DAMON: A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel (23 page)

R
eign barely looked
up from the girl whose legs were draped across his lap as Endo walked into the back office.

“’Sup,” Reign said, his hands busy playing with the girl’s tight curls, bouncing them up and down. She was giggling like a lunatic. It wasn’t exactly a sexy sound, more annoying than anything else, but Reign was tired, and she was there, and she wasn’t a challenge.

He wished she had something to say besides “like”, “cool”, and “hot”, though. He knew that in reality she probably had a hell of a lot more to say than those few words, but she probably thought he wanted her to be a bimbo. Whatever.

It wasn’t worth the effort to explain to her that, sometimes, men like a woman with a little substance to her – in mind
and
body. The girl looked cute as shit in booty shorts and a crop top, but she also looked cold, and young, and thin. The word
squeaky
came to mind.

“So, you know that dealer, the one who thought we were giving him the run-around on that dope deal?”

“You mean, the one we
are
giving the run-around?” Reign asked with a chuckle, drawing his eyes away from the lollipop on his lap long enough to look at Endo expectantly.

“He’s out front, rantin’ and ravin’,” Endo said. “Honey’s doing her best to placate the guy, but he’s hollerin’ for blood.”

“Look, that ain’t my deal, it’s Knicker’s. Get him on it, Endo,” Reign said, annoyed. He’d just gotten back from a huge illegal immigrant job, hustling migrant workers and pregnant women over the border to Utah. He wanted to enjoy this perky brunette for an hour, drink himself into incoherence, and sleep for a day and a half. Lord, Reign loved to sleep, and he hadn’t had much of it the past three days.

“Knicker ain’t here,” Endo said. “You’re top dog right now.”

“Well, fuck, have we even changed money with the guy? Ain’t it all just been talk?”

“Yeah, think so. As far as I know, we ain’t even got specifics down.”

“Fuck it. Tell him he can calm down and come back when Knicker’s here, or the deal’s off altogether and he can try and sell ten pounds of dope in a small town in a state with a population of 2 million. He needs us more than we need him,” Reign said. “I’m serious. Tell him no one here cares about this deal. It’s Knicker just trying to show off to the boss. He can come back and talk to Knicker, or he can fuck off and never show his face around here again.”

“Alright, boss,” Endo said, disappearing through the door he’d come in through.

“Go lock the door, honey,” Reign said to the giggly, squirming chick. She bounced off the sofa, exactly like a bunny from her hopping little gait to her twitchy little nose. Returning to the sofa, she seemed to be trying to walk seductively. It seemed forced. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Reign reached out as she got closer, grabbing her by the belt loops, pulling her giggling form in between his knees.

He looked up at her as she blushed, taking the top of her barely-there shorts in his teeth and snarling comically. She laughed again, the sound getting a little bit sexier now that Reign was actually getting turned on.

He released her shorts, bringing a hand up to them, unbuttoning them and letting them slide down her long, smooth legs to the floor. She was wearing a sheer thong, and Reign leaned forward, nosing his way between her shaven folds, breathing deeply. She giggled again, pushing his head away. He, in turn, pushed her hands away, then proceeded to pull her thong down to join her shorts on the floor.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, unable to remember her name. He leaned forward again, wanting to pry those pretty pink lips apart and lick her until she squealed for real. But she stopped him once more.

“No, that’s gross!” she said, backing away.

“Gross? C’mon, let me taste you, girl,” he said, pulling her back, hands cupping her ass, pulling her slit towards him once more. His tongue darted out in anticipation. The only thing Reign loved more than sleeping was feeling girls come under his tongue. In fact, if he could eat girls out in his sleep, he’d be the happiest man on planet earth. He’d only wake up to eat, piss, and make money.

“No, really, that’s weird, Reign, I don’t like it,” the twiggy girl said, her tone turning serious. Reign let his hands fall to his sides, ire spiking. He didn’t like being turned down, but he wasn’t about to rape the poor thing.

“You don’t know what you’re missing, doll,” he said, hoping to entice her.

“Mmmm, neither do you, baby,” she said, suddenly dropping to her knees and crawling forward, somewhat awkwardly, until she was between his legs, one hand on each of his thighs. Reign sighed inwardly, but he forced a smile.
What kinda man would I be if I turned down a nice BJ from a nice girl?
He thought, still disappointed but willing to take what he could. He kind of just wanted it to be over so he could crash.

