BUTCHER: Wolves MC (Riding With Wolves Book 3) (5 page)

~ Lexi ~

When Butcher dropped to his knees in front of me and buried his face between my legs, something strange happened. Something was turned on, or awakened, inside of me. I felt a type of desire and confidence I’d never felt before. I felt more like an animal
and
more like a human, at the same time. I felt empowered, more alive. And I expressed those feelings in, what were for me, altogether new ways.

Normally, when it comes to sex, I’m a pretty simple, basic gal. In fact, you could even say I’m usually a little backwards or shy.

Believe me, I know what I’m doing in the sack. I know how to work my body so that both my partner and I can enjoy it fully—but my
body
is all that I work. I don’t work the scene. I’m not a porno star, or a seductress, temptress, vixen, or dom. I don’t step up to the plate and throw the ball out there or shoot the gun to open the gates.

In other words, I’m not a leader. I’m a follower. I wait for the man to initiate sexual activity and then, for the most part, follow his lead. I let him twist and turn my body into the positions
he
desires; I let him show me, or tell me, which part of me
he
wants to play with. I let
him
call all the shots.

I guess I’m sexually passive, perhaps a bit inhibited. As much as I enjoy sex and am good at it, going after it, getting what
I
wanted, and feeling completely comfortable and free were basically foreign concepts to me. But when Butcher put his mouth on my pussy, for once and for all, I felt fully capable of speaking in foreign tongues.

John “the Butcher” Crane was a bad boy heartthrob. He was a super-sexy biker who played killer guitar in a great band. He could have his choice of the ladies. He could have just about anyone he wanted… and here he was…with
me
.

And not only was he
here
with me, but he still wanted me after the ugly confrontation we’d just had. He found out who I really was, and I was someone he was not happy with. On top of that, I criticized him, his band, and his music in rather harsh ways, and I kicked him out.

But still…still, despite all that, Butcher wanted me. I made the almighty bad boy—the aloof guitarist who could have any woman—drop to his knees. He wanted to service me, without knowing, given the situation, whether he’d get anything in return.

That made me feel powerful, desirable, and in control. I’d been under Butcher’s spell since the moment we officially met. I’d stumbled and mumbled around like a silly schoolgirl whenever I was near him, but now, as I was closer to him than I’d ever been before, I was ready to graduate to something else. I’d reached a new stage. I felt validated and was able to let loose.

“Fuck,” I said and moaned as Butcher gave me a “kiss” on my lower lips. His mouth felt so good on me, and as I looked down at him, he made me feel worshipped and revered, like a goddess. I could see how determined he was to please me and make me come—and that ultimately made coming all the easier.

Butcher didn’t have to stay between my legs very long. He had me squirming, squealing, and squirting in just a few minutes and after I came, he seemed just as satisfied as I was, if not more.

When Butcher finally, reluctantly, leaned back from my body, I felt like I was going to collapse. However, I wasn’t ready to take a fall yet, and I wasn’t just going to stand there and let him take the lead. I wanted more, and I wanted him to know it, so I did something I’d never done before. I took on a more aggressive role and brought out the animal, the life force, or whatever it was that Butcher had awoken in me.

As Butcher rose to his feet in front of me, I stared at his slippery wet face and eyed the rise in his jeans. I slowly stepped forward and took off my clothes for him and brought my body to his. He was still fully-clothed, and I felt incredibly turned on—and a little dirty—being naked while he was still dressed.

With my words and my actions, I subtly, seductively invited Butcher to my room. This time
I
was the leader, and he eagerly followed me without pause.

Once we were in my bedroom, I sat down on the foot of my bed, and Butcher stood a few feet away.

“Come here,” I said. It was a line Butcher had used on
me
twice before, and it’d worked for him. So, what’s good for the goose…

Butcher walked toward me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of his crotch as he did. The bulge he was sporting was huge, and I couldn’t wait to let it out.

