Chapter 8 #2
I used her and she used me. She taught me some of what women liked.
She let me experiment with dominating her, gagging her, and, one time, she let me cut her.
I finally understood what I needed during sex.
My desires require something darker. Something I get by finding women outside of the club.
The need to blood-let during sex isn’t something I talk about with anyone.
The only person who really knows is Onyx.
He caught me once, early in the years I was with the club, and we were dismembering a body.
I had an erection that I couldn’t hide. Onyx never spoke to me about it, but I saw the knowledge in his eyes.
I was sick with shame that I enjoyed killing, until I realized my bloodlust was connected to certain types of people.
The kill could get me hard, but the strongest ejaculations happened at the sight, feel, and taste of blood on the female form during knife play.
I came the hardest when I touched it, smelled it, felt the slippery texture, and then tasted it, sucking it from her willing skin.
Sighing, I stare at Denise. I could. It would be so easy to sink into her pussy.
I know she’s had a few relationships with men outside the club, but now she handles the club’s finances and is single.
The men respect her, and the new leader needs to keep her safe.
She knows too much about the money and criminal activity that goes on in the club to be treated poorly.
She’s smart, and I’m sure she has her own insurance plan set up in case anything happens to her.
But her bottle red magenta hair isn’t inky black and straight. Her heavy, caked-on makeup face isn’t what I want. I want the glow of her skin. The scattering of freckles along her smooth skin. I want to see her face twisted in pleasure pain, covered in sticky white streams of my cum, not Denise’s.
“Not tonight,” I tell her and walk away, deeper in the shadowy depths of the club.
Members mill around. A thick layer of smoke hangs heavily in the air, making it difficult to see.
Music blares somewhere in the distance. Most of the noise comes from the chatter and brash laughter.
I peer through the cloudy air and spot Hadrian.
My stomach turns in disgust. I tolerate the new leader of the Legion Lords, Riggs’s half-brother.
Hadrian Borges. Sadistic and borderline psychotic.
I would know. But the difference between us is that I don’t hurt those who don’t deserve it.
He preys on the innocents. The vulnerable.
Hadrian sits comfortably on one of the many black leather couches scattered around the open space.
A woman is between his legs, sucking his cock.
He slides tattooed, ringed hand into the blonde hair of the woman between his thighs, his fingers form a fist, and I hear her grunt of pain, as he tilts her head to the side, but she doesn’t stop sucking him off.
Her arms are bruised, and there are burn marks, still healing, on her skin.
I don’t know if she enjoys it, but from what I can tell, her participation is more about survival than pleasure.
When he pulls her head off his dick and blows his smoke into her face.
I watch dispassionately as he laughs cruelly.
He drags in another lungful of the noxious marijuana that he has growing behind the clubhouse.
It’s one of the Legion’s most lucrative sales.
Hadrian has it laced with fentanyl and other illegal substances.
Pounds of it are constantly being shipped out to some of the busiest drug ports in America.
Luckily, no one is checking the Barrens, leaving him with acres upon acres to cultivate the lucrative crop.
When he looks up, I see fear and then rage.
He watches me, and I return the stare, not afraid of his gaze.
He may be crazy, but he’s not stupid enough to get in my face.
Moving toward him, I stand a few feet from him, letting him see me.
He drags in the smoke from his cigarette and watches me.
A thick, burly man steps closer and pulls out his gun.
My cut is visible, but it belongs to a bygone era.
Now the Legion Lords have new designs that Hadrian has instituted, no longer honoring his stepfather’s legacy.
“Stone. Or should I say El Búho? That’s your preferred name, no?”
His smirk grates on my nerves. It’s meant to intimidate me, make me fear him, but I like that he knows my reputation.
Rumors blend with facts. He has no idea what I’ve done, but the little that he knows keeps him fully aware that I don’t have a conscience when it comes to him.
He would already be dead if it weren’t for Riggs.
Riggs wants the pleasure of ending Hadrian more than anyone.
He deserves the kill. The Legion Lords don’t know it yet, but Riggs has plans.
Plans that include murdering his half-brother.
The half-brother who killed Riggs’ mother.