The little brunette teased him slightly, or at least tried to, wiggling her scant-but-perky chest under his nose while slowly unzipping his pants, releasing his huge cock. She gasped, 100% genuine, when she saw it, and seemed to rethink her plan of attack. Reign encouraged her with a slight stroke on the back of the head, nudging her forward. She flicked her tongue across the purple, puffy head before pulling back with another grin and smile.

“You’re the biggest I’ve seen,” she said, clearly nervous.

“I’ll go easy on you, gorgeous,” Reign said, pulling her head forward a little more.
You won’t let me eat you out, you’re acting all weird about the blowjob, little girl, if you don’t want to do this, you should just go home and quit wasting my time. You were the one who approached me, remember?

But, the brunette seemed to steel herself, and began to perform in earnest, first lapping at his swollen head, then taking his shaft into her mouth an inch at a time. Reign let his head loll back against the couch, his hands coming up to her head, pressing slightly downward, more encouraging than forceful. The brunette moaned around his cock, slathering it with her tongue, humming against the head as she deep-throated him.

“Oh, yeah, baby,” he groaned, feigning more enthusiasm than he felt. It was just another blowjob, as far as he was concerned. His cock throbbed against her wet tongue, the head massaged by her welcoming throat. He began to pulse his hips against her, slowly, trying to be gentle as he looked down at the top of her head. She brought one hand to his balls, cupping them and fondling them gently while she bobbed eagerly on his cock.

“You want this cock, baby?” he asked, tired of watching her gag on him, wanting to watch her come as she rode him. She pulled away, a trail of spit from the head of his cock to her lips, and nodded eagerly, biting her lip.

He grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her up and onto his lap. She straddled him, her small breasts in his face, just asking for his attention. He was glad to provide it. He pulled her crop top up, exposing her bra-less chest, and leaned forward, suckling one of her nipples into his mouth as she slowly lowered herself onto his massive rod.

“Oh, fuccccckkkk,” she moaned, and looking up Reign watched her eyes roll back into her head as she took the entire length of him into her tight pussy. She felt warm, and wet, and he moaned as he thrust his hips upwards, filling her even more as his tongue darted around her nipples, moving back and forth from one to the other, his hands kneading her ass as she began to ride him.

“Oh, God, fuck, Reign, you feel so fucking good,” she whimpered, her hands draped around his neck now as she twisted her hips in a circle while pumping up and down on his cock, her face growing red and her breathing labored as she impaled herself on his member.

Reign brought one hand to her clit, gently pressing against it as she gyrated atop him, lowering herself forcefully onto his cock, no longer aiming to please him, lost in her own pleasure. Just how he liked it. He thrust his hips upwards to meet her, using his strong arm around her ass to help her move faster, harder.

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, baby?” he said, watching as her eyes seemed to lose all focus, her mouth forced open into an O shape as she got carried away, now not needing his help at all as her body took over, demanding release, filled with his cock.

She began to tremble on top of him, and he increased the pressure against her clit. She looked down, her face almost pained, pleasure dripping from her lips like nectar as she cried out in short bursts, her pussy dripping onto his thighs. Her grip around him increased, and her eyes popped open.

“Yeah, just like that, baby girl, fuck my dick, come for daddy,” he growled, knowing that a girl like this was likely to lose her mind just from the word “daddy”. He was right, and seconds later she was clutching him to her, crying out as her pussy contracted around his cock, throbbing and milking it for all it was worth, her body trembling in his arms.

“Oh, god, fuck, yes, Reign, fuuuuuuuuuck,” she moaned, her hips gyrating against him wildly now.

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered into her ear, pressing his hand against her lower back to fill her even more as she bucked on top of him. He loved watching her lose control, loved when women went crazy on his dick, begging for more. Finally, the tiny brunette slumped against him, her hips now thrusting with much less enthusiasm against him as she recovered from her climax.

“That was fucking amazing,” she said, picking up speed now as she rode him again. But he wouldn’t come that way, and he pulled her upwards and off him, taking his own dick in his hands.

“Take off your top,” he demanded, knowing that if she hadn’t already been willing to do whatever he said, she certainly was now. She obliged quickly, dropping the top to the floor. “Kneel down.”

Again, she was happy to oblige, planting her hands on his thighs once more as he stroked his cock, now slick with her juices. He looked at her face, still flushed and rosy from her climax, her breathing not quite back to normal.

“Are you gonna come on my tits, daddy?” she asked, pouting, playing up the “daddy” angle. It wasn’t really Reign’s thing, but he liked to do whatever made the girls happy.

