Strider’s Misstep (Mayhem Makers: Wretched Soulz MC)

Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

STRIDER

M id-thrust, I pause. “You are cherished. You always were.”

She gasps. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

I chuckle and resume the slow pushing in and pulling out. It’s keeping both our arousal amped up without letting us go over. I want this to last, even though I’m on a hair trigger. I know my pace is ramping up the desire inside her, and when she lets go, I’ll be experiencing something out of this world.

“I took a club girl into my bed,” I tell her, in a soothing tone. “Soon knew I wanted no one else to have her. See, she had this magical pussy that put all other women out of my mind. No one who’d come before her could compare.” I hope she understands what I’m saying. I mean, not even Anna, my wife. “I was fuckin’ addicted. I wanted to make sure the club girl wasn’t tempted to go elsewhere by using my best moves on her.”

As I pause, she snorts. “It worked. It ruined me for all others.”

I’m still slowly moving inside her, testing my controls in ways I never have. But maybe this is the moment when I can persuade her. So I take a risk. “Anna was my childhood sweetheart. Neither of us had much experience when we got together. Sex, we thought, was okay. But now I know I wasn’t giving her everything I had to offer, and she was holding something back. We outgrew each other. If…”

“If it hadn’t been for the accident, her decline, and your guilt that you’d caused her condition.” I pause my movement as she continues, “You told Chaz. Chaz told Helo, and Helo tried to make sense of it.”

“Yeah.” Resuming my unhurried pace, I press in again. “I fucked up, made another misstep when I took you to see her. Well, not that, but that I didn’t explain myself. I couldn’t… I couldn’t find the words to tell you that I loved you more than her, but it wasn’t the time to explain.”

Her vagina compresses around me, making me gasp. “I didn’t want to be second best.”

I thrust in harder. “Never second best. There’s been no one like you. No one who’s accepted me for who I am, and who loves my club. No one who I want to talk to, let alone make love. I fuckin’ want you in my life, Jasmine.”

She clenches again. “For fuck’s sake, can we stop talking?”

I grab my chance. Rolling my hips, pushing in deep, and holding still for a moment, I say, “Tell me you’re mine.”

She screams, “I’m fucking yours!”

That releases something inside me. I let go, pounding into her, into my woman, into the old lady, wife, who’s going to be beside me forever. I’m never letting her go. For a moment, I damn the condom, as I want my release to be inside her, marking her as mine.

The air is filled with grunts, moans and the combination of both our odours. She accepts everything I give her and pushes for more. She’s tight, responsive, and I hold on until I feel her go taut, muscles gripping, rippling around my dick. I let out a roar as cum shoots from my balls and into her cunt.

I’ve spent many nights with Jasmine, but none topped this. I see stars, hell, the whole fucking universe, and it’s a good few seconds before I come back to myself.

“Jesus.” I rest my forehead down on hers.

“Mmm mmm.” Her satisfied murmur settles my worries that it was just as good for her.

We stay like that until I feel my dick softening. “Got to go take care of business,” I warn her.

“Hmm.”

I kinda like I’ve robbed her of coherent speech. I hold the end of the condom, pull out, then, “Oh fuckin’ hell.”

“Mmm. What?”

There’s no easy way to tell her. “Condom broke.”

Her body goes rigid. Putting my arms around her, I pull her up and hold her tight. “Whatever happens, I’m there with you. I meant what I said. Whatever the outcome is, I want it.”

She starts shaking. I worry she’s going into shock until I realise what the sounds are that she’s making. She’s laughing.

“Guess we’ve just got to accept Fate’s got a hand in this.”

Relieved, I kiss her hair, holding her close. I admit my most secret thoughts. “I really, really like fucking you bare.”

When she doesn’t immediately answer, I decide I’ll need to get new condoms. Find the best-rated brand, or, heaven forbid, have to wait until she goes back on the pill.

She cups her hands around my cheeks, looks into my eyes, and says, “Guess I better agree to be your old lady if it turns out we’re going to have a kid.”

Resisting the urge to fist pump the air, I press my advantage. “And my wife.”

She punches my arm. “Better up your game, Colt, if that’s your idea of a proposal.”

Chuckling, I respond, “Don’t worry, I’ve got ideas on exactly how to do it right. Just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be embarrassed if you turned me down.”

She turns and looks at me sleepily. “With a cock like yours, I’d be an idiot.”

“You like my cock?”

“Fucking love your cock.”

Said item has roused itself back to life again. With a raised eyebrow, I query her. Her answering expression shows her thoughts match mine. Not much point using potentially defective condoms. I fuck her bare, and hell, if I already thought she was the best, I’ve now reason to rethink again.

