HARD RIDE (The Slayers MC Book 2) Page 11

“What? No smart ass comment or asking why for that one?” His gaze holds mine and he seems to feed off making me squirm.

  All right. I’ll bite. “Why?” I ask sarcastically.

  “Because I’m going to use my belt to tie you in place so you can’t move as I fuck you senseless and make you forget about whatever danger you’re worried about.”

  Oh. That’s why.

  I’ve never had anyone speak to me the way he’s speaking now, using the words he is, but… I like it.

  Quickly, the belt is undone and I hold it up like a prize. He takes it. “Now, take off your shirt. Slowly.”

  I move on to the next task, teasingly removing the V-neck t-shirt. His eyes drop to my bra, the thin white lace that lets in enough of the cool room air to make my nipples come to attention.

  “Bra too,” he orders.

  I obey and the flimsy piece of lingerie is added to the pile of unwanted clothing that’s beginning to pile up.

  “Touch yourself. Rub your tits. Pinch them.” He gives the next instruction as he himself works out of the black T-shirt he’s wearing. His chiseled chest is on full display with the smooth skin and array of tattoos showing themselves confidently.

  “Excuse me--” I ask.

  He cuts me off. “Touch. Yourself. Now.”

  I have no idea why I’m listening to him. Who the hell does he think he is talking to me this way?

  My hand skims lightly over my chest and the hardened buds. The tickling causes my stomach to fall as if a fifty-pound weight has just been dropped down between my legs. My weeping center feels heavy, full, on fire.

  “Nipples. Pinch them.” His words guide my hand to the center of my swollen breast and I take the very sensitive peak in between my fingertips. “Close your eyes.”

  My eyelids close on their own accord as I work the tender little button between my thumb and forefinger. It’s as if it’s growing larger. I feel a moist, hot, softness on it as Chase licks the very tip that peaks out. Inhaling sharply, I let him know how it feels. Divine.

  “Mmm, baby.” His strong hands grab the material of my pants and push it down to my knees. “Now take your other hand and stroke yourself where you’re throbbing.”

  My hands and all my fingers begin to work separately, each bringing my body to a place it’s never been. My chest begins to heave as I feel myself sliding through the wetness between my thighs.

  I can’t catch my breath as this all becomes overwhelming but I try to, opening my mouth to search for air. The only thing it finds is his tongue, pushing its way deep inside, eagerly searching out my own tongue and the moans that escape my lips.

  His tongue moves fast, then slow, then fast again like he’s working the speed at which my hands move, delivering tremendous sensations that I can’t seem to get enough of.

  I feel myself winding tighter and tighter. “Now give me your hands, Tush.”

  My eyes fly open in shock. What? He’s just led me to this new playground of sorts, why is he looking to take it away so soon?

  “I’m waiting,” he’s not patient.

  I whimper and take my hand from the hidden place it’s been frolicking, holding both of my wrists out in surrender. The needy throbbing between my thighs is angry. He seems to know this.

  The belt is finally put to use by being wrapped around my wrists tightly. “Let’s put these away for now, hmm?”

  The leather strap is pulled to tighten itself, with my wrists now confined together. Chase leads me back to the bed, positioning me close the the headboard where he takes the remaining leather and loops it around the highest of the scrolling metal bars near the wall.

  Tugging on it, he checks that it’s secure before slapping my ass. “One more thing.”

  The mattress dips and bounces as he jumps off the bed to kick his jeans off before digging in one pocket for a shiny square condom packet.

  His manhood is now fully freed from the jeans that concealed it. The first time we had been together, the night before last, it was late. There wasn’t much light to see what we were working with. Now I’m getting the full view.

  Oh. My. God.

  How is that going to fit? How did it fit? I mean, I knew I was sore after but I figured it was because how rough and frenzied we both had been. Now, as I look at the long, thick erection of his, I know it must have been some other reason entirely.

  He must see the look of fear in my eyes as he walks over. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s not all going in. Not yet, anyway. But it will, one day. You’ll get so used to me in you by then that I’ll be able to fit every single bit in that snug pussy of yours.” He’s standing directly in front of me now. “Open your mouth.”

