The two of them sat in the shadow of Jesse’s bike, toking on a single blunt as the Los Muertos warehouse steadily burned before their eyes.

Layla thought she would feel more guilty about the whole thing, but mostly, she felt kind of proud. She’d never been part of something this big before, and though part of her still understood the risks attached to it, another was in awe of the power she suddenly wielded.

Next to her, Jesse basked in the glow of the structure fire. He was completely blazed, a goofy grin on his face as he watched the flames twist and lick from the warehouse windows. Layla liked it much better when he was like this; reckless and carefree. But she supposed that part of being president of a motorcycle club was dealing with stressful situations, and she could hardly begrudge him his earlier snappishness.

Emboldened by the THC thrumming in her veins, Layla leaned her head on his leather-clad shoulder and draped an arm over his chest. She closed her eyes when he moved his arm around her in kind, clutching her to him in the dirt and ash.

“I wasn’t always a rich bitch, you know,” she said, clacking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she realized how dry it had become.

“No?” Jesse answered lazily, lolling his head into hers with a dull thunk.

She shook her head, rubbing her hair against his stubble. “Once upon a time, I was dirt fuckin’ poor.” She paused to worry the soft fabric of his shirt between her fingers. “Once upon a time, I was a foster kid.”

She felt Jesse’s heart give a little tremble in his chest. He looked down at her and tilted her face up to meet his gaze.

“No shit?”

“No shit,” she promised, sighing through her nose. “I don’t like to talk about it, really. I just… thought you should know.”

Jesse leaned his head back against his Harley and pulled Layla in a little tighter. She liked laying with him like this, and the buzz vibrating through her body was the most pleasant one she’d had in months. She didn’t want to ruin it by talking about all the horrible things she’d seen and been through as a ward of the state.

“I know how that is,” he said finally, squeezing her shoulder. He didn’t say another word about it. He didn’t have to.

After what seemed like eons, he finally stood up and pulled Layla to her feet along with him.

“Let’s go, beauty queen,” he said, and this time, she didn’t mind it so much.

They hurtled down the back roads at breakneck pace, tumbling through the dark like shooting stars on their way to eternity. Layla’s hands roamed his body, groping for all the parts of him she’d been too scared to touch while sober. His muscles were so firm and warm beneath her fingertips, bursting with life, and as she fondled his rippling abs, Jesse revved the motorcycle against her clit.

Layla shuddered and pressed closer against his back. She hoped he could feel her nipples pressing into him through his leather.

Jesse broke off from the other Marauders and slowed their pace as he reached behind his back to grasp the button on her shorts. Layla blushed but straightened up to give him better access, biting her lip as he fumbled against her flat, quivering tummy.

Once the button was loose, he pulled at her zipper and exposed her dampened pussy to the cold night air. She yelped and laughed, then moaned into the wind as his fingers found purchase between her slick folds.

She had no idea how he was able to drive with his calloused fingers tickling her slit, but their course remained steady nonetheless. She arched and squirmed against him, careful not to lean too far one way or the other and announcing her approval with loud, shameless moans into his ear.

With her cheek against his back, she could feel his heart hammering away at his ribcage, and with her hands caressing the front of his jeans, she could feel his cock straining against the denim.

He wanted her. And she needed him.

They reached the Mirage all too soon, and just before they reached the open bay door, Jesse withdrew his hand from her pussy and slowed the bike to a crawl, giving Layla just enough time to fix her shorts before they rolled into the chop shop.

“How’d you make out?” Bear asked, though he didn’t bother to look up from his card game with Hollywood.

“Got ‘em good,” Gareth reported, then turned to look at Jesse. “What do you think, Jess?”

“Good enough,” he replied as he helped Layla down from his bike. She could feel that her cheeks were red despite the cold, and when she looked up into Jesse’s bloodshot eyes, she had to fight the urge to press her lips to his right there in front of everyone.

He smiled at her warmly. He looked like he knew the feeling.

“You want me to take you home?” he asked in such a way that she knew he meant there would be a detour first.

“Uh-huh,” she responded breathlessly, sinking her teeth deep into her lower lip.

Jesse grinned wide and brushed a bit of hair from her face. Her skin tingled when his hand made contact. She could smell the scent of her lust all over him.

“I gotta pee first, though,” she blurted out, then giggled when she realized what she said.

Jesse hung his head and laughed. “Okay,” he relented. “Bathroom’s back there.” He nodded to the door they’d gone through to eat the ice cream cake earlier in the day.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, giving his hip a little squeeze as she bounded toward the door.

