Birds of Hell MC, page 3
“Someone’s here,” I mutter against her lips, hating to break away, wanting to kill whoever decided to interrupt. I steal one more kiss thankful the dark will hide whatever is left of my hard on as I tug Freya back to the bar.
“Anyone around?” Crow’s voice booms as a cold blast of air spills through the front door to the clubhouse.
“Hey, Dad.” Freya drops my hand, charging toward her father, her path lit by the glow of the fireplace.
“The fuck are you two doing here alone in the dark?”
“I was looking for you.”
“Power just went out. Was about to get the generator going,” I say, stumbling around searching for my jacket.
“I’m freezing,” some bitch says, straggling in behind Crow. I don’t recognize her voice. Probably some stray he picked up at a bar no doubt.
I’m almost to the door when the power surges and the lights flicker off and on before staying on. Thank fuck. Music blares from the radio behind the bar.
“Why aren’t you with your sister?” Crow starts in on Freya about skipping out on her Nan.
While they bicker, I light up a cigarette and pour myself another damn drink. Merry fucking Christmas to me.
Moments later Crow is dropping onto the stool next to me. “Where’s the party at? This shit is damn near depressing.” He clamps a hand to my shoulder giving me a shake.
I should feel like an asshole right about now. I was mere seconds from fucking his daughter when he showed up, but if anything, I’m only irritated I didn’t get my way.
I glance at the fireplace where Freya’s standing making chitchat with the whore her father dragged in. Fucking hell, I’m a bastard. All I want is to lay her down and taste every god damn inch of her. Fuck her till she walks sideways.
“Made other plans. Wasn’t shit going on here.”
“Freya, get over here and pour your old man a drink.”
“I thought you said we were going to party,” his whore grumbles.
“Later,” he calls over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Bitch is annoying. Doesn’t shut the fuck up.”
“Sounds like a you problem,” Freya sasses as she places a glass tumbler on the bar, pouring from a top shelf bottle.
“Don’t you start in on me.”
“It’s kind of my job to rag on you.” She flashes me a smile.
I grin back at her then take a hard drag off my cigarette.
“Where’s mine?”
“Margo, meet my oldest friend in the world. Death.”
She blanches. “Your name is Death?”
“Yup,” I mutter into my drink wondering what in the fuck Crow was thinking. Bitch is fugly. Has a hook nose and beady eyes. She’s got a nice rack, but it doesn’t make up for her nasally voice. Ever since Cate left his ass, he keeps downgrading. Shit is about damn near embarrassing. He told me once it doesn’t matter who he fucks because Cate is all he will ever see.
Damn shit must run in the family because since I got hooked on the idea of Freya she’s all I see too.
“What’s your poison?” Freya steps right into playing hostess, but hell she works as a bartender a town over at some tourist attraction bar. She’s the quintessential biker brat. Raised in and by the club.
“You know how to make a screwdriver?”
“Yup. A toddler could manage one.”
“I like my liquor like my men. Strong.” Margo slides into Crow’s lap hanging an arm around his shoulder.
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I overhear Freya mumble under her breath as she goes toward the kitchen, I suspect for the orange juice or possibly to vomit. I watch her ass unable to look away until she disappears behind the door.
“Turn up the music. I want to dance.” Margo jumps up and fiddles with the radio.
Santa Baby belts through the speakers like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. I snuff out my cigarette.
“Can I get one of those?” She moves for my smokes on the bar.
“Help yourself.”
Freya returns and mixes the ignorant cunt her drink.
The bitch twirls around us not picking up on the vibe she’s grating on all our nerves. Or maybe I’m just too old for this bullshit. Nameless and faceless bitches that will be gone come tomorrow. I don’t know how Crow keeps doing it. I go home to a loveless marriage of convenience except my boy is there and happy to see me. Crow’s kids are grown and all he has is this.
Brother should want better. He had it with Cate till he fucked it all up.
