Judgment Road (Torpedo Ink #1) Page 41

  Plank regarded him for a long moment and then nodded. “We’ll do it right, put it to the members and bring them in closer.”

  Pierce nodded. Reaper thought the enforcer was a crafty, seriously intelligent son of a bitch that he was going to have to watch night and day because the man was up to something. He hoped he didn’t have to kill Pierce, but there was a glimmer of dread forming in his gut that told him that possibility was growing. He glanced at his brother. Savage was looking at Pierce and thinking the same thing, Reaper could tell by the ice in his eyes.

  TWENTY-ONE

  The Demons arrived late evening. Czar had invited them for a meeting and a party after. Reaper knew they needed allies. The Diamondbacks had made vague overtures after Steele had returned, but Czar was reluctant to be too close to them. In the end, that club tended to swallow the smaller clubs. None of them could give up the freedom they’d finally found after years of being “owned.”

  Hammer brought a small contingency of twenty with him plus three prospects. Torpedo Ink had enough room to host the bikers and the women they brought along with them. Hammer’s wife didn’t come. He claimed she was still recovering, but Reaper was certain she didn’t want to see the men who had rescued her quite yet. He didn’t blame her.

  Reaper and Savage stayed close to Czar at all times. The meeting went well, with the two presidents, vice presidents and their top people hammering out details of what they were willing to do and the cut each side would have. Czar insisted that anything running through their territory had to be reported to the Diamondbacks and a deal struck before it went through. Hammer agreed to allow Czar to do the negotiations, but he wanted to be there.

  The party was already underway by the time they adjourned. Drinks flowed freely, along with food from the barbecue that had been going most of the day, slow roasting a quarter of a beef and enough chicken to feed an army. A couple of hours later, the fire pits were lit and the music was cranked up.

  The Demons weren’t any shyer about snagging a woman and letting her have her way with them. Tops were coming off and women were dancing on tables by the time Reaper could leave to go get Anya. He’d wanted her there for the barbecue, before things got crazy, but he couldn’t keep his eyes on her while the meeting was taking place and he didn’t trust the Demons that much—not with his woman.

  The party had completely taken off by the time they arrived, and Reaper snagged a blanket, bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses. He took Anya outside where the fire pits were lit and the music was loud. They talked to several of his brothers as they passed them, but the men were already occupied with the women who had come to the party to try to snag one of the club members. Snag them or have wild sex, it didn’t matter, they wanted to have fun.

  He claimed a spot out of the light, spread the blanket, and set the whiskey and glasses down so he could dance with his woman because she liked that. After a while, he wasn’t going to be able to do that with her body sliding against his so seductively. She knew how to move. She wore a low-cut camisole with no bra, because he’d asked her to, and her breasts pushed against the stretch lace, demanding to be freed. Her jeans hugged her body and when his hands slid over the curves of her ass, she didn’t reprimand him, just moved in closer, pressing against his fully aroused cock.

  Reaper took her back to the darkest corner of the large fenced-in area where one of the three fire pits burned. They sat together on the blanket, back to the fence, her between his legs, the whiskey burning pleasantly down his throat as music pounded around them, adding to the frantic beat of his heart. Women danced, pulling their clothes off as time went on, and the alcohol kept flowing. Some of them crawled over to one of his brother’s laps and went to work.

  Reaper caught Anya’s chin and turned her face around to his, settling his mouth there because he needed it. He kept kissing her because Anya’s kisses were like the whiskey, fire in his belly, in his veins. In his groin. He let it happen, that slow burn that built and built until he was so hard he thought he might cut right through the material of his jeans. His hands dropped to his lap, and he unzipped his pants, allowing his thick cock freedom.

  “Your glass,” he whispered in her ear, pushing aside the stray strands curling around her face. She didn’t argue, just lifted her glass. He knew her eyes were on the women kissing another brother, taking turns, their hands all over him. He remembered worrying that she wished she could just touch him whenever or wherever she wanted. Now, they experimented every night. They both looked forward to the massages, and he especially looked forward to her hands on him, and sometimes, when it worked, her mouth.

