Death Lords Motorcycle Club: Chelsea and Wrecker (The Motorcycle Clubs Series) (17 page)

He doesn’t stop kissing me and neither does Big. Big’s tongue is thick and strong. His mouth engulfs me and my weak legs begin to shake as I feel bliss overtake me. Wrecker swallows my gasps as I cling to him and the two work in tandem, wringing every last bit of ecstasy from my body.

C
helsea’s body
sags against me as Big pushes to his feet. His face is wet. Abel hands him a paper towel and he wipes the moisture away. I smooth down her skirt and make a display of straightening her leather vest.

“Thank you Chelsea,” Big says.

She blinks at Big and then smiles, “I think I’m the one who should be thanking you.”

“Nah, the pleasure was all mine.” He reaches out and cups the back of her head. I loosen my grasp and he presses his forehead against hers.

“It was the nicest apology I’ve ever received,” Chelsea says. Big chuckles in response and runs a finger under her chin.

Reluctantly he steps back. “Tastes sweet man. I envy you.”

“A good old lady is hard to find,” I agree. The rod in my pants is steel hard. I can’t wait to take her upstairs into that shitty bedroom and make her come again but there’s a little more club business to take care of.

I press a tender kiss against her forehead and tuck her under my arm. Abel moves right up behind her. “This here’s my old lady. Within the club, the old ladies are untouchable. You fuck with her; you fuck with all the members who wear the patch. That’s what the club is about. It’s about loyalty and having each other’s backs. If you aren’t interested in that, then you should walk out right now.”

The crowd is silent until Dozer decides to open his trap. “You aren’t Misery. You can’t tell us what to do,” he snarls.

I grab the handgun the stupid fuck has tucked into his jeans like he’s some wannabe gang banger and whip it across his face. “I’m the Misery enforcer on loan from the Death Lords. I don’t make the law here but I can enforce it.”

I whip him across the face again and the blood spatters. Girls scream and people scatter. Everyone except Abel, Big, Junior, and Chelsea. There’s blood on her shirt but she hasn’t moved an inch. None of these other bitches are worth even a pinkie of hers.

“You gonna stand for this?” Laurel screams.

“Take your skinny ass and your man and go.” Junior strides forward. Laurel grabs Dozer and drags him toward the door. She’s crying hysterically and Dozer is moaning, holding his broken jaw. “Oh, and Dozer,” Junior calls. “Don’t forget to leave the cut. It’s not yours anymore.”

He turns on his heel and walks back into the kitchen. Low chatter starts up after a few moments of stunned silence. Big stops Dozer before he can leave and we all watch as Dozer sullenly pulls off the vest and throws it at Big. Weepy Laurel and another girl, one who doesn’t wish to leave by the way she stares longingly at Big, follow behind.

“Go on upstairs,” I tell Chelsea. “I’ll be up in a sec.”

She gives me a small pat on my chest and runs upstairs.

In the kitchen I find Junior. “We need to be worried about him going to the police?”

Junior hands me a beer. “Nah. We’ve got a lot of dirt on him and he’s a coward.”

“Cowards are exactly the type to cause you the most harm. I’m here to be an enforcer. Once you’ve got a firm hand on the reins, I’ll bow out but for now, you trust me and I trust you. It’s hard because neither of us have earned that trust. We’re going in blind. I’m relying on my dad’s faith in you and you’re relying on him too.”

His shoulders tighten and then he exhales, a long sigh of exasperation and frustration. “The crew’s a mess,” he admits. “Mostly it’s good guys but there are some bad seeds. Toward the end, my old man was getting lazy. He didn’t want to do the business of discipline. Just enjoyed the parties and the women who liked to screw a man with a patch on his leathers.”

“It might take some time, but we can get it done.”

“You? Aren’t you on parole?” Junior raises an eyebrow.

“This is a big city. Lots of shit happens that people don’t know about,” I reply. I can take care of one man.

“I’ll take care of him.” Big appears. “Your man Abel and I can clean up the mess.”

“I got this,” Abel agrees.

Junior contemplates this for a minute and nods. “Fine, but not tonight.”

