All’s Fair in Love & Malice (Queens & Heathens #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

MALICE

Ellis twists the dildo as he presses it inward, my ass clenching tightly around the thick silicone.

Fuck that feels good.

“Ohhhhhhmygodddd,” Harper moans again around my cock, the vibrations ricocheting up my length.

The noises are obscene; moans and unintelligible words mixed with wet slapping and lapping of skin and toys.

It’s like a symphony, and I’m the conductor, but I need the grand finale, when everyone is finally screaming until their throats are hoarse from overuse.

Harper pulls against the restraints at her wrists, her eyes shedding tears. Ellis grunts behind me, his cock slamming into Harper so hard she jerks upward.

Can’t say I’ve done this position before, but it’s gotta be a new favorite. My legs are spread across Harper’s chest, my cock down her throat, while Ellis fucks me with a dildo, his cock filling her messy pussy. It’s rare I get to be the one on all fours, and I’m more than happy to comply.

Good idea, Ellis.

Today was a long day, working at the mechanic shop and dealing with club business. I didn’t get a single minute of quiet, and when that happens, the adrenaline and energy that I have to work to keep locked up starts to bubble forward.

This is the perfect release of that energy. It’s this or finding someone to slowly kill.

Harper moans again, the vibrations traveling up my length and settling within my heavy sack. Her wet tongue curls against me as she sucks, just as the dildo pegs my prostate. Euphoric pleasure unfurls, my body breaking out in a sweat as goosebumps scatter over my skin.

“Fuck, yeah, fuck, fuck, fuck, yeah!” I chant as I start to press deeper into her welcoming mouth, the thick silicone stretching my asshole, combining into deep-seated pleasure.

I look down to meet Harper’s face, the way her lips look wrapped around my dick. She’s spread-eagled on her back, her wrists and ankles cuffed to the bed, her holes stuffed with cock. She looks so good this way.

Ellis grunts behind me, his free hand bracing himself on my hip as I fuck myself into her mouth and back onto the dildo.

Hell, it feels good. I haven’t been fucked there since Saige’s best friend, Seb, locked us down here in the dungeon for three days of explosive, kinky fun.

Too bad I don’t seem to have any limits, I could use my brain being shut off for longer than it takes to fuck.

That’s how it’s always been with me. The anger, the malice, the rage, and the desire for destruction create adrenaline inside me, and I either need to kill or fuck to release it.

My mind is idle while doing those two things, but the moment it’s over, those feelings start to creep back in, slowly filling me up until I blow.

I look down at Harper, the tears that streak down her temples from the corner of her eyes, blown and starry-eyed as she starts to unravel, her plush lips a deep red and puffy. She looks thoroughly wrecked, and I fucking love it.

“Fucking hell, gonna come,” Ellis moans as he slips from Harper’s wet cunt.

I’m right behind him, pleasure scattering through my body as she sucks hard around my head, the dildo gliding against my prostate, once, twice.

I rip my cock from her mouth, grabbing the base and stroking it hard just as I feel the first splash of Ellis’ cum coating my lower back.

Harper snaps her eyes shut, opening her mouth wide as she waits for me to paint her with my mess.

Her chest heaves, breasts pressing against my inner thighs, while Ellis rubs his palms over my ass cheeks, spreading them wide and pulling the toy free.

It’s quickly replaced with his tongue, and that sends me into outer space.

Ellis licks my used hole like he’s starving.

Wet, warm licks that take me right over the edge.

I grip my dick harder, spraying white pearly seed over Harper’s lips, chin, and cheeks.

My head swims with the force of my orgasm, but then it’s over, my body tightening, my mind foggy.

I’ve heard my patch brothers talk about post-nut clarity, and I’ve never experienced it.

It’s the opposite for me. That calm, centered feeling only lasts as long as I’m fucking.

But I’m sated for now, and that’s what matters.

The three of us clean up with warm wash cloths I keep ready in the bathroom.

They both seem to be in their post orgasm haze, which makes getting them out the door easier.

I don’t ever let anyone stay over. We can spend days fucking and playing, but if we’re sleeping, it’s not in my bed and not next to me.

I lead the way up the stairs, the two of them trailing behind me.

Even though the lockdown has been lifted for months, our club president, Chaos, has strict rules for guests.

Which are my job to enforce as the sergeant at arms here.

