Jalisa Chapter 13 #2
I squeaked in surprise. My body was pinned to the mattress by his much larger one.
Wrath straddled my thighs. He began rubbing my shoulders.
His fingers found knots I didn’t know I had.
I groaned at how good the pain felt. I sank into a slight doze as he continued.
I was about to fall asleep when a slap to my left ass cheek jolted me awake.
I cried out, partially in surprise and half due to the sting of it.
“Thought I forgot? Tell me no, and I’ll stop. I won’t make you endure anything you don’t want,” he murmured.
I was considering what he said when another landed on the same cheek.
I gasped. I didn’t ask him to quit. Wrath took time to ramp up.
He’d kiss, rub, nibble, and lick all over my upper body and even my ass, but then he’d pepper in those swats.
Sometimes, it was several at once, and then others were spaced out.
I never knew when to expect them, and I had to admit they were turning me on.
I looked forward to the next one and always loved the fiery sting.
My moans let him know I was enjoying them.
I didn’t know how long he kept me in this cycle, but it felt like a long time.
Suddenly, he landed slap after slap on both cheeks.
They were harder than before and made my ass blaze along with my desire.
I was soaked and so close to an orgasm, I wanted to cry.
I was about to plead for Wrath to fuck me when he landed the hardest one yet.
I tipped over the edge into an intense orgasm.
As I screamed and writhed, he moved off me, yanked me onto my knees, and then there was a hard probe.
It was immediately followed by him thrusting his stiff cock into me.
My cries increased. Wrath was pounding into me, and it was prolonging my orgasm.
I was afraid I’d pass out at one point. Eventually, I was easing some, though he was still fucking me wildly. His breath was sawing in and out.
“You’re scolding hot, soaked, and tight as a fist, baby. I’m close. Come with me,” he panted.
Weakly getting on my elbows, I pushed back to meet his next stroke.
Together, we hammered into each other until it was too much, and we peaked and screamed as one.
His warmth flooded me as I worked to wring his cum from him.
Wetness ran down my thighs. Wrath’s hands on my hips kept slamming me back and forth on his steely length.
The ecstasy was too much. I gave a final gut-wrenching scream and slumped onto the bed.
He followed me down. His thrusts were slow and gentle.
His breath panted in my ear as he kissed my cheek.
“Jalisa Hirsch, I fucking love you,” he said raggedly.
My heart jumped. Then I admitted, “I love you, too, Lucian Bentley.”
He lay over me, then rolled so we were on our sides, and I was cuddled in his arms. I prayed he hadn’t said it in the heat of the moment because mine wasn’t.
“I meant that. I do love you. I hope you meant what you said,” he said softly.
I rolled in his arms to face him. He had a vulnerable look as if he was afraid I hadn’t.
“I meant it, too,” I confessed before I kissed him. He held me flush against him as we passionately kissed.
???
Betty and I were sitting at a table in the common room.
The men were meandering around or sitting in small groups, talking.
A couple were playing darts. It was a relaxed night at the clubhouse.
Betty and I reviewed the menu and other information for the car show.
The booth that the club sponsored and helped serve the customers was tied to a restaurant in town.
It was one they sponsored every time. I asked why them and not someone else. They had an answer for me.
Emiliano’s Mesa was a Spanish restaurant that translated to Emiliano’s Table.
The club had become a patron many years ago.
They raved that it was the best Spanish and Mexican food around.
When they discovered Emiliano, the owner, was part of a program to help feed those in need or the homeless, they backed him.
Those in need could be elderly individuals or families where a parent lost a job, or there was a single parent.
They raised money for his efforts by co-sponsoring the food stall at the car show and a few other times a year.
Additionally, they acknowledged that they had made private donations to the effort.
The program intrigued and excited me, so I offered to help.
If I had to be there anyway, I might as well do something.
Wrath had thought it over and agreed that being in a stall surrounded by many people would increase my safety.
In preparation, I familiarized myself with their offerings and prices.
We were chatting about details when Betty mentioned the uniform. I gave Betty a puzzled look. She grinned and then called out, “Oh, boys, I’ve got your uniforms all ready to go. Don’t think I forgot. And even if I did, no one else would, especially not Emiliano,” she said sweetly.
I heard some groans. Now, I was curious. “What uniforms, and why are they groaning?” I asked.
