The Devil's Due (4 page)

It looked so big. I had no idea how it would fit inside of me without splitting me in half. But my body was responding without any input from my brain.

I slid up in between his legs and closed my lips around the wide tip. The bikers called out encouragement as I slurped my tongue around the head, wetting it with my saliva. Wyatt’s evil grin faded and he closed his eyes, grunting faintly.

I brought my head up and spit, then worked my hand up and down the shaft, making sure it was wet all over.

“She ain’t playin’ around,” I heard one of the bikers yell lustily, and I smiled. Then I knelt up above Wyatt, running my hands up my smooth torso and cupping my small round breasts.

“You ready?” I whispered.

Wyatt had had enough of my teasing. He gripped my hips and pulled me down.

“
Fuck!
” I shouted as he impaled me with that wicked cock.

“Jax, shut her up,” Wyatt gritted, and Jax leapt back onto the table, standing above me. He tangled his hands in my hair and pulled my mouth back onto his fat, waiting cock.

I bounced slowly up and down on Wyatt, easing myself past the point of pain. It burned to be stretched so wide, but I found to my surprise that I liked the sting of it. I started to ride him in earnest, sliding up and down that slippery shaft as I bobbed my head up and down Jax’s cock. He tasted of sweat and smelled like leather.

My nostrils were filled with the scents of whiskey, leather and sex. It was an intoxicating brew, heady beyond anything I had ever experienced. The slap of skin against skin; the iron grip kneading into the flesh of my thighs and breasts; the meaty hands gripping my head; they all combined with the smell of the men, the calls of the watchers, the feel of their eyes on me...

I began to quiver. First my thighs, then my hands, then my whole body vibrated like a plucked guitar string. I screamed out my second orgasm, vibrating my throat around Jax’s wide cock, shouting out in the rhythm of Wyatt’s punishing thrusts.

Even as I shrieked, I felt Jax’s balls tighten. He grabbed my face with his hands and pulled out of my mouth. Roaring like a wild boar, he jerked his fat cock wildly. The first hot jet of sticky white cum hit me in the eye. I opened my mouth and the second spurt landed on my tongue. The third and fourth dribbled down his clenched, hairy fist and dribbled onto the white tablecloth.

He grunted and bent down to cup my face in his meaty hand, squeezing my cheeks to the point of pain. “You’re a good little cocksucker, girl. I might want you again,” he growled in a voice dripping with menace.

“She’s a wild one!” the president yelled approvingly, pounding on the arm of his chair. “Hey, dipshits. She has another hole, you know.”

I froze in fear as I realized what he wanted. I hadn’t done that before. I had never even wanted to do that. But what I wanted didn’t seem to matter anymore. I wasn’t in control here, no matter how many times I tried to regain it.

I whimpered slightly, and Wyatt grinned up at me.

“You just relax that pretty puckered hole, girl. You ain’t paid the Devil his due yet,”

Wyatt held me tight, pumping slowly, inexorably, like the pistons on an idling bike, pinning me with his arms so that I couldn’t turn to see who it was that was suddenly behind me. I felt hands round my waist and whimpered. Then I heard someone spit and felt a gob land on my backside, dribbling down my crack.

“Relax,” came the drawn out, snakelike hiss behind me. I whimpered again as I felt a thumb slide inside of my ass. The serpentine biker worked his thumb around, and I grunted low and animal-like.

It felt good. I hadn’t realized it could feel good.

I arched my hips up toward him, encouraging the unseen finger to further plumb the depths of my most private place. A knowing roar rose up from the crowd and I could feel the excitement growing.

Wyatt’s cock was moving slowly in and out of my pussy, and the unseen biker was priming my asshole expertly. I relaxed onto Wyatt’s chest, squeezing my eyes shut and losing myself to the sensations that were swirling inside of me. I heard a rhythmic grunting noise and realized it was coming from deep within me. It was unlike any noise I had made before.

When the thumb pulled away, I moaned at its loss, lifting my hips in a desperate search. When I felt another gob of spit hit my crack, I shuddered. I was ready.

The second biker’s cock prodded my opening. I gritted my teeth at the ring of fire that burned as he forced his way past my spasming muscles and into the waiting caverns of my second hole. My ass. He was fucking my ass.

He began to move, pulling and positioning me even as Wyatt’s cock stretched my pussy to its breaking point. I was stuffed full, a deep pleasurable sensation of completion I had never felt before.

I grunted again as the men began to fuck me, slowly, in tandem, then faster and faster. I yelled aloud again.

“Plug her up!” shouted the president, and a third biker bounded in to shove yet another cock into my mouth. I had no more control. The bikers had taken every one of my holes for their pleasure. The grunts; the curses the smell of their bodies was overwhelming. My thoughts abandoned me a second time and I screamed around the cock in my mouth.

“Heh, she’s shaking,” the snakelike voice hissed in my ear and I felt a stinging slap across my ass that sent me crashing into the void once again.

The cock in my ass began to twitch, buried balls deep inside of me. I could feel it bunching and jerking. With a sudden violent spasm, the biker inside my ass snarled savagely in my ear and pulled out of me. I felt the hot jets spurt onto my back and ass as he swore.

Wyatt’s mechanical pumping became spastic and frantic. Howling loudly, he flipped me onto my back. Lifting my legs, he pumped over me twice before pulling out and sending loads of his sticky white spunk onto my belly. He smacked my ass with a wide hand as he finished, raising a red welt across my backside.