After another points-winning session, we fall asleep, arms around each other. I never slept as well as when she’s in my bed, and tonight’s no different. When I wake in the small hours, I can’t help pushing my ready cock against her soft ass. The action wakes her, and we pleasure each other again. I can’t think of anything better than coming inside her. No other woman, including my wife, has made me feel so good, so satisfied.

Thank fuck I found her, and before Barclay was able to take her completely out of my life. I just wish I’d been there and able to make him suffer.

My Jasmine’s a survivor.

Morning comes, and I’ve lain awake for a while beside her with one question on my mind.

When she finally wakes, stretches, and looks at me with that beautiful smile, I ask, “What do you want me to call you?” When her eyebrows rise, I explain, “I’ve always known you as Jasmine, yet your real name is Katrina. Do you want to revert to that?”

She lengthens her arms over her head, then pulls them back down to her sides. Her brow furrows, and she doesn’t immediately answer.

“No pressure. You don’t have to decide now.”

“I’ll need to be Katrina,” she muses, “to get my father’s legacy. Not that I want it, but maybe there’s some good I can do with it. But Katrina is in my past. I rather like the Jasmine I am now. It’s the life I chose for myself.”

For some reason, that pleases me. “I love Jasmine. I love you, Jasmine. Kind of don’t like thinking of you as anyone else.”

“I remade myself when I left Barclay,” she says firmly. “And I don’t ever want to go back.”

“You’ll never have to. I meant it when I said you were mine. You’ve got a family now.”

“Wretched Soulz?”

Chuckling softly, I reply, “The brothers knew you were mine even before I did.”

Biting her lip, she tells me, “I’m sorry I ran.”

“I’m fuckin’ sorry I only read half the book. If I’d gotten to the end, I’d never have let you go.”

“Oh, Colt.” I notice my real name comes to her lips more easily now. “I shouldn’t have told my own story.”

“If you hadn’t, where would you be now?” I contradict. “If you hadn’t given us the clues, we’d never have come looking for you.”

I hate the full-body shudder she gives. I hate the look in her eyes that shows she’s imagining how differently things could have turned out. So, I take her mind off it. Placing her hand on my cock, I show her what I want. When I slide my arms under her body, positioning her on her hands and knees, she doesn’t object. When I slide inside her, she gasps.

“More, Colt. More.”

Last night was amazing. This morning tops that. Christ, I don’t know how I’ll survive the intensity of my orgasms with her. It’s as if now I’ve admitted my feelings for her, I can’t hold anything back.

Again I see stars and I don’t regret it.

We doze for a while, then are disturbed by a knock on my door.

“Prez? Chaz has arrived,” a prospect calls

There’s only one reason he’s here. That’s to question the man who’s currently held in our basement.

“I’ve gotta go, sweetheart.” It’s only club business that will ever drag me out of our bed.

“Go do your stuff,” she tells me, planting a kiss on my lips, then rolls over. “I’ll catch up on my sleep. You wore me out.”

Gazing at her for a moment, feeling the pride only a man can at satisfying his woman, I leave the bed, dress, and take the trek to the clubhouse. There, I greet Chaz with back slaps and a polite handshake to his woman.

“You okay, Helo?”

She hangs onto her man’s arm, whose face has twisted into a snarl. “I’m fine. Just a few stitches. How’s Jasmine?”

“Sleeping,” I tell her.

“Good.” She nods. “I suppose there’s somewhere I can get coffee?”

I yell for a prospect and make sure they know to keep our guest happy

“Fuckin’ women,” Chaz confides. “Helo should be resting, but there’s no arguing with her. She wanted to come to see Jasmine and make sure she’s alright.” As I pause to open the door to where our captive is held, he puts his hand on my arm. “You pulled your head out of you ass?”

Another man I might have hit for his question, but it’s Chaz, who I’ve known for a very long time. “Sure have,” I tell him. “Jasmine’s going to be mine.”

He gives a sharp nod. “Then let’s make sure all loose ends are tied up.”

Raising my chin, I gesture Chaz should go in front of me and guide him out through the clubhouse, along a concrete path, then enter our gym. He stops inside, looking confused. Chuckling, I point the way to where an exercise mat has been raised off the floor. Rapping on the trapdoor, it opens, and I nod that Chaz should descend the stairs.

At the bottom, he looks around with admiration. “Nice setup you’ve got here.” He’d appreciate it, but other people, particularly our guests, not so much. The walls are bare, painted in a special paint that’s easy to wash down. The floor, currently covered in plastic, tilts toward a drain in the center. Looking up, it’s easy to see the insulation that keeps any sound from getting out. When he finishes his inspection, he asks, “Cops ever find it?”

“Nah,” I reply. “It’s survived a few searches of the club when feds have gotten overly nosy.”

“Reminds me of the Satan’s Devils.” He chuckles. “They’ve got their armoury under what looks like a filled-in swimming pool. Never been discovered.”

