The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (27 page)

I knew it was coming. Jess was over in the corner, stewing and drinking, and looking for reason to be a cunt. Sitting in the corner booth, feeding off Cinnamon and her hate, Jess was building it up. Knew it was only a matter of time before she came over here and started in on me. Too fucking bad for her that I’m too happy to give a shit. 

Jess is fucking pissed. Her bloodshot eyes are blazing, and her arms are crossed under her fake tits, squeezing them outta her top. She’s also tapping her foot vigorously, like it makes a fuck of a difference while she stands in front of me.

Jess looks Lennon up and down. Nothing nice about the way she does it either. “What, is she your old lady now?” She asks nastily, and when I don’t answer, she adds, “Are you her boyfriend,” spitefully. That shit is so goddamn juvenile. Of course, Jess would say some stupid shit like that. For her, it’s impossible not to label things.

“Jess, don’t fucking start.”

“How could you want that,” she nods over at Lennon, “over me?” Well, that’s fucking easy. “We were good, Buck.”

There was nothing good about Jess and me. We weren’t friends. We weren’t even nice to each other. With Lennon, it’s so damn different.

“Lennon is mine, and I’m hers. That’s all that fucking matters.” Jess’s face pales and her mouth drops open. Not sure why she’s so surprised. Since the moment Lennon walked into my life, shit has changed. It was small changes at first, but things changed nonetheless. Jess might be a bitch, but she’s not fucking stupid. She knows Lennon is something more to me, something she never was.

Not one fucking clue what Lennon and me are, but we’re something Jess could never touch, no matter how hard she tries. Lennon and me, we’re un-fucking-touchable.

“So, you’re her boyfriend,” she repeats the lame title with a pathetic sniffle. Now she’s sad about it.

Lennon’s sitting next to me, her fine ass on the bar top and her legs swinging happily off the side as she drinks her beer and watches the free show. Jess just doesn’t get it, and she never will.

“Lennon, you want a boyfriend?” Her response is a snorted laugh. Yeah, that’s what I thought. We are what we are to each other. There’s no label needed, and I’m fucking good with that. I’ve got Lennon and she’s got me, and right now, that’s all that matters.

“Jess, get the fuck outta here with your shit.” She gapes at me for a second before snapping her mouth shut.

“Fuck you both. Lennon ain’t everything you think she is, and when that shit blows up in your face, I’m gonna laugh,” Jess says, sashaying out the door, letting it slam shut behind her flat ass. Jess is right about that. Lennon isn’t everything I think she is, she’s so much more.

Leaning into Lennon, I wrap a hand around the back of her neck, jerking her lips to mine. Now I need a taste.

Standing out back with Dan and Tags, I take a drag of my smoke, listening to the two of them talk bikes.

“Want to modify the engine,” Tag says, nodding over at his bike. Dan eyes it and shakes his head.

“You make it any louder, Sam ain’t gonna get on the back of it.”

“Not like she’s gettin’ on the back now anyway,” Tags retorts bitterly. Jesus, Sam and Tags. Now there’s a soap opera for the motherfucking ages. Those two just can’t get it together.

“She’s like her mother,” Dan spits, shaking his head. “God love her, but she’s stuck up, just like her mom.”

Dropping my smoke on the ground, I grind it out with my boot and grab the door, ready to run for the hills. “And that is my cue to get the fuck back inside, ya pack of pussies,” I tell them, pulling the door open. I’m not interested in listening to them cry over their female problems. 

Back inside, I look for Lennon. I left her on the bar, sitting next to Rock and Mossy. Rock and Mossy are still there, but Lennon isn’t.

A quick scan of the room and I catch Lennon, tucked back in a corner, and one of Sam’s friends is crowding her. Not fucking happening. 

“Listen, I’m with―” Lennon objects, but the fucks got his hands on her face and his body in her space. 

“Come on, don’t fuckin’ tease me.” The guy says, walking into her, pushing her back against the wall, and I swear to fuck, everything in me, every instinct I have, screams at me to kill the motherfucker.

“I’m not,” Lennon says, pushing against the guy’s hands.

Her head shakes from side to side, vehemently disagreeing with the puke as he tells her, “You’ll like it.” Her eyes are big and nervous as she scans the room. I know she’s looking for me, and that shit makes it even worse.

I pretty much lose my shit, and it’s not fucking pretty.

Wish I could say I gave it a little thought, maybe a little concern, but there is none. I could give a fuck less at this point. I’ve got no problem with putting my hands on a motherfucker ... well, fists, that is.

Jerking the guy away from her, I coldcock him one, right to the mouth. My fist meets teeth and flesh, and I feel fucking vindicated. Any part of your body that touches hers, you’re not getting back, and that is a fucking promise.

Lennon

“Shit!” Staggering around, the guy’s clutching his mouth, shouting gargled threats at Buck. Blood’s oozing through his fingers, dripping down his hands.

I’m standing in the corner, blinking rapidly, my mind trying to catch up. Buck’s pacing, yelling out his own threats at the guy who’s lost in his pain, paying him no attention now. Everyone is watching; the guys are laughing, and the girls are gaping.

Holy shit. 

“Come into my fucking club and touch my girl. Disrespectful little shit,” Buck rants. “I should put a bullet between your eyes,” he says, making like he’s going to pull his gun. “Got a hole in my yard with your fucking name on it.”

“Buck,” I say loud enough to get his attention. Looking over at me, he just stares, his eyes wild.

