Obsessed (2 page)

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Hayes. “Now get to it, before those pretty ladies start to think you don’t like them.”

James was surprised, but he wasn’t scared. This is the life he was meant to live. For years, he struggled to fit in with society. He learned quickly that it wasn’t for a man like him. He was wild and acted on his instincts, and that didn’t fit with the expectations of the civilians. But he never had a place to go, until now. He was born to be a biker, and as he watched the curvy brunette drop her shorts to the floor, he was sure of it.

***

The bar was dark and filled with bikers. Someone played a hard rock song on the jukebox and the beers began to flow freely from the taps.

“You ready for us, baby?” said the blonde.

James grabbed her waist and pulled her up against him. They kissed hard and fast, their tongues working over each others mouths. His hands found her round backside and he massaged her. He could feel the thin line of her thong beneath the denim. She ran her hands inside his vest and under his t-shirt, tracing his clenched abdominal muscles with her fingers. The crowd cheered them on.

“Watch us,” said the dark-haired girl as she grabbed the brunette by the back of the head and pushed their mouths together. They held a long embrace that made James’s heart race.

The brunette swayed her hips in a sexy little dance. “I’m Brenda,” she said as she pulled away from the other girl. “When am I gonna get a piece of you?”

The blonde snapped his face back to hers. She held his wrists and brought his hands up over her heaving breasts. James squeezed and enjoyed the suppleness in his hands. He picked her up in one smooth motion and walked her back to a vacant pool table, planting her firmly on the green felt.

He clamped his hand around her chin and forced her to hold eye contact with him. “You don’t know what you got yourself into,” he said.

James ran his hand over her thigh and up her skirt. With a confident hand, he yanked her underwear down and over her feet. She gasped and steadied herself. “Keep your legs open,” he said.

James pulled his vest off and handed it to another biker. Then, he peeled his t-shirt up and over his head, revealing a chiseled upper-body. His muscular, tattooed chest made the blonde squirm.

The other two girls joined them at the table. “What do you think he wants, Casey?” said the one who called herself Brenda.

“I think he wants you chained to the table,” said the dark-haired girl. James waited, between the blonde’s legs, as he watched the brunette get handcuffed to the leg of the pool table.

He felt the blonde grind against the bulge in his pants, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He pulled off his old blue jeans to reveal his rock-hard manhood. James rubbed his erect cock between the blonde’s wet folds. “Oh god, put it in,” she moaned.

With his hands on her knees, he rolled his hips forward until his tip pushed inside of her. He teased, going back and forth with short strokes while she rubbed her clit. When she leaned forward to kiss him again, he thrust his full girth into her. She yelped and wiggled back. His throbbing cock was almost too much for her to take.

Casey, the dark-haired girl, climbed onto the table and leaned over the blonde. She sat, eagerly, on all fours as James worked himself in and out of her. Now, he grabbed the blonde’s shoulders and pounded her relentlessly. Her eyes rolled back and she opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. The other bikers roared their approval.

“Ahhaahh,” gasped the blonde as she writhed on the table. James reached out with his right hand and held Casey by the back of the neck. His slid his cock out of the other girl and pushed her mouth down on to it. She looked up at him as she took as much as she could into her mouth.

She worked his dick between her pouty lips. Her tongue ran the length of his shaft and flicked at the tip. James pulled her off the table and set her next to Brenda, who was still handcuffed on the floor. Another member of the E.G., one of his newly sworn brothers, scooped the blonde off the table and set her down hard on his cock. She bounced on him and the gang cheered again.

“What are we gonna do with her?” James asked, nodding toward the brunette.

“Whatever we want.”

James grabbed her by the ankles and stretched her out from the table. Her hands were still fastened tightly around its sturdy leg. “Give me your best shot,” she said. “There hasn’t been a new guy yet that could satisfy me.”

James took the challenge in stride. “You’re gonna watch first,” he said, taking Casey and bending her over in front of him.

He slapped her hard on the butt while he rubbed between her legs from the back. Casey quivered under his rough hands. Warmth spread from her inner-thighs and down her legs. James bucked into her and sent her sprawling forward. He placed his hand in the small of her back and held her down as he fucked her.

“Harder, harder!” begged Casey. He drew his cock back and then slammed it forward into her. His upper thighs slapped against her, making her ass jumped from his exertion. Each stroke seemed to carry more power. “That’s it, right there!” she squealed.

Her toes curled and she felt like she was melting into the floor as her body exploded in orgasm. He left her panting and in a heap as his eyes shifted to Brenda. He hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Brenda pulled her knees up to her chest, suddenly much more cautious with her words.

James smiled and dropped down in front of her. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold all that trash-talking against you,” he said.

She let her legs fall apart in front of him and he plunged into her with his tongue. He bit lightly at her thighs and rubbed her with his nose. She twisted her hips to help him find her spot, but he moved away, insistent on teasing her.

James slipped his tongue back inside of her and darted it back and forth. Brenda let out little breathless moans and she dripped with anticipation. Finally, his mouth found her clit. He devoured it at first, then backed off and massaged it vigorously and expertly.