“Yeah, baby girl, daddy’s gonna come all over your tits, and I want you to lick it all off,” he said with a snarl, doing mental gymnastics to try and put some meat on the lithe body in front of him – too thin for his taste. She was gorgeous though, with those pouty little-girl lips, and soon he felt himself automatically jerking off harder, his balls churning, the girl in front of him thrusting her chest out for him and running her hands up and down his thighs.

“Fuck,” Reign groaned as a stream of cum shot out of his cock, landing square on the brunette’s chest, making her close her eyes and squeal in pleasure. He shot load after load onto her, watching her systematically wipe the cum from her tits and suck it off her fingers with relish.

“Thank you, daddy,” she whispered through a mouthful of his hot cum, the last of his load landing just short of the mark. He watched her get the last bit of semen, which hung almost comically from her nipple, and guzzle it into her throat.
She’s cute,
he thought, unable to fight the slightest bit of affection for the otherwise anonymous girl.

“Thank
you,
” he said. “But daddy’s gotta sleep now.”

“Of course,” the girl said, knowing her place well enough not to ask if she could sleep with him. Instead, she hopped to her feet and quickly dressed herself, leaving her shorts unbuttoned. Reign noticed the slightest string of cum dangling from her hair and decided to leave it be; she’d probably just move on to Endo or whatever other club members were hanging around the bar. He leaned forward to smack her ass, playfully, as she skipped from the room.

He grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was sitting on the floor near the couch and took a huge guzzle, feeling it burn down his throat. And then he lay down on the couch, stretching out, closing his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt cold and wished he had a blanket, or a warm body next to him. Not the girl, but someone else. Someone he’d never met, but who, deep down where he could barely admit it to himself, he wished he would meet soon.

I
was almost done
. Three more rooms, and I’d have finished my duties for the day. I was more than ready to clock out, change into real clothes, and drive away as fast as I could. Less excited to arrive at home than I was to just get the hell away from work, I knocked on the door of my next room before letting myself in. My eyes immediately fell to a blue duffel bag sitting on a chair in the middle of the room.

I picked up the duffle bag, wondering how someone could have forgotten about it when it was just sitting on the chair, declaring its presence at first glance around the room. It was surprisingly heavy when I lifted it and set it down near my cart, meaning to bring it straight down to the front desk once I was through with the room.

There was an odor in the room that I couldn’t quite place. It smelled metallic, cold. But, blessedly, that seemed to be the only major problem with the room. No vomit or spilled beer here.

As I heaved the comforter and sheets off the bed, back aching from performing the same motions over and over again, I saw something that made my blood turn cold. I wanted to believe it was something other than what I saw, but I couldn’t fool myself. That smell was blood, and what made that clear as day was the small pool of brownish-red liquid under the bed. And in the middle of that pool, just barely peeking out, were two fingers.

Two fingers that were, presumably, attached to a whole body.

I nearly pissed my pants and threw up at the same time. I backed away from the bed. I’d seen a lot of things in my time at the hotel, but nothing like this. Nothing even
nearly
as bad as this.

Maybe it’s ketchup and a glove,
I thought, irrationally, knowing full damn well that it wasn’t. But something inside me insisted that I make sure it was what I thought it was before telling everyone about how the sky was falling. Tiptoeing around the bed, heart pounding, I kneeled down a fair distance from the pool of blood (or, I still hoped, ketchup). Holding my breath, I peered under the bed.

Yup. That was a body. Sure as shit, that was a dead-ass human being lying underneath that bed.

Why even bother to hide it there…
I wondered, my mind moving slowly, not quite processing what I was seeing. I shot straight up, mouth suddenly very dry, heart beating faster than a drummer in a metal band. My eyes darted to the duffel bag set near my cart.

I can only chalk my actions after that up to divine intervention, or possibly shock, or maybe even just morbid curiosity. The appropriate thing to do would have been to get on the walkie-talkie and report what I’d found to my boss, and the police, and get the hell out of that room before I further muddled up what was certainly a crime scene. Instead, I walked to the duffel bag, leaning down and yanking at the zipper with shaking hands.

Holy

Fucking

Shit.

That was a LOT of money. Like, stacks on stacks. Of hundreds, not twenties. And mixed in with the money was a lot of taped-up Ziploc bags full of what I’d come to recognize as cocaine. Like I said, you find a lot of crap in hotel rooms after people have flown the coop.

I took one large step back before falling on my ass against the bed. Thinking of the corpse that was only a foot away from me, I scurried away from the bed to the wall on my hands and knees. If my heart had been pounding before, it was basically ricocheting out of my chest at that point.

I guess, even then, I knew what I was going to do.

