Property of Camo (Kings of Anarchy MC)

Chapter 1

Skyla

T he sound of skin slapping against skin fills my bedroom.

Harsh breathing and grunts come from the man who is fucking me like there is no tomorrow, but there always is. Days are filled with a busy lifestyle and wanting more from things always out of reach, like said man who is buried inside of me.

“Oh fuck. You feel good,” he growls, his voice sending a wave of lust through my body.

He always makes me feel good; he makes me come like no other man has before him.

“Yes, Camo. I love your fat cock.” My thighs clamp around his hips as he pistons into me.

“Fuck yeah, you do.” He grins down at me.

Oh, I love that grin. I wish I saw it more, away from the sexual activities that we partake in.

My skin is covered in sweat from the sheer sex-a-thon that we have been having since he arrived at my place late last night after a job. This is his pattern, and it has been this way for a year now.

Camo is the Vice President of the Kings of Anarchy, Massachusetts. The club resides here in Salem, but mark my words, everyone in Mass knows not to fuck with the Kings.

I know that he and the club are into illegal shit, but I also know that they do help the people of Massachusetts as well. Doing what I do, I am not one to judge.

“Harder,” I beg, which is fucking stupid because I know that as soon as he comes, he will climb off me, get dressed before leaving like he always does, and I will be left feeling cold and empty.

This is the same old movie that plays out between Camo and me.

He looks down at me with his forest green eyes, his brow dipped just like it always is. Camo is a handsome man but he has this prick-resting-face that keeps people away.

He is feared among men and the supernaturals here in Salem.

“You going to come for me, baby? Drench my cock like I know you can.” He smirks.

Moving my hands, I feel him tense. He knows what I am doing and he lets me to a certain point. My hands rest on his jaw, cupping his face.

“You know I like to come with you in me, Camo. So be the big bad biker and fuck me harder like I know you can, because it is the only thing you are capable of,” I smart off at the mouth and his body goes tight.

He glares down at me and I know that I have pushed too far, thinking he will climb off me, but he growls, his eyes turning black, and he fucks me harder and faster without saying a word.

I am here just for the ride, but fuck me, what a ride it is.

My breasts bounce, my body comes alive, every nerve vibrates in my body as he fucks me so hard, and the headboard hits the wall, no doubt leaving dents. Thank fuck I live alone.

With his thick, hard cock slamming into me, he grunts, growls, and never looks away from me. His penetrating gaze holds me hostage. He bares his teeth as he fucks me hard and fast, his hips ramming against my body.

“Fucking come, Sky.”

The voice he uses is one that I have heard before, and I get that sinking feeling knowing that I have pushed him tonight.

“Fuck,” he grunts, reaching between us to find my clit and pressing hard to force my climax out of me.

I hold off as long as I can, not wanting this to end, knowing that he will not leave until I have come with him.

He says he is bad, and not enough to be with me beyond sex, but I have seen things that make me think otherwise.

“Do not hold it in, Skyla. Fucking come,” he roars at me, his eyes wild with lust.

His voice is like a detonator to my orgasm.

I scream his name, my body bowing off the bed, every inch of me going tight as ecstasy takes over. There is something about fucking a supernatural that adds extra intensity to a climax.

He thrusts twice more before he comes, his cock buried deep inside of me as he fills the condom, growling my name, his body shaking.

He is never one to go without protection and for that I am grateful. After the way he has been the last few months, it makes me glad that there will never be an accidental baby between us, because he has made it clear that we are only about the sex and nothing more.

His face is tucked into the crook of my neck, his lips pressed there as my hands cling to his biceps still, while we both catch our breaths.

The similar feelings creep in as he calms, and his breathing slows enough to tell me he is ready to leave.

Slipping from my body, he kneels between my legs; his big body is on full display for me and he is one hot-looking man.

All muscles, tanned skin that has no ink on the front, while his back carries the Kings of Anarchy patch with pride.

I watch him watching me, and I know what is coming. This has been the song and dance for the past twelve months roughly, and if I am being totally honest with myself, I am getting tired of it.

He shakes his head, my breath stilling in my lungs, before he is moving to the edge of the bed. He’s sitting facing the large window that opens up onto a small balcony that overlooks one of the many cemeteries here in Salem.

The one thing I love about living here is all the witch history. It has always fascinated me, plus we live among supernaturals, although that is a bittersweet situation, depending on who you ask.

“Why don’t you stay and get some sleep? I am on the late shift at the gym.” I know the answer but I ask anyway.

“I can’t. I got to go to the club.”

“Right.” My chest tightens.

I was stupid to ask, really.

