Bjorn: Teutonic Knights MC (18 page)

They were still for a moment, panting, trying to regain their strength and catch their breath.

“You always were a horndog!” Whiteshirt snarled as he began to strain, catching Ironside under the chin and levering his head back, trying to break Ironside’s hold.

“And you always were neurotic!” Ironside panted, struggling to free his face and maintain his hold.

“Fuck! I give,” Whiteshirt gasped, slapping Ironside on the back.

Ironside immediately turned him loose and sprang to his feet, turning and offering a hand. Whiteshirt took it and Ironside pulled his friend to his feet then into a hug.

“I know what I’m doing with Peyton. If she turns out to be the mole, I’ll kill her myself,” he murmured as he slapped Whiteshirt on the back.

“I don’t know why Honey lied, but I’ll find out.”

The two men gave each other another hard slap on the back then parted. Ironside turned toward Peyton. “Fight naked?” he asked with a grin as he took his shirt from her.

She pulled his head down into a kiss. “I want you to take me home and fight
me
naked.”

Peyton was practically panting as they rode along in the van. Ironside and Dolch’s bikes had been picked up from the side of the road, but they were going nowhere anytime soon, not with a hole in the engine. Ironside had been reduced to using the club van to get home, but if he didn’t hurry, she was going take advantage of that fact, make him pull over, and fuck him right then and there in the back.

She’d said she had a lot of pent up anger and frustration, and that was true. She was angry with the Saracens for taking her friend, angry at Melissa for killing herself, angry with herself for allowing it to happen, and for feeling guilty about it at the same time, and she was angry with Whiteshirt for thinking she was a mole after she risked her life to help the club. Most of all, though, she was angry with Honey…for lying, and because it was Honey, and she fucking
hated
that bitch!

Having Ironside go to the pit to defend her against Honey and Whiteshirt, then watching the two men sweat and strain while arguing over who was right, fighting over
her
,
had built a fire in her that was making her crazy. Ironside had beaten Honey’s champion, and seeing the hate in the other woman’s eyes made Ironside’s victory sweeter still.

As he pulled into his drive, she felt like she was sitting in a puddle of her own juices, her imagination running away with her, dreaming she was fucking Ironside in the pit after his victory as Whiteshirt and Honey sulked on the side, Whiteshirt’s cock limp and useless in defeat.

The moment they entered Ironside’s house she turned on him, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him furiously as she tried to climb up his body. He responded, his cock already throbbing from watching Peyton unconsciously stroking her thigh and the swell of her breast on the drive home, her color high and eyes bright.

He picked her up and clasped her to him, his hands under her ass, her legs snaking around his waist as she humped him through their clothes, their tongues engaged in an intimate wrestling match. As they reached the bed he peeled her off of him and tossed her to the mattress, her arms pin-wheeling furiously as she squeaked in fright until she landed softly in the center of the bed, Ironside bounding in pursuit and pinning her down with his weight.

She grinned up at him, thrusting her hips against his. “Fuck! I’m about to come and we haven’t even started yet!”

He grinned, pulling her shirt roughly over her head, knowing exactly how she felt as he bared down with his hips, the feel of her thrusts incredibly erotic. He manhandled her breasts before taking her lips in a torrid kiss. As they kissed, she pulled at his shirt, dragging it over his head, the feel of sand granules peppering her skin making her moan as she remembered the men in the pit. Bodybuilders turned her on, and watching
two
big, muscled men wrestle, their skin glistening as they grunted and strained, their skin moving as their huge muscles worked underneath made her blood roar. She imagined them naked, their giant cocks hard as they…She gasped as her orgasm crept nearer.

“I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before,” he growled, his passions carrying him away. “You liked watching me fight in the pit?” he snarled as he slammed his hips into hers.

“Oh, God, just fuck me!” she cried, so turned on even his dry humping was going to give her an orgasm.

“Tell me,” he growled. “You liked watching me fight.”

“Yes!”

“You wanted to fuck me in the pit, didn’t you? You wanted to fuck me in front of Honey.” She didn’t say anything. “Tell me!”

“Yes! I wanted to fuck you so bad! I wanted to show that bitch!” He slammed into her harder still, battering her with his hips. “Shit! You’re going to make me come! Fuck!” she cried.

