up the van. And no one noticed that when I backed it up ten feet, it was to cover the massive pool of blood on the asphalt.

I put the van in park, pulled out my cell phone, and sent a text to the contact in my book named “Mr. Clean.” The Sons contracted him to take care of fucked-up situations like this. I grimaced at the thought of the drain this’d be on my bank account—this was a personal call, not a club call, and a nighttime rush job at that. Mr. Clean didn’t work cheap.

I exited the van and slammed the door, locking the keys inside as Holly came out of her house. As long as he got here before the Reapers did, we’d have a head start. Mr. Clean would be doing a good deed, I thought wryly. By getting the carcasses outta here, he’d be saving the neighborhood from a god-forsaken smell when the sun came up in the morning.

“I’m ready,” said Holly, apprehensively. She had a small red backpack slung around her shoulder.

I stepped off the road into the ditch, hauling my bike upright. It was too dark to see the damage, but I had no doubt it’d need some fuckin’ bodywork after that. Pissed me off, but I’d done what I had to.

I pulled off my cut and surveyed it. It was splattered in Reaper blood. Now there was a badge of pride if I’d ever seen one. I grinned at my jacket, and if it’d had a mouth, it would’ve grinned right back. But I couldn’t wear this thing right now. It’d just be another target on our backs—literally.

I stuffed the cut into a saddlebag, but not before using the clean side to wipe the fuckin’ blood off my face. “Let’s go,” I said.

We mounted the bike, and we rode the hell away from that bloodbath.

I took us to an old hideout of mine. An old, decrepit motel in the desert near the California border where no one ever fucked with you. It was full of people who couldn’t afford to fuck with you. Everyone there was running from someone.

The guy at the check-in desk was an old, stodgy-looking dude with thick-rimmed metal glasses. The lobby was small and hot despite the cool night, and it reminded me more of a gas station than a hotel lobby. The clerk sat behind thick, bulletproof glass.

“Yeah,” he grunted.

“Room for two,” I said. “No check-out date.”

The man casually thumbed through a ledger book in front of him, a look of disinterest on his face. Then he looked up, and his gaze switched from me, to Holly, and back.

“You ain’t just want an hour?” he said. “Discount rate.”

“Hey,” said Holly, “What the hell does that mean?”

I shook my head in disgust. This asshole was a real creepy old fucker. “She ain’t a whore,” I said, leaning forward and looking down my nose at the man, “She’s my woman.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Holly shift uncomfortably, but she said nothing. The man looked at her again, shrugged, then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and booked us a room.

We exited the lobby and began walking back toward the bike. The sun was starting to come up, and the distant sound of desert birds echoed across the dawn. Holly remained silent until we’d grabbed our stuff from the bike. We were walking across the motel’s parking lot to our room when she spoke.

“You think I’m your ‘woman?’” she said. “I barely know you and all you’ve done is fuck up my life. I wish I’d never gone to that junkyard.”

I halted my walk, stopping short in the middle of the parking lot. Goddammit. I was sticking my neck out for this chick ‘cause I thought maybe I felt something for her. And I thought she did too. Had I been thinking with my cock this whole time just like Dash said?

“I saved your ass back there,” I said, angrily. “I’m your bodyguard right now. So yeah, that makes you my woman.”

“Umm, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” said Holly.

“So you don’t
wanna
be my woman?” I asked hotly. It just came out, and I was shocked I’d said it. I wasn’t the kind of guy to say stupid shit around women.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she said, shaking her head.

“Whatever,” I replied. I turned and started back toward the motel room. Her words stayed in the back of my mind, pissing me off.

When we got inside, the interior of our motel room was dark and dingy. The decor looked like it hadn’t been updated since the 70s. And to be honest… there was something about it that I really enjoyed.

Just my style.

“Hmm,” I muttered under my breath. “Only one bed.”

Holly frowned. “Maybe you should go back out there and ask for a roll-away.”

“Maybe you should go ask,” I shot back at her, annoyed. “I’m sure ol’ dirty bastard back there would love to help.”

“Whatever,” said Holly crossly. She hung her backpack on the back of a chair and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding her head in her hands.

I went into the bathroom. It was a fuckin’ pigsty, just like every other time I’d been by this joint. I turned the sink on hot enough to burn, and scrubbed my hands and face ’til they were nearly raw. Had to get all that fuckin’ Reaper juice off me.

“God,” Holly said as I walked out of the bathroom, rubbing my face with a towel, “I’m so fucking tired. I was gonna get my first night’s sleep all week, and then everything went to hell.”

“I ain’t exactly been sleeping tight either, darlin’,” I said. “Club wars tend to do that to me.”

She ignored me and kept rubbing her temples. Then she said, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

She grabbed her backpack again and disappeared into the bathroom. “This place is filthy,” she said, coming back out of the bathroom.

I shrugged. “The Four Seasons was all outta rooms in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Holly shut the door hard. Jesus Christ. She was a real piece of work.

I walked to the window next to the front door and bent my knees to peek outside, holding the blinds open with my thumb and forefinger. My bike sat outside, undisturbed. I heard music coming from a room across the way—at this fucking hour, Christ—but there was no sign of trouble.