As soon as Butcher was in front of me, I immediately reached out my hands and started undoing his belt buckle. It was one of those big, showy silver things, and I had to fumble around with it for a bit, but eventually, I got it undone, then moved on to his button and zipper.

I slid Butcher’s pants down, just an inch or so, and his cock sprung out like a depressurized coil. I gasped a little—at his size and stiffness, as well as at the gooey pre-cum accumulated at the tip of his cock.

I leaned forward and more closely examined Butcher’s cock. It was so taut and tight, so distended, stiff, and aching. I stuck my tongue out and licked the engorged tip, and I felt the vein beneath Butcher’s skin throb for me, which made me throb also.

Butcher hadn’t removed his clothes—or his jacket—yet. I wanted to do
this
to him before he did. I liked the way it felt to be naked near him in the living room, by the door way, after he’d sucked me—and I wanted to keep the feeling going and suck him in the same manner.

My face brushed up against Butcher’s jacket as I moved my head around to twirl my tongue on his tip from different angles. The cold, hard feel of the leather excited me and spurred me to act with more intensity and passion. I took Butcher’s cock into my mouth very, very slowly, massaging it with my tongue as I did.

Butcher made a noise that was somewhere between a word and a whimper. I sucked, hard on the head of his cock for a moment, then took the rest of him, inch by rigid inch, into my mouth.

I gagged a little when Butcher’s dick hit the back of my throat, but the otherwise disturbing reaction wasn’t disturbing under these circumstances. It was actually pretty hot. And it was hot when it happened again, a few seconds later.

I pulled my mouth off of Butcher’s cock to regain a little composure but kept stroking it with my hand. He was slick as all hell from my saliva, so my hand slid up and down his shaft with great ease.

Butcher started panting, growling, and grunting, like an animal—like a dog, coyote, or wolf. I stood up, still jacking him with one hand, and kissed him on the lips. His face looked so tortured. His breath was so short.

I reached my free hand up, placed it on Butcher’s shoulder, and nudged at his coat, pushing it back. He got my message and took the thing off. It fell to the floor, as he resumed kissing me, and it was shortly followed by his shirt.

I eased back from Butcher a bit and let go of his cock, and I scooted up on the bed, leaned back on my elbows, and took his naked upper half in. His chest was smooth and mostly hairless, and his muscles were rippled and cut.

Butcher examined my naked body as I examined his, and he kept his eyes locked on me as he bent down to remove his boots. Finally—
finally
—he dropped his pants and stepped out of them, and a split-second later, he was on my bed… and then on me.

We shimmied our bodies together, up a bit, and once we were in a comfortable position, I raised my legs and wrapped them around Butcher’s back. He ran his hands over my torso, started pawing at my tits, and then sucked each nipple in turn.

I wriggled my body beneath Butcher’s weight until I felt his hardness up against my softest, most sensitive skin, then I arched my back and rocked around a little, trying to guide him in.

Butcher swayed a little from side to side, concentrating on his movements. And the next thing I knew…

“Ohhh,” I moaned. “Mmmm.” I felt the sweet, sweet pleasure of Butcher’s cock sliding inside of me. Stretching me. Filling me.

Butcher was moaning, too. His moans were so fevered that they sounded like crying. I thrust my hips up against him, drawing him in deeper, and dug my feet into his ass. He grunted loudly and started going at me harder.

“I’m not gonna last very long,” he admitted, as he started pounding away at me. “Your pussy is
so
tight… and you look
sooo
fucking sexy.”

I felt flattered so—naturally—I smiled. And when I did, Butcher shuddered in delight and gasped in pleasure.

“You’re so beautiful,” he moaned, staring down at my face.

I smiled again, and I felt Butcher gasp and spasm.

“Keep smiling,” he begged, driving into me as deep and hard as he could.

I did as instructed and smiled back at him, as I, too, gasped, moaned, and writhed in pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” Butcher whispered between heavy breaths. “Oh fuck.”