She imagined Ironside and Whiteshirt, naked and covered in sweat and sand, their cocks hard and throbbing, rolling and tumbling as they grunted and strained, until Whiteshirt surrendered. She grabbed his head and pulled him down, kissing him hard as she teetered on the edge of orgasm, thrusting her hips as in her mind he rose from his vanquished opponent, threw her roughly to the sand, and fucked her hard and fast. She moaned into the kiss, thrusting, imagining his cock plunging into her, trying to push herself over the edge.

He powered out of her embrace and roughly jerked her shorts down, dragging them over her legs and throwing them to the floor. She reached for herself, desperate to feel the cleansing rush of orgasm, but he jerked her hand away before plunging two, then three, fingers into her. She howled as he furiously pistoned his fingers into her, his hand a blur. Her orgasm slammed into and she wailed, long and loud, her ass rising off the bed as he continued to thrust his fingers into her, snarling in lust as her wail rose in pitch and volume before cutting off. She kicked away from him, rolling to her stomach, her body alive with motion as she moaned, her legs and arms quivering as she struggled to escape the all-consuming pleasure tearing her apart.

He panted as Peyton moaned, her hands twisted in the linens as she shook, her legs slowly pistoning as they pushed her up in the bed. Finally she gasped, becoming still before a final hard shudder passed though her as she lay gasping.

He smiled, delighting in the orgasm he’d given her, rising and shoving his pants down as she lay on the bed, the linens twisted in her hands, her face relaxing as her eyes slowly opened. She smiled slowly and took a deep breath.

“You fuck…” she breathed, then smiled as he moved over her, his lips taking hers as she gripped him, his cock already wet and slick with his desire. “I want that inside me.” She slowly turned then leisurely, erotically, licked him clean. As wet as he was, she didn’t want to risk him losing the condom, because once they started fucking, they weren’t stopping until he couldn’t keep it up.

She slowly rolled the condom over his cock then smiled at him as she laid back, her head at the foot of the bed, motioning to him with her fingers. He entered her, drawing in a breath at his passage, then looked down at her, his face intense.

“Fuck me,” she snarled. “You fuck me hard, and don’t stop.”

He began to drive into her hard and fast as she pulled him down. He’d wiped off the sand but hadn’t showered, and she could feel the grit between them. Again she returned to the pit, watching him snarl in effort, his body glistening as his muscles flexed and bulged as he strained against Whiteshirt.

“Fuck,” she snarled, remembering him standing over his defeated foe in the forest, covered in dirt and bits of leaves. She had always been the strong one, the one willing to stand and fight, but Ironside had been there for her, willing to stand with her, willing to protect her, covering her with his own body when she was sure they were going to be shot and killed.

He could feel his orgasm welling up within him, powerful and unstoppable. He stopped thrusting, pushing in hard and deep before pulling out.

“No!” Peyton cried, hooking her heels against his ass and trying to pull him inside again.

He powered out of her embrace before rolling over and pulling her on top. She scrambled into position, then lowered herself, but before she could begin to thrust he pushed himself up to the sitting position, clasping her to his chest with is hands on her back as he began to kiss her throat. She began to bounce on him, his firm grip keeping them tight and making her work for every thrust.

“Shit!” she gasped as she surrounded his head with her arms, pulling his lips into her throat. She was beginning to sweat, her legs burning in effort as she thrust against his embrace. He was so fucking
strong,
his muscles like steel cords, but god how
she loved the feel of his hard muscular body pressing into hers as he kept them tight.

He rolled to the side, dumping her to the bed, holding her tight as they tumbled, her legs locking around his ass and pulling him deep. He tugged her back, then back again, sliding off the edge of the bed before thrusting into her.

“Fuck!” he snarled into her chest as he fought against the crush of her legs.

She couldn’t stop him from fucking her, he was just too strong, but having him overpower her pleased her at a deep level. She loved being manhandled, of having her lover overpower and dominate her, to fuck her until she was nothing but boneless putty, and Ironside could do it like no one else before him. She wouldn’t be able to hold this much pressure for long, but she thrilled in the contest, watching him strain, his muscles working as he plunged into her over and over again.

