Satan's Revenge (11 page)

I run my hands through my wet hair, waiting for the sounds of him stumbling back into the bedroom to pass out. When they don’t come, I open my eyes back up to find him staring at me, at my naked body through the glass of the shower door. A bolt of desire hits me as I see the hunger in his gaze. I allow myself to look down over his body through half-lidded eyes. He stands leaning on one leg, his strong arms dangling by his sides, his Corps tattoo standing out on his chest. His jeans are unbuttoned and hanging off his hips, his dark blue boxers bunched up slightly above them.

He shifts his weight to the other side and runs his hand through his beard, studying me. I stay under the shower’s hot stream of water, feeling my own heat rise inside me. He slowly leans down, pulling off his jeans. He has to lean on the wall for support, and it’s clear his balance has been affected by his drinking. He steps out of his pants, leaving them on the floor as he walks to the shower. He stands just on the other side of the glass, watching me. I don’t turn toward him, but I see him hook his thumbs under the sides of his boxers and pull them down to the floor.

I bite my lip as his massive erection springs forth. There’s not a lot of men who could drink as much as he seems to have had tonight and still get that hard. He slides the shower door open and cold air seeps in as he steps inside. I don’t move back toward the shower head to make more room for him, forcing him to stand close to me as the steam rises around us, creating little droplets of water in his beard. I can smell beer on his breath.

I stare at him. He sways a little, looking down at my breasts. I’m so fucking angry at him. I want to cry, and hit him, and I don’t know what else, but I’m standing here transfixed by the connection between us. Even this furious at him, I still want him desperately.

He looks up at me, and I can see my feelings mirrored in his eyes. Anger, pain, distance. Desire.

He slowly reaches his hand toward me, placing it on my waist. He grips me firmly there, running his thumb back and forth across the wet skin on my abs. His gaze follows his hand as he reaches further up my chest, sliding his hand across my breast. I feel my nipple harden under his rough palm and want to gasp, but I hold back. I’m angry. I don’t want him to know the effect he’s having on me already, though I can already feel my own wetness developing between my legs.

Suddenly, he steps forward with a grunt. At the same time, he wraps his arms around my waist and spins me around, my feet sliding across the tile floor. He buries his face in my neck and bites my earlobe, hard. I cry out in surprise and pleasure, and a little pain. One hand stays wrapped around my waist, pinning me to him, while the other grabs my breast, massaging it hard. I close my eyes and lean back against him, hearing his wet, tortured breathing against my neck.

The arm around my waist moves down south as his other hand tweaks my nipple. As his hand hovers above my mound, he shoves his hips toward me, rubbing his cock between my slick butt cheeks. His hand continues down, slipping over my clit and inside me. He roughly shoves two finger inside me, already going fast, not bothering to warm me up. But the truth is, I’m already there with him. I bring my hands up and around the back of his neck, relaxing against him as his fingers drive me wild inside. I feel his thumb slide over my clit and I cry out, my back arching away from him.

I feel him spin me around again, so that now he’s under the showerhead and I’m toward the end of the shower stall. I feel his hand that’s been on my breast slide down over my back and across my butt cheek. I gasp as I feel him pressing a finger into my ass. He slides it in until I can feel my ass resting on his palm, and then slowly circles it.

“I need this tonight,” he grunts, his finger beckoning inside my ass. He circles his other hand faster around my clit, driving me crazy, trying to make it impossible for me to say no.

A shiver of nerves runs through me. We’ve never had anal sex before. Always talked about it, but I’ve always been nervous. And the truth is that if the rest of our sex life is so phenomenal, I’ve always figured, why not go for the orgasm you’re sure of?

But now he’s bringing it up in the middle of the action, when all I want is to feel him inside me…anywhere. I’m dying for any kind of satisfaction of the ache he’s building up with his expert fingers.

I feel him slip one finger back inside my slit, going slowly, teasing me. He matches his movements with his fingers in my ass, and the twin sensations overwhelm me.