“You got a big package for me, Santa?” She grabs Crow between the legs and Freya visibly shudders.
“I’m going to find a bed. Merry Christmas, old man,” she enunciates old laced with snark.
“There’s an idea. I’m ready to have my stocking stuffed.”
“Okay. That’s enough. What was it again, Marho? That’s my dad and I don’t want to think about him stuffing anything into your stocking as you call it. It’s gross.”
I turn my head to hide but it does nothing to disguise the laughter erupting from my gut.
“C’mon. That’s our cue.” Crow grips the woman by her upper arm and escorts her down the hallway to one of the spare rooms.
“I need some bleach for my eyeballs.” Freya sticks her tongue out, doing a jerk of her shoulders, making repulsive gagging sounds.
All I can think is I’ll give her something to gag on. Make her choke on my dick till she cries.
“I’m having a serious talk with him tomorrow about the kind of women he’s dragging home with him. Just ew.”
“Where are you sleeping tonight?”
“Oh yes,” Margo cries out from down the hall.
“I’m seriously going to vomit.”
“C’mon. I’ll walk you to an empty cabin.”
Freya makes no reply other than putting her jacket on and grabbing the bag she brought in with her earlier. With her arm looped through mine we go out through the back but fuck me the snow is deep. We always tend to get more of it due to our elevation.
My boots sink into the mushy, cold, wet shit. The wind has died down, but the snow hasn’t let up, relentless in its pursuit to give us a true white Christmas.
“Ugh my socks are getting wet.”
“Get on my back. Give you a piggyback ride.”
She smirks. “You know you used to give me piggyback rides when I was like ten.”
“Don’t make it weird, babe.”
Any ideas I had of fucking Freya just went sailing over the ridge with the snow drifts. If ever I needed a reminder I’m too damn old for her there it is.
“I’ll walk.”
“Suit yourself.”
Chapter Five
I swear the tip of my nose is frozen solid by the time we get to one of the cabins no one is currently living in. I’m cold, partly disgusted by that whore, and frustrated. Death kissed me and it was better than I ever could have imagined. Jesus can the man kiss. Then my father showed, and he might as well have thrown a bucket of ice water on us.
I’m shivering on the porch while Death is climbing through a window because he forgot to get the key. It’s probably as cold in there as it is out here. I hear a loud thump then, “god damn it,” being grunted as a light flickers in the window.
The front door swings open and Death is standing partially behind it all sexy and brooding with a gash above his brow. Shit. He’s bleeding.
“What did you do?” I rush him, inspecting the wound.
“Fell through the fucking window and caught my brow on the corner of the end table. It’s nothing.”
“I’ll see if there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom.” I drop my bag inside the door to the small cabin as he closes it behind me.
“I’ll get the fire going,” he announces.
“Good idea.” It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here. My hair’s wet and snot drips from my nose as I rummage under the bathroom sink. There must have been a chick staying here. I don’t find any bandages but there’s an unopened box of maxi pads in here. I grab one and a bottle of peroxide. I’m sure Death will bitch but it’s better than nothing.
I find him squatting at the fireplace lighting the pilot light. This cabin is newer and more modern than the others in comparison. It’s a rebuild after a terrible fire that happened before I was born. When my father was a teenager. The story goes that one of the club members had a bad addiction to drugs and booze. Him and his ol’ lady got into a fight. They say he murdered her then set the cabin on fire and went up in flames with her.
A shiver coils around my spine, but I shake the ominous sensation away that warns I’m playing with fire. That nothing good will come of my pursuing Death. I know it’s wrong to want him. To chase a married man but he said it himself that there’s no love there. I’ve watched him and Belinda. She rarely comes around. When she does, she isn’t rubbing all up on him to mark her territory or anything.
The flames light up from the burner.
“Let me see your head.”
“It’s fine.” He dabs the end of his tee on his forehead as he changes from squatting to standing revealing his stomach and a trail of dark hair dusting the path to his cock. I never thought hairy anything was attractive till this very moment.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
I pick my jaw up and lick my lips. “Admiring what Santa left under the tree for me.”