He grabbed her hands and pinned them to the bed above her head as he began to drive into her with force, his orgasm coming. “Fuck!” he snarled, shaking his head, trying to deny the pleasure that was stealing his control.

She watched his face twist in sweet agony a moment. “Don’t you fucking stop! Don’t you fucking stop fucking me! Fuck me!” she sneered, her own face twisting as they battled, each trying to make the other come.

“God
damn
!” he growled, plunging into her savagely. His orgasm was coming and he couldn’t stop it.

He released her hands and slid his hands under her before rearing back and picking her up. She wailed, his cock going so
deep,
a new and unusual wave of pleasure roaring through her. Nobody had been strong enough to hold her and fuck her standing up until now, and she crushed her eyes shut as she cried out in pleasure and excitement.

He gasped, every muscle burning as he held her, struggling against her weight as he thrust into her, grunting in exertion while thrilling with the effort. She was going wild, thrusting furiously on him as she cried out, holding herself tight against him.

He threw her down on the bed, tumbling with her, his cock plunging in deeper still, deeper than anyone had ever gone. Her ankles locked over his ass, he pounded into her furiously, roaring his pleasure into the night as he fucked her.

She began to wail, her nails biting into his arms as he pounded into her. The sting of her grip and the fury of their fucking overwhelmed his control. He lunged into her as he came, pushing in deep, holding himself there as his cock pulsed, before pulling back and ramming into her again. “Fuck!” he snarled, pushing in deep again, a shiver of pleasure zinging though him, dancing along his nerves and making him shudder.

She released her breath as her orgasm washed out of her. With the monster orgasm to start her off, now this toe curler, her need had been satiated. She could stop right here and sleep the sleep of angels, but when he grunted and began to thrust again, his lips taking hers, she could feel the need returning as a tingle of pleasure radiated out from her core. She sighed, losing herself in the kiss, her desire for him beginning to roar again, stoked by his plunging cock.

Peyton swam up out of the darkness, the sound of running water drawing her out of sleep. She stretched and smiled, her pussy aching in the most pleasant way. Ironside had fucked the
shit
out of her last night, leaving her a puddle in the middle of the bed.

She stretched again, groaning, then rolled out of bed with a smile, picking up a condom as she did. She had imagined fucking Ironside in that beautiful round shower several times, but something always got in the way, but now she was going to do it. As she sauntered by on the way to the toilet, she smiled, admiring his muscled ass, shoulders and legs as he scrubbed his hair. The shower really wasn’t big enough for two, but that was okay. She was going to get in tight and stay there.

As she relieved herself, Melissa popped into her mind and she felt the desire begin to wither, her smile fading as guilt tried to take her. Here she was, being the same old Peyton, thinking only of herself, fucking her brains out only days after her friend had killed herself. She shoved the thoughts aside. Sometime, while she slept, she had decided she was going to kill Andrew, the man most responsible for what happened to Melissa, or she was going to die trying. Melissa had been afraid to live, but if she was going to die avenging her, she didn’t want her last thoughts to be of what she wished she’d done.

She flushed and stepped out of the alcove that hid the toilet, standing and watching as Ironside’s hands slid over his body, admiring his form, enjoying every bulge, valley and ripple as the desire began to burn bright again.

She smiled as she moved to the shower, opening the door and stepping in, pulling it shut behind her as she dropped the condom onto the soap holder for later use. Life was too short to not
live.

Ironside turned as Peyton pressed in. With them both in the shower, they had scant inches to move around, the tight confines forcing them to slide against each other as the water fell on them like rain. She loved the 360° clear glass enclosure, allowing her to see out, or others to see in.

“I want something from you,” she said, taking the soap bar from the holder and sliding it across his chest.

“You do?” he asked with a grin. He wanted something from her, too.

“I want to help you find the mole, then I want you to kill Andrew for what he did to Melissa.”

“What?” he asked. That wasn’t what he was expecting. “You want to help find the mole?”

“Yes. Girls talk. I want to try to find out to outed me and who’s feeding information to the Saracens. Then, once she’s outed, and they won’t see it coming, I want you to kill Andrew and wipe out the Saracens. Isn’t that your plan?”