A moment later. I felt Butcher start to convulse, and he quickly pulled out, just in time to release himself all over my stomach and chest. His essence erupted from him like lava from a volcano, in several hot, heavy quick spurts that coated my body.

“I’m sorry,” Butcher said with a hearty yet exhausted laugh. “Looks like I made a big mess.”

I looked down at spunk on my body and agreed. “You sure did,” I said and giggled.

Butcher sat up on his knees, and I maneuvered out from underneath him.

“Shame you don’t have another copy of the
Crier
to clean it up,” I said, teasingly, as I got up off of the bed and started toward the bathroom.

“Ha!” Butcher shouted after me. “I won’t make
that
mistake again!”

“You better not,” I said, as I walked out of the room.

Several minutes later, I returned from the bathroom to find Butcher laying in my bed, underneath the covers. He was still awake, and still naked, and he pulled back the covers for me to join him when I approached.

I got into bed with Butcher, and we ended up in a “spooning” position, where he was behind me. He had one arm under my neck and the other encircling my waist, holding me against him.

We laid there in silence for a while. The only noises were the occasional sounds of Butcher kissing my neck or back, or of one (or both) of us purring, humming, or hawing. It was a nice, calm, comfortable silence… and it was some time before it was completely broken.

~ Butcher ~

“Fuck!” I bellowed, sitting up and looking around the room for a clock. I didn’t know what time it was, but the sun was up already.

“What’s wrong?” Lexi grumbled from beside me. The blankets were still covering her, but I could see her tits from where I sat, and for a brief moment, I thought about leaning down, taking a nipple into my mouth, and going another round before I left. But unfortunately, I couldn’t.

“What time is it?” I asked, as I stood up and walked to the foot of the bed to retrieve my clothing. I saw Lexi checking out my morning wood before she reached over and tapped the clock-radio on her nightstand.

“It’s six forty-one,” she answered, shifting to look at me again.

“Fuck!” I repeated, as I threw the clothes I’d collected onto the bed. I’d really messed up big time and overslept, and I needed to get out of Lexi’s place and back home, as soon as possible.

I shouldn’t have spent the night to begin with—though to begin with, that’s not what I intended to do. After Lexi and I were done screwing, I hung around for a bit, partly to be respectful, but mostly to get more pussy. The sex had been so amazing that I wanted to do it again as soon as possible. So I laid there, naked, waiting for my cock to recover, eagerly anticipating the moment I could suck n’ fuck again.

But I guess I drifted off at some point, and Lexi must’ve too, because now it was 6:41—going on 6:42—and my exit was long overdue.

“I have to leave,” I said, pulling my jeans up over my slowly deflating cock.

“It’s Sunday morning,” Lexi responded.

“I know,” I replied. “I have business I have to take care of.”

“What kind of business?” Lexi asked. “What is it that you
do
?”

She’d asked two questions, so I decided to start by answering the easier one.

“I’m a butcher,” I answered, sliding my arms into my shirt.

“Really?” Lexi inquired. She sat up in the bed, covered her sexy little body, and tilted her head in surprise. “
That’s
why they call you Butcher?”

“Yep,” I replied. I sat down on the bottom of the bed to put on my boots.

“I thought they called you that because of how you play the guitar,” Lexi explained. “I never would’ve guessed they called you ‘The Butcher,’ because you are one.”

“Yeah, I guess as far as street names go, it’s a pretty accurate one,” I answered with a laugh.

“Street names?” Lexi asked. The tone of her voice was different now, and I realized I’d opened a can of worms. “‘Butcher’ is your
street name
? What does that mean?”

I liked Lexi. I found her very attractive and appealing in many ways, and there was something about having sex with her that I feared could become addictive. I wanted to see her again. I
needed
to see her again. And if there was any shot of things working out between us, there were some things she needed to know about me—and like her questions, I decided to start by addressing the easiest one.

