Bash, Volume II (15 page)

My ass was still slick from his playing with it earlier, and now he pressed me down on his thick length without pausing to give me time to adjust, and I gasped and squirmed as my bowels were invaded by his long, not-so-thin cock. When I was finally sitting in his lap, impaled by his dick, Dawg lifted my legs, settled my feet on his shoulders, and lowered his mouth to my clit.

I lost track of how many times they brought me to orgasm. I knew Bash’s cock was getting thicker and shorter with each climax, spreading me wider and wider. Opening me. Making me take all of him, making me
want
all of him. I squirmed on his lap, groaned, begged, and screamed both of their names. Bash’s hands worked my breasts and nipples when Dawg’s mouth was on my clit, and then later Bash worked my clit when Dawg’s tongue fucked my pussy.

And through it all, I was frantic with lust, crazy with need, and unable to dictate a damned thing to them as they worked me over like a well-tuned instrument. I had no say in the tempo or the notes they played, I was just a receptacle for their ministrations and attention, and at times it was all I could do to get enough oxygen into my body to remain conscious.

When I didn’t think I could possibly come again, they moved me to all fours, with Dawg in front of me and Bash still in my ass, and Dawg’s cock once again filled my mouth.

Now, Bash didn’t hold back as he fucked my ass — this wasn’t easy or gentle, it was rough, raw, feral, and wild.

Dawg lost control as he fucked my face, too, and yet another orgasm took over my body as these two bikers used me for their pleasure, and I reveled in the depravity. It was decadent, and shameless, and debauched… and everything I’d hoped it would be, and I’m convinced my final orgasm, when the guys were coming too, would’ve killed a mere human.

When it was finally over, Dawg once again held me while Bash got a washcloth and cleaned me up. I needed to pee, but didn’t think I had enough energy to make it to the bathroom.

Eventually, I did, and when I returned, they welcomed me back to bed, between them.

No one said a thing. They surrounded me. Pet me. Held me.

Nothing needed to be said.

Angelica

Bash’s phone rang before my alarm went off the next morning, and I heard Duke’s voice telling him to turn the television on. I reached for the remote and turned it to a local station as I noted it was one minute after six.

“Authorities haven’t officially confirmed District Attorney Thomas Pickering’s arrest, but sources say he was brought in during the night hours to avoid providing images of him in handcuffs to the public. This is obviously not an option available to most who are arrested, so perhaps the rumors of his abuse of power aren’t totally unfounded.”

There wasn’t much more before they went to another story, and I changed to another local channel as I grabbed my phone to do a news search for Thomas’s name.

Nothing showed up within the past twenty-four hours, and the other stations didn’t have anything, either. The MC’s attorney had talked to me, coached me on what to say — and not say — should my name come out in the press. I didn’t know what this meant for Thomas, or me, or the MC, but I worried for all of us.

Dawg was quiet; Bash looked pissed. Then again, pissed seemed to be his default look when he wasn’t sure how to feel about something. He rarely aimed it at me, but I’d seen it aimed at just about everyone else.

I didn’t want to talk to either of them about Thomas, so I said, “If I buy a car, I’ll need to arrange for the MG to be stored somewhere out of the weather. Dad kept it in the club’s garage while I was away, and he drove it enough to keep it in good shape.”

“Have you decided what you want to buy, yet?” asked Dawg.

“Something new, and comfortable — I’m making good money and not spending a whole lot of it. I know I won’t be able to work on anything new, but I like the idea of a keyless car with an MP3 player. I’m still considering a BMW or Subaru, but I want to look around some more, too.”

Bash reached for his phone, fiddled with it, and held it to his ear. Duke answered and Bash asked, “What do we know?”

“Nothing yet, other than the fact he’s been arrested. Got a call into Drake, he should be able to get more information for us soon. I take it you’re with Angelica?”

“Yeah. I’ll follow her to work, make sure she gets into the building. Got a meeting this afternoon — if I can’t be there when she gets off, Dawg will.”

“Okay. If you need someone else to keep an eye on her, let me know.”

The guys had breakfast with me, and we discussed the possible ramifications of Thomas’s arrest. It might backfire on the MC, or it could show Thomas’s abuse of power and make him lose office.

Either way, I wasn’t going to talk to the media if they approached me. If it became necessary, the attorney would release a statement saying I’d dated the district attorney for a brief period of time, and when I’d broken up with him he’d threatened me with legal problems because of my association with the Rolling Thunder MC in Atlanta, and thus my ties to club members in Chattanooga. He would frame this as a domestic issue taken public because of the DA’s abuse of the power afforded to him by his office.