  It doesn’t take much effort as my jaw is practically hanging from shock at what he’s just promised would happen one day. His dick seems to stand on its own, pointing down my throat from afar.

  His strong capable hands slide into my hair as my tongue grows so wet I fear it will begin to drip all over myself. I can’t move forward, and he knows it. I’m only given so much lead from the leather strap holding me at bay.

  I see his dick jump just inches away from my waiting lips, but I can’t reach it. Not yet. I grow frustrated and whimper. Chase then begins to move his hips forward, bringing his bulging erection in for the landing.

  The soft velvety head touches my lips first and I find I must open wider for him as he slips into the warm wet cavern of my waiting mouth. My eyes look upward, locking with his hungrily, neither of us able to blink, neither of us able to blink.

  It’s easier this way. If I let my eyes fall to what’s working its way down my throat, I’m afraid it’ll be too much. It takes every ounce of concentration to keep my breathing steady, no to choke on the massive part of him.

  “Easy there, Tush.” Chase seems to think I’m being a little too ambitious. He leaves my mouth with a loud popping sound and I gasp for air.

  Grasping me under my chin, he lifts my neck, elongating it as he leans down to lick my lips. I pull on my hands, eager to touch him, but they only move in place. Holy crap! This is why he tied my up, knowing how badly it would turn me on.

  “Ready, Tush?” He whispers low over my lips. I feel his warm breath bathe over me, intoxicating me.

  He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he grabs my hips and flips me around while I land on all fours, with no choice but to grip the iron headboard for dear life.

  I feel the slickness growing between my thighs as I adjust myself for balance. This somehow gives him just the right opportunity to make the deep thrust I’ve been longing for.

  “Ah…” I feel him the way I did the other night, the way I’ve been longing to ever since.

  “You like that, Tush?” He asks, stagnating his words between thrusts.

  I do. I do. I do.

  “Do you like it?” I toss the question back at him.

  He slaps my ass like an animal. “Fuckin’ love it, babe.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  ANGEL

  I can feel the blood rush from my face and lightheadedness take hold. The puddle of water spreading over the floor is seeping closer so I take a wobbly step back.

  Wh—Wh—What the fuck do I do?

  9-1-1 I have to call 9-1-1! Now!

  “Deep breaths, Baby. Deep breaths. I’m calling an ambulance right now.”

  My friend looks scared to death as she’s doubled over leaning onto the kitchen counter as she winces in pain.

  Oh God! That looks like it hurts, like really, really fuckin’ hurts!

  “What is your emergency?” The nasally voice of the operator asks.

  Baby moans through gritted teeth while clutching her swollen stomach. I step around the puddle of her broken water and place my hand on her back reassuringly to offer her some comfort.

  “I need an ambulance, please. My friend’s water just broke. She’s going into labor.” I try to sound calm although I’m a wreck inside. I can’t show that though. Baby needs me to be strong for her.

  “Ad
dress please.” The woman is very professional.

  I quickly rattle off the street number to Stitch and Baby’s home. “Ho—how long ‘till they get here?” I need some guidance here.

  Baby moans again, suffering from the end of the long contraction. She reaches blindly for my hand and squeezes hard.

  “Ten to twelve minutes, ma’am. They’re being dispatched now. You could always drive to the hospital if you think it’ll be quicker.” She gives me the option.

  Fuck no! I can barely keep my cool just standing still, there’s no way I can drive a car like this. “Ten to twelve minutes?! Do we have time for that? Wha—what if she delivers before then? I—I don’t know what to do…”

  Baby starts to recover, taking the deep rhythmic breaths that we both learned in the Lamaze classes we’ve been going to for the last few months. “Angel, we got this. Really, relax.”

  What? She’s about to push something the size of a watermelon outta something the size of an… ugh… and she’s the one who’s telling me to relax?!

  “Th—thank you. Please hurry.” I end the call. I concentrate on the mother to be. “D—does it hurt?” What the fuck am I asking? Of course it hurts! “Don’t answer that! Can I get you something? Anything? Let’s sit you down.”

