Ass like hers was too hot to wait until they got home.
She’d probably bitch a little when he bent her over, but he’d shut her up, warning her to brace against the counter. Damn, but his girl could bitch about anything. The thought of Marie’s face, all pissed off at him for calling her sweet butt, made his cock jerk, and he had to stop moving for a second.
No good, blowing your wad before the best part.
After about a minute he’d cooled off enough to let the fantasy play out.
He’d push her over and slide his hands under that little dress, pulling it up until he saw the small of her back. Those fishnets would be hooked to a garter belt, with a black thong to match. He’d reach down and push the narrow flap of fabric aside, sliding his finger into her cunt to feel just how hot and tight she was.
She might complain but Marie was always ready for him, no question. Horse let the fantasy take over again. Fuck…
In his mind he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to pull out his cock and balls, rubbing his cock head against the crease of her ass. She shivered, and he slid off those naughty little panties of hers, dropping them to the floor. She stepped out of them and set her high heels wide, tilting up her ass and inviting him right on in.
Be rude to turn down an invitation like that.
He reached down, grabbing the tip of his cock, sliding it along the slit of her pussy a couple of times before settling himself. Then he took her hips in his hands, holding her tight, and thrust himself all the way in. She screamed, muscles tightening up around his cock. He should have taken it slower, she’d probably never had a man so big inside before.
“Sorry, baby,” he muttered.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, sucking in deep breaths. He felt her membranes tighten around him, twitching and squeezing him harder than that goddamn masseuse from the spa in downtown Spokane. So fuckin’ hot. Horse couldn’t wait any longer.
Slowly he pulled out as she gripped him, muscles twitching. He retreated almost all the way, feeling her lips tighten around the rim of his head before slamming back into her.
Things got wild after that.
It took everything he had to stay upright as he fucked Marie. She gasped each time he bottomed out, cunt wrapped around him so tight it almost hurt. Fuck, she felt good. Again and again he forced his way into her small body, until he felt his balls drawing up, ready to blow his load straight into her womb.
Marie was close too. She’d gotten so wet and sloppy that every thrust squelched and she kept begging him for more, to fuck her harder. He leaned over, covering her body with his, bracing himself against the counter with one hand while the other searched for her clit.
There it was.
Horse thrust his finger against it, too far gone to be subtle or gentle. Apparently she didn’t mind, because as soon as he touched it she blew up like a fuckin’ bomb around him, screaming. It felt incredible, the way her entire body centered on him, gripping him, begging for his come.
He’d give it to her too.
Horse released her clit, leaning both arms against the counter as he started really hammering her. Their grunts mixed as he took her, branding her as his and fucking her so hard she’d feel his cock in the back of her throat.
Marie.
His girl.
His property.
Only his.
Horse blew up, coming so hard he forgot to breathe. He let his hand fall away from his cock, dropping the fantasy. Then he started laughing at himself right there in his bedroom, the sound anything but funny because fucking Marie in his head was better than fucking Serena for real.
Might as well shoot himself, get it over with.
Horse pulled up to the clubhouse, cutting it far too close for church.
One of the prospects stood in the parking lot outside, watching the bikes and keeping an eye on the gate. The Reapers bought the old National Guard armory fifteen years back. With its concrete block construction, walled courtyard and small windows it was perfect, both as a clubhouse and a fortress. Not that they’d come under attack recently. The Reapers were indisputably dominant in the area, with all other clubs operating only with their blessing. That was the subject of the meeting.
Protecting that dominance.
Horse walked into the clubhouse, which was first and foremost a lounge and hangout area. There were rooms upstairs kitted out for overnight visits, of course, and some storage, but they never kept anything too sensitive there. At least nothing where LEO could ever find it. The cops didn’t show up often, but the times they’d brought warrants they hadn’t found jack shit.
The girls needed to come through and clean the place out, Horse decided, looking around the clubhouse with distaste. Debris from last night’s party still littered the tables, couches and the long bar along one wall. Most of them were probably still sleeping it off upstairs, although a dirty blonde wearing a tight jean skirt and halter top was passed out on the couch, legs spread wide. Thank God he didn’t live here anymore; now that he had his own place he cringed at what used to seem normal in terms of hygiene.
Yup, getting old.
“You coming, bro?” asked Ruger, a heavily tattooed and pierced man with a short mohawk. He stood by the door with another of their prospects, Painter. “Last one.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Horse replied. He handed his gun to Painter, who set it carefully on the counter with the others, next to a box full of cell phones.
“You got mine in there already?” he asked. “Think I left it here last night.”
“Yeah.”
Horse nodded his thanks and walked into church.
Fifteen guys, all but three of their active, full-patch members, already sat around the big, scarred wooden table that had once decorated some fancy-assed conference room. Now it had a thousand nicks and little carvings in it, and a big RFFR painted in the center—Reapers Forever, Forever Reapers.
“Nice you could join us,” said Picnic, sitting at the head of the table. “Thought Serena might have sucked you in. Get lost in that snatch of hers?”
“It’s five o’clock exactly,” Horse said, shrugging as he draped his large frame across an empty chair. “What can I say? I’m a precisely tuned, high-performance machine, unlike you and that crap-ass bike you ride.”
“Fuck off,” Picnic said, grinning back. Then his expression grew more serious. “Okay, boys, we got something important to deal with today. I think you all know we’ve got a thief. Jeff Jensen, computer guy, out of the Yakima Valley. Got back from seeing him this morning, no progress at all.”
“He’s the guy handling our offshore stuff, right?” asked Ruger.
“Yeah,” Horse replied. “Computer genius, knows his shit, our transactions are untraceable. God knows we’re paying him for it too. But it’s not enough. He’s been skimming for months. Been tracking it down for a while now, already gave him opportunities to make it right, so it’s not just a matter of him screwing up. Definitely skimming. It’s small compared to our total volume, but we can’t let shit like this happen. Bad for business.”
“We let one do it, they’re all gonna try,” Picnic said. “We start losing respect, next thing you know the girls at the Line’ll be giving drinks and lap dances to another MC.”
“So what’s the damage?” asked Bam Bam.
“We’re right at $50k,” Horse answered. “It’s been push and pull, he grabs a couple grand, then tries to pay it back. He’s gambling, maybe using. I hate to lose him as an asset because we don’t have anyone else in the fold to replace him. That’s why we’ve given him so many chances to make things right. But his losses are getting bigger—as of last week he was only into us for $20k total, so it’s escalating fast. We let him go much longer and we’ll be down serious cash. He might even pull a runner on us.”
“We should put him in the ground,” Max said, voice firm and cold. Horse glanced at him, surprised to see his face flushed, the little muscle in his jaw flexing with suppressed emotion. Max was still on probation, and it wasn’t usual for a guy in his position to talk so much during church. Max’s blood tended to run hot though. He was one of the hardest men Horse had ever met, which was saying a lot. “We’ve done everything but lead this guy to the shitter and wipe his ass. He’s always making promises, always got an excuse, but nothing ever changes. You should’ve seen him last night. He’s definitely tweaking. Time to cut our losses.”