Fire Meets Fire: Wretched Soulz MC

Chapter 2

I’ve never had such a contradictory reaction to a woman before. Not one that’s affected my body with diametrically opposed responses. My cock’s rock hard, but my fists want to pound her into a pulp. To say I don’t understand the effect she’s having on me is an understatement.

I hate her for breaking into our premises and making a mockery of what we stand for, and instead of being chastised, how she reacted by fighting as if she was the one wronged. The primordial part of my brain thinks she’s the most alluring woman I’ve ever met, and her willingness to take me on—and let’s be honest, it was touch and go for a second as to who’d come out best.

I despise her. I want to fuck her.

I stand open-mouthed in shock as she starts to fold right in front of my eyes. Luckily, my instinct takes over, enabling me to catch her before she hits the ground. My cock leaps at the warmth of the woman in my arms, but ignoring him, I ease her way. Annoyed at the tenderness in my action, I step back, dispassionately leaving her lying on the ground.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Hearing his gruff voice, I swing around as Legend approaches.

Scratching my bald scalp, just as mystified myself, I rapidly run over the past couple of moments in my mind. Was it my fault? “Maybe I hit her too hard?” I don’t remember getting in a head shot, but for a minute or two, we’d been going at it hammer and tongs, and I really don’t know where all my hits landed. I know my jaw hurts from one of hers though. Woman can really throw a punch.

Legend sinks to his knees and shines a flashlight into her face. Suddenly, he puts his fingers to her neck, and then gives a relieved sigh. “For a moment, I thought she was dead.”

Perplexed, I crouch down at his side and I can see why. She’s unmoving, but her eyes are open. Waving my hand in front of them, she doesn’t move, blink or react. It’s one of the most unnerving sights I’ve ever seen.

“She’s catatonic,” Legend announces after a pause.

“Official diagnosis?” I scoff. First, I feel pleased she’s still got a pulse, then I’m annoyed at myself for the concern. Letting my harder side take over, I unsympathetically give a rough shake to her shoulder. “Come on, wake up.” But her body’s stiff and she doesn’t respond. Had I knocked her out? She didn’t seem fragile while we were fighting. I’d actually had a grudging admiration for her, thinking us well matched before I discovered her gender. If I hadn’t seen that, I wouldn’t have held back.

Legend reaches for her wrist. The immediate instinct to growl at him for touching her is like a blow to my chest and so out of character. I bite my tongue to keep a vicious comment back. The feeling only worsens as he gently strokes her forehead, making my hands clench. What the fuck is happening to me?

Oblivious to my struggles, he frowns. “I don’t like this. Perhaps we should get her to a doctor?”

What? And have another man touch her?“No fuckin’ way,” I snarl, then think quickly to come up with a rationale for my comment. It arrives fast. “She’s been fuckin’ stealing from us,” I remind him and myself, biting back the words I want to utter to stop him from touching her. She’s a thief. “If she was a fuckin’ man, we’d be burying him.” And with no second thoughts.

A niggling doubt in my head suggests we maybe shouldn’t change our modus operandi because of her gender. Some kind of premonition causing a cold chill and hairs rising at the back of my neck warns she could be a danger. But who for? Me personally, or to the club? She’s making me act out of character and I’ve no fuckin’ idea why.

“Can’t kill her. She’s a bitch.” Legend waves at her chest, which indeed shows tits. Not much to mention, but definitely female. Again, I want to punch him for noticing. He leans forward and tries to put his arms around her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I bark.

“She can’t stay out here. I was going to take her into the shop. Put her on the couch in the breakroom to make her more comfortable, at least.”

Again, that sixth sense warns me, we, or perhaps just I, would be better off having nothing more to do with her. “She’s no innocent,” I remind him again. “Serve her right to lie here ’til morning.”

“Prez?” Legend stares at the set expression on my face. I’m not quite sure what he reads there, but it’s enough for him to, thank fuck, take his hands off her and stand. “Sorry, Prez. You’re right. She broke in.” His eyes narrow as if he’s just remembered. “And she fucked with our alarms. She might be a bitch, but she’s been fuckin’ with us. If she dies, then she’s brought it on herself.”