I knock fists with Abel. From the determined look on his face, he’d be taking care of this problem whether I agreed to it or not. Fine. It makes sense even if the restrictions chafe a little. I like to imagine I’m free, but there’s still a small shackle around my ankle. The irritation of that confinement is offset by the fact I have a good brother with me and my sweet old lady waiting.

“You mind if I head up?” I ask Abel. I don’t like leaving him alone with no one to watch his back.

“I’m good.” He tilts his head toward Big. Abel likes him and I guess I do too because I wouldn’t have allowed him to touch my girl if I’d felt there was something off about him.

Up in the bedroom, I find Chelsea already under the covers. I shed my clothes and crawl between the clean sheets she brought.

“You okay?” I rub my thumb along her forehead.

She closes her eyes and is silent for a long time. Eyes still shut, she says, “I thought by getting away from Fortune, it’d be different but it’s not. You have your parole dictating what you can and can’t do for the club and we’re always going to be the Harrison siblings even though we aren’t blood related.”

“Spending a few years together when we were teenagers isn’t a problem. Those things are just labels. They don’t mean anything. We can’t run from our problems.”

“So we fuck them face on?”

“You mad?” I frown. I’d given her an out but she didn’t take it.

“No, it was hot. I don’t know that I want to do it again, but if I hadn’t wanted it, I know I could have stepped aside.” Her eyes flick open and she rolls to her side so she can stab me in the chest. “But I’m not extending the favor. I’m too jealous.”

I grab her finger and pull it up to my lips. “I’m not interested in another woman sucking my dick or plowing anyone’s pussy but yours.”

And I’m not. I had plenty of it between the ages of fourteen when I lost my virginity to an older sweet butt at the club and the time that I popped Chelsea’s cherry. I’d known once I touched Chelsea that there would be no going back.

I pull her on top of me, settling her so that her soft, wet cunt is lying on top of my hard dick. “We’re going to be here for a while.”

“I hope not here in the Misery clubhouse.” She wiggles on top of me until the head of my dick is pushing at the entrance of her wet heat.

“Nah, we’ll get an apartment or a house. You can go to school. We’ll visit Judge and when this is all over, we’ll go back.” I plant my feet on the mattress and press upward until the head slips inside her. We lie like that for a heartbeat, waiting for her body to adjust to the intrusion. Blood pulses in my groin. I’m having trouble paying attention. Her nipples tighten into hard points that she rubs against my chest.

“I like that idea.”

“What about this idea?” I flip her over and drive into her in one swift motion.

She cries out, a sound of shock and pleasure. “You feel so good.”

“Baby, baby,” I chant as I quicken my pace. “I love you so goddamned much.”

“Oh Wrecker. I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will always love you.”

Her words send me spiraling out of control. I jack into her, pounding out the arousal she stirred downstairs. She cries and moans underneath me, her hips pushing up and up and up until I feel her find her own pleasure.

I let go and allow the electric orgasm to sweep me up and break me into tiny pieces only Chelsea can put back together.

We haven’t solved every problem. The Trainor issue hasn’t gone away. The Misery MC is a fucking mess. I’m still on parole and Chelsea will always be my stepsister. That bothers her more than it should.

But we have the utter fucking joy we bring to each other, not just when we’re making love but each and every moment we’re together. And that? That is enough to overshadow every problem, every irritation, and every other thing that exists. So long as we’re together.

T
his isn’t the end
. On May 15, 2015, Chelsea and Wrecker will find the answers that they’re looking for in
His Bold Heart.

I
'd waited
until she was seventeen to claim her. Now she's mine and she'll stay mine even if I have to fight the whole world to keep her.

W
recker waited
three years behind bars for his girl, Chelsea, and now that they are together they will fight anyone and anything that threatens to separate them. When a local Fortune woman is killed, Wrecker is a convenient scapegoat for the dirty Fortune police. The answers to the woman's death appears to lie in the hands of a neighboring motorcycle club whose secrets could get them killed.

“
F
ucking
you is like a religious experience, Chels.”

I bite my lip to stifle the laugh that wants to spill out but I can’t quite stop the moan from escaping when his dick hits a particularly sensitive spot. His answering groan isn’t muffled at all. Grant, unlike me, doesn’t care what anyone in this hell hole that we’re staying in hears. He’s as uninhibited as always.