  He poured the whiskey into her glass and then set the bottle aside. She rested her back against his chest as his hands went to the front of her camisole, finding the laces. She lifted the glass to her mouth, tasting the drink, letting the whiskey slide down her throat. He opened the laces, allowing her breasts to spring free. He loved her breasts. The soft weight of them. The firmness. The way they were high and jutted out just perfectly. Her nipples.

  “Someone will see.” She put her hand up to cover them.

  He pushed her hand down. “We’re in the dark, away from the fire. And who gives a fuck? They won’t bother us. They’re occupied with whatever they’ve got going on.” He was already tugging at her nipples, pinching and rolling. Giving her that little bite that always made her squirm. The tension went out of her and she eased her body back, arching just a little to give him more. He liked to play and he did, squeezing, kneading, stroking. All the while his mouth was on her neck, kissing, sucking, teeth scraping and then biting. Her earlobe. That sweet spot where her neck met her shoulder. She squirmed.

  “You getting wet for me?” he asked, his lips against her ear.

  “Yes. Always.”

  Her voice was breathless, and he recognized that need. She was close to where he wanted her. The place he loved to get her, where nothing mattered to her but him. But his body. His mouth. His hands. What he could do to her.

  “Did you do what I asked? No panties?”

  “Yes.”

  “Unzip your jeans.” He whispered the command into her ear, his hands working her breasts, his mouth on her neck. He was harder than ever.

  She put down the drink, and he noted her hands were shaking as she slowly pulled down the zipper. He turned her face toward him again and kissed her. Over and over. Deeper. Harder. Rewarding her. Claiming her. Happy as fuck that she was his and she loved his body as much as he loved hers.

  He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Slide them down over your hips, baby.”

  She glanced out toward the fire. The bodies swaying in the darkness. Dancing. Kissing. Fucking. Some women on their knees. Others drinking and laughing.

  “Fire’s glowing hot, baby. No one can see us. Give me that sweet body.” His fingers slid down her belly. Lower. Curved into her, making her gasp. Her hands went to the waistband of her jeans, she lifted up and shimmied. He kept his fingers buried in her. When her jeans were down to her knees, he pulled his fingers free of her sweet pussy and licked them. She tasted like heaven. That aphrodisiac he craved.

  “Take them all the way off. I want you facing me, knees up, legs apart.” He watched her hesitate, need warring with old rules. Need won. He won. He lifted the whiskey glass to his lips, unable to take his eyes off her as she turned around, slipped off her jeans, scooted toward him and leaned back on her elbows, knees up and wide apart.

  His breath caught in his throat. She was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He swallowed down the whiskey and took another slow sip, enjoying the view. Enjoying the knowledge that she was really his. That she gave him herself. Her body. Any way he liked. Any time he liked.

  “Closer, baby. Scoot right up into me. I want your ass on my lap, legs on either side of me, feet planted on the ground.”

  Her eyes went wide. Her tongue touched her lip. She complied again, this time more slowly, making a show of it. The firelight spilled across her body,
her breasts gleaming at him, the liquid gold between her legs glistening an invitation. He waited to put down his glass until she’d straddled him, once more lying back onto her elbows, legs wide, feet planted, her body open to him. Her eyes never left his face.

  The beat of the music pounded through his veins. Tripped his heart. He caught her ass in both hands and lifted her to him, just as if she were a glass of the finest whiskey. His tongue swiped across all that gold. Her body shuddered. He looked down at her and smiled. He felt that smile rolling through him. It felt beautiful. His mouth clamped over her and he suckled, his tongue flicking her clit hard.

  Her hips bucked. He held her and feasted. Ruthlessly. All for him. Letting her taste drive him as wild as the music. Watching her head thrash, her body undulate. Felt the first rush hit her hard and more of that aphrodisiac poured into his mouth, onto his tongue. He stroked and caressed. He used his fingers, his thumb, he smeared the liquid all over her and lapped it up, biting at her thighs, licking caresses to ease any sting. He devoured her.