“Best ask for a return or refund if what ya got was my old ass.”
“You’re only as old as you feel.”
“Then I hope he left a shovel for ya to bury me.”
“That’s not funny. Don’t joke like that. The thought of you…” I shake my head. “Let me see what you’ve done to yourself.”
“Heat’ll be blazing in no time. I should get back to the clubhouse.”
“You don’t want to stay?”
“What I want and what’s right are two different things. Think we both know that.”
“And what about what I want and what I think is right?”
“Why do you have a pad?” He squints then winces.
“Sit.” I shove him toward the couch. His ass drops to the old navy-blue pull-out couch that doubles as a bed. I straddle his lap and open the pad cotton side up of course and hold it near the gash to catch the peroxide as I pour it over the cut to clean it. I press the pad to his temple.
The warmth of the fireplace fills the room. Death’s palms rest on my thighs as I gaze into his eyes wishing he’d kiss me again. I peel the pad back, the cotton soaked with blood, but the bleeding has slowed to a trickle.
“You probably need stitches.”
“Nothing some superglue won’t fix.”
“Ugh. No. If I can find a sewing kit or some fishing line I could do it.”
“You worried about me?” He grins.
“Maybe.” I caress his furry jaw with my other hand.
“Hmm.” He shifts slightly underneath me, and my crotch meets his growing erection.
His cell phone buzzes, and I lean back a little to give him room to retrieve it from his jacket pocket. “Hey, Bud. Merry Christmas.” He smiles at something said on the other end of the call. I’m assuming its Bensen calling him.
A pang of jealousy rears its ugly head because Belinda doesn’t even love Death, but she will always have a connection to him. A piece of him grew inside her body. They made a life together and that creates a bond. One I can’t compete with. They’ll always come first for him as they should, but it also means that I never will. I don’t know if I can handle that. Another relationship where I’m second best.
“I’m sure Santa will have no problem finding you. Yeah. I left out cookies and milk in case he goes to the house instead. Alright put her on. Hey. Thanks for letting him call. I’m good. On duty at the clubhouse. He did? Shit. Wish I could’ve been there. Cool. Sounds good. Give the kid my love. You too. Later.” His fingers slide across the screen, and he drops the device onto the table where he hit his head.
“I should head out.”
“Yeah…you should.”
Death wraps a finger up in a strand of my hair. “Thanks for making my Christmas not so shitty and lonely.”
“You too.” I press my lips to his wishing things were different. That he didn’t belong to someone else. Under a different sky maybe just maybe he coulda been mine.
Death’s tongue slides into my mouth with such ease and control.
I shouldn’t do this to either of us. We’re flirting with disaster but it’s too late. I want him. I need him tonight. Rocking my hips into him, I let go of all the what ifs and doubts.
I’m enjoying the now. I’ve always played it safe, hiding how he makes me feel and it has gotten me nowhere.
For tonight I can pretend he’s mine. That for once someone chose me.
Death grips my hips, biting my lip, with a feral growl that promises that for tonight all my hopes and wishes are reality. That I’m his true desire. I nip him back and get a fistful of his hair, giving him a playful tug. The simple gesture flips a switch inside him. Jerking my jacket off my shoulders he comes at me hot and wild, crashing into me, tearing at my clothes like a rabid animal. I aid him in whipping my long-sleeved tee over my head.
“Jesus,” he mutters, staring at my tits on display a dainty flesh tone and white lace bra. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he says before yanking one of the cups down to tweak my nipple between the rough pads of his finger and thumb. His teeth graze along the column of my throat then along my jaw before he returns his focus to my mouth.
He works my mouth with his tongue in tandem with his fingers teasing my breasts with one hand and the other working on the button and zipper of my jeans. His forehead presses to mine, and he curses under his breath.
“You having trouble, babe?” I reach between us to help him out.