“I’ll show you. They bitch about it, but they look amazing in them and get countless compliments. Emiliano is fine with them wearing their cuts. Ignore their whining. They’re just a bunch of babies,” Betty teased. She had her phone out and was scrolling through it.
“You’re not showing her those damn pictures, are you?” Rage asked as he plopped into a chair on the other side of her. Suddenly, Wrath was next to me, and the other guys were moving over to stand around us.
“I am. And you can bitch and moan all you want, but I’m not erasing them.”
“I’ll do it when she’s not looking, one of these days,” Rage muttered.
“You do, and I’ll cut off something precious,” Betty threatened.
“You wouldn’t. You love it too much to do that,” he said confidently.
“I meant I’d cut off access to what you love.” She smirked.
That shut him up. When she showed me, I gasped.
They were beautiful. They were traditional Spanish men’s wear.
I recognized the ones the guys wore. It was called hereu .
It featured the men wearing boots, a flat cap on their heads, dark pants, and a white shirt with a sash over their shoulders and around their waists.
The sashes were patterned and brightly colored.
The Pagans in the picture wore one addition. They had their leather cuts on, too.
There were other men and women in the picture. The women’s clothing was the pubilla, heels, a long skirt covered in a colorful floral pattern, a sash around their waists, and a puffed-sleeve blouse. Many of the blouses mimicked the pattern on the skirt, although not all did.
“These are beautiful. You have no reason not to be proud of them. The hereu and pubilla are traditional clothing worn in Cataluna, the Catalonia region of Spain. You’re all so handsome. Those women look gorgeous, too,” I told them.
“Glad you think they’re so pretty, Lunatic, because if you’re in the stall, you’ll be wearing one,” Wrath informed me.
“I can do that, though I need to find one.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that. How do you know what they are and where they come from?” Wrath asked.
“My mom was Spanish. She’s where I get my hair and skin coloring from.
Dad told me about her heritage. Although she didn’t stick around, I was curious about that side of my heritage, so I researched it when I got older and learned a lot about Spain, its culture, and so forth.
The artist in me loves all the colors and patterns in their traditional clothing. ”
“Lord, Emiliano will be in love. Tell me. Do you happen to speak Spanish at all?” Rage asked.
“Yes, I do. Why?”
He groaned. “Yep, Emiliano will definitely be in love. Better watch it, son. He’ll steal her out from under you,” his dad joked.
“I like Emiliano, but if he comes for my woman, I’ll put a bullet in him,” Wrath said firmly.
“Oh, hush, you have nothing to worry about. If he tried, I could persuade him to let you have me.”
“Oh yeah, how?” Stitch asked.
“Easy, I’d show him my knife and then threaten to remove his manhood. If that doesn’t work, I have other methods.” I winked.
“God, Pres, you picked the right name for her. Lil’ Lunatic, it is.” Stitch grinned.
Since I liked my nickname, I preened. This made all of them laugh. That kicked off the whole club, weighing in on the costumes and more. I looked forward to the event. We were laughing when Wrath got a call. He answered his phone.
“What is it, Keno?” he asked casually.
As the prospect talked, I heard murmuring only. Wrath’s expression changed from relaxed to tense. Finally, he spoke. “Don’t touch it. Leave it there. I’ll be there in a minute.”
As he disconnected, he stood. Chair legs scraped as the other Pagans got to their feet. They were all watching him.
“What’s wrong?” Ryder asked.
“Keno found a box outside the gate. He has no idea how long it has been there. He saw it on one of the cameras and went to investigate. Dylan is with him. It’s addressed to the Pagan Souls. There’s no shipping label, so it was left by someone.”
This revelation had them all scowling and caused a few mutters.
“I’ll go see what it is,” Ryder said.
“I’d better tag along,” Nomad added.
“Well, I’m not staying here,” Rage said.
“Whoa, we don’t all need to be there. In case it’s something dangerous, I want to limit exposure. Dad, stay and keep an eye on the women. I appreciate it, Ryder, but maybe I should take Nomad and Forge. I’ll let you know as soon as I can what it is. It could be something innocent.”
“But you don’t believe that’s the case,” I stated.
“Babe, with Killer and his bunch, I won’t take chances with any of you. Stay here. Be alert.” He gave me a hard kiss before the three men walked out.
I turned to Rage. “Why did he take Forge and Nomad?”