I try to keep quiet. I really do, but he knows me so well. He knows that sound I couldn’t quite swallow down means I want more and he doesn’t hesitate to give it to me. His hips jackhammer up, the force propelling me forward. Good thing he’s got a solid grip on my hips or I might fly off his dick and face plant onto the newly cleaned floor. As it is, I’m making crescent moons in his knees as I hang on but he doesn’t care. I don’t think he’s feeling anything but the clutch of my pussy.

“Seriously.” His finger traces the crease between my butt cheeks. “This right here is like a steeple.”

“Stop it.” I’m half laughing, half mortified. “You’re going to get us sent to hell with that kind of talk.”

I feel Grant shift behind me.

“As long as we’re together, doesn’t matter where I end up.” My heart squeezes at his words and then my entire body tightens when he reaches around to stroke my clit. “This here is the bell in the steeple and I’m ringing it right now.”

“F-ffffuck,” is about all I can get out as he plucks at my tender flesh, playing it like he’s a master musician and I’m a mere instrument.

“Lean back baby. I’m worried my dick’s going to snap off.”

He tugs on my hair until I’m nearly lying on top of him. His hand still plucks my clit. In this awkward position, all I can do is submit to the grind of his hips underneath my ass and his all too clever fingers. I squeeze my inner muscles, gripping him tight.

His free hand tugs on my hair until my head is turned enough to give him a sloppy half kiss.

“Fuck this,” he says and then flips us both over. “Hands and knees, baby.”

I do as he commands because I want it too. He’s been playing with me for what seems like forever and I need some serious relief!

“I need you inside me, right now.” I shake my ass toward him and he responds by giving me a hard slap against my cheek.

“Greedy pussy aren’t you?” A long finger runs down the valley between my ass cheeks and stops at the small circle of skin—the one virgin place he hasn’t taken yet. “We’re doing this soon,” he promises in a husky voice.

“Promises. Promises.” I tease. With anyone else, I wouldn’t want to have any back door action but this is Grant. He’s my first and only love. He took my virginity when I was seventeen and has never stopped looking out for me since—not even during the three years when he was sent away for defending himself and his brother at arms.

“Chelsea—” he stops.

“What?” The pause is long enough that I turn around to glare at him.

He flashes me a wicked grin. “I was just thinking that if your last name and mine were the same, we wouldn’t have to get married.”

“We’re step siblings.” I hate that I’ve always been turned on by his sibling taunts. It’s so wrong yet I can’t stop the squirming and muscle tightening. I guess that’s the point. It’s wrong and taboo but we’re doing it anyway. His dark knowing chuckle only makes me madder and hotter.

“I know, baby sis, and you’re the hottest sister I’ve ever fucked.”

“You’re disgusting,” I shoot back but my body is telling him the exact opposite.

“But it makes you hot.” My smart aleck response is cut short when he impales me in one hard movement. He’s right. I am burning up. I need to come so bad. I let my head drop onto my forearms. Grant gives a satisfied grunt as the position raises my ass even higher in the air.

“Come for me baby,” he hisses out. “Come for me.”

Inside me, I feel his enormous girth swelling and pushing against the soft and sensitive tissues. Each drag of his shaft along my inner walls pulls at something not physical. It’s as if we are connected by some spiritual thread and that connection feels tighter, stronger, and more vibrant when we are on the cusp of orgasm.

I pant as sensation rockets through my body, cutting off all rational thought, shutting down all the motor functions that are not essential to simply
feeling.
With my pillow beneath me, I open my mouth and let out all the pent up joy and pleasure that Grant has built inside of me. I let it swallow me up and spit me out, exhausted, panting but replete on the other side.

“Yes. Yes.
Yessss
,” Grant shouts as he shoves hard against me. I can feel the pulse of his shaft as he jets his hot come inside me, setting off another round of wild, answering explosions because his joy is my joy. I can’t help but respond to him

I love him so much.

So much.

W
recker gets
up shortly after he comes. There’s too much to do here at the Misery MC’s clubhouse for him to sleep in I guess. He plants a couple soft kisses on my shoulder blade and then tucks the comforter up around my neck.

