Stolen: Hell's Overlords MC (36 page)

My wet skin glides easily over hers, aided even more by the juices dripping from her cunt. She murmurs a train of “Ohs” into my ear while I continue to pound my thick cock harder and harder. I’m fast approaching the point of no return. The water keeps rippling over us, only adding to the heat I feel mounting ever higher in the base of my dick.

Finally, there’s no more holding back. I pump hard, withdraw, and when I slide back into her, I let loose a thundering shot of cum, followed by another, and another, until I’m so empty I forget what it was ever like to be full.

We collapse to the floor, exhausted. Rose’s skin shines. The water gushes around us. I lean through the stream and kiss her.

I may have done some foolish shit to risk getting her back. But goddamn—it was worth it.

Rose

I’m tucked under Vince’s arm as we lay in his bed. I’m sore all over, the weeks of captivity and the hot sex having finally caught up to me, but I can still feel the fading flicker of my climaxes dancing under my skin. It’s an incredible sensation to be warm, dry, and bundled under a heap of blankets. I’ve never felt safe in my entire life, and I don’t know if I ever will. But this is the closest I’ve ever gotten. It’s a nice feeling.

I wish I could let go and truly enjoy it, but there’s something else lurking in the back of my head, a thought that won’t go away and hasn’t since the first morning I woke up with a queasy stomach and a horrifying realization.

I look up at Vince. He’s asleep, eyes closed peacefully with his head resting on the pillows. His arm stretches protectively around my shoulders. If I close my eyes, too, it would be so easy to imagine this lasting forever. The warmth of his skin, the strength of his muscles—these things are so reassuring and so easy to trust. If they belonged to just about anyone else, maybe that would be enough.

But with my eyes open, I glance down at his torso. The tattoos lancing across his skin tell an entirely different story. I see barbed wire, demons, jagged designs whose meaning I don’t fully understand but that give the impression of something dark and bloody. And glaring out in the middle of it all is that winged skull with its empty, haunting gaze.

I heard enough on the motorboat to get some idea of what kind of man Vince is. I’d had my suspicions before, of course. Not many normal guys come flying into a strip club parking lot on the back of a motorcycle and effortlessly beat up two members of a vicious cartel. That alone triggered alarms. But in the wake of everything that happened after, it had been easy to ignore Vince’s background and trust solely in those hands, those arms that held me.

Now, though, all the details are catching up, and I’m not sure I can weather this particular storm. War with the cartels, weapons, patrols—Vince and the two men who’d rescued us from the water are involved in some horrible business, the kind that often left people dead, regardless of how innocent they may or may not be. I’d spent my whole life trying to stay away from men like him, for whom the law was merely a “don’t get caught doing this” list. To survive all the shit that I’d survived just to run straight into a threatening situation with an unknown man would be the height of stupidity. More than that, it would be suicidal.

There is no denying the physical connection between us. I can think anything I want about who Vince is or what he does for a living, but the second I focus my attention on the touch of his hand or his lips, all of that disappears. The question is, can that be enough? Enough not just for me, but for…
a child?

My hand falls to my stomach unconsciously. I still don’t know for certain that I’m pregnant. A huge part of me doesn’t want to know. It’s not a problem until it’s a problem, right? Or at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. I want to ignore it as long as possible, though God only knows how long that will be. I hardly know anything about having a baby. When will I start showing? Can I keep the morning sickness under wraps so Vince won’t notice? Too many questions with a nearly infinite number of answers.

I wish I knew what Vince would say if I told him. He’s got so much confronting him right now, I can’t imagine that adding a future baby to the mix would be anything welcome. I’m terrified of him demanding that I get rid of it or sending me away to let it be someone else’s issue to deal with.

It’s not like I can just go home right now. I have no doubt that the Diablos know one of their girls got loose and that they will be on high alert in case I show my face anywhere. If nothing else, they’ll torture me for information about Vince before killing me to tie up loose ends. No, going home is definitely not an option. The only thing waiting for me there is a bloody murder.

