Chapter 6
Clyde
I’m sweating every time I touch the secret phone through fabric. I planned to drown it in a keg, or smash it as soon as I rejoined my own people last night, but… I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I attempted it twice since, once placing the phone by the wheel of a delivery truck, and another time, when I considered stabbing it with a corkscrew until it died. But twenty-four hours later, the damn thing is still in my pocket, burning me through denim.
Road’s a degenerate with one thing on his mind, and the one thing keeping a leash on him is that he needs to keep his lust for me secret. And even that he’s struggling with, because he licked me. Fucking licked me . Who knows what else he’s capable of? I once saw him smash a guy’s head against a pool table so hard the poor bastard lost several teeth. Would I truly risk getting naked around a man like that?
But he’s also the only guy who’s ever expressed interest in me, and I do find him hot, regardless of what a cockroach he is. Getting rid of the phone with the picture of an erect dick as its wallpaper and a single number labeled The best candy cane you’ll ever lick in its contacts proves too difficult.
Maybe I am a maniac too? Because I’ve been pulling out the device to steal glances at the cock that carries no identifying features, yet which surely can belong to only one man. I like that Road doesn’t shave his body hair, and I have a feeling the dark brown thatch carries the scent of his musk. If I came close, studying the curved length with my fingers, I’m sure it would be quite… intoxicating.
I hate how this fucked up development is making me unearth all the pieces of me I wanted to bury. I’m not that stupid boy anymore, and I most definitely couldn’t risk having sex with a psycho like him. He’s called Roadkill, for fuck’s sake.
The single reason I entertained his stupid regret was because I thought I was dying. No one should know such a thing about me, let alone the guy who once set my bike on fire. It doesn’t matter that I got back at him for it. How hot he is shouldn’t matter. I’d be betraying my club.
Even the phone I have in my hand is a slippery slope. Especially as I’m in my uncle’s office at the clubhouse, since it’s currently empty and offers me privacy.
Road is so full of himself. Just gave me his dick to ogle like it's the best thing since sliced bread.
I look at it again.
It’s thick.
Hard.
“Clyde? Can we talk?” Bracer asks, striding into the office, and I turn the screen off so abruptly the device almost falls to the floor.
“Yeah, sure, what’s up?” I say, pretending I’m unbothered. I’m surprised when he shuts the door behind him before settling in the leather chair across from the desk. He places a folder of papers in front of me and leans back, sighing.
I’m not sure if he’s expecting me to know what this is about, but he speaks first. “Glad that thing with Roadkill didn’t escalate yesterday.”
I give him a non-committal groan, glad I’m behind a table, because the memory of his tongue against my skin makes my dick interested. And yeah, I already jerked off to that last night. I’m only human.
“I know you suspect the Vultures are behind Roy’s death, but—”
“They are.” For all I know, Road, as their enforcer could have been behind it and is now fucking with me. Who else would have left a dead crow inside my brother’s chest? They’re into that kind of occult stuff. At least Prophet is, and he’s their prez.
Bracer clears his throat and taps the folder. “We don’t know that. Any leads have dried up. If anything unfolds in the future, I’m all for pursuing revenge, but right now? It’s bad for business, Clyde. The truce has served us. The Vultures aren’t buzzing around us like a bunch of angry hornets, I think they understood how much bigger our club is when we attacked that warehouse.”
I rub my forehead in frustration. “Someone needs to pay.”
Bracer glances out of the small window, at some of our guys working on repairing a truck in the back of the garage we own. “We’ll likely never find out who it was exactly. They’re all at fault and the guy who carried it out was just doing what he was told. I know it, you know it, but unfortunately, Grizzly doesn’t seem to get that they didn’t kill Roy for some personal vendetta. Unless you’re planning to eliminate their whole club, we should make it symbolic, just pick one of their guys when the opportunity presents itself. You have Grizzly’s ear, maybe if you spoke to him—”
The phone in my pocket buzzes with such intensity I swear Road must have set it up that way so it feels like a fucking vibrator. I raise my finger and get up. “I have to take this. I’ll get back to you on that.”
Bracer slumps in the chair, but I storm out, heading across the lounge, where Grizzly’s playing cards with two other members, and then down the corridor, where the restrooms are. By the time I manage to lock the door behind me, the damn thing stops vibrating, and I knock my forehead against the black tiles that now surround me from all sides.
Maybe it was just a spam call?
But no, when I unlock the phone and take a look at the notification, the connection did come from the one number in the contacts.
I shut the toilet seat and sit on the lid with a groan. What was I even thinking? I was supposed to get rid of this incriminating evidence, not make eyes at a dick pic taken by a guy who might have played a part in my older brother’s murder!
I’m pondering what to do next when the phone vibrates in my palm, and the icon attached to the sole contact—the same dick pic as the wallpaper—appears in the middle of the screen.
It’s a drug to be so desired by a guy who could be my wet dream if he wasn’t the Vulture Hollow MC enforcer. Fuck it. Who am I kidding? He’s been my wet dream for months now.
I answer the phone, only to realize it’s a video call when my own face appears in a small window on the side, right next to the cock I’m getting so familiar with.
Only this time, I see my eyes grow as if I’ve just snorted coke. I turn my own camera off in panic, but I’m in too deep to refuse the call altogether .
This is happening live. Road’s got his stiff dick in his hand. Right now, wherever he is. My breath hitches when he runs his thumb over the rigid length, and I can now assess its size so much better. While not crazy long, it’s a very good size, and when light reflects off the liquid smeared over the cockhead, I salivate like Pavlov’s dog.
The walls close in on me, locking me in a universe of my own, where consequences of my actions are not a thing, and where I can in fact allow myself to enjoy the view on my screen.
But nothing could have prepared me for the raspy tone coming from the speakers.