  I help support her shaking body to the nearest chair at her kitchen table. The carved wooden chair that I move aside for her can’t be comfortable. Once she’s sat, I run into the living room and grab one of the embroidered throw pillows, hurrying back to Baby in time to place it behind her back.

  “Drink? Can I get you a drink? A cold rag?” I’m thinking of everything and anything that could possibly make her feel a bit better. “Do you want me to rub your feet?”

  She looks me hard in the eyes. “Chill. The. Fuck. Out.”

  It took me a while to get used to Baby’s sense of humor. Here she is, about to undergo the most painful thing a woman can and she’s telling me to chill out. I’m not the right person for this. What was she thinking asking me to be her coach? I’m not good under pressure like this. I’m gonna go spastic, I just know it, especially with everything going on.

  “I’m good. I’ve got a few minutes before the next contraction. Can you grab my bag? The one we packed last week?” She’s closing her eyes, enjoying the pain free moment.

  Yes. I can do that.

  “Be right back. Shout if you need me,” I take off in a sprint down the hallway toward the master bedroom.

  I nearly break the hinges off the fragile closet door while throwing it open. There it is! Right where she said it was. I take the handles of the navy blue overnight bag lying on the floor near the sexy shoes that Baby hasn’t worn in months, since her feet started to swell.

  “Can you grab the picture frame on my nightstand, Angel? The one of me an’ Stitch? I want to take it with me.” Baby calls through the house for me to hear.

  Tossing the bag onto her bed, I undo the center zipper. I reach over to her small bedside table and push aside the alarm clock to grasp the medium sized frame of Baby and her Ol’ man.

  I’ve never met Stitch before, with him having been locked up before I’d even met my first Slayer. Other than pictures like this one here and others down at the club, I wouldn’t even know what he looks like.

  He’s a ruggedly handsome guy, with medium length brown hair worn in a low ponytail behind his neck. Compared to Baby anyone is big, but her Ol’ man is huge next to her. This picture was taken years ago, probably before they were even married judging by the looks of them.

  I’d heard plenty of stories of their life together before he got jammed up. She’d met him when she was still a teenager, dating for a few years before Baby becoming his Ol’ lady. They got hitched a couple of years after that. According to Baby, the only reason she ever agreed to marry him was so that he’d quit pestering her about it.

  Sure, she loves him, but being his Ol’ lady was enough for her. She didn’t need a piece of paper. I guess he felt differently, wanting to be legally hitched before poppin’ out a few kids.

  She gave in. They got hitched. He knocked her up. Should’ve been a biker happily ever after. Then, he got arrested, sentenced, and almost killed in prison. To say it hasn’t been an easy ride for the two of them is an understatement.

  Now, with this twisted turn of events, the man will be locked up while his wife, his Ol’ lady, will be going through this alone. Well, in one sense she’ll be alone. In another, she’s anything but.

  She’s got every single Slayer behind her, taking care of her while she’s going through all of this. That’s why I’m here. She’s a good friend. She’s family. She’s not alone.

  I place the frame, photo side up on top of the folded clothes and bathrobe in the bag. Stitch’s hardened stare looking out through the picture. It’s the same stare all of the Slayers have. It’s the same stare Dawson ha—

  Shit!

  I need to call Dawson and tell him what’s going on!

  “You okay in there?” I call out to Baby while pressing the speed dial for Dawson.

  The cell phone is held to my ear as I listen for Baby’s response. “I’m fine. Can you grab my eye cream, too?”

  My God! She’s so calm during all of this that she remembers something like her night cream. I push my way into her bathroom to search her countertop while the phone rings against my ear.

  Night cream, night cream, where are you?

  “’Bout time you called. Thought you were gonna check in hours ago?” Dawson finally answers his cell just as I find the small jar of beauty cream that Baby want to take with her for her hospital stay.

  “No time,” I blurt out. “Baby’s in labor. We’re going to the hospital. Ambulance is coming. Should be here any minute.” I’m speaking a million miles a minute, I know.

  “She okay?” Dawson is very concerned.