But staying here and hiding a pregnancy from Vince seems just as impossible. I rest my forehead against his ribs, sighing deeply as open-ended problems spiral endlessly through my head.

A fingertip on my cheek startles me. I look up to see Vince is awake. I blink back budding tears I didn’t even realize were there and force myself to smile in spite of the confusion boiling within me.

“All good?” he asks.

For a second, I consider letting everything out. I imagine him holding me close, telling me he’s happy, that he wants to keep the child, that we should get married and stay safe forever. I picture a white dress and a baby in blue.

Then I catch sight of the skull tattoo, and I remember none of those things are in Vince’s future. He is not the kind of man who gets married or raises a family. He’s the type of man who fucks a girl and rides off on his motorcycle, leaving her to deal with the consequences. In spite of all evidence to the contrary—him saving me over and over, the way his eyes soften when he looks at me—I just can’t allow myself to believe that he is who he appears to be when we are together. Sooner or later, he will show his true colors. I can’t leave myself vulnerable to a situation like that. Keep my secrets safe and my emotions locked away, that’s the only way to do it.

I want so badly to tell him everything and let his touch reassure me. But when I open my mouth, all I say is, “All good.”

If only that were true.

Vince

One Week Later

“It’s been a week, and still nothing,” Mortar grumbles, tossing aside the folder in his hand. We’re sitting in his office at the clubhouse, Steezy, him, and I, hunched over in our chairs and brooding.

“We’re getting close to a breaking point, prez,” Steezy says. “If you thought our guys were nervous before, you oughta take a look at them now. The new prospects are liable to shoot someone, they’re so on edge. They’ve never been at war before, and all this waiting around with guns drawn is wreaking havoc on their confidence.”

“I know, I know,” Mortar says. He’s got stress lines etched across his forehead that I’ve never seen. I trust him implicitly and there’s no one else in this world I’d rather have leading the club in a time like this, but it’s not exactly reassuring to see him looking so worried. “But what do you want me to do? There’s no other option but to sit tight.”

“But no news, no sightings, not a goddamn peep anywhere! How is that possible?” asks Steezy, waving his arms around. “These cartel douche bags aren’t fucking ghosts! If they’re here, somebody’s seen them. Right?” He looks at me. “Right?”

I shrug. “Look, no one is comfortable. We’re all sitting on the edge of our seats, jumping a mile in the air every time somebody twitches or sneezes at the wrong time. But Mortar’s right. What else is there?”

Steezy collapses back into his seat. “I don’t know, man. I just don’t like it. That’s all I’m saying.” We fall into a dark silence, brows creased in deep thought.

Steezy’s right to be tense. I don’t like this situation any more than he does. I thought for sure that the Diablos would start making moves immediately after the yacht incident, especially since they had to know there was a risk I’d uncovered their plans. They might not know who I was or what faction I was associated with, but if I were El Diablo Blanco, I wouldn’t want to give a spy any time to report back to his men and get ready. The fact that they hadn’t been seen once was unsettling. We’ve all been wondering what they’ve got up their sleeve. The longer they make us wait, the more vivid our imagination gets. We’re doing ourselves damage without them having to lift a finger.

“What about the cop?” Steezy says after a while. “Maybe he’s got another scoop.”

Mortar rubs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I haven’t been able to get in touch with him since the last time we met. It’s like he fucking disappeared. Tell me, how does a uniformed cop just up and vanish? It makes no sense, and it sure as hell isn’t helping my nerves.”

I shake my head. That’s hardly welcome news, but I don’t know what to do about that either. It’s the same answer as it is for everything else we’re dealing with—just sit and wait. What a fucking nightmare.

Mortar starts shuffling through a ream of papers on his desk. They contain the same intel he’s gone through a thousand times in the last week alone, but maybe he’ll find something new in it this time. I can only hope. We’ve done just about everything else possible. All of our weapons have been centralized in a single warehouse by the docks, with armed coverage around the clock. We’ve kept a close eye on the spread of information throughout the club network, but everyone seems to have checked out. We can’t find any sign of a rat. I’m happy about that one. I would hate to discover that one of my brothers had betrayed us. Still, it’s worrying to have that thought lingering in the back of my head.

