Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1) (40 page)

His thick lips parted and he looked into my eyes before his mouth swooped onto me. An agony of thrill burst inside me as he licked at the tops of my thighs, at the edges of my panties. I could feel him breathe so near to my wet lips that I trembled.

Then his mouth descended on my mound. His cruel tongue slid into the tight fabric in my crevasse. My nub ached and throbbed unbearably as the wet, mobile tip teased and taunted through the fabric, in around my hood, down at the base of my bean.

My lips ached and swelled, vibrating with need as my petals pined for him. I seized his head with my grasping fingers. He swatted them away and looked up. His angry eyes burned over my wet mound.

“I give the direction.” He growled, “You take it.”

I bit my lip and whimpered as I nodded. Inside me a current swelled and gathered into waves. It rose as the moist muscle of his tongue flicked along my chasm. My stomach rolled. I wanted him so much I couldn’t bear it.

The urge overtook me. My pelvis rocked up to press hard into his mouth. His flaming eyes peered up again and a red spark of shock exploded as he slapped my buttock.

There was relish in his gravelly voice as he said, “You need to learn.” The whole of my body jerked as he slapped me again. Then I arced and stretched as his mouth sucked on me. All of the muscles in my body clenched and gripped as his tongue and his lips found my desperate triggers.

The
rrrrrrrip!
As he tore my panties seared through my like the sound of fingernails scraping a chalkboard. Then the hot wetness of his mouth sucked on my clit and his tongue invaded my opening. His strong hands took my buttocks. Lifted and squeezed them. Carried my pussy to his merciless mouth.

The sting as he slapped me again ignited sparks throughout my tensing nerves. I moaned as he reamed me and his full lips pressed against mine, bruising the hood of my screaming bean, flattening my swollen wings.

The scent of my juices as they spilled into his mouth made me sigh a long, weeping gasp. His hands squeezed and crushed the soft globes of my buttocks. His mouth sealed and held me. The flesh of my stomach quaked and I pulled at my hair and my nipples.

My legs lifted as my hands clawed, my toes curled, my back arced. I clenched and stretched all over as he drank my bursts of cresting orgasm. He sucked and I whimpered. His tongue reached up and I moaned. He squeezed and I cried out. My thighs clamped around his head and he slapped me as I came again.

The whole of my body crumpled in a last throw but he wouldn’t stop. Not until I quivered, helpless and spent. Still I hungered, but I was exhausted.

He stood, unfastened the silver belt buckle and popped the buttons on his jeans, one by one. As he slid the denim down over his powerful thighs, the massive bulge inside his soft cotton briefs strained forwards and pointed towards me.

His gleaming muscles rolled, a choreographed landscape of flesh as he fetched me the tumbler of whiskey. Holding the glass took two hands and all my concentration and the fire that lit in the back of my mouth blazed all the way down my throat.

Larry’s soothed and caressed me. He stroked my flesh, damp and still trembling. He cupped my soft beasts and my body flickered back into life as he licked and sucked on my beasts, and tugged on my stinging nipples.
 

Behind the downy cotton, the weight of his stiffening cock throbbed against my thigh. Our mouths met and he pulled me to him, crushing me tight against his hard body.
 

My breath dragged out in a deep sigh as his hand coaxed me open again. The sensitive inner sides of my reddened petals flickered and filled and in my core I yearned. The hardness of his chest, the ridges of his rippled abs thrilled me as my fingers glided and felt down his body.

The tips of my fingers found the top of his shorts. I tried to tease him, running my fingers along the edge of his waistband, tripping them down the cotton and along the hard pulsing ridge. My concentration drifted though as my thighs fell apart, spreading and clenching, and my hips rocked to the relentless rhythm of his fingers in my well.

I bit on his shoulder and drug down his shorts. With my eyes clamped shut I felt the hot length of his shaft, smoothed over the head. I couldn’t wait. I needed him to fill me. I leaned back with my pelvis tilted up.

He snorted and looked down at me and his high-voltage grin told me it wasn’t going to be that simple.

“You got work to do yet, girl.”

He nodded slowly as I gripped his hot manhood harder. His fingers ran through my hair. Then gripped. The musty scent of him made me wetter than ever as he pulled my head towards his lap.

