Reapers MC: Devil's Game Part 26

"I'm rubbing my c.l.i.t, one finger on each side," she told me. "First up and down, and then I sort of wiggle them against each other. I'm using my other hand to play with my nipples. Your turn."

I gave myself another hard tug, hips lifting. h.e.l.l, I was getting d.a.m.ned close. Usually I could last for hours, but something about Em f.u.c.ked with me on every level.

"Jesus, wish I was better with words," I muttered. "Honest to f.u.c.k, Em. I'm pretty close to blowing my load. Picturing you getting yourself off makes me feel like I'm gonna have a heart attack."

"You want me to stop?" she asked, her voice almost playful. My d.i.c.k spasmed and my b.a.l.l.s drew up tight. s.h.i.+t s.h.i.+t s.h.i.+t.

"If you stop-" I started to say, and then the door to my room burst open.

"The f.u.c.k?" I yelled, sitting up and dropping the phone with a crash.

"Get your a.s.s out here," Skid said, his voice grim.

I decided to shoot him.

I let my c.o.c.k go and reached for the gun sitting on the bedside table, but he held up a hand.

"You gonna get off the phone?" he asked, giving me a pointed look. I couldn't think-all the blood in my body was currently concentrated in my d.i.c.k. My b.a.l.l.s seized up and I realized I was in for some serious pain.

"Liam, are you okay?" I heard Em's voice, high-pitched and tinny. I reached down and grabbed the phone, pulling myself together.

"It's fine, babe," I said, glaring at Skid. He shook his head and made a slas.h.i.+ng motion across his throat. "I have to go, though. Skid needs help with something. I'll talk to you later."

"Wait-" she started to say, but I hung up.

"This had better be really, really f.u.c.king important," I told my club brother. "You got s.h.i.+t timing."

"It is," he said. "Put away your joystick and get your a.s.s downstairs. We got serious trouble."

I walked painfully down the narrow stairwell to the living room. d.a.m.n house was a hundred years old and it showed. Zipping up my jeans hurt like a b.i.t.c.h and I decided the next time I needed information from someone, I'd torture the f.u.c.ker by making him talk to Em, then turn off the call and force him to put on my pants.

Like most Friday nights, we'd had company. It hadn't been a formal party, but Skid and the other guys had invited a group of s.l.u.tty girls over. Not quite a real clubhouse, but better than nothing. Now two of those girls were naked and making out on the couch. Another had pa.s.sed out cold on the floor and I heard more laughing in the kitchen.

Typical night for us.

It wasn't normal for the girls to be playing alone, though. They were putting on a h.e.l.l of a show, and it went against everything my club brothers believed in to miss live girl-on-girl action.

"Down here," Skid yelled. I followed his voice to the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs. It was a dankish pit kind of a place, but it had its uses. Smoking out, storing product, laundry, and even one memorable night when this hippie chick did some kind of weird talking-to-spirits thing ...

It was also where we had church. Not that we were a real chapter or anything, but we essentially functioned as one, complete with formal meetings and the occasional vote.

"This better be f.u.c.kin' good," I muttered as I climbed down. Clutch lay back on the ratty couch next to the semifunctional washer and dryer, his b.u.m leg propped up on the armrest. Gra.s.s paced back and forth, muttering, while Skid leaned against the washer, fingers tapping a rhythm restlessly against the ancient metal.

"Got news," Gra.s.s said, eye twitching. f.u.c.k, was he tweaking? I'd told him no more, but it'd been a rough couple of weeks. He stopped pacing and rubbed his chin mindlessly, the motion spasmodic.

Yup, he was. Great, because we needed one more thing to worry about.

"Toke is dead," Skid said. I glanced at him sharply.

"How?"

"They found him this morning," he replied. "Still in protective custody, but his throat was slit. No explanation. Word just filtered down-I guess Picnic called Burke."

I raised my brows.

"No s.h.i.+t?"

"Gets weirder," he continued. "Reapers want to know how we pulled it off. Burke bulls.h.i.+tted them, bought us some time to investigate. He wants to know if you arranged something. You been playin' games without tellin' the rest of us?"

I c.o.c.ked my head, feeling something dark building inside me.

"Don't care for your tone, brother," I said slowly and carefully. "One, I didn't do s.h.i.+t-but if I had, that'd be between me and Burke. Two, why is Burke talkin' to you and not me?"