“Yes,” he said slowly.

She rose to her tiptoes as she pulled his lips to hers. “I want to help. I want to help you kill Andrew,” she murmured as she pulled back, her hand sliding down to his cock. “I want to watch you fuck him and the Saracens. I want to know he’s dead and burning in hell, and I want to help make it happen.” She plucked the condom from the dish then sank to her knees, dropping the package to free her hands.

“Whiteshirt won’t like that,” he gasped as she swallowed him.

She sucked him for several moments, her tongue flicking over the head of his cock before she plunged him in deep. “Fuck him, then. He doesn’t have to know,” she murmured after pulling him from her mouth. She plunged down him again, smiling as he hissed, his hands going to her head as he began to thrust into her mouth. “It can be our secret,” she said as she pulled back again before plunging his shaft into her mouth once more.

“We don’t keep secrets like that,” he growled.

She rose, picked up the condom, opened it, and rolled it over his cock. He turned her, then pressed her against the glass, her breasts flattening, as he squatted and slowly pushed into her.

“Fuck,” he breathed in pleasure. They were going to do this again, but with a camera set up so he could see her mashed against the glass as they fucked.

“You have to start somewhere,” she gasped as she began to drive into her. “Give me false information and—fuck, that feels good—and I’ll spread it around. See what gets back to the—” she paused as she moaned softly and pushed back into him— “what gets back to Andrew.”

Discussing club business as they fucked, trying to ignore the searing pleasure of their love making to think, was turning him on. “That might work,” he grunted. “But I have to put Whiteshirt in the loop! Fuck!”

“Can you trust him?” she cried, the strain in Ironside’s voice twisting her up.

“Yes! With my fucking life!” he snarled, driving into her hard, water splashing with wet slapping sounds as he slammed into her ass.

“Okay! Shit! Tell him! But I don’t trust that—fuck! I’m about to come!—that bitch Honey! What about her?”

“What the fuck about her?” he asked, his voice tight and strained.

“They’re fucking!” she cried.

“We’re fucking!”

“But you can—fuck! Just fuck me!—you can trust me!” she snarled, pushing back into him, trying to take him as deep as possible.

“How—fuck, you feel so good!—why do you think it’s her?” He paused long enough to pull her head around for a kiss. “She’s been a Knights girl for—Shit! You’re going to make me come!”

“I don’t trust that fucking—I’m coming!” she gasped, losing her battle to pleasure.

Doing to her what she had done to him, forcing her to come while discussing business, was the snip that severed his control. He barked his release as he drove into her hard and fast, the water running over their bodies another source of pleasure. He pushed in deep with a shuddering groan, holding himself there as he flung his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck!” he gasped as he returned to himself, then slapped the water off before peeling her off the glass. His cock still deep inside her, he pulled her head roughly around and kissed her hard, their tongues darting and slithering before he pulled out of her and pushed the door open.

They stepped out of the shower and moved to the bedroom, intending to continue what they started, leaving a trail of water on the floor behind them. He shoved her into the bed, riding her down as he entered her again, driving into her, consumed with passion, everything forgotten except this one perfect moment of pleasure.

***

They rolled and tumbled in the bed, gasping and moaning in pleasure, their faces twisting into feral snarls as they gave and took pleasure. She’d just snarled her way through another orgasm and now she was on her back, challenging him to keep fucking her and not come as he was driving into her hard and fast.

“Fuck!” he gasped, dropping lower, pressing himself into her so he couldn’t see her tits moving as they fucked.

“Don’t you fucking come!” she growled, trying to make him do just that. “You fuck me with that hard cock!”

“Shut up, you fucking bitch!” he snarled before kissing her furiously to shut her up, her constant snarling comments about
not
coming making him need to do just that.

She pulled his mouth from hers. “Can’t take it?” she sneered, enjoying pushing him, his pants and gasps as he battled to hold his climax turning her on at a deep level. “Can’t take my tight pussy on your big, thick, cock?”

He paused, sliding his hands under her leg and locked them behind his arms. “We’ll see who can’t take it!” he sneered as he began to hammer into her.