Still on my haunches beside her, I turn her over—more gently than I’d have done with a man—and start to search, trying to ignore the softness of her skin, and the tantalising sight of her curves. Even the scent coming off her makes me want to take deeper breaths.

Forcing myself to think of her as an unwelcome intruder, I take the backpack off her, open it, and find a tablet, which I pull out and offer into Legend’s willing hand. Another quick examination shows other than that, she’s carrying nothing of interest and appears to be unarmed. I draw my hands back after my search, rubbing them, as if her touch burned. As I stand, I shake myself like a dog coming in out of the rain, trying to get rid of the strange thoughts and feelings assailing me. What is it about her? Perhaps I should fuck her to keep my cock satisfied, then let my brothers take their own punishment out on her. But would one fuck be enough?What the hell? I touch the back of my hand to my forehead to see whether I’m coming down with a fever.

Another set of heavy footsteps makes me spin around, watching Iron, my sergeant-at-arms, approaching and coming to a halt by my side. He glances down and gently nudges the prone figure with his boot. There’s no response.

He whistles softly. “She’s a bitch?” I don’t bother to give the obvious answer. Shaking his head, Iron continues, “Ledge told me you’d caught our intruder. Came down to give you a hand.” He scoffs. “Seems you don’t need my assistance.” He’s still studying the woman on the ground. “You knock her out or kill her?” His tone suggests it’s no matter to him one way or the other.

“She just collapsed.” I still have no fuckin’ idea why. One minute, she was fighting as hard as any other combatant I’ve ever faced, and the next, all the fight had seemed to go out of her. I hadn’t missed the way she’d paled, nor the rivulets of sweat that had appeared on her face. It was like I’d been dealing with someone else. Maybe she’s ill? I take a step back, suddenly not wanting to catch anything. Maybe that’s the cause of the strangeness I’m feeling? I could already be infected. If I am, I’ll need to keep everyone away. Covid fucking 19 has nothing on this.

Iron raises his chin, seeming uninterested in the comatose woman on the floor. He nods at Legend. “After your heads-up, I’ve checked out the perimeter. Saw how she got in.” Hearing something in his tone, I glance up to see a look of admiration in his eyes.

I widen mine as I stand. With the help of the new Wi-Fi cameras, Legend and I had had a front-row seat to her entry. “We already know that,” I tell him.

Iron snorts. “I know. Legend told me she came over the fence, but when I looked, I had no fuckin’ idea how she managed it. I tried to climb that pole myself, but failed. There’s a rope still tied at the top and we need to get that down. But unlike her,” he spares a glance at the woman still lying on the ground, “I’d need a ladder.”

Well okay then. She had to have accomplished quite a feat. Iron’s a big fucker, but he keeps himself fit. Which means the comatose woman at my feet must be in even better shape, or maybe it’s because she’s more lithe and lighter.

Legend chuckles. “Perhaps she’s a pole dancer.”

It’s one explanation. But my unsummoned glare suggests my brain doesn’t appreciate the idea of him leering at her as though she’s a stripper. Again, unable to explain my unwarranted thoughts, I look down at the subject under discussion. A blink from those previously unseeing eyes gets my attention.

I jerk my chin downward so they notice what I’m seeing. “Maybe she’ll tell us herself, now she’s coming round.”

Legend and Iron step closer and regard her with interest, as I try to tamp my possessive feelings down. Instead, I force myself to remember why I should feel no sympathy for the girl on the ground. She’s not one of ours and has made herself an enemy by breaching our land. If she was a man, I’d already have the prospects digging a hole. I don’t give a damn the value of what she’s taken was only spare change. It’s the principle. You do not steal from the Soulz and live to tell the tale.

I’d fuck her, though. Inwardly, I breathe a sigh of relief. That’s the explanation for my strange reactions. I want her retribution all to myself, well, at least at first, until I get tired of her. Performing sexual favours for me, for us, would be a good punishment. She’d have to be willing, of course. We’re not a bunch of rapists, but I reckon someone like her could be made to see sense. We’ve always an opening for an attractive club girl, and perhaps she could show off those pole dancing skills that Legend suspects she possesses—after she’s given me a few private lap dances, of course.