* * * *

The first hour of my workday was a useless meeting that could’ve been handled with a fifty word email, but the rest of my day flew. I was so engrossed in my work, I only realized it was five o’clock because a coworker stuck his head into my office and asked if I wanted to walk out with him. I copied some files to a USB drive and locked my computer down before putting my suit jacket on and joining him.

“Who do I talk to about erosion?” I asked him. “Even with baffles, the water on the backside of the dam is going to wreak havoc if I can pull this off.”

He shook his head. “Your job is to get the mechanics right, to get the most energy out of every square inch of water coming through. Once you do that, the environmental people have a go at making sure we don’t break any environmental laws.”

And that was a problem for me, because I needed to be sure my design didn’t cause harm. I didn’t just want to make sure it was
legal
, I needed to be sure it wasn’t going to destroy the riverbed for five miles. If we needed to drastically alter a couple hundred yards of the riverbed, I could work with that, but more?
No
. I didn’t argue the point, though. I’d just have to figure it out on my own before I submitted anything.

Dawg was across the street on his bike when I came out, and he followed me to my apartment. I hadn’t seen any media, so it was likely overkill, but it still made me feel good to know the guys were looking out for me. It wasn’t that they didn’t think I could take care of myself, they just wanted to be sure I was okay.

I called Brain on my way home, as he seemed the most likely person to help me with my technical dilemma. At work, the entire top of my workspace can be a touch monitor, and I’d gotten spoiled by basically being able to work with blueprints and other designs directly. Working from home on a twenty inch monitor with a mouse was a bitch, now, so I asked Brain if he had a source for me to buy a touchscreen desk or table.

“Next time you’re at the compound I’ll let you see what I’ve put together. I mounted a sixty inch television flat on a table, put a touch screen overlay over it, and built some wood around it so people weren’t propping their arms on the glass. It isn’t as fancy as whatever you have at work likely is, but I can put it together for you for less than two thousand dollars.”

“I have a fifty-five inch television. If I moved it lower on the wall and hooked my computer to it, that could work. I wouldn’t have to make it into a desk or table. I just need the size and the touchscreen.”

“Send me the specs on your TV and I’ll see if they make an overlay for it.”

Dawg walked me into my apartment and told me Bash would get there when he could. He hugged me goodbye, and I walked into my living room and stared at my television a few minutes.

Brain had given me a few ideas, and I moved my computer under my television and unplugged the HDMI cable from the DVR so I could connect my computer. The resolution and proportion were horrible, and I spent thirty minutes researching how to get it right.

When I finally got my schematics up on the television so I could properly read them, I sat in my big luxurious reading chair, my legs curled under me, with the wireless keyboard in my lap and the wireless mouse balanced on the chair’s arm, and I once again became engrossed in my work.

I jumped when my phone rang, and then smiled as I saw it was Bash.

“Thought I’d hear from you when you got home,” he said, his voice cautious.

“Dawg saw me home safe, I figured ya’ll were in touch. Sorry. I came in and got absorbed in some work. I set my computer up in my living room, so I can use my TV as the monitor, and then dove back into my project.” I looked at the clock, saw it was nearly eight o’clock. “I’m not really up to going out, but I just realized I’m starving. Have you had dinner?”

“I’m free until eleven or twelve. How about I grab takeout from Sticky Fingers and come by?”

“Perfect. How has your day been?”

“Busy. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”

I didn’t ask about Thomas because I figured someone would let me know if there was news. As far as I was concerned, the less I brought him up, the better.

Bash

She opened the door with a smile, but her eyes looked distant. My wolf didn’t like it, but I forced him to back off as I asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just kind of deep into work. I know I should leave it at the office, but I’m so close to
something
. I can feel it, and I really need to figure it out.”

I looked at her TV and tried to make sense of what I was seeing. She watched me a few seconds and used her finger to point as she explained, “The water comes in here, and… hang on, this is the plan view, let me switch to the elevations.”

