Hung (Selected Sinners MC #4) (8 page)

KAT

Every girl in college wants a boyfriend with a big dick – well, at least the girls I talk to. No one really says they can’t wait to see if so-and-so has a tiny penis. They all look at guys and say things like
I bet he has a big dick, look at how he walks
. I never really considered that a man might exist who had
too much
dick – until now.

I exhaled onto the countertop as his cock slowly penetrated me. It didn’t feel like I was being torn to shreds, but it damned sure felt different than Kyle’s dick. I closed my eyes and took a short choppy breath as I bit my lower lip, hoping in time it would become a little less painful.

“Just go…”

“…slow,” I sighed.

“I won’t hurt ya if that’s what you’re worried about, but listen up,” he said as he leaned forward, pressing his massive chest onto my back.

His beard pressed lightly against my cheek. I felt his breath against my jaw as he continued to slowly push further and further into me. The feeling was an extremely strange sensual pain unlike anything I had ever experienced. As his warm breath encompassed my ear goosebumps rose along my arm. I tilted my head to the side as my entire right side began to tingle.

“I’m in charge.
Me
. You’re getting’ fucked and I’m doin’ the fuckin’. You need to understand that. We clear?” he breathed into my ear.

“Jesus…yes, I understand,” I murmured.

“Good, and don’t forget it,” he breathed against my neck.

“Won’t. I won’t,” I sighed.

Slowly, carefully, cautiously, almost magically, he withdrew his cock from inside of me. As I opened my eyes and exhaled, I felt it slowly begin to fill me again. As I bit my lip and prepared for the pain, he pulled back. A few slow short strokes later, I relaxed, exhaling heavily onto the countertop. Although I hadn’t realized I was tense, the almost immediate relaxation of my muscles made clear my degree of apprehension regarding his huge cock. The process continued with short slow strokes for a few minutes, and the pain was entirely gone.

Being bent over the kitchen island with a big tattooed burly biker fucking me from behind on the night I met him sounded wild and crazy, but it wasn’t so bad. The kindness of his sexual approach was a nice change from what I was used to, and definitely not what I had expected.

Maybe bad boys aren’t so bad after all.

“Lift your left leg up a little,” he said as I felt his hand against my right inner thigh.

Half hypnotized by his slow strokes and the feeling of his fat cock inside of me, I opened my eyes and gazed blankly into the kitchen.

“Huh?”

He leaned forward and pressed his beard heavily against my neck.

“Don’t make me keep repeating myself, Kat. Lift up your fuckin’ leg,” he growled against my ear.

Not knowing what he meant, but afraid of pissing him off, I lifted my leg slightly. As I did, his hand grasped my lower calf and raised my leg a few feet from the floor.

“Kick it up on the countertop,” he said flatly as he continued to slowly fill me with his throbbing shaft.

“Whaaa?” I muttered, feeling totally lost at what he wanted me to do.

He gripped my head in his massive hand and turned it to the side, pressing his face against my cheek as he did so. The roughness was a little more of what I was used to with Kyle, and definitely a turn on. Now with his mouth totally enveloping my right ear, he growled into my ear.

“You never been bent over the kitchen counter before?” he breathed.

His warm breath against my ear caused me to moan in anticipation, “Uhhm. No.”

“Well, I’ll make sure you don’t forget this anytime soon,” he growled as his hand slid down to my ankle.

“Throw your leg up on the counter,” he demanded.

Without question, I raised my right leg and kicked my foot onto the countertop. As I resituated my left foot, and shuffled a little further away from the island, I bent my leg and pressed my knee onto the cool surface of the counter. Gripping the edge of the granite in my hands tightly with my chest slightly raised from the counter, I wondered what was next.

Not near as slowly, but in a very predictable manner, he began to
fuck
me. As I inhaled a deep breath and widened my eyes, I decided the niceties had been cast aside.

“You like that big cock?” he asked as he pressed his chest against my back.

“Uh huh?” I grunted in return.

“You got a nice little pussy,” he growled, “I’m going to stretch it out and make that little fucker mine.”

Oh god.

“God damned right.
My
little pussy,” he moaned as he released my hip and slapped my ass lightly.

Oh hell yes.

“I’m going to ruin you. You know that, right?” he asked as he began to increase his pace and force.

“Uh huh?” I grunted, knowing full well I wasn’t far from being ruined already.

“Sexy little bitch,” he said as he slapped my ass a little harder.

“Oh hell yes,” I moaned.

“You like that?” he asked as he slapped my ass again, much harder than before.

I coughed a breath as my eyes widened from the slap, “Yes,” I shouted.

“Tell me what you want, you little bitch,” he said as he forced his cock deep inside of me and held it on place.