See, there’s only so much a human mind and body can take before it breaks. And everything in my life had been working on me so long: Jeremy, the job, the dullness of my days, the violence of my nights. I hadn’t thought I could ever get away.

And now?

It was like God was shining a light down from the ceiling right onto that duffel bag. Tempting me, maybe even taunting me.

Everything I needed to make a clean break.

Right there.

And who’s money could it be, anyway? It sure as hell didn’t belong to anyone good…and if whoever had killed the person under the bed hadn’t seen fit to take the money with them, I was pretty sure it didn’t belong to
anyone
at that point.

Except me.

It belonged to me.

Once that thought came into my mind, I acted like it was true. Propriety be damned. With that sort of money, I could make straight for Mexico, or Canada, and change my name, and no one would ever find me…

Not Jeremy. Not the cops. Which, by the way, was pretty much the same thing, since he
was
a cop.

I scuttled forward towards the duffel bag, hands itching to get around that money. But I stopped myself;
be smart, Gabriella. For once in your stupid, pathetic life, use your fucking brain.

See? I even
thought
in Jeremy’s voice and tone. I’d never thought I was stupid before getting involved with him, but he’d had me so beat down that I believed him when he said I was a dumb bitch.

I straightened up, grabbing two gloves from my cart and snapping them on. I took all the cocaine from the bag.
Where…where…
I thought, looking around the room. My eyes lit on the dresser; throwing a drawer open, I threw all the little bundles into the drawer and then closed it, though I left it slightly ajar.

I didn’t need the drugs, just the money.

And, I figured, it would probably help the detectives or whoever to know that whatever happened was a result of a drug deal gone wrong.

As for the money…

And the body…

I leaned into my portable laundry basket, pulling out the sheets and comforter I’d just stripped. Working quickly, I made the bed in a way that looked as though someone had slept in it. Not too messy, not too neat.

I needed it to look like I’d never been there.

But the key…
I thought to myself. The keys at the hotel were automatic, and wireless, and they recorded whenever anyone came or went into the room.

I threw the duffel bag into the laundry, covering it with sheets and comforters.

I took a series of deep breaths, grabbing my walkie-talkie and preparing to lie like my life depended on it.

“Rosa, Melanie, come in,” I said, actually happy for the quiver in my voice, hoping it would make me more convincing.

“Go ahead, Gabriella,” Rosa’s voice came over the other end, her heavy accent hard to understand over the crackly radio.

“I was just about to go into 303, and I just got sick everywhere. Had to run right to the bathroom. It smells funny in here but I think it’s something else. I’m gonna come down, I need to go home,” I said. It wasn’t the best lie in the world, but what else could I do? They would know I went into the room when they checked the logs. The best thing I could do was pretend that I only went into the room to throw up, that I’d never seen the body or even touched the bed.

Of course, once I never showed up back home, and once someone discovered the body in the room, there would be a lot of questions. And, with Jeremy on the force, those questions would probably be broadcast across America once he figured out I wasn’t coming back. I could only hope that by the time those questions were asked, I would be safely on my way to Mexico.

“Make sure you flush,” Melanie’s voice came over the walkie-talkie. “Clock out and go home. Come in tomorrow?”

“Maybe, I’ll see,” I said, letting the walkie-talkie fall to my side once more.

I looked around the room once more, but knew I needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The longer I stood there, the more I’d freak out, the more I’d rethink what I was doing, the more I’d overthink how to cover my tracks.

Pushing my cart out the door, leaving the lights on, the way they had been when I got there, I made my way down to the basement, praying no one else would be down there. No one
should
have been down there. Rosa was still doing rounds, the laundry room was a separate building, and Melanie would be half-tossed and chain-smoking in the courtyard by that time of day.

And, as though God was still smiling upon me, no one was.

I tossed my load of laundry into one of the huge baskets, the sheets mingling together. Grabbing the duffel bag once it fell, I didn’t bother to put my cart away or even change into my regular clothes before going to my locker.

I had my own duffel bag in there, my gym bag, for the three times per week that I went to the gym after work. Today was not a gym day, but I kept a change of clothes in there all the time in case Jeremy made one of his “suggestions”.

That was another thing, by the way, about that marriage. When Jeremy didn’t want me to come home, so he could do whatever – or whomever – he did when I wasn’t around, he’d “suggest” that I go to the gym, and God help me if I didn’t take him up on that suggestion.

Now, I was thanking God for his little “suggestions”. I shoved the duffle bag full of money into my larger gym bag, throwing my running shoes into my locker to make room. I grabbed my purse as well, and threw my street clothes, which had been hanging up, into the duffel bag.