The unnamed guy who had been fucking my throat jumped down and slid his short little cock inside of my stretched, bruised pussy. I got a glimpse of his bearded face and dark, threatening eyes before he screwed his face up and pumped inside of me frantically. Then he pulled out and jerked himself into a silent shuddering orgasm, releasing hot spunk onto my breasts.

I laid there. There were no noises. The bikers were silent as I gasped and quivered. My whole body was covered in cum. My face; my breasts; my back; my stomach; I had almost lost count of how many men had fucked me just now. I twitched at the aftershocks of multiple orgasms.

A towel flew through the air and landed on my face with a soft thud. I jumped, then grabbed for it gratefully.

“Clean off and go home,” the president growled softly. “We’ll let you know.”

I
quivered in shock. Go home? I hadn’t made the cut?

In a daze, I stood up from the table. I grasped it hurriedly, stumbling on shaky, unsteady feet. The blood rushed to my head and my vision blurred. Hot tears sprang to my eyes.

Don’t cry. Don’t you fucking cry,
I admonished myself.

Though they made no noise, I could still feel the bikers’ eyes on me. Every head in the room turned as I gathered my clothes from the floor. I zipped up the bustier with my eyes cast down, then wiggled the skirt carefully over my reddened ass. I left the heels. Fuck that, I wasn’t dealing with those fucking shoes after all of this.

As I walked past those watching eyes, I spied Cade standing closest to the door. I didn’t want to look at him. But there was no fury in his eyes this time. I hadn’t heeded the warning he had tried to give me, and now there was nothing left. I expected to see pity there.

Instead, I saw something else. What it was, I couldn’t say. No man had ever looked at me like that before. It looked soft, almost like love.

I definitely couldn’t deal with that right now. I pushed past him and into the blinding daylight. The sun had barely moved in the sky. I couldn’t believe how little time had passed.

I stepped carefully in my bare feet, hopping lightly across the scorching pavement. I wasn’t supposed to have to go home after this. I wasn’t supposed to have to return to my normal, shitty life after this. I was supposed to ride with the Devil’s Due now. I was supposed to be on the back of a hog, my arms flung around the torso of a dangerous man.

That vision I had held for so long swam in front of my eyes as the nameless, faceless biker of my fantasy shifted and swirled until he turned into Cade.

I stood at the door of the trailer and squared my shoulders. This wasn’t going to wreck me. I swore an oath then and there that this wasn’t going to beat me down.

But when I stepped into the hot shower and smelled the scent of sex swirling around in the steam, the threatened tears finally came. I tasted the hot, salty taste of shame as the tears mixed with the water that poured down my body.

I must have fucked up somehow. That was the only thing I could think. I must not have pleased them in some way.

Grabbing the soap, I scrubbed hard, angrily. The lacquered makeup pooled in the drain as I scrubbed and scrubbed myself clean. I shampooed twice, letting the lather wash away the sweat and sticky cum from my hair. The harder I scrubbed, the more I felt like myself.

I wasn’t going to be ignored. I wasn’t going to be beaten anymore. I would go back if I had to. I would do it all over again. I would wrap my arms around Cade’s neck and never let go.

“The fuck you doing? You think I’m made of money? What’re you doing in there, girl?”

Darryl. The tears came back. Darryl was awake.

I twisted the tap savagely and swallowed. Then I took a deep breath, testing my voice before I answered to make sure I sounded sweet.

“Sorry, Daddy!” I sang out. Darryl wanted me to call him Daddy. I hated it.

“Stop wasting water and get me my breakfast!” He pounded on the door once more for good measure and I jumped.

I toweled off hurriedly and wrapped it around myself. Jumping the two steps from the bathroom to my room, I quickly stuffed the leather outfit under my bed. It wouldn’t do to let him see it.

I rubbed the towel through my hair, letting it hang in soft, damp waves around my face. Then I quickly grabbed a white blouse and floral skirt from my drawer and buttoned them over my white cotton underwear.

Looking in the mirror, I saw me as I always was. The tough biker chick who wouldn’t put up with Darryl’s shit was gone. In her place was the meek, freckled stepdaughter, dressed in her shabby Sunday best, ready to go serve his scrambled eggs like a servant girl.

M
y eyes were shiny with tears and I wiped them away viciously. But there was nothing else that I could do right now.

I stepped out of my room and into the tiny, cramped kitchen. Fishing the frying pan from its place in the drying rack, I turned on the two-burner stove and twirled to grab the eggs from the fridge under the counter.

Darryl was sprawled across the disgusting orange recliner that dominated what we called the living room, clad only in his baggy, streaky underwear. He was flicking through the channels on the fuzzy TV, the volume blasting.

I gritted my teeth and beat the broken eggs in the ceramic bowl that had been my mother’s. My fury grew as I whipped the liquid into a froth and poured it into the frying pan. I turned the heat down and swirled it around, staring at the yellow liquid as it set.

Pushing it with a spatula, I touched the bruise on my cheek. It wasn’t hidden anymore. I had washed away the concealer and now it blazed furiously under my eye. Darryl hadn’t even noticed.

But Cade had noticed. Giant, scary, yet somehow gentle Cade. He had seen right through the makeup.

I closed my eyes and remembered his lips on my skin. The honey taste of his mouth on mine seemed like a memory from a lifetime ago. He had held me close and tried to warn me about what it meant to give the Devil his due. And I had been too stubborn to heed his warnings.

I thought I was in control, but he knew that there was no way I ever could be with men like that.

“Wake up, girl! You’re burning the eggs!” Darryl was behind me all of a sudden. With a vicious smack, he cuffed me across the back of the head. I saw stars and stumbled into the stove, burning my hand on the electric burner.