Reaper's Property (9 page)

Chapter
Nine

Coeur
d’Alene, Idaho

Sept. 16

Horse

Horse leaned back against the bed, watching
Serena’s ass as she rode his cock like a rodeo queen.

Better than looking at her face. Not that
Serena wasn’t pretty, but she didn’t hold a candle to Marie.

Now her… He could look at her face all day.

Most of his brothers wanted him to forget
about the bitch. Women like her aren’t worth the hassle, just grab some sweet
butt to be your house mouse if random hookups aren’t working for you. And if
she gets on your nerves? Well, there’s always another bitch waiting to take her
place.

Serena stopped, turning to look at him.

“You paying attention?”

He laughed and shook his head.

“Sorry, babe, lost in my thoughts. Let’s
keep it up, okay?”

He gave her ass an encouraging smack, and
she smiled at him with carefully painted lips. The girl was a pro, no question
there. Cunt like a vise, mouth like a vacuum. He’d be crazy to consider giving
up hot and cold running pussy like this for an old lady who could be a
certified bitch.

But what a bitch…

He never got bored around Marie, and that
was the fuckin’ truth. And he didn’t think he’d get distracted with her on his
cock. She might not be a pro like Serena, but she had the sweetest pussy he’d
ever tasted. Damn, but he wanted to taste her again. The thought made him even
harder.

An hour later, Serena was gone and Horse
still hadn’t budged from the bed. Time to head over to the clubhouse soon, but
he just couldn’t stop thinking about Marie. They were going to discuss
Jeff-hole’s fuckups during church today.

Damn, Marie’s fuckwad brother was an idiot.

And it wasn’t like they hadn’t been
patient.

Horse had started finding “mistakes” in the
wire transfers almost three months ago. Small ones at first, a thousand here,
five hundred there. Then they got bigger. Jeff had all kinds of excuses, from
simple typos to running behind on his reports. But in the end, it all pointed
in the same direction—Jeff was running a skim. Fuckwit thought he could steal
from the Reapers and live to enjoy it.

Just thinking about shit like this made
Horse feel old.

Wasn’t like Jeff didn’t know what he’d
gotten into. Hell,
he’d
come to
them
. They’d made it clear from
the start that they wouldn’t tolerate any bullshit and that the penalty for
said bullshit would be high. The worst part would be the collateral damage.
Marie. She loved that douche, really loved him.

Horse didn’t see a happy ending.

If Marie was his old lady, he might be able
to protect her brother a little better. Give him a chance to save his ass. As
it stood, the fucker was toast, along with any chance Horse might have with
Marie. Best-case scenario she’d never figure out what happened to Jeff, spend
the rest of her life wondering and suspecting that the Reapers’d killed him.

Best case.

Worst case?

LEO would show up at her door to tell her
that Jeff’s body had been found in a shallow grave minus his balls and dick, an
“R” for Reapers carved into his damned chest. But Marie didn’t want them to
“hate each other” for what went down at the hot springs. That was the least of
his worries, for chrissake.

Shit.

Horse thought about how hot she looked in
the picture she’d texted him, the one where she was all dressed up to go out.
Right on schedule his dick stood at attention, begging for a fuck as if Serena
hadn’t just wrung him dry.

Marie’s picture was cute and sexy, just
like her. She’d taken it in the bathroom mirror, all dressed up to go party
with her friend. Little black dress, showing off way too much of her cleavage.
And her legs… He couldn’t see all of those legs, but any fucker standing next
to her would see them and more if she bent over even a little bit. And those
fishnet tights? Fuckin’ A.

He reached down and grabbed his cock,
sliding his hand up and down the length roughly. He hunted for his phone with
the other, wanting to pull up the pic, but it wasn’t on the bedside table.

Shit, he’d left it at the clubhouse last
night.

Didn’t matter, her image was burned in his
brain. He’d ’bout lost his mind the night she’d sent it to him. She looked
fantastic, no question. But his woman shouldn’t be going out dressed like that
without him there to protect her. Every man in the place would take one look at
those legs and see themselves bending her over a table, shoving their dicks
right up her ass.

The thought of her down and spread on a
table made Horse gasp, pre-come dripping down his erection. He slid his hand
up, smearing the fluid around, and started jacking himself seriously. He could
see it already. He’d walk up to her in the club, right behind her where she
couldn’t see. She’d be talking to her girlfriend, laughing and sipping on some
kind of pink girly shit, because Marie was all girl. Her lips would wrap around
that straw, sucking down the booze like she’d suck down his come after blowing
him.

Horse slid his fingers up, catching more of
the pre-come oozing out and circled his head with it. Fuck, that felt good.
What did it say about a man when jacking off to a memory felt better than a hot
bitch like Serena doing a reverse cowgirl?

Horse felt a climax building in his swollen
balls, a shitload of come just for Marie. She had the hottest mouth, the
softest hands and a pussy he’d die for. He couldn’t wait to blow all over her
tits and make her rub it while she fingered herself.

Why the hell hadn’t he managed to fuck her
yet?

Time to fix that. He’d walk up behind her,
reach around and take the drink out of her hand, setting it on the table. Then
he’d grab her around the waist before she could complain, swinging her little
body up into his arms and carrying her right into the bathroom.

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.”