“Yes, yes,” I murmur. I hear him moan in satisfaction and his hand slides up my wet torso, grasping for my breasts. As he takes one in his hand, he eases his finger out of my ass. He slides that one over my lower back then moves it up, pressing down. I obediently bend over under his hand, leaning my hands on the small tile bench at the end of the shower. I bite my lip, not sure what to expect.

His other hand has dropped off my breast and moved back down to my clit. He circles his index finger there mercilessly. I moan and spread my legs farther apart. I feel his dick at my slit, and I’m grateful that we’re going to start there. I feel him plunge inside me and I cry out as he slams against my g-spot.

I bring one hand up against the glass wall of the shower to brace myself against Drifter’s thrusts. He grabs my hips and moves quickly, building up speed until I feel my knees buckling.

“Oh…oh, god…” I cry out, so close, but he slows down and then pulls out of me. I whimper in protest, and feel his hand circle back under my hips to my clit, where he circles slowly, not letting me come yet.

I feel his dick at my butt crack, and an intense pressure as he begins to press himself inside me. It’s almost too much to bear, and I feel twinges of pain as he stretches me open, but his finger flicking across my clit distracts me and keeps me wanting more. I gasp as the fullness is almost too much, and he stops his forward movement. I feel him increase his speed over my clit, and then he brings his other hand to my breast, gently massaging my nipple.

I relax under his touch, and then feel his dick press further into my ass. I moan as I feel his hips hitting my butt, and I know that he’s all the way in. He stays there for a moment, slowly circling himself around inside me, letting me get used to the sensation. Then he pulls back out and moves in again, a little faster this time.

By his third thrust, I’m getting used to the feeling, and now the maddening pressure starts to feel pleasurable. His finger is still flicking my clit relentlessly, and I feel my orgasm start to rebuild as he moves faster and faster inside me. He groans, and I bring my other arm up to the shower wall, pressing as hard as I can back against him.

“Fuck, fuck…” he cries out behind me, and I start to spin out of control. My elbows fall to the tile bench, bringing my ass up at more of an angle, which actually increases the pleasure. We both moan as we build to an orgasm together. I feel him finish inside me just as I come, crying out together.

I feel him pull out slowly, and I gasp as his tip leaves me. I hear the water splash as he steps back into it, and I stand up. My legs and ass feel sore and tired, and my whole body is stiff. I turn around to face him, and he meets my eyes with an expression that looks haunted, like a lost little boy. I step toward him and he leans forward, resting his forehead against mine.

We take a breath together, and then he suddenly kneels, his lips brushing against my sternum, before I feel him kissing my mound.

“Oh! Drifter…I don’t know if…oh…” I murmur, but I feel his tongue slip over my clit, and my head tilts back, giving in. I’m still exhausted and raw, but my orgasm builds faster and more intensely now.

I lean my hand against the tile wall on one side and the glass on the other as he grips my legs just above my knees and pulls them farther apart. He ducks his head and presses his tongue as far as he can into my slit, and then a moment later I feel his fingers inside me, pulling against my g-spot. His tongue moves back to my clit, crossing back and forth until I lose myself around him, struggling to stay standing as my second orgasm of the night overwhelms me.

I open my eyes, struggling to regain my breath, and see him stand up and turn around, washing his face off, before running his hands through his hair. I study his broadly muscled back, dazedly trying to read him, but he pulls open the shower door and steps out. I turn as he grabs a towel off the bar on the wall, rubs it over his head and then wraps it around his waist. He walks into the bedroom.

I sit down on the bench as I try to wrap my brain around what just happened. Two orgasms, no kissing, no talking. Some of the most intense and certainly the most confusing sex we’ve ever had. It felt like he was apologizing to me and punishing me and pleasuring me all at the same time. I sigh. Maybe it’s impossible to break it all down into neat little packages.

