Shameless (6 page)

He held her by the shoulders as he worked his way in, the pressure of his fingers almost too much to bear. She cringed beneath his touch, knowing he would only leave bruises in his wake, but if he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t stop.

“Fuck,” Jesse breathed as he sank into her up to his hilt. She could feel his shaft throbbing wildly already; she knew he wouldn’t last long. “You’re tight.”

“Jesse,” she said softly, her voice trailing off into a strangled whimper. “You’re hurting me…”

“I know,” he replied, but softened his grip on her shoulder. “I have to.”

He grasped her hair in his hand instead, pulling her head up to face the rest of the Marauders as he began to pound her from behind. Layla spread her legs wide to accommodate his girth, but he was so much thicker than any cock she’d had before. Her lips parted and her brows knitted together as the heady mixture of pleasure and pain worked its way through her tortured pussy. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stop or fuck her harder.

She grasped the edge of the bike seat, moaning as her tits began to swing in time with his vicious thrusts, trying to avert her gaze from the men standing around her. She felt so
dirty
; so
wrong.
She loved it.

Her eyes fixed on Gunner, still staring at her intently. Something about looking into his eyes while Jesse was fucking her made it all the more enjoyable, and she pressed her pussy against the leather seat, rubbing her juices on it as she dripped all around Jesse’s pistoning cock.

“You’re mine,” he reminded her, wrapping his free hand around her throat. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she repeated through his grip. His fingers sank into her flesh as if displeased.

“No. Say you’re my bitch.”

Layla’s face flushed. “I’m your bitch,” she murmured.

“Louder!” he demanded, and the magnitude of his thrusts rose to match his vehemence.

“I’m your bitch!” she cried out into the wide expanse of the chop shop, her voice carrying even over the sound of his hips slapping roughly into her bouncing ass.

“You’re damn right you are,” Jesse snarled in her ear, pressing his chest against her arched back as his hips began to buck. “And I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

He picked her legs up off the ground, forcing her to scramble for a grip on the Harley as he ploughed her relentlessly, each thrust deeper than the last. Layla squealed, licking her lips as Jesse so completely filled her, his dick ramming hard into her swelling sweet spot as he took what he needed from his new Marauder bitch.

Oh, fuck,
she thought as a familiar tension grew between her hips.
I’m gonna…

It happened before she could even finish the thought.

As Layla’s trembling clit brushed up against his leather seat once more, her whole body spasmed in the wake of a blissful orgasm, one so deliciously intense that she saw stars. She dug her nails into his seat, leaving deep tracks in the dark, worn leather as she clawed and howled like an animal impaled upon his meaty dick.

Jesse grunted, gave a few last, erratic thrusts, and then pulled out of her clenching pussy before it could milk his cum right from his fattening shaft. She heard the slick sound of him stroking it before he pulled hard on her hair.

“Turn around,” he said breathlessly.

Layla obeyed, and as soon as their eyes met, Jesse spurted his white-hot load all over her face, moaning in ecstasy as he covered her in his thick, salty lust.

Layla opened her mouth to accept it, closing her eyes tight as ropes of his jizz plastered them shut. She could feel his throbbing tip rubbing onto her lips, spreading his cream onto them like lip gloss until it trickled down onto her tongue.

A moment later, she heard him let out a long, breathy sigh, and she slowly opened her eyes to look up at him standing over her.

“Get dressed,” he said coldly. “Gunner’ll take you home.”

“Wh-what?” she whispered, sure she’d misheard him.

“Put your fuckin’ clothes on,” he repeated, lifting his jeans back around his waist as he retreated through the door and into their dining room.

Layla sat in utter shock on the concrete floor, covered in Jesse’s cum and quivering violently. She turned to look at the others, but they all avoided her gaze. Except for Gunner.

He stood up, walked over to her, and picked up her shorts. He held them out to her and flattened his lips into a thin, pale line.

“Better do what he says,” was all he had to say.

Layla quietly laid against Gunner for the entire trip home.

Tears welled in her eyes and were quickly carried away by the rushing wind as he expertly weaved through the dusty roads that would take them back into town. He didn’t say anything to her for the entirety of the ride, and he didn’t have to. She was so caught up in her own thoughts that anything he had to say would be lost to her, anyway.

What’d I do?
she wondered, her shoulders hitching in a sob.
I didn’t deserve that. Did I?

Gunner had started it. She wasn’t the one who tried to maul him in a bathroom—it was the other way around. Why was Jesse acting like it was all her fault?

Maybe because you didn’t try to stop him until it was already too late.

She wiped her tearstained face on his jacket.
Goddammit. Why do I always have to fuck things up?

Shame coursed through her as Gunner pulled into her parents’ driveway, cutting the engine once he’d put the kickstand down. He took off his helmet, looked back at her, and opened his mouth to speak.

But nothing came out.

“Don’t,” she mumbled, wiping her puffy eyes. “Just don’t. Okay?”

Gunner nodded. He didn’t say a word.

Layla slid off the seat and shuffled up the walkway to the front door, clutching Bear’s jacket like a security blanket around her shoulders. She was a Marauder now, supposedly. One of them.

But then why didn’t she feel like it?

She heard Gunner turn the engine again and pull out of her driveway to vanish into the night once more. She didn’t even turn to wave goodbye. As far as she was concerned, this was all this fault.

She opened the door to her home, dreading what would come next.

Her fears were fully realized when her adoptive father strode down the entry hall toward her, his face a conflicted mask of both rage and worry as he neared.

“Daddy,” she said softly, but his voice roared over hers.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he demanded, stopping just inches away. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I know,” Layla said, looking away. “But Daddy…”

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We warned you about this, Layla. We told you—”

“You told me that if I fucked up again, I’d be on my own,” she finished, meeting his gaze. Her whole body trembled as she held back the sobs threatening to burst from her mouth. “You don’t want me to make any more mistakes. I get that, Daddy. But I
did
make a mistake. A horrible, awful mistake.”

Her father’s face softened, his anger twisting into confusion as Layla threw herself into his arms and wailed into his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped as her shoulders hitched. “I’ve done such a stupid thing.”

Layla’s father slowly wrapped her in his arms. “It’s okay, Layla. We’ll figure it out. Just… tell me what happened.”

She closed her eyes. He said all the right words, but like so many others, she knew the truth.

He really didn’t want to know.

To be continued…