  She let out a small sound, the air leaving her lungs in a rush. The music started again, another wild, pounding beat. Her little keening wail added to the pulsing rhythm. He kept his eyes glued to his woman. Her face. The beauty there. In his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined he would have everything all wrapped up in a woman. Anya. Everything.

  The orgasm rushed over her, strong, rolling through her in waves. He could see it, moving up her belly, her breasts, settling as a scream in her throat. She tried to suppress it, but she was losing all inhibition, uncaring where they were, her entire being centered on him. He fucking loved that. His little angel, Anya. He corrupted her occasionally and it felt like a gift.

  The third one had her reaching for him, trying to get his mouth off her sensitive clit, even as the orgasm tore through her body, spilling more gold aphrodisiac into his mouth. He lifted his head, his gaze burning into hers. “Lift up, baby. Need to get rid of my jeans.”

  Her back was to the fire, the darkness, the others dancing and playing, and she didn’t hesitate. As she got to her knees, he pushed his jeans down around his thighs. He caught her hand and brought it to the thick base of him as she once more straddled him. He loved the feel of her fingers wrapped around him. It was a kind of secret paradise to have that. Others might take it for granted that their woman could fist them, or put their mouth on them, but he never would. Never.

  He gripped her hair and began pushing her head down over him.

  “Are you sure?” Anya’s voice was hesitant. “I’m wild for the taste of you, Reaper, you know that, but we’ve only managed to do this a couple of times, and we’re surrounded by others.”

  He couldn’t tell her that was part of the reason he knew he wouldn’t freak out. He was that fucked-up. “Need this, baby. Right now. Need your mouth.”

  She gave him the control the way she always did. She let him push her head over his cock. “Open your mouth, use your tongue.” He shuddered as she complied. The heat. The fire. “Suck, baby. Suck hard.”

  She obeyed, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him deep. Her tongue lashed and stroked. Danced around and over him. She did something with her throat and then swallowed so that she seemed to massage him with her mouth. He let her breathe, although it was hard to think of that when she was taking him right off planet Earth.

  He tightened his fingers in her hair, using both fists, holding her there while every stroke of her tongue sent flames licking up his shaft. He’d never enjoyed having a mouth on him until Anya. Each time they managed to go a little further, making some progress. He found he was becoming as addicted to her mouth as he was to her taste and her pussy.

  His hips moved, almost of their own volition, thrusting gently into the scorching hot depths of her mouth. He was thick and he loved the way her lips were stretched to accommodate his girth. He liked the way the firelight played over her face, highlighting her mouth on him. It was becoming more difficult to think. For the first time, with her mouth on him, his balls grew tight and hard. He felt his seed boiling, desperate for release.

  Movement caught his eye and he lifted his head. Anya started to lift off him as Player approached their spot, but Reaper refused to allow her to stop. He couldn’t let anything stop her. “Harder, baby. Take me there. Swallow me down.” He whispered the entreaty. A command really, since he wasn’t allowing her head up other than to breathe.

  She looked up at him, her mouth working him, each beat of the music, driving down on him until he knew he was there, right at her throat. He held her there, his heart pounding. His cock swelled and triumph burst through him. Player grinned at him and caught up the woman he was with, taking her out farther, away from the firelight, leaving Reaper alone with Anya.

  He stared down at her. He loved the sight of her, those eyes staring up at him, that mouth, hotter than hades, those lips, stretched wide to accommodate him. He let her breathe and pushed her down, deep this time, felt her throat. Felt her swallow. Muscles squeezed. His balls felt like they were on fire, a scorching inferno to match her mouth. Then it was there, pulled from him, jetting up like magma, pouring down her throat.

  Lightning streaked through him. Pure lightning, zigzagging through his body, ripping down his spine, licking along his belly, roaring through his groin. He clamped his hand around her throat, feeling her swallow, feeling his cock jerk. The sensations were unlike anything he could have imagined. He threw his head back and roared with the flames. They’d done it. That mouth of hers. He loosened his hold on her, but didn’t let her head up all the way.