“I’m ‘bout ready to cut’em off.”
“Eager?” I breathe word out as I arch backwards, lifting my hips, as he puts one hand to the center of my back for support. Leaning forward his lips meet my skin right under my navel, carving a path further south where I ache for him to taste me. To claim me.
“Get these fucking pants off,” he barks.
I push up from his lap following orders like a good girl. I’ve barely managed to kick my boots off before he tugs on my jeans from his position on the couch, pulling me between his thighs, the top of his head hitting my chest. His thumbs loop under the waist of my undies on either side. He wastes no time tugging them down my thighs. I step out of my jeans and undies completely bare to him save my bra.
Death’s beard tickles my stomach as he goes to his knees on the floor tracing a path with his tongue to my pussy. He stops the torturous teasing, grips my hips, and buries his nose between my thighs, inhaling deep.
I’m glad he cannot see how red my cheeks must be in this moment. No one has ever gotten quite so acquainted with how my pussy smells. Sure, Fisher went down on me but most of the time he was in too big of a hurry to get me off so he could get his. This is different. Intimate on a level I’ve never experienced before. Soft and slow but full of fire his lips press to my clit and he French kisses my pussy like he’s never tasted anything better. Closing my eyes, I melt under his affection. He makes these noises deep in the back of his throat, letting me know that he’s enjoying himself immensely. The act is hella sexy.
His hands slide down to my ass, cupping my cheeks, massaging each one before spreading them. The tip of his finger slides down my crack, teasing at touching me where no one else ever has. Pressing his thumb at my ass he pushes far enough to create pressure but not penetration.
My legs nearly buckle at the foreign sensation and when my initial shock wears off, I want him to do it again.
“Who’s my dirty girl,” he mouths against my pussy, slowing his licks and kisses.
Chapter Six
Fuck me there’s nothing sweeter or tighter than Freya’s cunt. She melts like pure sugar on my tongue. Merry fucking Christmas to me. I’ve unwrapped myself the greatest gift of all. The fireplace blazes blue and orange behind her. She’s primed and ready for my cock. Back on the couch she sinks down onto me, guiding me right through the gates to fucking wonderland and her snatch is the main attraction.
Fuck, she stretches around me like a perfect god damn fit. Like her pussy was molded to curve with my dick.
Her hips roll and she rides me hard and steady gripping my shoulders, digging her nails into my heated flesh. Marking me. Claiming me with her crescent shaped indentions on my body. I thrust upward matching her strokes, hitting her deep so damn deep we become one unit.
One body.
One mind.
One soul tethered together by an invisible magnet.
Freya circles her hips, grinding on my cock. She’s so beautiful. Perfect. My palm slides up her neck, and I hold her by her throat with raw possession. I don’t choke her hard, but I squeeze to show her who she belongs to. Her breath hitches becoming erratic as she pants, loving every inch of my dick.
“Fuck, Death,” she moans on my name as her pussy clenches me so damn tight. Her muscles contract. Her orgasm rocks through her as her body trembles.
I slap her ass and give her a second to recover before I position her face down and ass up on the floor in front of the fireplace. I hold both her arms back over the dimples right above her ass as I slam in from behind making her ass cheeks clap. I pound into her sweet heat driving into her over and over again.
“Ah. Ah. Uh,” she cries out.
I pull out and jerk my dick against the seam of her ass, smearing my come over every inch of her back side. I grab her by the chin and jerk her head up to give her a kiss. “That what you wanted.”
She gives me a sated smirk that says its exactly what she wanted. I drop to my ass on the floor and pull Freya to my side. She curls into me. Dropping her head to curve between my shoulder and neck.
“Merry Christmas, babe.”
Her lips brush over my neck and the two of us stay where we are watching the snow continue to fall. Eventually she drifts to sleep, and I put her on the couch after I zip my jeans. I find a quilt to cover her with. I check the gas to make sure she’s good and warm. I can’t stay. Though every nerve in my body knows she’s mine.