“No use in all of us sitting around here playing up each other’s nerves,” Steezy says, standing with a stretch and groan. “I’m gonna go take a ride, see what’s happening around town. Keep me posted if anything comes up.”

Mortar grunts in response. I follow Steezy out the door. When we’ve stepped outside, he turns around to me with his wolfish grin.

“Gonna go home and fill her up, big man?” he says, slapping me on the shoulder.

I suppress a chuckle. Ever since I came clean to Mortar and Steezy about everything that had happened with Rose in El Cruce, Steezy had been giving me shit about her, even though it’s mostly because he’s happy I’m acting normally again. Mortar had merely smiled. He understood what it was like to go through hell for a girl.

“Fuck off, Steez,” I retort. But he sees the upturned corner of my mouth and just laughs again. I can’t lie to him; he knows that part of me is thrilled about going back to my house to find Rose there, waiting for me. It’s an alien feeling, and one I’m still coming to grips with, but the thought of her body makes my dick hard and the thought of her smile makes my smile soft. The combination is definitely going to take some getting used to.

“Tell her I said hello!” Steezy jokes as I climb onto my bike.

“If I remember,” I reply as I rev the engine. “Lots of other stuff to do.”

* * *

“Vince?” a soft voice lilts as I walk in through the front door. “Is that you?”

“The one and only,” I tease. I drop my keys on the counter and stroll into the kitchen to see Rose rolling out dough for empanadas. Her arms are caked to the elbow in flour and she’s wearing one of my old button-down shirts that hangs just past her ass. I wanna know what’s underneath.

I swing her around and push her up against the refrigerator, pinning her hands above her head as I sneak my tongue through the slight part in her lips. My other hand dives under the edge of the shirt and finds the frilly edge of lace panties on her hip. I slide it towards her center and provoke a soft moan as I start to rub where the heat pours out from between her legs.

She nips me on the ear and pushes me back, leaving white floury handprints on my shirt. “Back off, mister,” she warns. “I’m in the middle of something. Don’t interrupt.”

I stare her down with a wry smile on my face. “I’m about to be in the middle of something, too. But my definition is a little bit different.” Ignoring her giggled protests, I scoop her up in my arms and stride over to the couch, burying my face between her breasts as I walk.

“Put me down!” she exclaims, hammering on my back with small, playful fists.

“Never in a million years,” I shoot back.

“I mean it, Vince, put me down!” She laughs.

“Okay, fine.” I dump her on the couch. The springs wheeze as I fall on top of her. I nibble on her earlobe while I unbutton the shirt she’s wearing one at a time. Each opened button reveals another swathe of creamy, delicious skin. Like always, I’m desperate for a taste. It’s never enough, never satisfying.

It’s crazy to think that it’s only been a week since I pulled her from the yacht. The energy of her company is already so familiar, as much a fundamental part of my life as anything else. I get the same rush of excitement opening the front door every time. Hell, I could probably get up right now, walk in the front door again just for fun, and it would still make me swell in anticipation of seeing Rose. The blue eyes don’t haunt me anymore. They’re part of my waking life. I still can’t get over how quickly she became my new normal, and how fast I forgot about the way things were before her.

I brush those thoughts aside and focus on her body as I unclothe it. The last button falls open to give me a full view of her body. She’s wearing only those panties underneath. I get a fleeting glimpse before she snatches both sides of the garment back over herself and sticks a finger in my face. “You’re gonna ruin a whole afternoon’s worth of work if you don’t let me get up and finish those empanadas,” she says sternly. She’s so damned cute when she pretends to be angry. Her eyebrows angle sharply downwards and her mouth takes on a firm clench while in the middle of it all, her eyes sparkle warningly. I can’t help but want more. Fuck the empanadas. There’s always delivery.