Or, better still, she could continue to service me exclusively. While I’ve never wanted a relationship, the idea of having what would basically be a sex slave with no other complications turns me the fuck on. Not having to share with the brothers has attractions. I’m sure we could come to some arrangement. She must be hurting for money to be so desperate as to steal, and hey, I’ve more than a few miles under my belt. I know my way around a woman. She wouldn’t be left disappointed. I’m still a good-looking guy. I keep myself active, work out and never have a problem getting female attention. I admit it could be down to the president patch that I wear, though I’m arrogant enough to suspect I’d do as well without it.

Idly I wonder whether she’d prefer the alternative punishment I’d mete out to a man over what I’m considering. Death rather than dishonour? Well, hell, she’d change her mind after she’s experienced being in my bed. Yeah, I might not be the most humble man.

Seeing she’s definitely coming around, I force myself to suppress the instinct to reach down and lend her a hand. Taking their cue from me, Iron and Legend stand at my side, watching as she struggles into a sitting position, her hands clasped to her head as though it’s aching, making me feel a small pang of guilt in case it was indeed too hard a blow that had knocked her out. I swallow that thought down. She’s no invited guest, and no one could blame me for any damage done.

I stand with arms folded. Iron’s next to me in an identical posture, his expression equally impassive. Legend’s looking on with undisguised interest as her hands slide down her cheeks and at last her eyes start on our boots, follow our legs, and then land on our faces.

She looks at Legend first, next Iron, then focuses on me.

Her voice doesn’t have much strength in it when she says, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I growl. “Stealing from us?”

Pressing one hand to the ground, she pushes herself up, first to a kneeling position, then getting one foot under her, then the other, until finally she’s standing up. I notice she sways slightly.

It’s only then she gives a reply. “For passing out on you.” Spots of red appear on her pale face as though she’s embarrassed.

Again, I notice she’s no longer the feisty female who had almost taken me down. In a moment of weakness, I ask, “You need a doctor?” Immediately after the words leave my mouth, I’m concerned as to whether or not she’ll answer in the affirmative. From the side glances Legend and Iron are giving me, Iron’s wondering if I’ve lost my mind, while Ledge’s narrowed eyes try to remind me he suggested that in the first place.

She’s a fucking thief, not a princess. If she dies, it’s her fault for coming into our yard. If I could take back the words, I would. Luckily, I have no need to.

She shakes her head and lies. “I’m fine.” Her voice is weak. She doesn’t look fine. She’s pale, drawn, and appears worn out.

So be it. If she says she’s okay, then who am I to argue? No reason to hold back. Ignoring her discomfort, I bark loud enough to make her wince. “Who are you? What’s your name?”

She raises her chin defiantly.

My hackles rise. “Why were you stealing from us?” In truth, if a pretty thing like her approached us, asked us for some spare parts, we might have let her have them. Their value was next to nothing, but that’s not the point. She hadn’t asked. Our reputation won’t allow us to let her get away with that.

Despite the foreboding expression on my face and the hardness I know she can see in my eyes, she stays dumb.

“Talk to me,” I roar, approaching with my most menacing scowl. It has no effect on her. She doesn’t even flinch.

Her face is completely blank, as if she’s not heard me at all. Her eyes are fixated on a point beyond my head. It’s clear she’s determined not to give me anything.

I’m not the only one who can see a closed book. Iron pulls me aside, leaning to speak into my ear. “What are we going to do, Prez?”

Turning my back on the woman, hoping out of sight will get some sense into my head, I allow myself a moment to think. I yawn, realising it’s late. If it wasn’t for her antics, then I could be in bed and balls deep in a sweet butt by now. Suddenly rectifying that seems the best idea I’ve had. Fucking someone else will get her out of my mind.

Speaking as quietly as he had, I reply, “Let’s keep her as our guest here for the night. Figure out what to do with her in the morning.”

Iron grins widely. “I’m sure we can make her ‘comfortable’.” He puts the last word in air quotes.