It hasn’t been confirmed, but Riggs has enough proof to believe that Hadrian poisoned her while we were in the Marines.
I shift my weight and cross my arms, waiting him out.
He tolerates me, and I tolerate him. But he doesn’t know the clandestine things Riggs, Onyx, and I are doing, or what six of the original members are doing.
To say the club has been tense would be an understatement.
We’ve covered our tracks well enough and made sure to keep Hadrian out of the loop.
His loyalty is to himself and the few men around him who are sick enough to participate in his wild array of crimes.
Riggs has no proof, but he’s suspicious that Hadrian is taking a cut from Mestizos for their sex trafficking trade.
He can’t make a move until he has enough proof.
His connections with the FBI are only known to me and Onyx, and right now, we need to build our case.
“Could have sworn I told the guards to make sure any old members were checked before they came in.”
“And why is that Hadrian?”
“Loyalty, Búho. I don’t know who I can trust anymore. A wise man watches his back.”
A stupid one watches all sides, including the one in front of him. Hadrian may be vicious, but he’s not very bright. Or maybe he is, and he’s playing all of us, in cahoots with Los Mestizos.
“You wear that cut like you are in charge. But remember it is my club. They are loyal to me.”
I think about what he says and mentally correct him. Easton, Cade, Scout, and Ansel are loyal to one man. Riggs. The true heir of the Legion Lords.
“I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. Don’t come here again without an invitation.”
This time, I smile and lean in closer. “Or what, Hadrian? What will you do?” I clench my fists, ready to take out my frustration on him.
His eyes widened at my brazen response. But he scoffs, “I’ll have you killed.”
I laugh and smile again, welcoming his threat.
“That doesn’t seem to scare you.”
Not the way you hope.
“That shit my father was running before is dead. Just like most of the originals will be soon.”
It’s a threat that I believe. Hadrian doesn’t have the manpower, but he does have the Mestizos in his back pocket.
And mongrels like El Jefe don’t care who is on payroll.
I stare at him in disgust as the young woman at his feet sucks his cock while he talks to the other men.
He slaps the woman, across the cheek, angrily cursing in French.
She tumbles back, her mouth swollen and her cheek bright red from his meaty fist. His cock points straight out, wet from her mouth.
He doesn’t cover himself; instead, he barks angrily at her in French.
I’ve learned enough over the years, picking up most of my knowledge from my time with Anna, whose husband is from Nice.
“Espèce de conne! Je veux pas sentir tes dents! Tu ne peux pas me sucer la bite pour te sauver la vie. Tu devrais peut-être mourir.”?
A man near him laughs as if Hadrian had just told him the funniest joke.
He licks his lips and replies in French that he wants a turn after Hadrian is finished with her.
The woman doesn’t understand what he says, but his tone is cruel.
Her movements are cautious. She understands the malicious intent behind the words.
There’s no telling what she’s seen him and Hadrian do before.
Terror is all over her face. One of her eyes is black and blue, and I have no doubt Hadrian is the cause.
She mumbles Sorry and Hadrian rolls his eyes.
“You have five minutes to make me come, whore.”
She nods quickly and moves back between his legs, taking him back in her mouth.
Jesus. She must be no older than 17. Too young to be in a club like this one.
Before Hadrian became leader, it wouldn’t have happened.
We might have been criminals, murderers, and thieves, but Riggs’s father held a line.
Women under 18 were not welcome in the club and were forbidden from fucking the members.
But from the looks of it, Hadrian has thrown that rule out the door, and age doesn’t matter.
The last shred of decency in me reminds me that I’m no better, stalking and lusting after a woman who could be my daughter.
I cross my arms. The only sounds in the room are the noisily slurping of the women between his legs.
The sound of him grunting brings me back to the present and not the future, where Hadrian is either in the ground or behind bars.
He jerks, gripping the young girl’s head, forcing her down on his cock as he ejaculates.
She tries to push back, her movements frantic, most likely unable to breathe correctly, but he laughs and curses, finishing.
His hard shove sends her back, and she scrambles away before getting up and running. The man who wanted his turn gets up.