I didn’t clock out.

I didn’t look back.

I was on the highway, pedal to the floor (though not speeding), mind numb as I began to unravel what I’d just done, what I was going to do.

Which, I realized, was a total mystery.

I didn’t know how to start over with a duffel bag full of cash. I didn’t know how to create a new identity. I wasn’t wise in the ways of criminal behavior.

Jeremy was, but I couldn’t exactly turn to him for help, could I?

Well, all I had to do, for then, was get to Denver.
Just get to Denver,
I thought.

Wait, no.

I didn’t realize I was slowing the car down until I heard frantic honking all around me. I pressed my foot on the gas once more.

Not Denver, not Denver, Utah, go to Utah,
I thought. I was driving the wrong direction for Utah, but I knew it was the smarter choice. It had to be. Jeremy had friends in Denver, cop friends. Utah? A whole new state? A wild sort of state? Lots of open land, not too much in the way of cell phone towers…

Utah.

I took the next exit, feeling my stomach flipping as the car swerved around one of the mountain highway’s many looping, high-octane turns, got back on the highway, going the other direction.

Utah, Utah, go to Utah,
I thought, over and over again, my mind only able to focus on that one word, that one destination. It was all I could do not to throw up in my lap. The duffel bag, tucked underneath driver’s seat, seemed to pulse and throb behind my feet.

Holy shit, what the hell are you doing, Gabriella, you stupid bitch, you’re never going to get away with this, you better fucking turn this car around right now and go home before Jeremy gets there and wonders where you are.
That voice, I realize now, was Jeremy’s voice in my head. But it sounded like mine at the time. And it was loud.

Keep going, you’re never going to get another chance, this is it, this is it, you have to go now,
another voice was saying, a voice that sounded strange at the time but which, I’ve learned, is actually my voice. And it was louder.

It was 4pm. Another hour and a half and Jeremy would be home, wondering where I was. Just as I had that thought, my cell phone dinged.

Shit, I forgot about that fucking thing,
I thought, panicking, knowing that cops could trace you by your cell phone signal. I reached down, keeping my eyes on the road, and grabbed the phone from the pocket of my maid’s uniform. It was Jeremy texting me.
Shit, shit shit,
I thought, my heart starting to race once more, my mind leaping to imaginary scenarios – all of which ended in blood. It would be
my
body tucked underneath a bed this time.

Hey. You should go to the gym after work. Just a suggestion,
the text read. I nearly slammed my foot on the brake in utter bafflement. Instead, I started laughing. A psychotic sort of laugh, hysterical and high-pitched.

What a fucking day for one of Jeremy’s suggestions.

Fucking rat bastard, you finally threw me a fucking bone, rot in hell you wife-beating piece of shit,
I thought, loudly, that same strange voice overwhelming Jeremy’s in my head. I stopped laughing. I had no idea where those thoughts came from. I’d never thought that way about my husband before.

But it wasn’t just a thought…it was a feeling. I was mad. Mad as hell. And…free. I pressed the pedal harder. Now, it would be 7:00 or later before Jeremy realized I wasn’t coming home. I had three hours to make time before he even suspected anything. The mountains around me were already gradually falling lower, preparing to make way for the high deserts of Utah.

Everything inside me was at war, it seemed. Fear and rage, sense and whimsy, love and hate, self-defeat and encouragement. I plastered a smile on my face as I sped past a state trooper. Obviously, the guy couldn’t see it, but it made me feel a little better about the duffel bag under my seat.

Once the trooper was out of sight, I tapped out a quick reply to Jeremy’s text.

Good idea baby, I’ll be home around 7, want me to make lasagna?
I needed him to think it was all a normal day, a normal night, for as long as possible. I waited, agitation increasing, for him to text me back. I wanted to turn my phone off. He could be tracking me right then, for all I knew. Deciding to beat him to the punch, I tapped out another message.

Phone dying and I think the car charger is broken, wasn’t working this morning, I’ll see you at home, I’ll buy pasta in case you want me to make the lasagna but we can also do take-out. Love you, have a good rest of the day!

And with that, I shut my phone off. Remembering something I’d seen once on Law and Order, I struggled with the case while trying to keep my car straight on the road. Finally, violently, the back of my phone popped off and I took the battery out, tossing all the parts of the phone back onto the passenger seat. Now, I was totally screwed if I needed to find out where the hell I was, but at least I didn’t have to worry about being tracked.

Unless he could track the car.