He’s been my sergeant-at-arms for years, so I’m not surprised he can read my mind. Turning, I take in the pathetic sight of the woman who was fearless only a short time ago. Now it looks like all the stuffing has been knocked out of her. The refrain echoes in my mind, if she was a man, I’d have no qualms taking her down. After all my years of being a battle-hardened MC prez, I’m still surprised that there’s an innate part of me that feels females should be treated differently. Maybe it’s a timeless thing, going back to men being brought up by their moms, or is the “women and children first mentality” so ingrained? I suppose the human race would have died out if there wasn’t that protective instinct.

I feel angry that her very presence seems to have me twisted in knots. I persuade myself it’s because her gender makes me feel emasculated, as I can’t take the revenge on the person who’s wronged us in the way that I want. Some perverse instinct pushes me to punish her for being so attractive, and for somehow making me care.

I’m the prez. Woman or not, I can’t let any weakness show. Returning to her, I roughly take hold of her arm and start dragging her toward the shop.

She tries to pull back, stumbling as I sweep her along without letting myself feel any remorse. “Wh-where are you taking me?”

I don’t answer. Iron smirks, Legend looks perplexed, but neither say a word as I lead our captive inside the workshop. As we enter, some of her strength returns and she starts struggling, but it’s not one-on-one now. Without being asked, Iron takes her other arm, pinning her between us.

Our work area is full of bikes and a couple of cars in the middle of being serviced or repaired, but one of the inspection pits is free. With no gentleness at all, I pick her up and throw her down, then follow with a lithe jump.

Iron tosses me a zip tie, and I fasten her wrists to a metal support.

“What are you doing?” she snarls, jerking her restraint and testing it. She’s breathing heavily as if the exertion is too much for her. Again, I worry whether she might indeed have a serious brain injury, but stamp down any sympathy fast.

Impassively, I stare back. “You’ve taken enough of my time tonight. I’m off to get some shut-eye. Perhaps in the morning, you’ll find your tongue and tell me what I want. You’re not getting out of here until I find out who you are and why you thought you could fuck with the Soulz.” I raise my eyebrow, waiting for a response.

Any other female would beg not to be left in such uncomfortable surroundings all night. Any other woman would plead to be set free, or at least start telling me what I want to know. But not her. Despite not having my curiosity satisfied, I feel more than a grudging admiration. Who the fuck is she? And what brought her into my life? For a moment, I wonder if for the sake of my sanity it might be easier to cut her loose and let her disappear into the night. But that wouldn’t be me acting in character.

I climb out of the pit.

“You can’t just leave her here,” Legend hisses. “What if she’s got a concussion?”

I’m more afraid she’s got something far more contagious, as right now I’m having difficultly dragging myself away. That makes it imperative I leave and continue with my other plan for my night.

My confusion makes me snap out a suggestion that I immediately regret. “If you’re so fuckin’ concerned, you stay here with her.” Fuck no, he can’t.

Luckily, Legend wants his creature comforts as much as I do. Pressing his lips together, he dismisses my suggestion, then lowers onto his haunches and looks down into the pit. “If you don’t want to stay here alone, in the dark, with the rats, darlin’, then I suggest you start talking. Give us a name. Anything.”

But the woman doesn’t make any motion to show she’s even heard him, let alone being scared into giving any response. Whether she’s making a point, whether she’s injured, or whether the convulsion or whatever it was has worn her out, it’s impossible to tell, but her eyes are closed and she’s leaning against the brickwork as if she’s made herself comfortable.

For fuck’s sake.

Jerking my head toward the door, Iron and Legend take the hint and walk out. I follow, flicking off the lights.

It’s a short ride back to the clubhouse. I try to use the quiet of the night, the roar of the engine and the rush of the ground under my wheels to try and balance my thoughts. Every few yards that I drive away, I feel a pull to go back to her. It’s not just that I have to assuage my guilt about leaving the unknown woman possibly injured and hurting all alone, it’s her, and the crazy idea I’m losing something important by riding away.