Sliding my hand between her legs, I rub her slit over the panties. Her faux anger falls away immediately, twisting from the slashed line of her pursed lips to an eager whimper. “Vince…” she tries to say, but there’s no use in stopping me anymore. She wants my touch as bad as I want hers.

To say we’ve been fucking like rabbits in heat would be a gross understatement. I’ve taken her in every room of the house, every conceivable arrangement of limbs and furniture. I’ve heard a whole symphony’s worth of sighs and groans and shrieks, and yet I want more, always more. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to exhaust my desire to coax her body over the edge again and again. And when she teases me to my own completion, the world goes dark for a moment. It’s a drug like no other.

She drops one leg over the edge of the couch, opening herself to me. I push her panties aside and stroke her wetness tenderly with one careful fingertip. Turning my palm upwards, I begin tap-dancing against her engorged clit while I align my middle finger to her tunnel. I push in patiently, letting her open and adjust to my touch. I read her labored breathing, judging when to pause and when to venture further. When I’ve gone as far as I can, she lets out a long exhalation.

I grab her wrists in my left hand and hold them over her head. The flaps of her unbuttoned shirt fall to either side, exposing her brown nipples to the cool air. I lean down to suckle one, then the other, as I continue to brush her clit and finger her slowly.

“Vince…” she sighs again, but this time it is less a warning and more of an acknowledgment that she’s getting close to coming softly. I hunch down towards her mound and replace my thumb with my tongue.

At the added soft lapping, she breaks loose, a series of quiet moans and jerks ripping over her body. It’s incredible to me how easily she comes, how quick and beautiful it is to watch her twinge beneath my touch.

She sits up when she’s finished coming. As always, her eyes are aglow. My fingers and mouth only ignite the first flames. What she craves is all of me filling her, taking her. Eyeing me down fiercely, she puts her hands into my shoulders and pushes me back to a seat on the couch. I laugh and let her, loving how intense she gets when she wants to take the lead.

She makes short work of my belt buckle and the button of my pants, yanking them down past my thighs as she drops to kneeling on the floor in front of me. Grasping my half-erect cock in one hand and fondling my balls with the other, she licks delicately from base to tip, taking her time. I watch her, my hands lying limp and useless on either side. I’m damn near helpless under her tongue, couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to. It just feels too fucking good.

She takes the head of my manhood into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it in quick circles while pumping up and down with an easy twist. Her eyes stay locked on mine.

As good as it feels to have her go down on me, what I want is to feel her pussy seize on my cock with her lips pressed against mine. I need the heat of her body radiating against me. I want to pulse and unload inside of her and wrap my arms tight behind her back to ride out our climaxing.

I pull her up to straddle me. Not even bothering to take her panties off, I thrust them to one side and press my tip against her opening. She settles down on top of me, eyes closed in a grimace. The second our hips meet, her eyes fly open, now flush with pleasure. Her thighs squeeze against mine while she starts to move up and down.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, babe.” I groan as she slides on me.

“You’re so big,” she answers, pressing her forehead against my chest. Her body is tiny under my hands. I help her move up and slam her back down, our speed increasing with each thrust. Our breathing quickens in time with the pace of our fucking, each climbing faster and faster.

She takes my thumb into her mouth and sucks hard as she rides me. When it is wet with her saliva, I move it down and stimulate her clit, adding another sensation to the budding pressure. Her pussy embraces my length on all sides, encouraging me to come, though I am not quite there yet. A few more strokes, a few more tight squeezes of her bouncing breasts.

“I want you to come, baby,” she tells me. “Come inside me.” Her mouth is disconnected from her brain, babbling endlessly and unconsciously. I can tell by the tightening of her cheeks and her hands gripping my biceps that she’s about to erupt herself.

I stroke her clit faster and it breaks the spell. She stops bouncing and holds onto me for dear life while vibrations undulate through her. The pulsing of her walls around me wears down the last of my resistance, and I come, too, releasing a fountain of cum inside of her. I hold her as we both ride out the waves.