I stand up and step back into the stream of water. I grab my scented body wash and lather myself up and rinse. I finally turn the water off and step out into the cooler air. I take the other towel from the hook on the back of the door and dry myself off before I pick my nightgown back up and pull it over my damp hair.

I switch off the bathroom light and walk back into the dark, carpeted bedroom. I can hear Drifter breathing heavily on his side of the bed, already asleep, one of his arms dangling over the edge. I walk to the other side and quietly slip between the covers and on my stomach, my face turned toward him.

I stare at the back of his head. Our connection…yes, it’s physical, but it’s so much more than that. The physical is just what we come back to when we feel far apart. I’m not going to give up on him, even if he is being a fucking asshole to me right now. If I was acting like that, I’d want him to come after me. To find me, wherever I am, and pull me back.

I have to fight for him.

Chapter Eleven

Drifter

15 years ago

Saturday rolls around, and I pull up to the address Flint gave me on a rusted bicycle I found in the Ralstons’ garage. I didn’t ask permission to take it, because they probably would have said no, and I didn’t tell them where I was going, because they definitely wouldn’t care.

I look through the trees to an old farmhouse set back from the road. It’s like the Ralstons’ place, only bigger and better kept. The road turns to gravel where it branches off from the main concrete stretch, and I hop off the bike and hide it behind a tree to avoid being seen riding it up to their clubhouse. I can already hear music and laughter, and as I walk up, I see a row of motorcycles parked out front.

As I approach I glance at the sleek bodies of the bikes. All Harleys. I’m aching to hop on one, but I know better than to do that. I turn to the front door and pause, bouncing nervously from foot to foot. I take a deep breath and knock. I wait, but no one comes to the door. I knock again, a little louder, then reach down and slowly turn the knob.

As I push the door open, a huge hand comes into view and pulls the door the rest of the way. I look up to a see a guy a few inches taller than me blocking my path. Music blares from behind him.

“The fuck do you want?” he growls at me.

“Flint and Mr. Laurits invited me…I mean Bill,” I stammer.

He looks me up and down suspiciously for a moment, then calls over his shoulder, “Bill! You got a kid here to see you!”

Fuck, I wish he wouldn’t call me a kid in front of the whole place. But I guess compared to him, I am.

Mr. Laurits appears over his shoulder, and the big guy drops back. Behind him I see a wood-beamed room filled with bearded men and scantily-clad women. He looks different in his black leather vest.

“Flint wanted you to come. I didn’t think it was such a good idea,” he begins without any small talk. “So here are the rules: one beer. That’s it. You’re still my student. And you leave before it gets dark.”

“I’m not planning on doing anything crazy,” I assure him.

“It’s not your behavior I’m worried about,” he says drily. “Come on, Flint’s out back.”

I follow him through the main room and out a door at the back. There are even more people out here, and there are a couple fires going in metal trash cans to keep the chill at bay. I raise my nose to the smell of barbecue and look around eagerly.

“They’re roasting a pig over there,” Mr. Laurits says. He leads me to a corner of the yard where someone’s cutting up a whole pig that looks like it’s just finished cooking over the fire pit it lies next to. He hands me a paper plate loaded with shredded pork and glances around. “I’m gonna find Flint. You stay here.”

I grab a fork and some barbecue sauce from a nearby table and go to town. The meat is hot and just a little sweet, and it’s the best thing I’ve eaten in years. I glance around at the rest of the people there. Most of the guys have beards and longish hair, and they’re all wearing the same black vest. I see the Satan’s Sons emblem all around me.

And then there’s the women. I’ve never seen so many hot women in one place in my life.

“Woah, slow down, kiddo,” I hear next to me. I turn and almost choke on my food. There’s a gorgeous woman standing next to me, her breasts overflowing from her tiny black tank top. She catches me looking, and laughs, her green eyes crinkling. “You lost?” she asks, though I can hear humor in her voice.