Sighing, I opened the door, stepped outside, and took in the calmness of the dawn. It was a stark contrast from the chaos that’d gone down just a couple hours ago. I really could’ve used a smoke, even though I’d quit years ago.

When I finally went back into the room, Holly was lying on one edge of the bed, wrapped in a crappy, threadbare towel from the motel. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hugging her breasts tight against her body.

God, under any other circumstances I would’ve been lusting over that tight young body. But right now I was just cashed the fuck out.

I crashed down on the opposite edge of the bed I stared at the ceiling for a while, processing what had just happened, not speaking. She didn’t speak either.

When I finally looked over at her, a tear was running down her cheek.

I reached my hand out across the bed and nudged her arm. “Hey,” I said, “Everything’s gonna be cool.”

“It’s not,” she said with a sniffle. “Graduation was only a few weeks out. Now we’re in the middle of this shit. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to go home again.”

“Darlin’,” I said, covering her hand with mine, “This shit’ll blow over. It always does. They’ll forget all about you when the next big thing comes up. Until then, I’ll protect you.”

“Why?” she asked. “Doesn’t your club need you right now?”

I sighed. “I disobeyed orders when I came for you.”

She turned her head to look at me, her eyes watery and wide. “Why would you do that?”

I struggled for words. I wasn’t used to this emotional bullshit.

“You... made me feel...” I stopped. What a fuckin’ pussy I was being. “I just didn’t wanna see you get fucked up,” I finished.

Sometimes I fuckin’ amazed myself with my own eloquence.

There was a pause, and then I felt her moving her hand in mine. She linked her fingers with my fingers and squeezed my hand. Suddenly, I couldn’t resist her anymore. I turned on my side, leaned toward her, and placed my lips on hers.

She kissed me back.

Axl kissed me, and I kissed him. He cupped my cheek in the palm of his calloused hand, his weathered, dry skin scratching my freshly moisturized face. The same hand that had plunged a knife into the neck of one Reaper and into the gut of another, now held my face tenderly. The contrast floated at the top of my mind while his lips mashed against mine. His breath was hot with adrenaline, a masculine, animal scent that penetrated me completely.

I loved it.

I darted my tongue out and it clashed with his, our flesh dancing and circling in lust.

“Babe,” he said, pulling away for a breath, “I want you.”

An excited streak of sexual possibility ran up my spine. Goosebumps tingled over my skin. His face was so handsome even in the dim motel light. His high cheekbones framed his strong, flat chin, covered in a beard as black as his full head of rich, dark hair.

This was just one more step toward madness, a further descent into the life of chaos that I seemed to be plunging toward at an alarming rate. But I was already in this deep, and every bundle of nerves in my body fired in response to his touch. God, I needed him.

Still facing him and laying on my side, I reached out to reciprocate his touch. His prickly face scratched my hands, just as his hands had. Every part of him was sharp and dangerous, a testament to the lifestyle he lived.

As I felt his face, the cheap motel towel fell away from my body, revealing my soft, perky breasts to him for the first time.

“Darlin’,” he said, running his hand down my side, pulling the towel further down, “You are fuckin’ perfect.”

He pushed me onto my back and straddled me. My nipples were hard like pink pencil erasers. They pointed upward at him, seeking his touch, his pinch, his lips.

He dipped his head down, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking it. My body instantly responded. I felt myself getting slick, my pussy aching, revealing my fundamental biological yearning for his body.

Axl’s t-shirt hugged his torso tightly, his muscular chest and shoulders straining against the cotton, pushing the fabric to its limits. Laying on my back, I reached up, my hands exploring the ridges between his abs, taking in the flat hardness of his stomach, the sheer size and thickness of his forearms. Every touch heightened my arousal, increasing my need and hunger for him.

My towel was now completely off, cast aside on the bed, my full nakedness on display to him as he sat atop me, eclipsing me with his strong frame and pressing me into the sheets. He crouched back, the jeans on his ass pressing against my knees. He pressed his palm hard into my hip, his thumbs following the folds of my skin down to my dripping pussy. He pressed a thumb onto my swollen clit, sending waves of pleasure up my spine.

“God, babe, I’m gonna fucking stretch you out. This pussy is mine.”

He scooted back again, dipping his head down against my lower belly. His tongue tickled my skin as he tasted my freshly-washed skin. His lips and mouth moved further down, below my naked waist, and settled against my pussy lips. I shuddered in pleasure as his tongue flicked and circled my clit. Axl ate my pussy ferociously, his lips chaotically spreading my slickness over my thighs and ass.

“God,” he said, pausing, “you taste fucking delicious.” Then he commanded, in a tone so authoritative that I couldn’t resist, “On all fours. Now.”

I obeyed, flipping over. I pressed my ass into the air toward him, my back arching, my muscles instinctively moving to welcome him inside me.

I looked over my shoulder. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing the gorgeous body underneath, sculpted by years on the streets. He unbuckled his jeans, throwing the belt on the ground. He reached into his jeans and pulled out his hard cock. He was fully erect, his hardness throbbing. It must’ve been eight inches. And it was thick.

He pressed its tip against my pussy lips, and slid it in hard. An instant feeling of fullness overtook me, my muscles clenching against him. I cried out as he penetrated me, and the shock of his size left me feeling torn open. But the feeling of pain quickly gave way to pleasure as he thrust out... and in, and out.