“Oh my fucking
God
!” she breathed as his cock began to hit her just right.

“Now who can’t take it?” he panted as her face twisted in pleasure. “Who can’t take it now, bitch!”

He pounded into her, trying to force her to climax while delaying his own rapture, when Whitshirt’s ringtone began to play.

“No!” she cried, twisting and grasping for the phone, intending to throw it out of his reach.

Whiteshirt never called just to chat, which meant the call was important. He lunged across her, his cock still inside, grabbing the phone and wrenching it from her hand as she began to thrust against him.

“Don’t answer!” she begged but he ignored her.

He rose to his knees, allowing her to thrust on his cock. “Ironside!”

“We’re fucking!” she cried, wanting Whiteshirt to know he was interrupting.

She couldn’t hear Whiteshirt’s voice, but she saw Ironside’s eyes open wide. “We’re coming. Hang on!” He pulled out of her and tumbled off the bed. “Get dressed! Hurry! Whiteshirt is pinned down at BKS!”

They dressed, throwing on clothes as fast as possible before running for the van. “You drive!” he said as he tossed her the keys and ran around to the other side of the van. “Hurry!” he snarled as she fumbled the keys before unlocking the doors. “To the clubhouse! Fast as you can!”

As they raced to the clubhouse, Ironside worked the phone, rounding up brothers. “I’ve got six!” he said as she slowed at a red light, then ran it. “It’ll have to do! When we get there, stop. Everyone will get in, then take us to the studio.”

“I don’t know where it is!”

“I’ll give you directions. When we get close, I want you slow down and drive slow. We’re going to jump out and try to catch the Saracens in a crossfire. Once we’re out, go to the end of the block and wait.”

“What’s happening?”

“I’ll fill everyone in on the way.”

There were seven Knights standing in a cluster, one more than he thought he’d have, as the van rocked to a hard stop before the men piled into the back. “Go!” Ironside called, and she matted the throttle just as the side door banged shut.

“Listen up!” Ironside called, looking into the back of the van. “Whiteshirt, Snap, Goose, Tank and Dodger are pinned down at the studio. Tracer is dead, shot as they were leaving for lunch. There are an unknown number of Saracens waiting outside to ambush whoever comes out.”

“Will they still be there?” Lolly asked.

“I don’t know. I hope not. When we get close, Peyton is going to slow down so they don’t hear us coming, then stop and let us out. Left here,” he said, giving her directions. “We’re going to approach on foot. The Saracens are probably dug in and under cover, but hopefully we can take them by surprise.”

“What’s the plan?”

“That
is
the plan,” Ironside growled. “That, and kill everyone who isn’t a Knight.”

It took fifteen more minutes before they were close. “Slow down,” Ironside said. Peyton breathed on the brakes, slowing the van. “Slow…slow…” he murmured. “Okay. Stop here. BKS is that red brick building up there on the right. When we’re out, drive past, turn around, then stop at the corner. Leave the van running.” He looked into the back of the van. “Somebody give me their phone.”

When a phone was handed up, he passed his to Peyton. “If I call, you get your ass in there with the van, just like last time.”

She nodded, her eyes wide with fear.

He gave her a quick kiss. “Stay frosty,” he muttered before opening the door.

The minute the doors eased closed, she continued on, looking into the parking lot as she passed but seeing nothing.

***

The eight Knights crept up on BKS and crouched behind a row of hedges along the fence that defined the property. The warehouse wasn’t large by modern standards, but the large parking lot for trucks made a good killing field. Until they located the Saracens, they didn’t dare venture beyond the hedgerow. Ironside felt a tap on his shoulder and turned as Lolly handed him a suppressor. He nodded his thanks as he began to screw the heavy tube onto the end of his weapon. They wanted to try to keep the cops out of this as much as possible.

Using Lolly’s phone, he sent Whiteshirt a text.
We’re here. Moving to position.
Located in the older, industrial part of town, the building had thick brick walls and no windows, which was perfect for making porn videos, and happened to make it easy to defend. Unfortunately, the same features that made the building easy to defend also meant it was easy to get trapped inside. With only two exits, not counting the six large rollup doors, the Saracens knew where the Knights had to come out, and Tracer had paid the price.