The fat staff of his cock curved up to meet my mouth. My tongue slipped around my lips as his slick, angry bulb rose towards me. I slipped my tongue over the contours of his underside as his cock slid into my warm, soft wetness.

He slid along the top of my tongue and I sealed my lips over him. The thrill of his pulses echoed through me.
 

The smoky tang of precum filled my head as his bulb nudged against the back of my throat. As the wet muscles of my throat engaged the top of his shaft, a sweet gush of thin saliva burst onto my tongue. My throat muscles gripped him and his throat let out a long, rasping groan.

Rapidly he pulled out of my mouth and flung me over onto my knees and elbows. He hauled my ass high and grabbed my hot mound as his cock burst into my plump, wet lips.

His cock rode high into me, sawing against the front of my channel, making he howl and gush. My boobs bounced below me and as he pummeled into me, he reached for them. Held them as they wobbled in his hands. Cupped them as they shook while he pounded me from behind.

He reached back and gripped my hips as he drove his pole harder into me, quickening his pace as his cock swelled and stiffened still more.

My neck and face reddened as his thighs slapped against mine. He yanked my hair. My neck lengthened and stretched out as he pulled back my head, turning my face to his. I looked in his eyes as his cock slammed into me.

Tightening and expanding sensations swirled and built to brimming waves within me, ready to bubble up, erupt and spill over. Then I felt his cock begin to pump. Rings of swelling pulses ran from the base to the head. Stronger and faster, his beat hammered into me.

My juices gushed. My fingers clasped and clawed, my back stretched and arched. The force of his hot fountain blasted and sprayed my inner chasm, heated and filled me, soaked me. Again and again he cannoned into me until we collapsed onto the wet sheets.

I stroked wet strands of his hair away from his face. I looked into his glistening, sleepy eyes and felt that I saw them for the first time. We panted together until we drifted off into sleep.

“You want to take your money out of the safe, trust me to go and win you the rest of what you need?”

Not knowing what time it was, drowsily I said, ‘No,’ but it wasn’t the whole truth. I
wanted
to do that, sure. I wanted more than anything right then to put all my trust in him, this rough stranger. Truth is, if I had been scraping the money together for myself then I probably would have trusted him. But I wasn’t doing it for me.

I was doing it for Daddy and I wasn’t prepared to take a chance, not
any
chance, that I wasn’t personally in charge of.
 

Odd thing, though, when I said, ‘No,’ Larry looked at me a long time before he said, “Belle, I like you more and more.”

© Alice May Ball, TzR Publishing, 2015

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, or to any actual events is purely coincidental.

All the people portrayed in this story are over the age of eighteen, and entirely imaginary. If you think that you know some of them, or that you may be one of them, then you should consider writing fiction yourself.

Cover Design by Signs of Desire for TzR Publishing

The Stray Sister

Amy Law

“Those aren’t your Momma’s bikers.”

Jesska raised an eyebrow at the barista. A big, good-looking boy, Carter had been one of the football stars in school, which was one reason Jess didn’t get to know him back then. Now he served in a coffee shop, which was one reason she didn’t get to know him now.

“I saw you were looking at the Blades outside.” He gave her his big thousand-watt smile. Jess was glad of her shades.
 

“Yeah, what do you mean, Carter?”

“They aren’t the kind of bikers that pretty students and housewives have exciting affairs with. The Blades are the kind that deal in drugs and guns. They’re the kind that keep brothels, that do serious crime and hard time.” Carter wanted to put her off, obviously.
 

If he believed that was the kind of talk to do it, then he was even stupider than Jesska thought.

Chapter 1

On Jesska’s nineteenth birthday, she made her first visit to Poison Wells in the Nevada scrub, to the clubhouse of the Blades motorcycle club. If big sister Tiffany knew her intention, she would have smiled indulgently and said, “Well, okay, but I’ll come along. It’ll be fun.” That meant she would come along and take most of the fun out of it as she took care of her little sis., and looked out for her. Daddy would get to know about it, too.

Jess didn’t want any of that, and so she went alone. She parked up out of the way, somewhere dark near the unkempt shrubs where her ride wouldn’t be seen. It would draw a hail of scorn if the hardcore bikers clapped eyes on it.