“Slap my ass,” I bellowed.

With each forceful stroke of his cock his hand came down against my ass in the same spot. After about six strokes and an equal amount of slaps, my right butt cheek was on fire and my pussy was beginning to tingle from the inside out. As I felt his hand against my ankle, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the orgasm which began to rush through me.

His hand lifted my ankle from the counter, and began stretching my leg high into the air.

No, no, don’t move me, I was getting ready to…

With my ankle gripped tightly in his right hand, he held my leg almost straight in the air. Now fucking me at an odd angle, and fucking me deeper than before, the tip of his cock pounded into and past my g-spot with each stroke. An entirely new feeling, and a very satisfying on indeed, I bit my lower lip and let him continue to do what he seemed to be extremely good at.

Fucking me.

“You know what I call this?” he asked.

Afraid to break my sexual concentration, I shook my head, but didn’t respond.

“The windmill,” he chuckled.

“Hits that magic spot each time, huh?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” I moaned.

“You get ten more strokes, little girl. You better get your business done by the tenth. Ready?” he bellowed.

What? Ten? Why?

He pulled his hips rearward until the tip of his cock was resting against my outer pussy lips.

“One,” he said as he slammed his cock into me.

My g-spot tingled all the way up my spine. I hadn’t even realized he pulled out until his voice echoed into the room.

“Two,” he shouted as he thrust himself deep inside of me.

Oh god.

“Three,” I heard him shout.

My entire body began to tingle and my mind went strangely blank for some time. With my ears ringing and my head tingling, it was as if I had been transported into some other galaxy altogether. Outer fucking space or somewhere. Although I could still hear him, it seemed he was distant. His shouting continued.

“Four,” he bellowed as the underside of his cock pressed against my throbbing clit.

His war-like cries into the empty room added to the entire sexual experience. As he shouted numbers and filled me with cock, my body began to rush into an orgasm that was certain to kill me.

“Five,” he screamed as his lower torso slammed between my widely spread ass cheeks.

The anticipation of the tenth stroke was killing me. Something about his counting did exactly the opposite of what I expected. Instead of making me nervous, it caused me to focus, making the climax much more satisfying than anything I had ever experienced. The build up to the climax exceeded any orgasm I had previously experienced. 

And I began to explode.

As my pussy started to contract heavily, I felt
it
.

From deep within my soul, it wanted out. To be released. I began to climax heavily, my entire body convulsing and tingling. With my eyes closed and my mind as focused as I could make it, I bit my lower lip and hoped for the best.

“This big fat cock is gonna ruin’ you, girl…” he growled into my ear.

He was right. Incapable of responding, I attempted unsuccessfully to open my eyes. As I began to nod my head, his thickness filed me repeatedly.

“Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,” he screamed as he bucked his hips back and forth, the tip of his cock dancing along my g-spot with each inner thrust.

My body shattered into a million sexual pieces all over the kitchen with the last stroke. Although I initially didn’t realize I was doing so, after a few seconds I heard myself screaming. I finally regained control over myself, attempted to bite my lower lip, and the screaming stopped.

At that instant I realized he wasn’t even close to being done.

“My fucking pussy,” he grunted as he thrust himself into me again.

Yes yours.

“Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…” he shouted as his cock continued to take ownership of what was already rightfully his.

And his already thick cock began to swell to twice its girth.

My body convulsed into an orgasm completely capable of causing world peace, ending a holy war, or turning water into wine.

And he exploded inside of me.

As I shook and blubbered like a mental patient, I felt as if my mind had turned to jello. I
knew
very little for certain.

But I knew
one
thing.

Once a girl gets fucked
right
, there isn’t any turning back.

She’s ruined.

BISCUIT

Axton Bishop was without a doubt one of the best motherfuckers ever allowed to walk this earth. Dealt a shit card in life as a kid, and growing up with an abusive old man, he earned the nickname Slice from the kids on the street. They taunted him for the scars that littered his back where his old man had cut him as punishment for doing nothing more than being a kid.

Most kids exposed to the punishment would have turned to a life of crime, drugs, or both. Axton? He quit drinking, never used drugs, and picked up the books. His home filled with bookshelves of books he’d read at least once from cover to cover, he was one of the smartest men I had ever met, and the president of the MC for one reason and one reason only.

No one on this earth was more capable of keeping the Sinners in line.

I respected Axton as if he was my father, and in many respects, he was.

“When are you going to grow up,” Axton chuckled as he closed the ledger and slid it to the side.

“
Grow up
? Shit, Slice,” I said as I stood from my seat.

“I grew up when I left home at the ripe old age of fifteen. Ain’t nothing wrong with a man havin’ a little fun,” I said over my shoulder as I walked toward the door.