  I’m nodding even though I know he can’t see. “I—I think so. I can’t do this, babe. I’m gonna fall apart. She doesn’t need to see that. I’m already starting to freak out.”

  “Angel, relax.” He attempts to calm me.

  I breathe quickly. “Relax? Why is everyone telling me to relax? How can I possibly relax at a time like this? Didn’t you hear me? Baby’s about to have a baby! As in going into labor. Alone. Because her man isn’t here. He may never be here again. Ever. She may have to do this all alone. All by herself. How is one person supposed to do that?”

  “Angel? What’s going on? Why are you loosing your shit like this?” He’s now concerned about both Baby and me.

  “I need to sit down.” I’m breathless. “I—I can’t breathe.”

  My heart is racing erratically. I somehow make it to the chair next to where Baby’s patiently waiting at the kitchen table. Nearly lunging, I plant myself down firmly just as my legs weaken to the point of giving way. Gravity begins to pull my head down low and I rest it on my folded arms.

  Baby sees my state and grabs the cellphone from my hand before it drops to the tile floor.

  “Dawson?” Baby guesses who I’m speaking to. “I—think you should get to the hospital as soon as you can.” She’s almost laughing. “No, no. I’m fine. Really. I’ve got a while to go. Your Ol’ lady is a whole other story. She’s fainting in my kitchen.”

  ~*~

  “Miss Donovan?” I hear a far away voice, almost as if it’s calling to me through a long tunnel. A gentle hand on my wrist. “Miss Donovan?”

  As I struggle to open my eyes, everything that’s out of focus slowly settles back to normal. The hollowed echo ringing begins to quiet.

  “Wha—” I’m sluggish to form words.

  “Everything’s fine now, Miss. Donovan. Can you walk?” The older man in a navy blue uniform asks me.

  Why wouldn’t I be able to walk? Looking around, I see that I’m in Baby’s kitchen. Several other people are here besides the kind looking middle aged man that’s asking if I’m a cripple.

  Baby! Where is she? A sudden flood of memory comes back and I remember w
hy I’m here in the first place. “Where’s my friend?”

  Judging by the embroidered badge on the man’s shirt and the stethoscope around his neck, I’m guessing he must be here with the ambulance I called earlier. “She’s fine, Miss Donovan. Already in the van. Now, let’s talk about you.”

  Huh? Why would we talk about me?

  “I’m fine. Really. Just a little low blood sugar and fright. I—I’ve never seen someone in pain like Baby was in.” I try to excuse myself. His wrinkled hand takes my wrist and searches for the pulse point on my wrist. “Really… I’m fine. Promise.”

  “Angel!” Dawson’s loud voice booms through the house.

  “In here. In the kitchen!” I smile to the EMT and then slowly take my hand back while standing. “Whoa.”

  I must have risen too quickly because my knees give way and I land back in the hard wooden chair just as Dawson enters the room.

  “Can I get a cuff in here?” My new EMT friend calls out to his partner, another first responder.

  “Angel?” Dawson drops to his knees in front of me. “What’s goin’ on? You sick?”

  Dawson lifts my chin and inspects my eyes as the older man tending to me wraps my upper arm in a plastic blood pressure cuff.

  This is getting out of hand. “I’m fine!” I tell them both, shaking my arm free before the Velcro can be sealed. “Low blood sugar. I—I didn’t eat anything. Then seeing Baby—” I shudder as I recall the moans and pain she was in.

  I can see I need to convince them. “Really. I’ll eat something now. I’ll be fine. How’s Baby?”

  Dawson answers. “She’s fine. I saw them helping her into the back of the ambulance on my way in here. She told me you were out cold.”

  Using his broad shoulder as a handle to balance with, I lift myself, this time without getting woozy. “We need to go to the hospital. My Jeep’s out front.”

  “You’re not driving. Not like this. Give me the keys.”

  The EMT isn’t about to administer unwanted healthcare so he packs his blood pressure device in the small black bag on the floor in the middle of the kitchen floor. “I’d feel much better if you got checked out while you’re there. Make sure it’s not something else.”