Skid offered a twisted smile.

"He called you first, a.s.shole. You didn't answer. What were you doin' that's more important than takin' a call from your VP? Seein' as I found you on the phone with your d.i.c.k hangin' out, you might wanna consider what you plan to tell him very carefully."

s.h.i.+t. I shut my eyes and shook my head, rubbing my temples.

"Jesus, Skid," Gra.s.s snapped, his voice high-pitched and trembling. "Stop being such a little b.i.t.c.h. What are you, jealous?"

We both looked at him, startled. Gra.s.s threw up his hands, clearly frustrated and even twitchier than before. He wasn't done yet, either.

"What does Burke want from us?" Gra.s.s demanded. "I'll bet it's the Reapers that took him out. He f.u.c.ked them over, and now they're tryin' to blame us. Use it as an excuse to end the truce."

"That doesn't make any sense," Skid snarled. "Jesus, Gra.s.s. You need to lay off that s.h.i.+t, it's makin' you paranoid. Reapers want peace, too. They don't need an excuse to go to war. They wanna fight, they'll just start shooting. It's entirely possible they killed Toke-f.u.c.ker betrayed his club, no surprise there. But I don't think they'd come callin' if that was the case."

"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot!"

"Shut the f.u.c.k up!" I roared. The two men jumped. "Christ, what are we, f.u.c.king children? Skid-did Burke have anything he wanted us to do?"

Skid scowled.

"No," he admitted. "Although he said to watch out. Until we know who killed Toke and why, we need to a.s.sume there's a new player."

"Cartel?" Clutch asked. "You think they have the contacts this far north to pull off a hit in protective custody?"

We all stilled. s.h.i.+t. Not a comforting thought.

"Okay, we need to a.s.sume there's someone local we don't know about, someone with that kind of power," I said slowly. "Time for more security. Make sure you check in with each other, and we all start carrying. Gra.s.s, when you stop seein' s.h.i.+t that isn't real, I want you to make sure Clutch has a place in his truck that's safe from a search, okay? Can't risk a parole violation. Anyone else need help rigging up something for their bikes?"

"It's covered," Skid said, sighing. "Sorry, Hunter. Didn't mean to be such a d.i.c.k."

"Fair enough," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. Christ, what a night.

"I f.u.c.king hate Portland," Gra.s.s announced suddenly. "This town is like h.e.l.l, only cold. It rains all the time, like we're living underwater, and now we have to worry about the cartel, too? Getting away from them was the only good part about moving north."

"We're doing our jobs," I reminded him, my voice cooling as I moved into enforcer mode. Enough of this s.h.i.+t. "Burke needs us here-we all agreed to it-so stop whining. He wants active intel, and that means we're in Portland until he says otherwise."

Skid crossed his arms, silently backing me up. G.o.d, I wanted to kill him sometimes, but I had to give him credit-he always put the club first, and that meant keeping discipline. He never let it get personal.

Gra.s.s glared at me, but he closed his mouth. He knew d.a.m.ned well I was right. He also knew I'd make an example of him in a heartbeat if I had to. We couldn't afford kindness, not with the club divided and elections coming.

"We have a problem?" I asked Gra.s.s bluntly. He held my gaze a moment longer, then shook his head. I glanced down at Clutch, deciding I was way too sober for this s.h.i.+t.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Leg hurts like a motherf.u.c.ker, but I'll pop some pills so it's all good."

"p.u.s.s.y," Skid taunted, rolling his eyes. "Been a full two months since Toke tortured you. You still whining?"

Clutch let out a choked snort and shook his head. The tension broke and just like that, it was all good. Thank f.u.c.k for Skid-it'd been a long stretch in this water-logged city without allies, but every time we found ourselves at each other's throats, he'd step in and somehow make it better. The guy had a gift when he chose to use it.

I flipped the guys off and climbed back upstairs.

The chicks on the couch had pa.s.sed out, and I didn't see anyone in the kitchen. I used my foot to roll the girl on the floor out of my way, grabbed a beer, then flopped down in a chair and clicked on the TV.

p.o.r.n. Of course.

Naturally, that made me think of Em fingering herself, and I wondered if I should call her back. I decided not to-it was late and the mood wasn't right. Not only that, I wasn't sure I could handle hearing her husky, s.e.xy little voice calling me Liam again. My b.a.l.l.s f.u.c.king hurt, and not in a good way.