She sat in her huge-assed chair and worked the mouse a few seconds until the view switched, then stood and went back to the television so she could point with her finger as she talked. “I need this to be a touch screen. Brain’s looking into it, but until then I’m stuck with the mouse. Anyway, the water comes in here and…” I listened to her explanation and marveled at how fucking smart she is. I’d always known it — she hadn’t
really
needed me to babysit her while she built her car, because what she hadn’t already known, she quickly figured out. I was able to show her shortcuts and tricks, but I didn’t have to explain much to her. I’d often worked on another car or bike in the bay beside her, checking on her every hour or so, and coming over to assist when she had a question or needed an extra hand. She’d used what she knew about motorcycles to figure the car stuff out on her own, mostly.

Some days we’d worked together the whole day, because you need four hands for some things. We’d been a great team, and I’d loved hearing her take on life as seen by a fifteen year old werewolf who was growing up in the human world. Even with her dad being the RTMC President, she’d had a mostly normal life. At least, until her mom was killed. I knew she’d done an about-face after she lost her mom — no more wild parties, no more sneaking out. She’d dove into her studies and finished a little over two years of college courses by the time she got her high school diploma. That’s how she’d managed a Master’s degree from MIT in such a short time.

“Starting from your sixteenth birthday, once you were driving,” and after her mom was dead, but I didn’t say that part, “what’s the wildest thing you’ve done?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “I focused on my education more than partying. I mean, sure, I went to some wild parties, but it was important my peers at MIT didn’t see me as a party animal. I got away from campus and went crazy a few times, but it’s stuff you’ll think is tame.”

I smelled the hint of an untruth, and said, “No, there’s something. What is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Not wild so much as reckless, probably. I went to a biker bar a few times. If they’d known who I belonged to it could’ve been dangerous, but when I got really homesick…”

She trailed off, and her scent told me she expected me to get pissed. Part of me was, because she’d been right about it being dangerous. However, she’d already hinted about going to the bikers a few times, so that wasn’t the part I focused on. “You were homesick?”

“Not often. I loved my time up there, but you can’t get sweet tea, everyone talks funny, the winters are brutal, and it’s just
different
. Plus, life as a civilian got to be too serious, sometimes, and it was nice to be around people who just didn’t give a fuck.” She shrugged. “I eventually lost most of my southern accent because everyone treated me like a country bumpkin at first. Especially the people on campus, but even the fucking bikers did.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed your accent shifting around. I like that you seem the most relaxed with me and your dad.”

She looked at me a few seconds, and sighed before she told me, “You were my last assigned prospect. Daddy drove me around until I turned sixteen, then made me drive his truck for a while, instead of my car. Losing Mom made him want to put me in a tank, but I guess someone talked to him and convinced him he couldn’t put me in bubble wrap without suffocating me. Or, that’s what he told me, at the time.”

I was trying to figure out what she was saying, when she explained, “If my mom hadn’t gotten killed that night, or if the whole night had gone different, I’d probably be a different person. I know she wasn’t killed because I snuck out, but it still all got twisted up in my head, and I became a good girl. No more sneaking out, no more wild stuff. I stopped stashing short skirts in my backpack and changing clothes when I got to school. I hadn’t liked where Sloane was taking things and I didn’t want to be super sexy anymore.” She looked at the floor, then back up to me, and her emotional pain reflected in her eyes. “That one day changed my life more than anyone can possibly understand. So, the answer to your question is that most of the wild stuff I’ve done happened before I was sixteen.”

I’d set the bag with our dinner on the coffee table while she showed me her plans, and now I reached for it and told her, “Let’s get some food in you, while we talk.” I had no idea what to say to her, and stalling usually serves me well, in these situations.

I knew about her past, and it was time I shared more of my past with her. We got dishes and drinks, silverware and napkins. I turned some music on and swept for bugs one more time, and then turned the water in the sink to a small stream. Brain had taught us all how to defeat listening devices, and I wanted to be sure no one but Angelica heard this conversation. You aren’t paranoid if they really
are
out to get you, and there’s no statute of limitations on murder.

We sat down to our small feast and I told her, “Before all the trouble started at home, I’d dated the same girl for years. At first, she was on my side, saying if I’d had to kill them she was sure I’d done it for a good reason. I never told her I had, thank goodness, just kept with the same family line about coming home from school and getting something to eat, and not admitting they’d been at the house that day. At first, I intended to tell her, but then my gut told me not to. Good thing, because the cops showed her pictures of their bodies, let her read some of the medical examiner’s report, and it freaked her out and turned her against me. We’d hoped having the bodies would give the families closure and things would get better, but to make sure they didn’t get some freaky forensics from them, we stripped them down, scrubbed them, soaked ‘em a while, and put them near a well-travelled coyote path. They’d been pretty scavenged by the time they were found. Still, the skulls were broken and they could tell it’d been done just before they died and had likely led to their death. If anything, it pissed the families off worse.”