He sat up and slid his hands to the back of her legs. The chain from the handcuffs jangled when she forgot her hands were secured and tried to reach out to steady herself against his chest. He pinned her knees to the floor near her ears.

He gave her one last hungry look before he lunged forward. His size took all the breath from her. Every inch was as thick and as hard as it had been when he started. James grunted as he drove himself into her. He was not in the mood to waste any time. He fondled her breast through her shirt with his left hand, as he used his right to leverage her against him.

They bounced against each other in perfect rhythm. The two of them created a perfect friction that made their bodies give in before they wanted them to. Under the intensity of the watchful eyes, they climaxed into each other.

Sweat poured from both of them as James rolled off of her and onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, taking in long, deep breaths. The noise from the bar drowned out his thoughts.

A figure appeared, looking down at him. It was the long-bearded, smiling face of the club president. He tossed a leather vest onto James’s chest. Across the back, was the familiar blue and gray stitched emblem. “How does it feel to be the newest member of the Executioner’s Guard?” he asked.

***

The morning sun struggled to find its way through the makeshift curtains and into the dingy downstairs apartment. They had been talking about rain for weeks, but it hadn’t come. Most riders hated the rain. It was when bikes went down without warning and men lost skin. It made little difference to James, however. To ride under blue skies, or beneath ominous weather wasn’t his decision. If the Gods decided to send a little rain to cleanse him of his wrongs, so be it.

His routine had stayed the same since prison. The muscles in his arms and back strained against the forces of gravity as he pulled his chin level with the top of the door frame. A modified body weight workout had kept him in fighting shape for those six long years, and it worked just as well today.

According to the federal documentation, he was twenty-seven years old, the youngest and only living child of three, a former military recruit, and the owner of felony convictions, including: racketeering, smuggling, and conspiracy to murder. But none of that mattered. He only identified as a blood member of the E.G., now.

A bead of sweat trickled off his elbow and streaked down the side of his dirty jeans. James thought about his brothers-in-arms and the ongoing war with the riders from the Hands of Hades. Visions of violence, both past and future, danced behind his eyes. Adrenaline surged through his veins, driving him through four...five...six more reps. The old wood molding groaned under his weight.

***

A large blue and gray banner with the inscription,
Executioner’s Guard
, was hung with pride adjacent to the entrance. If a brother was seen entering or exiting the clubhouse without first paying his respect to the colors, he would soon have hell to pay.

James placed an open palm on the lower left corner of the banner then made his way inside. Vaughn Dalton was posted up front, as per usual on a Friday afternoon. Vaughn had been mandated a permanent position as sentry a few years ago, after a couple of British tourists managed to walk all the way inside the building on his watch. The rest of the brothers were drunk, with party girls, or otherwise indisposed, and it was Vaughn’s job to keep an eye out for unfriendly visitors. At some point during his watch, he managed to get into some whiskey and pass out in a chair. Imagine the surprise of the Prez when, in the midst of receiving a blow job, he opened his eyes to an elderly man nervously asking for directions to the “dual carriageway.”

Ever since that day, Vaughn had been unceremoniously planted in, and instructed never to leave for fear of a beating, a six-foot radius surrounding the doorway. In addition, he was saddled with the nickname “Dreamboat.” Much to his chagrin, nicknames weren’t easily forgotten around the clubhouse.

“Good day to you, Dreamboat,” James said, with a mocking nod of the head. He normally wasn’t so good-humored, but Vaughn had been a true brother. Despite his occasional slip-up, the man was unquestionably committed.

“Well, glad to see you too, motherfucker.” His big belly-laugh seemed to shake the walls. Vaughn was six and a half feet tall if he was an inch. With the thick growth of beard and the ever-present black sunglasses, he cut an imposing figure.

“Get any sleep today, or were the boys being too loud?” James asked, still poking fun at the big man.

“I thought they called you
Ice
because you were so cold to everybody. Why do you suddenly have an interest in giving me shit?”

“Can’t help myself, brother. If I don’t bust your balls every now and then the rest of ‘em are gonna get together and decide I’m a dissenter. They’ll have my ass outta here in no time. And I don’t have to tell you, big fella, that once you’re in, there’s only one way out.”

“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” he said, with a knowing grin. Then, he made an exaggerated glance toward the shotgun in the corner and pulled a loose cigarette from his vest pocket. “But, don’t be surprised if one day you’re kickin’ that old dog and he decides to bite back.” After another gut busting laugh, he clapped a big hand on James’s shoulder and pulled him inside.

The main room was buzzing with the usual activity. Wade and Dusty were in the corner passing a bottle back and forth. Keith Dalton, Vaughn’s younger cousin, was at a table with Barksdale, going over numbers. And the rest of the brothers were milling about, most in idle conversations, as they waited for the Prez.

Marshall “Roads” Barksdale was the club VP. Although slender and wiry, he could fight with the best of them. Somewhere in his fifties, Roads claimed seniority amongst the brothers, and commanded the respect of all. He was largely responsible for maintaining the numbers. If a brother needed an owed/paid sheet or a collection amount, he was the one who would give it to them. Under his supervision, the club members never lacked for a source of income. He kept the money rolling in, and the debtors afraid.