A few minutes later, Clutch hobbled in and sat down on the couch next to the girls. Together we watched some redhead with giant implants get f.u.c.ked up the a.s.s on the big screen.

"s.h.i.+t," Clutch said after a few minutes. "The high-def has totally ruined p.o.r.n. Are those ingrown hairs?"

I choked on my beer, and he grinned at me.

"Jacka.s.s."

Chapter Twelve.

Em filled my dreams.

Her ice-blue eyes-surrounded by thick, dark lashes-peeked up at me as she thoughtfully licked the tip of my hard-on, then slowly sucked it into her mouth. I knew she didn't have a h.e.l.l of a lot of experience, but d.a.m.n she sucked d.i.c.k like a pro.

Her hand wrapped around my shaft and I bucked up.

f.u.c.k, that was worth the wait.

Then she drew me even deeper, taking me into her throat, catching me off guard.

How the h.e.l.l did she know how to do that?

I felt a sudden desire to kill the owner of whatever c.o.c.k she'd been practicing on. Her tongue flicked the underside of my d.i.c.khead, fluttering, and I forgot all about my upcoming murder plans. I stiffened, my b.a.l.l.s tight and ready to blow, but my brain was starting to question the whole situation.

What was wrong here?

Em sucked hard, humming deep in her throat as she bobbed faster and faster. Her other hand reached down between my legs, rolling my b.a.l.l.s with her fingers as she sped up. I was close, so I reached down to touch her head, give her a warning.

Wait. Em's hair wasn't this short.

But her mouth was so G.o.dd.a.m.ned hot and wet. s.h.i.+t. I couldn't think. I'd never dreamed she'd know so many tricks, and some small part of me started to consider murder again. My Em wasn't so innocent anymore, and whoever taught her would answer- I lost the thought as my load exploded, blowing the world apart. Holy s.h.i.+t, I needed that.

Wait. Those weren't dream lips on my c.o.c.k.

Adrenaline hit and my eyes opened.

"The f.u.c.k?" I demanded, looking down to find one of the c.a.r.p.e.t. .m.u.n.c.h.e.rs from last night slowly licking my come off her lips. I jackknifed up and backhanded her, knocking her off the bed with a crash.

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with you? f.u.c.king c.u.n.t!"

She clutched her cheek and looked up at me, eyes filling with tears.

"You didn't like it?" she whispered, looking confused. Her pupils were tiny, tiny pinp.r.i.c.ks and I saw tracks on her arm. I was lucky she'd sucked me off instead of stealing my wallet or stabbing me. Wait. No. Stealing the wallet would definitely be better ...

I pulled that s.h.i.+t on a girl, they'd call me a f.u.c.kin' rapist.

G.o.dd.a.m.ned junkie.

"I'm supposed to like some random stranger sneaking into my room and putting her mouth on my d.i.c.k without asking?" I demanded. "You don't f.u.c.king touch me without permission, b.i.t.c.h. Some guy did that to you, you'd be screaming rape. Christ."

I swung my legs out of the bed. She fell backward, scuttling away from me like a crab. I rubbed a hand through my hair, trying to focus.

s.h.i.+t, but Em had me all twisted up and making stupid mistakes. Men like me don't sleep with the door unlocked. I didn't normally sleep heavy, either-breaking into my room was an invitation to meet my gun, no apologies.

Yet this junkie not only got in, she invaded my dream about Em.

f.u.c.k.

The b.i.t.c.h pushed to her feet and darted out of the room, which was a d.a.m.ned good thing. If I had to look at her again, I'd throw her through a f.u.c.king wall.

Then it hit me.

Since when did a surprise b.l.o.w. .j.o.b p.i.s.s me off?

My phone dinged somewhere in the covers. I dug through them, trying to find it. Was it even morning yet?

I found it and saw the time-six a.m. I'd been asleep for two whole hours before Princess Sucky f.u.c.ky came in to kiss me awake. I checked my messages, wondering who the h.e.l.l would be texting me this early. h.e.l.l. Burke. His words were short and sweet.

BURKE: We have a situation. Call me Wasn't that just perfect-exactly what I needed to start my day. But there was a message from Em, too. Sent while I was downstairs drinking beer and watching p.o.r.n with Clutch.