She stepped past the line of low, fat Harleys leaned up by the hitching rail, and up onto the wooden platform. Uncertain still, and with a dizzying flurry in her stomach, she reached out to push on the door. It flew open in front of her.

Ancient heavy metal cranked out of the room, and a huge biker filled the dark of the doorway. He wore a cut-off leather jacket and a thick beard rolled over the black Motorhead t-shirt that draped over a gut as big as he was wide.

His eyes twinkled when he saw her short, tight little frame. She was big in all the right places. His teeth showed and he asked her, “You a dancer?”

“I can dance. Why?”

“Free admission for a pole dance.”

She watched as his grin parted the thicket on his face. “I’ll provide the pole.”

“So,” Jess replied, “Admission is free with a pole dance, otherwise admission is no charge. Is that right?”

A couple more bikers had turned to watch. Jess heard one of the others call the big man ‘Bear.’ It fit. “If you want to be a hang-around, honey,” Bear told her, “certain duties are involved.”

“Oh, and I thought this was someplace where an independent soul might enjoy a whiskey in peace and good company. My mistake.”

Jess had turned to leave when a low voice from inside said, “She passed the take-no-shit test, Bear.” The bikers chuckled.

Keeping her cool and standing her ground seemed to have earned her some credit. Bear stood aside and waved her in with a comical bow, “Enter. Drink and be merry,” he said. Her stomach flipped again as the follow-on—
for tomorrow we die
—popped into her mind, but she kept it to herself.

Jesska had dreamed of hanging out in a motorcycle club for as long as she could remember. Now that she was here, she felt a simmer of panic bubble in the pit of her stomach. She was determined to tough it out. She would have a couple of drinks, and meet some bikers. Leave early. Just get the feel of the place.

She realized that if anyone asked why she was here, her answer would sound lame. Anything she could think of would sound lame in the thick and thumping clubhouse atmosphere.

She crossed the threshold and stepped into the darknesslights and the noise. Bear said, “C’mon, I’ll buy the first one for you.”

“No,” Jesska said, “I’ll buy one for you.” but her attention was snatched by a pair of eyes glowing out of the shadows of the crowded bar room. They belonged to a big, black-haired biker with a long, neat mustache. He leaned over a table and clearly dominated the three bikers sat around it.

Somehow, Jess was sure that these were the eyes of the man who told Bear that she’d passed the test. A shudder went through her as his dark eyes held hers. He was appraising her, looking over her soft, generous curves and taking in the creamy slope of cleavage, swelling now and fluttering as her breath caught in her throat. If a boy did that to Jess anywhere else, she’d have gone right up to him and either spit in his eye or hit him. In here, she was an outsider, he was not, and the atmosphere was not on her side.

Conscious now of how short her black leather skirt was, she made her way through the crowd of heavy leather and denim. She drew appreciative notice from most of the male eyes as her vision adapted to the low, colored lights. Her ears adjusted quickly enough to the pump and grind of vintage Motorhead.

Two girls danced around poles on a raised platform, one blonde and one redhead. They wore loose, ripped t-shirts, torn stockings, very high heels and very little else apart from glitter.

At the heavy, polished wooden bar, Bear called, “Hey, Gyro,” but the bartender was already on his way over to Jess. In a broad-brimmed leather hat and with a thick, carefully curled mustache, the stocky bartender looked like he could be in a twenty-first century version of a Wild West saloon.

He had the courteous manners to match, as his green eyes twinkled and he asked Jess, “What will be your pleasure, ma’am?”

She asked for bourbon and whatever Bear wanted. Gyro touched the brim of his hat. “Right away.”

The girls on the podium shook their pert tits within licking distance of the clump of nearby bikers. Some men took their opportunities as they came and lapped at the hardening nipples as they came into range.

The girls would back off, mock horror on their faces before they leaned out again, or turned and leaned to poke their asses up and shake them for a repeat encounter. The redhead wore a pair of pale green and completely transparent panties. The blonde had no panties, and no pubic hair either. Her hips flicked to give swift flashes of her reddening, wet folds.