“Drummer’s lot?” When he raises his chin, I note quite seriously, “I think I’d like to have a good conversation with that man someday.”

“He’s sound,” Chaz agrees. He turns his attention to our current guest who’s hanging from some handy hooks we’d driven into the ceiling.

I, too, am all business now. “Take off his gag,” I instruct. Tequila leaps to do my bidding.

The man looks around, then fixes his eyes on me and Chaz. “You’ve got to let me down. I’ve got a concussion.”

“Yeah? Well, my woman gave you that.” Chaz sounds happy and totally unrepentant.

Ignoring the Arizona prez, the man starts looking around for anyone who might be more sympathetic. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. My boss won’t like having one of his men fucked with.”

I realise he’s got no idea he’s the last man standing, the only one of Aster’s crew who kidnapped Jasmine and Helo to still be alive. And, no inclination his boss, as powerful as he thinks he might be, is already dead.

“Your boss is in no position to object.” I shrug my shoulders as I tell him. “Which reminds me, Buzz. Where is Aster now?”

Buzz grins widely. “Dallas mortuary. Poor fucker had a car accident and somehow ended up with a broken neck.”

The man’s mouth gapes open. “You’re lying.” His voice has less strength in it than previously.

Stepping forward, I take the initiative. “What’s your name?” I snap.

His backbone puts in an appearance. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Again, my shoulders nonchalantly rise and lower. “Just thought you might like it written on your gravestone.” He pales. I decide to end all speculation now. “You’re a dead man. You’re not getting out of here. The only choice you’ve got is how hard you make it for yourself. You can go quick and easy, or we can keep you alive for weeks.” Pausing, I turn to face Tequila. “What’s our record?”

My enforcer seems to think for a moment before nodding his head. “Three weeks, two days. Hell, there was no bone left unbroken and barely any blood in his body.”

“We burned him alive in the end,” Buzz throws at him as if he needed to be reminded.

The man looks from one to the other of us, then at all the other members standing around. There’s no indication that we’re yanking his chain or joking. That’s because we’re not. It’s only moments before he yells, “I’m Clyde,” as if deciding he should cooperate. We’ve certainly gotten to him if the stream of urine darkening his pants is any indication.

Chaz jerks his head to the side. Taking the hint, I step to the back of the room, inclining my ear so he can talk into it. I listen for a moment in total agreement, then step back and again take centre stage.

“Now, Clyde, I’m forgetting my manners. You’ve introduced yourself, but I haven’t reciprocated. My name’s Strider, and just in case you can’t read our cuts, I’m the president of the Wretched Soulz Texas Charter. And this,” I indicate Chaz, “is the prez of the Arizona Soulz. Perhaps you’ve been so buried in the mob that you haven’t kept up with anything else. The Soulz have charters all over the United States and internationally.” He’s paled. Of course he knows, but it doesn’t hurt to give him a reminder. “I think you’ll find your mob you’re so proud of would pale into insignificance beside our combined strength.”

Clyde swallows hard, making his Adam’s apple bob. His headache seems forgotten. I wonder how hard he’s going to play it. He must realise no one’s coming to rescue him, and if he’d been listening to Chaz and my discussion earlier, even if his cohorts made it onto the compound, they’d never find our torture chamber.

“Tell us everything you know. All the names, all the businesses.”

“I can’t!” His voice is a little above a whisper.

I need to hurry this along. I’ve got far better things I could be doing, like a woman I can’t wait to get back inside. “He’s all yours, Teq.”

With no expression on his face, Tequila steps forward. As fast as lightning, he grabs Clyde’s hand and cuts off two fingers. As they drop to the ground, Clyde screams.

“We’re not fuckin’ around.” My statement probably isn’t necessary, as I think the enforcer has gotten his point across.

Tequila, his face still impassive, addresses him directly. “Just so you know, I’m good at my job. I know exactly how many parts I can cut off before you start to bleed out. And then, I’ll be getting the blowtorch to cauterise your wounds to keep you alive.”

It takes longer than I’d hoped. Clyde’s lost the fingers and thumbs on both hands, and one arm now ends at a wrist, with the smell of burning flesh as Tequila had done just as he’d promised to stop the blood flow. Eventually, Clyde gets the point that even if he gets out of here alive, his life is probably not going to be worth living.

When he starts speaking, it’s as if he can’t stop. We’ve got the names of everyone Barclay Aster had been dealing with, a list of all the businesses he owned, all his connections, and the nice little titbit that Barclay was in debt to his Mafia bosses.

When he’s been drained of all information, Tequila cuts his throat.

Buzz breaks the silence. “Well, that went well. I thought Prez would shoot him in the head.”

He gets my middle finger pointed at him while I suppress a grin, considering he’s probably got a point. Maybe, having Jasmine back in my life means I’m back in control.