Chaos’ trust only extends to those he knows personally, and even then, it depends on the day and the person.

I don’t mind walking my guests out, though; it’s the polite thing to do.

After all, they did just let me fuck them to within an inch of their lives.

Not to mention, given my position within the club, I take the security here seriously.

We’ve been hit at home before, and I don’t want a repeat of it.

The three of us reach the large main double doors of the clubhouse that frame the front of our common area. A large room with couches, TVs, two pool tables, dart boards, and a large-ass bar members tend to congregate to.

“It was a good time, thanks for, uh, having me—us—over,” he says as he pulls the door open, the hot and balmy summer air assaulting me.

“No problem. Until next time, Ellis.”

He rubs his hand behind his neck, his deep-set brown eyes crinkling at the sides. “Uh, it’s Elias.” Damnit.

I slap my palm against my forehead. “Could have sworn it was Elliot, my dude. Elias, be safe getting home. Harper, it was fun!” The two of them leave the clubhouse with a wave and walk to their respective vehicles.

I watch as they each retreat into the darkness down the long dirt driveway that leads to the outside world beyond our compound.

The Hell’s Heathens clubhouse sits on ten acres of mostly dense forest, with a small field off to one side, and a section where some spare houses sit.

The entire compound is surrounded by a high chain-link fence, armed sentries at the front and back gates, and twenty-four-seven patrols, up until recently.

Even though the Hell’s Heathens home base is surrounded by security measures, it’s never felt like a cage to me. The opposite is true, actually. I had never felt true freedom and liberation until I was accepted here. I know the oppression of a cage, and this isn’t it.

The door shuts behind me as I turn and walk naked back toward the stairs that lead to my basement bedroom.

By living down there, I get more space than anyone here, even our president, which doesn’t sound like it should be a big deal, but it is.

He’s the big dog at Hell’s Heathens. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, Chaos doesn’t even have the second-largest room; Sin does.

Or did, until he and his old lady moved out a few weeks ago. Hmm. Maybe he likes small places?

“Mal! Pants! We’ve talked about this, man,” a loud boom of a voice bellows through the quiet stillness, scaring the living shit out of me.

My hands flail, my knee rising to protect my precious, delicate bits.

My club brother sits shrouded in the darkness like a ghost from his place at the bar.

A really large, scary, angry ghost that I don’t want to piss off.

“Make yourself known, good sir!” I reply as my body relaxes, knowing there isn’t a threat I need to face.

Rolo raises his eyebrow at me, tipping the top of his beer bottle in the direction of my body.

I look down at myself, my tattoos a hodgepodge of random metaphorical puzzle pieces of my life, patched randomly all over my body.

My limp dick hangs off to the side, the metal from the piercings glittering slightly in the low light above me.

“Why do you look like you’ve never seen your own dick before?

Cover it up and come have a drink, for fuck’s sake. ”

I roll my eyes, jogging downstairs to pull on a pair of sweats, then bounding back up again to take a seat at the bar.

Our club treasurer, Rolo, has a beer in his hand, and the scent hits me right away.

I hate the smell of it. Everything else is fine, but beer makes me crack my neck side to side while I push away the intrusive memories.

The glass sweats in droplets of condensation down the amber bottle. He’s been here a while. At the bar. I guess he’s been a member of Hell’s Heathens for a while, too, but I digress.

“Have a good time?” he asks as I grab a Shirley Temple 7UP from behind the counter and pop the tab of the can. It hisses as I bring it to my lips for a sip, the cool, bubbly carbonation slipping down my throat.

“Yep,” I reply, popping the p. “Told you guys my hair would bring in more playthings. I’ve been busy!”

Rolo looks up at my wild blond hair. Last year, I dyed it on a whim and like it better than my naturally dark brown locks. I nervously run my hands through it, trying to get it to lie flat, but it just pops back up again.

I have an aversion to letting anyone but myself cut my hair, so it’s always a bit . . . wild. Kind of like me. But I think that just gives me an edge. The sergeant at arms for a badass motorcycle club should be slightly unhinged. I want to fit the part. Sue me.

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, Mal, just try to pull on some pants next time you walk your company to the door, yeah?”

My face scrunches together. “Wrath gets to have his dick out, why can’t I?”

“Cause Wrath doesn’t walk around with his dick flopping around like you were. He’s using it with someone else when it’s out.”