Fucking loco. My hand twitches on the throttle making my bike jump. Quickly I ease off so as not to alert my companions riding behind that anything’s amiss. Why should it be? We’ve caught our thief and she won’t be getting away. She’ll still be waiting for me in the morning.

Alive or dead.

The thought it could be the latter almost makes me slam on the brakes. I try to shake some sense back into myself. She’s a thief. If she dies, so be it. It means I won’t need to dole out the Soulz retribution.

If she dies, I’ll have lost my chance with her.

Chance? What fucking chance do I want? My dick’s only hard as it wants some action, and it’s not fussy who’s the provider. I just need to get laid, that’s all, then I’ll get that woman off my mind. She’s got no tits and I’m a man who definitely likes curves. Her ass is okay. Fuck. Do I need to slap myself around the head to get her out of it?

It’s not far to ride. Moments later, I lead my small pack through the gates and head for my parking slot, kick down the stand and turn off my engine. Leaving Legend and Iron to do whatever the fuck they want to, I make straight for the clubroom and once inside, glance around.

Although, even by biker standards, it’s late, there are still people about. And thank fuck there’s the curvaceous CeCe who, on seeing me, eagerly stands as if she’s been waiting just for me. Futilely, she tries to pull down her too-short skirt, while conversely licking her lips in obvious invitation.

Now that’s more like the way my night should be going. Not wanting to lose out to my brothers following in behind me, I waste no time crooking my finger to beckon her over, while simultaneously, with my other hand, indicating to the prospect behind the bar to pass me a bottle of Jack. Both my requests complied with, I take girl and drink and head for my suite.

I’m the president, and while I might live at the clubhouse, I don’t slum it. Over the years we’ve been doing up the place and I’ve taken full advantage, spreading my personal realm until I’ve basically ended up with my own apartment—bedroom, lounge, bath and a small kitchenette.

Only pausing to pour a glass of whisky, I watch as CeCe knows exactly which direction to head. By the time I reach the room I sleep in, she’s already naked and lying on my bed.

“Touch yourself,” I tell her, giving an appreciative grin and bringing the glass to my lips. “Get yourself off.”

Again licking her plump lips, she offers a seductive smile then starts fingering her clit, her digits already slick from her arousal. I let the amber liquid run down my throat, both quenching my thirst and bringing a welcoming warmth. As CeCe’s skin begins to flush, my cock starts to lengthen. My eyes fixed on her body, I watch as she expertly plays with herself, thrusting her fingers inside her, then bringing them out, making sure that I can’t miss how they’re glistening. She licks her digits then returns to pleasuring herself. I harden more and start unzipping my pants as her body starts to thrash and unabashed moans come from her mouth.

As she screams, I’m already sliding on a condom. As her body pulsates and she draws in deep breaths, I launch forward to the bed. Pulling her up, I turn her onto her stomach then yank her hips into the position I want. With no warning, I thrust inside her.

“Yes, Chaz. Yes.” Her voice is breathy, full of pleasure.

What I’ve done comes as no surprise. She knows me and the way that I like my sexual encounters—impersonal, both partners finding enjoyment, but basically just a physical endeavour with a mutual desire to get off. Knowing what to expect, she clasps the headboard and braces herself as I start hammering in.

I like rough sex and make no apology for it. The women I go with all know what to expect. Right now, CeCe definitely isn’t objecting, proven by the way her cunt starts rippling around my cock.

Knowing she’s close means I don’t have to put in an effort. To ensure she’s with me, I reach down my hand and pinch her clit in the way that she likes. Then I pause, enjoying the sensations of her coming and squeezing the hell out of my dick. When she starts to relax, it only takes a couple of pumps before I’m filling the latex.

I pull out and go to the bathroom to deal with the condom. After I’ve flushed and washed my hands, I return to the bedroom unsurprised to find CeCe has already dressed and left.

She knows her place.

Which would be satisfying but for the reason when I came, it wasn’t CeCe I imagined beneath me. It was the woman I’d left imprisoned in our shop. And hell if the fact that it wasn’t her in reality had left me depleted of cum, but also far from sated.

God fucking damnit.