I’m not going to argue, the guy was getting grabby. Assuming I was up for grabs, he pushed me into the corner before I even had the chance to react, and within seconds, Buck was already on him, but I’m not sure it’s worth having to dig a hole out back.

“Fuck you!” The guy slurs through his own blood.

Buck snaps. “No, fuck you!” He roars, lunging at the guy again, but Dan steps between them, stopping Buck.

“Get the fuck outta here,” Dan booms, shoving the guy towards the door. “And you calm the fuck down,” Dan shouts at Buck. “Take Lennon up to a room.”

It took Buck a solid thirty to calm down. He paced and he raved, plotted murder and threatened lives. I rolled him a joint and I handed him a drink, and finally, he let it go.

I let him fuck me hard. He took it out on me and I enjoyed every second of it. I’m sore. Buck’s sleeping next to me, but I’m wide awake.

There’s something oddly fun about sleeping in the motel out back of the bar, wrapped up in gold sheets. The rooms are horrible, and great at the same time. The décor is appalling in the best way. It seems I have a soft spot for the seventies, even if I wasn’t alive during them. The shag carpet and gold bedspread make me happy. Something about the seventies that calls to my heart.

Lying on an old lumpy mattress in the seventies inspired room, I stare up at the stained ceiling. My head is resting on Buck’s bulky arm. On his side, one arm under my head, and the other rested over my hip, he sleeps soundly. He fell asleep an hour or so ago, but I just can’t find the sleep I desperately crave.

Instead I’m lying here, thinking of Buck and his wild temper, about how much I like living here, and about what I feel for Buck. Thinking about what Jess had said earlier. I’m not everything Buck thinks I am. He gets me, sure, and we vibe big time, but how long is that going to last? Until I have to run again? How’s he going to feel about me then?

The idea of leaving tears open that empty hole inside of me, picking away at the never healing scab. I don’t want to leave, but it’s what I do. It’s all I know. Buck’s been through a lot, lost a lot, and it kills me to think I’ll just be another loss added to his list.

“Thinking pretty hard over there, darlin’,” Bucks gruff voice cuts through the empty night. “Care to share?”

“Nothing. Just can’t sleep.” I lie. I’m thinking about him.

With a growl, Buck jerks me closer. Pulling my body farther into his, he runs a rough hand down my side to my thigh. “I can remedy that.”

“Can you?”

“Trust me, I can.”

Fingers skim along my naked thigh, drawing circles on my skin. I melt. The moment he gets his hands on me, I lose all sense. I want him. I want to feel him all around me, in me, on me.

There’s something about losing yourself in someone else. It’s a desperate need that’s so beautiful, and so fucking scary.

Covering my body with his, Buck looks down at me, wild intensity in his eyes. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him in close, needing to feel him on me.

“How do you want it?” My body shudders in response to his words. The deep hint of something menacing in his voice, makes my pussy clench.

“Slow.” I want to savor it.

Leaning back on his heels, his hands trace my stomach, pushing up my tank. I watch him, mesmerized by his big hands as they cup my tits. Playing with my nipples, he tugs softly, and I about lose my mind. Licking my lips, I hold in the moan teasing at my lips. Buck growls, “Keep looking at me like that and there’s no way in hell I can go slow.”

Touching me, trailing fingers over every inch of exposed skin, he plays with me until I’m wet. He teases my body, getting me right where he wants me―a wet, needy mess.

“Don’t fuck with me,” I warn him. I’m a woman on the edge here. I need him and he knows it.

“You needy, baby?” He asks, leaning down into me. Sucking a nipple into his mouth, he bites down and chuckles softly when I buck against him. He plays for a few more minutes, until I’m sure I’m going to kill him if doesn’t fuck me. I’m starting to rethink the whole slow thing. 

“Buck,” I warn, but in an instant, he’s suited up and pushing into my body in one swift thrust. My back bows off of the bed and my toes curl.

It’s bliss, pure fucking bliss.

Something like relief and euphoria swamp my senses. “Ahhh,” I moan, completely satisfied.

In and out, Buck works slowly, building a sweet torturous friction in my body. “More,” I gasp. I’m desperate for more. I need it, but I’m not exactly sure what it is I need, but I know that he knows. Dragging in and out of me, he grinds into my clit with each thrust, and I swear I see stars.

“Faster ... harder,” I beg.

“Yeah?” He teases, and stops. Gripping his biceps, I dig my fingers in, nails cutting flesh.

“Yes.”

“Whatever you want baby.” He slams into me, pressing me into the mattress. He hits me hard, so hard I feel it in my stomach. There’s a thin sheen of sweat building on his chest, coating his tattoos, and I swear to God, nothing has ever been sexier. I watch him, lost in us.

“Harder,” I urge him on, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“You want it hard, baby? Show me how hard. Touch yourself,” he demands. I do it, because nothing has felt better. My body sings, high on Buck.

Looking into his eyes, something dark passes between us, something he’s fighting desperately to cling to.

“Buck, please.” He’s holding out on me. Everything in me is wound tight and ready to snap at his command. He owns me in this moment. “Deeper.”

Every stroke, every inch, hits deep inside of me, sending shock waves through my body. Buck teases me to the brink, taking me there and pulling me back with each stroke.

“Do it, baby, let it go.” I do. I explode, completely falling apart. Buck follows, groaning a deep and satisfied “Fuck.” His body rocks and his cock throbs.

Hand in my hair, he jerks on it hard, pulling my lips to his, devouring my mouth. He kisses me with intensity, with need.

Pulling away, he lies back on the bed and pulls me with him, laying me on top. “Now, get some sleep, darlin’.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.