“I bet you wish you were here. I would let you touch it,” Road says, stepping back. I now realize he must have placed his own phone somewhere, because I see both his hands now, one sliding between his legs to cup his balls, the other—riding up his abdomen. Just seeing it happen makes my skin twitch. Everywhere.
There’s a certain safety in the screen. I don’t need to commit to anything. I’m just watching. I’m not even talking to him.
But deep down, I know how wrong this is. This information about him could be useful to my club. We could destroy him, and yet I’ve been keeping it to myself like a filthy secret.
Road has yelled at me, snarled at me, and whispered threats. This soft, tempting warmth is a new side of him, one I had no idea existed.
I’m glued to the phone as though it’s my lifeline, and I can’t help it, I do imagine being wherever he is and shamelessly touching his cock. I’d feel it push against the heel of my hand, then let the cockhead slide all the way up to my inner wrist.
“The call’s still live, so I assume you like what you’re seeing,” he rasps and lifts his hand, palm up. A soft moan escapes my lips when spit lands on his fingers, and he smooths it over the shaft, stroking himself without hurry.
I find myself unable to decide where I should focus my attention, because while that beautiful cock is the obvious choice, and the most forbidden, I can’t help but swallow at the sight of his abs. The man’s a cockroach. A coyote. A vulture. But if God exists, he made Road’s body his favorite project. His hips are narrow, with a pronounced Apollo’s belt diverting attention right to where he wants it, and his abs would have been the muse of all the gay sculptors of the Renaissance.
How could I look away ?
Worse still? I’m not just looking. My dick is so hard it’s burning through my jeans, so I open them as quietly as I can. I huff in relief when I wrap my fingers around my aching hard cock.
Go on , I think to myself, stroke it .
My mouth is dry, my mind is scrambled, and I don’t dare blink.
I watch porn sometimes. I’ve got a secret stash in the woods, all analog, in case someone wanted to hack my phone. This? This is different. It’s another person, someone I know, and the show is for my excitement only. He wants me to want him, for me to see him. That alone is… addictive.
“Nothing’s stopping you from touching me. Smelling me. Tasting me,” Road goes on as I take in the many scars on his body, before again focusing on the cock he’s now stroking in a fast rhythm. I try to match it, and when I listen to his raspy breathing, it almost feels like we are in the same room.
“Your skin,” he goes on, lazily rubbing his cockhead. “I still can’t get its taste out of my head. Or that spicy cologne you use. Makes me want to drink your sweat and blood like it’s whiskey.”
Um. Okay. I had no idea this dumbass, who I’m pretty sure can barely read, has such a way with words.
I don’t care if he can hear me jerking off. I let the compliments melt me and stroke myself as I watch that stiff tool in his hand. And yes, I do want to lick it, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I keep wondering how good of a kisser you are too. Maybe I should test you and only then push you to your knees so you can warm my cock with that pretty mouth,” Road whispers, and his hand starts moving faster.
“I’m not kissing you, fucker,” I whisper before I can bite my tongue. Fuck. Why do I let him rile me up?
“So you just want a pump-and-dump kind of thing? I’m game, if a bit disappointed,” he says, and each loud breath he takes makes the skin of my nape tingle.
I don’t know what’s hotter, imagining him kissing me, or the vision of being just an anonymous body he fucks. I shouldn’t like either, but I’ve got goosebumps. I moan and jerk off faster. If he hears it, he hears it. Fuck it.
My eyes are glued to the phone and his big hand moving over his dick, cockhead pointing at me as if he wants to come all over my face, and I don’t hate it. For the first time in years I’m letting myself explore this attraction beyond quick fantasies and it’s like getting my tank filled with the right fuel after trying to use water.
My hips are working up and down as I fuck my own fist, entranced by the man stroking himself for our mutual pleasure. I wish there was a way to leap through the screen and emerge on the other side, so I can press my mouth to his dick and suck in the head. I bet he tastes like danger and betrayal, but I no longer care, chasing my mounting release while he gasps.
“I’m gonna come soon, Clyde, and I’m going to paint your skin with my cum…”
“Yeah… cum…” I utter, glad he can’t see me. I’m too horny to be ashamed but I bet that post-nut clarity will hit me like a freight train. Right now, I’m busy imagining I’m there with him and he holds my head as he fucks my brains out. Because yeah, I want to give him head. Because I’m gay as fuck and nothing sounds more delicious than swallowing his spunk.
I come with a groan, biting my lips, but even then, I don’t take my eyes off his cock. A shudder goes through me. The orgasm is so much more intense than from just a random jerk-off session. It’s like he’s here with me, and when he finishes, and white streaks shoot up his abdomen and chest, my pleasure reaches its peak. I’m not even touching him, and this is already the most erotic experience of my life.
Fatigue takes over, and I slump against the wall, not yet ready to clean myself. He gathers some of the cum from his skin and shows it to the camera. “You should clean it up for me.”
My brain emerges from the fog of arousal and I have to face the reality of what I’m doing in this dingy restroom. I’m a fucking member of the Hell’s Butchers MC. I can’t be sucking off another guy. And especially not if said guy is the enforcer of the Vulture Hollow MC. He’s toying with me, and will one day use it against me.
I tear my eyes away from the cum dripping down his fingers and turn off the connection.
I’ve already shown him too much.
I zip up my pants, knowing what I have to do. There is only one way out of this mess. It’s either him or me. We can’t continue like this.
I type in my message, trying to be as curt as possible. He has to understand I mean business .
[ Abandoned garages North of Oakdale road. 2AM tonight. Come alone. Knives only. We finish this. ]
I have to take several deep breaths because my heart rattles like mad. I could die tonight, but that’s the violent path I chose years ago when I decided to prospect.