“I’m gonna toss this empty in the shop before you tell me to. You know why? Because I’m all grown up and I don’t need you to remind me, that’s why,” I said as I opened the door to the office.

One of Axton’s pet peeves was people throwing empty beer bottles in the trash of his office. I didn’t know one thing that made him angrier than having someone do it, and we all knew it. From time to time someone would forget, and when they did, the wrath of Axton came down on them like a lightning bolt.

After tossing the empty bottle in the shop trash, I got another beer from the fridge and walked toward the office. I’d brought Axton up to speed with stories of jail, Billie Jean, Cassie, and Kat, and as always, he found minimal humor in my actions. It had been a week since Kat and I met, and in that week we had fucked no less than ten times. If God ever produced a woman built solely for fucking, Kat was definitely her.

In many respects, she was a female version of me.

Put on this earth to satisfy the needs, wants, and sexual desires of men.

And I intended to use her for what God placed her in front of me for.

Fucking.

“So anyway, I’m thinkin’ this gal’s a shoe in for the 2015 twat of the year award,” I said as I walked into the office.

“I’m sure she is,” Axton sighed.

“Get her name up on the garage wall if she ain’t fuckin’ careful,” I grinned.

“From what Avery can tell me, you’ll have your name carved on the stalk of her father’s rifle if you’re not careful,” Axton said as he tilted his chair back on its hind legs.

“Pffft,” I hissed as I waved my hand his direction.

“A thirty-three year old man – and a 1%er at that – fucking the twenty-two year old daughter of a cop isn’t a great fucking idea in my book, Biscuit,” Axton sighed.

“I ain’t thirty-three yet, and she’s twenty god damned two,” I said as I lifted the beer bottle.

“Well, shit. That fixes
everything
,” Axton chuckled.

I shrugged my shoulders and took a drink of the cold beer.

“Look, I’m not trying to raise you, but you’re one of the few men here I’m close to. Toad’s still about half his former self from the shooting, Otis is worried about Sam’s mom and who fucking knows what else, and I sure as shit don’t need you spending any more time in jail or getting shot by a biker-hating father of a god damned college girl,” Axton growled as he lowered his chair to the floor.

“I’m with ya, Boss,” I said as I tilted my bottle his direction.

“I’m god damned serious, Biscuit,” he responded.

I’d never been one to allow
any
man to tell me what to do, but I certainly gave Axton’s wishes good long consideration. He was as wild and as rough as any man, but he was an extremely sensible human being, and seemed to have a sixth sense about trouble. Although I was pretty damned sure Kat would never say anything to her father, a man could never be positive of anything when it came to a woman.

“I’ll have another talk with her about the cop,” I sighed.

“Be a damned good idea,” Axton nodded.

“What you thinkin’ about Sydney’s brother? He’s a stand up fella, ain’t he?” I asked as I leaned into the edge of the table.

“Well, I sure as fuck wouldn’t be asking for him to be brought in as a patch if he wasn’t,” Axton hissed.

“Just checkin’. He seems like good people. Hell, you know me, Slice. Hard for me to trust anybody except you, the Toad, Corn Dog, and Otis. We’ll see how he does, I suppose. Big fucker though, ain’t he?” I asked.

“That he is. I think he’ll surprise you. I’ve spent some time checking him out, and he got nothing but good reports from everyone I could talk to. I think he’ll not only make a good Sinner, but he’ll damned sure become one of the short list,” Axton said as he stood and picked up the ledger.

“Good to know,” I said as I stood.  

“I’ll have another talk with Kat,” I said as I lifted my bottle in the air.

“You do that,” Axton said over his shoulder.

“Alright, Boss. I’ll leave you to it,” I said as I opened the door to the shop.

“Few days here, and we’ll have a vote on Jack,” Axton said as he turned to face me.

“Sounds good. I’m gonna go build a 103 incher and try to rekindle my shoe box. Fuckin’ cops got fifty grand and it ain’t settling too well with me,” I shrugged.

“Cops are going to have a lot more than that if you don’t talk with that girl,” Axton chuckled.

“I might be half stupid, but I got good ears. I heard you the first ten times,” I laughed as I walked into the hallway.

“Ears with extra fucking holes in them,” Axton said as he closed the cabinet door.

I finished my beer and tossed the bottle into the trash. Axton was right, I needed to talk to Kat and make sure she didn’t tell her dad anything about me. Having a cop on my bad side wasn’t something I wanted, needed, or could deal with properly.

Bikers and cops didn’t mix well.

Bikers and the
daughters
of cops, on the other hand, seemed to mix real well.

Maybe too well.