“I’m part of a group,” I told her. “We’re an organization of like-minded bikers who patrol the streets we ride.”

“What?” Lexi asked in a huff. “You mean you’re part of a
gang
?”

“I don’t like that word,” I answered, putting on my second boot. “But, basically, yes… But we’re not the kind of ‘gang’ you usually think of when you think of L.A. gangs. We’re not out there pushing drugs, running seedy businesses, or harming others. We’re not like that. We actually try to do good and do whatever we can to help each other and the community-at-large.”

“Okay,” Lexi said. There was hesitation and uncertainty in her voice, and a hint of confusion, too.

“And that’s part of the reason I was upset about your articles,” I went on. “I need to maintain a low profile because of my affiliation. The things my brothers and I do have to be done behind the scenes sometimes, and I don’t really want my name out there in the public.”

“Oh,” Lexi said. She was obviously shocked by my admissions, and despite the sexual dynamo she’d been only hours ago, she was now again as meek as a kitten.

I picked up my jacket and put it on, and as soon as I did, I felt my phone vibrating against my chest. I pulled it out and saw that I had five missed calls. I didn’t even need to check to know who had called and, instead, cleared the screen.

“What’s your number?” I asked, holding my phone out.

“Huh?” Lexi asked, confused.

“Your number,” I answered. “Give me your phone number, so I can call you.”

“Oh,” Lexi said. Her vocabulary had been severely stunted, but she managed to relay the requested information. I typed her phone number into my phone as she said it, then pressed “Send.” When I heard her ringtone playing from the other room, I pressed “End” and tossed my phone back into my pocket.

“I’ll call or text in a few hours,” I said, walking over towards the bed. I leaned down and kissed Lexi on the forehead.

“Don’t worry about all this ‘gang’ stuff,” I added as I turned. “I’ll explain it to you later, and you’ll understand.”

“Alright,” Lexi said, clinging to her blanket. I don’t know whether she was scared of the “gang member” in her room, upset that I was leaving so abruptly, or simply embarrassed to be morning-after naked.

I walked out of Lexi’s bedroom and made a beeline for the door, but just before I got there, she called out to me.

“Butcher,” she yelled.

“Yeah?” I replied, as I reached for the doorknob.

“What’s the name of your gang?” she inquired.

“The Wolves,” I answered.

I completed the action I’d started. I opened the door, walked out of her apartment, and hightailed it to my bike.

Right as I hopped onto my hog, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket again. I pulled it out, glanced at the number, and answered it. It was the sixth call from the same number that morning, so it was about time that I did.

“Hey,” I said, picking up the call.

“Hey?” my biker brother Z.Z. replied. “I’ll give
you
‘hey.’ Where the hell are you?”

“I’m on my way home,” I answered.

“You should already be here,” he said.

“I know,” I responded. “I’ll be there soon.”

I took a deep breath and swallowed.

“Put her on,” I said.

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you right now,” Z.Z. answered in a firm, defensive tone.

“Put her on,” I repeated.

“I really don’t think you—” Z.Z. started.

“Just
put her on
, Z.Z.,” I interrupted.

“Whatever,” he snapped back.

A moment later, another softer voice got on the phone.

“Hello,” she said, greeting me sweetly.

“Hey, baby,” I replied. “Sorry I didn’t make it home last night. I had to take care of some business.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” she assured me, yawning. Despite what she said, however, I knew she was lying. I could hear it in her voice. It
wasn’t
okay—and if she knew what
really
went on to delay me, there was no way she would understand.

“I’m on my way home now though,” I said. “And I should be there in about a half-hour. I’ll see you then.”

“See you then,” she echoed.

I hung up my phone, put it in my pocket, and started my bike. As I shifted into gear, I forced my mind to shift gears as well, and I tried my damnedest to put thoughts of my fantasy night with Lexi behind me and focus on the “real life” that was already waiting for me at home.