“Where you going?” I ask, rolling on my side. He bends over and picks up last night’s underwear and wipes off his dick.

“You need a washcloth or anything?” he asks.

I rub my legs together, feeling the sticky residue of his come between my legs. Some girls might want to wash that off right away, but I like the evidence of how much he wants me. His eyes darken and the grip around his dick becomes less about wiping himself and more about stroking himself.

“Nah, I’m good,” I say and tease him a little more by moving my legs around under the covers.

He drops the boxer briefs on the floor and stalks back over to the bed. “You cut that shit out.” He shakes a finger at me. “I’ve got club business to do and if you’re rubbing your legs together like a goddamned cat in heat, I’m never going to leave.”

I lick my lips with greedy intent. Why would I want him to leave?

He groans and strokes his swelling dick with quick, rough movements. I can’t stop myself from touching him. His rock hard legs tighten under my palms.

I glance at him under my lashes and that school girl look saps whatever self-control he had left.

“Open,” he says gruffly.

I open and slide my tongue out just slightly past my lower lip.

“God fucking damn.” He tangles one hand in my hair as he guides his dick into my mouth. It tastes like us. His come, my juice and our mutual pleasure. His dick is heavy on my tongue, like it’s a substantial weight. Everything about Grant is big to me. His body towers over mine. His hands can span even my generous waist. His thighs are solid, tree trunks.

He wasn’t soft in high school—not by any means, but three years in prison with nothing but lifting and working out to do turned him hard. Every edge of him is sharp and cut and…large.

I open my mouth wide and take him to the very back of my throat. I love how he tastes, his unique musky smell, the texture of his velvety soft skin overlaying that increasingly stiff shaft. My moans aren’t manufactured porn sounds. They are real signals of my desire for him, for this.

Inhaling through my nose, I open my throat and swallow the large ruddy tip down. His strong thighs begin to shake when the muscles tighten around him.

“Oh baby. Oh Chelsea, baby…”

This is what I love about giving my man head. He loses all semblance of control. This hard man becomes putty in my hands. He can’t think. He can’t form sentences. He can’t do anything but reflexively surge against my mouth wanting in deeper.

I take him as deep as I can until my nose is tickled by the soft, curly strands of hair and then I withdraw all the way to the tip. Looking up I can see that he’s gone. His eyes are pinned on me, his hand has swept away the hair from my face, but he’s lost in a world of pleasure. His breath is coming rapidly and his hand grips my hair with a little too much force. He’d never be this rough if he knew what he was doing.

But there’s something about seeing him lose control that turns me on all the more. Between my legs, the gush of liquid is from my own answering desire. I swallow him down again, bobbing faster and sucking harder than before.

He makes inarticulate sounds and pushes against my face and pulls harder on my hair. A tap on my head gives me the warning I don’t need. I know he’s coming. I can feel the tension beneath my hands, feel him swell on my tongue. I want to swallow him whole and so I ignore that feeble tap and open my mouth even wider.

And I’m rewarded. He comes with a guttural groan, not a shout, a sound that rises from deep within and lasts almost as long as the salty streams of come spurt from his dick.

I take it all in, even wiping the side of my mouth to lick up the last precious drop. After he’s spent, he drags a shaky hand down over his face. “Baby, you are killing me.”

“Hope not.” I press my face against his firm stomach. I can hear it gurgle. He’s satisfied one hunger but his body is telling him he can’t live on sex alone. “I’ll need you later.”

“Yeah? How about now?” He leans down and slants his mouth over mine, kissing me and tasting himself. His own spunk has never bothered him. He’s always said if I can swallow it, so can he. I love that too.

He’d never ask me to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. And that’s why I’m here in this dingy house, uncertain of what today may bring. I know that no matter what happens, my future will always be with Grant “Wrecker” Harrison.

One large hand in the middle of my chest topples me over. The sheets are ripped away and even though I hear his stomach loudly protesting, he scoots down until his mouth is between my legs. “I’m hungry.”

“I can hear it,” I joke.

“That shit can wait.” His long tongue flicks out and licks at the arousal the blow job generated. “This can’t.”

Who am I to argue with that?