Angelica didn’t say anything, just let me talk.

“The way she looked at me, as if I was a monster — it broke something inside me. Those men jumped me, intended to force me to give them our guns and ammo, and were going to hurt me bad if I didn’t. They didn’t expect me to be so strong, but even so — it was three large, well-trained, armed men against one teenage wolf who couldn’t get to any weapons before they started hitting him. They fought mean and dirty, and it turned into me having to kill them in order to survive. They shot me a few times, and I needed to take them down as fast as possible so I could
change
before I bled out. They were the bad guys and I was defending myself, but no way would LEO have seen it that way.”

“So, you were defending yourself, and for all she knew you had nothing to do with their deaths at all, and she turned on you?
Fuck
her. She isn’t good enough for you.”

I smiled. “I know that now, but the teenaged Brett believed her when she looked at me like a monster. And then, at eighteen, I killed someone in front of you, tore him to pieces, knocked him unconscious and then bashed his skull in until he couldn’t come back even though he was wolf, and you were
grateful
. You thanked me, reached for me, and even let me hold you. I wasn’t a monster in your eyes, even though you saw me at my worst.” I pulled her to me, needing to hold her and comfort her before I brought up any more bad memories. “When I made it to your house a few hours later, I expected to see fear and disgust, but you needed me. I held you all fucking night, with nothing I could do about your tears, and my heart broke for you.”

“You were my knight in shining armor, come to rescue me. If you did that to someone out of the blue it would’ve been different. I know you have a temper, but I also know you’d never kill someone unless it was the only option. With the situation between Pack and MC back then, any other decision would’ve meant war, and a whole lot more people getting hurt or killed.”

I knew she was right, but it didn’t change the fact her acceptance of me, even after she saw me kill someone like that, had fixed something broken inside me.

She met my gaze and said, “Thanks for telling me. I know it’s hard for you to share some things.” Her eyes told me she got it and I didn’t have to explain anything more. She nodded at me, waited for me to smile, and then waved her fork at me. “Okay, enough deep shit, unless there’s something else you feel the need to share. The stuff I showed you, the plans? It’s proprietary government stuff no one’s supposed to see, so you didn’t see it. With that being said, I want to do some experimenting outside the office. Who do I talk to about using the bike shop’s CNC machine? I’ll pay for all the materials I use.”

I smiled, happy she trusted me, happy we’d gotten through the deep shit without going all mushy. Just all around happy. “Which brings me to my news. I miss the shop, and Duke and Brain are in semi-agreement about my not being the person to permanently run the division I’ve been over. So, I’ll be gradually backing off while we work to find a solution. I’ll still be officially over the division, and will need to be in the office a minimum of two nights a week, but in the next three weeks we’re hoping to have me back in the bike shop at least part time. I’ve talked to Duke and Brain before about adding a classic car department, and they’re on board with adding a few car bays in the coming months.”

She tilted her head as she chewed and swallowed, analyzing me. “Why did you take on the other
division
in the first place?”

“I was in on it a little in Atlanta, and felt we needed to do it here. It’s a huge moneymaker, and as a start-up charter, we needed the income. I was assigned to a half-dozen girls for a while in Atlanta — in charge of making sure they stayed safe — and I heard them talking when they didn’t think I could hear. They’d taken a lot of shit, been beaten up a lot, roughed up, abused, before they’d come to work for the RTMC. It not only made us a ton of money, it was performing a service. So, when I argued so strong in favor, and Duke wasn’t anxious to get started, he said I could just run the division.”

“And now?”

“They still think I’m one of the best people to do it, but they also need me in the shop, and they know I need to be there. Engines and transmissions make sense and don’t talk back. I need to have grease under my nails again.” I rubbed the side of her calf with my leg. “Speaking of which, thanks for helping me with Dawg’s bike. Was great working with you again.”

Her face lit up. “I needed some grease under my nails, too. Nothing like hands on the metal to remind you of how things work. I’ve been looking at sketches and plans too long.”

“When we finish eating, do you need to do more work, or can we hang out some?”

“I’ve worked enough today. How long do you have until you have to go?”

“May not need to go at all, but if I do, the phone call will likely come between eleven and twelve.”