  “Don’t stop yet. Gentle, babe.” He couldn’t let it be over. He never wanted it to be over.

  She obeyed him, her tongue licking along his shaft, under the broad head, over it, lower, to the base, catching every last drop. He let her up because he had no other choice. Her eyes nearly glowed showing she was as elated as he was. Elated, but she still was dripping for him. He handed her the glass of whiskey so she could take another small sip.

  “Fuckin’ beautiful, Anya,” he said. He reached out, used his thumb to take the last bit of evidence from the corner of her lip, pressed it to her mouth and waited until she licked his thumb clean. “Put the glass down. We’re not finished.”

  She glanced at his cock. “You’re finished.”

  He shook his head. “No faith, baby.” No way was he finished, not after they’d actually had the first success they’d ever had with her mouth on him. His cock was already thinking about coming back to life just at the thought of his plan. “Straddle me like you did before and lie back, legs apart, knees wide, feet flat on the blanket.”

  Anya complied without hesitation. He reached down and rubbed between her legs. “Love this sweet little pussy, baby. Hot as hell and so fuckin’ tight I think you’re going to kill me sometimes.”

  Her hips followed his fingers and she gave a little moan of disappointment when he took his hand away. “I really want you, Reaper.”

  “I can see that. I want to watch you get yourself off.”

  “I can’t do that in front of you.” She sounded breathless, and he saw the fresh flood of liquid seep along the junction exposed to him.

  “Yes you can.”

  “Not here, Reaper.” But her hand slid down her belly.

  “Pinch your nipples for me first.” He loved her tits. Fucking loved them. He wanted to do a little sucking of his own.

  She laid her head more comfortably on his legs, both hands going to her breasts. He watched her fingers on her nipples. Occasionally he reached to rub between her legs, or circle her clit. Once he pushed a finger deep, curled it to brush her most sensitive spot, but pulled away when her hips bucked, trying to allow her to get off.

  He poured himself whiskey. “Use your hand like I did. Let me see you, Anya.”

  He sipped, letting that burn reach his stomach as her hand disappeared between her legs. She began fucking herself with her fingers. The sight was hotter than hell and his cock reacted, just as he k
new it would. He reached out to help, flicking her clit hard, watching her face, that beautiful flush, her breasts rising and falling as her breathing deepened.

  “Stop, baby.”

  “Reaper!” She wailed his name.

  “Sit on me. Slow, baby.”

  She didn’t want slow and her breath came out a hiss of protest, but she was Anya and she lowered herself onto him, letting him fill her. Letting him stretch her. She was hot as hell, an inferno surrounding him, burning him alive. That sweet pussy of hers was going to be the death of him. He felt those tight muscles giving way with great reluctance to encircle him like a scorching hot, silken fist. He threw his head back, savoring that sweet death she always gave to him. That all-encompassing fire that ran through his body like a volcano erupting and spreading hot magma until he almost couldn’t breathe.

  “Your top. Take it all the way off.” It was the only thing left on her. The material had been framing her breasts, but now he wanted it gone.

  No hesitation this time. Anya was already lost in him and she pulled the camisole completely off and dropped it to the side. She tried to move. To ride him. He held her down, hands on her hips, pinning her there. Her gaze jumped to his face.

  “Cup your tits, Anya. I want you squeezing and kneading them.”

  “I need you to move.”

  “We’ll move when I say. Do it, baby. Hands on your tits.”

  He watched her hands come up under her breasts, and his entire body gave a little shudder of anticipation. Fingers worked that soft flesh. His mouth watered. Fuck, he loved that sight. He bent his head. “Feed it to me.”

  She did without hesitation, raising her right breast to his mouth. He sucked that mound in hard, his tongue lashing her nipple. His teeth were next, biting down harder than he normally did. She cried out but he didn’t release. He pulled his head back, stretching her nipple taut, eyes on her face. The heat there, the flush of need, how could he ever have lived without it? How could he ever survive if she was gone?