Without a word, he stands up, walking around the bed and into the attached bathroom that I had custom built for me when I bought this house. I stare at the door he just walked through before closing it behind him, effectively cutting me off.

His behavior has been getting worse lately, and I am sick of it. He comes to my house, fucks me and leaves, to then not hear from him again for days, sometimes weeks at a time. I am a fucking booty call to him, and fuck me, I deserve more.

Sighing, I sit up, leaning against the headboard, the smoothness of the material soft against my skin. I pull the sheet up to my neck, as if shielding myself from his sudden cold and distant aura.

He won’t give me more.

He has told me before that we fuck and that is all he can offer me, but surely he feels something since he keeps coming around. I know that he is not exclusive to me though.

He is a biker for fuck’s sake, there is no way he is not fucking the club whores at the clubhouse. As much as I want to hate what he does, we are not exclusive, and I doubt we ever will be.

My friends who I own a gym with told me to drop him months ago, since he is not willing to offer me anything more than his dick and some good orgasms. But they are really good fucking orgasms, like mind-blowing.

I hold my breath as the door opens and he steps out, naked as the day he was born, and my mouth waters at the sight of him. What can I say, Camo is beyond freaking hot.

His shoulders are bunched up with tension, even after a few rounds of sex with me, so I know that either I have pushed him too far, or he is dealing with some stuff at the club.

The Kings deal in some dark things that most people in Salem would run from.

“You know that you can talk to me, Camo,” I try.

He pulls on his clothes, and it is a sad sight to see him cover up all that goodness, but as he does it, I feel the coldness seep into my body yet again. How long can I keep feeling like this?

Sitting at the end of my bed, on the ottoman that I found at a thrift store, he pulls his biker boots on, still not saying a word. It infuriates me, the way that he acts.

Eva’s words sink in : ‘If he is not going to spend as much time with you talking as he does fucking you, then maybe it is time to end things. Tell him that if he cannot give you more, then he will have to keep fucking his club girls.”

We never went into this situation to become fuck buddies, it just came about after some serious flirting at the Red Rope, a strip club that the club owns.

We fell into bed with each other, and we have kept doing it ever since, but I see a side to him that he doesn’t show everyone, I believe.

He brings me coffee if he stops by for a morning fuck after a night of work.

He sent a plumber to my gym when I told him that we had a leak. It is because of things like that, that I know he can be a good person, he just refuses to let that person out.

Pushing to his feet, he collects his cell phone, keys, and wallet.

“So that’s it, no talking. No nothing,” I huff and he finally turns to look at me.

“You know what this is, Sky.” His voice is deep, with a hint of croakiness to it.

I sigh, gripping the sheet tighter in my fists, nodding because I know what we both started out doing, but fuck me, a girl can want more sometimes. I deserve more.

“Will it ever become more than fucking? And only when and where the great Camo, VP of the Kings of Anarchy MC wants?”

He stiffens, glaring at me, his eyes narrowing as he takes me in.

This man is too fucking hot to be frowning.

“Stop” is all he says.

“Stop. That’s it?” I reply, huffing. “No reply or explanation to my question? We have been fucking for a year, Camo. Do you not think that I deserve more than a quick fuck when you feel the urge to bust a nut? Before you go into the typical mansplaining shit that you do, I know what your club does; God, everyone with half a brain does, but to me you are hiding behind the club’s dangerous ventures. ”

His hands go to his waist as he keeps glaring at me.

“We fuck, that is all I can offer you, Skyla.”

“If you say so.” I know that I am not going to get anywhere with him. Like I said, we have done this dance before, and I am the one left reeling, waiting for him like a fucking lovesick teenage girl.

“Just go, Camo. Go be the VP that you thrive to be.” I snuggle down into my bed, pulling the bedding up to my neck.

I hear him grunt, followed by the sound of his boots hitting my hardwood flooring as he leaves my house.

Seconds later, the sound of his motorcycle firing up fills the early morning air, no doubt waking some of my neighbors. Right now, I could not give any less fucks if they are pissed, because I am just as pissed at the biker man myself.

Sinking into my bed, I let the thought of calling this arrangement with Camo go. I need to think of my heart and mental health around him.

It is time to think with my head and not my vagina for once.

Tomorrow will be a new day, and I will smile my way through it. My gym is successful and I have great friends in Eva, Rocky, and Clark.

We have been friends since college, when Rocky and his group of jocks ran into Eva and me out in the courtyard.

Rocky was full of apologies and we became friends from that day on.

Then at a party, we saw some dicks messing around with Clark, and Rocky and his group of jocks stepped in and defended him, so Clark became the fourth member of our little group.

Sleep blurs my vision so I let it take me, pushing all thoughts of a stubborn biker out of my head.