She was soaring by the time she made it to the bathroom, up so high that she could barely make out which door was supposed to be for the ladies’ room. She grabbed the wrong handle at first, but before she could go in, another hand clasped down over hers.

“Wrong one,” Gareth said, lifting her hand away from the knob to place it over the correct one.

“Thanks,” she murmured, twisting it clumsily.

“Need some help there, Cinderella?” he breathed into her ear, and Layla shuddered despite herself. Gareth’s voice—so low and gravelly—seemed to tingle all the way down her spine, culminating in her tailbone and vibrating into her hips. She gave a little squirm and shook her head, clearing her throat before she answered.

“I’m fine. I just—I didn’t expect to get so fucked up.”

“It’s good shit,” Gareth agreed, pushing the bathroom door open for her. “Here, lemme get the light.”

“Thanks,” Layla said absently again. Gareth hit the switch, then closed the door behind her.

She was just about to pull her shorts off when she felt his hands on her tits.

“Gareth—” she started to say, but he whirled her around too fast for her to finish. Her head spun as he pressed her back into the wall, his lips seeking hers with their fierce, scorching touch.

Layla moaned into his mouth, grabbing onto his arms tightly as he lifted her up by her ass, squeezing each plump, juicy cheek like it was a ripe peach he couldn’t wait to devour. She wrapped her legs around him for support, squeezing him between her thighs to prevent him from dropping her as his hands moved to his belt.

“What’re you doing?” she groaned as the room spun around her.

“Takin’ what I want,” he answered, lowering his zipper. “You got a problem with that?”

“I…” She shook her head. “I’m supposed to be Jesse’s…”

“You’re a Marauder now, princess,” Gareth growled, lifting her tank top up past the swells of her aching breasts. “You belong to everyone.”

Layla cried out as he clamped his teeth over one of her nipples, swirling his tongue around it in frantic circles that made her knees weak. She pulled at his hair, feeling its silken texture against her palms as she writhed under his rough, desperate touch.

“Stop,” she moaned. She wasn’t sure if she really meant it.

Gareth paused. He looked up at her and smirked in a way that filled her stomach with anxious butterflies.

Then Jesse threw open the door.

Gareth spun to face him, but Jesse was already moving forward. He grabbed Gareth by his jacket and threw him out of the bathroom, leaving Layla in a crumpled heap on the floor.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, though he didn’t offer to help her up.

“I… I think so,” she answered, pulling down her shirt.

Jesse nodded slowly. Then he reached down and grabbed her by the wrist, yanking her up onto her feet so hard and fast that her shoulder popped.

“Good,” he said. “’Cause I think we need to get somethin’ straight.”

He dragged her through the hall with one hand and shoved Gareth along with the other until they hit the middle of the chop shop. Bear looked up from his cards when Gareth crashed through the door, sprawling out onto the concrete as Jesse landed a kick to the back of his knee.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” Jesse said as he hauled Layla over to his bike. “And I wanna correct it right now.”

“What are you doing?” she whimpered, but he only pushed her onto her stomach over the seat in response.

“Jesse,” Camel started to say, but stopped when he saw the look he gave him. He held up his hands in surrender and allowed him to continue.

“It seems that some of you have mistaken my tolerance for weakness,” he continued, pulling off his jacket. Layla heard it hit the floor behind him, followed by the sound of his zipper inching down.

“Let’s get somethin’ straight. I’m your fuckin’ president, motherfuckers. You don’t touch what’s mine. You don’t try to take what’s mine. And you don’t fuck with my bitch unless I fuckin’ tell you to. Are we clear?”

Layla looked up to see the whole of the room nodding in agreement. She tried to push herself up, but Jesse laid a firm hand upon her back and shoved her back down onto her chest.

“I don’t think we are,” he said.

Layla whined softly as she felt his strong hands freeing her from her shorts, yanking them down to her knees along with her panties in front of everyone. She tried to turn away and close Bear’s jacket around her, but Jesse ripped it off, throwing it onto the floor as he pulled up her tank top and exposed her full, round tits to the rest of the Marauders.

“Layla is my bitch,” he announced, and she gasped as his dick slid into the cradle of her ass cheeks. “And I’m gonna fuckin’ prove it, for those of you who need a demonstration.”

She looked at Gareth sitting on the floor, his nose gushing blood again, then cried out as Jesse’s cockhead breached the entrance to her cunt.

He held her by the shoulders as he worked his way in, the pressure of his fingers almost too much to bear. She cringed beneath his touch, knowing he would only leave bruises in his wake, but if he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t stop.

“Fuck,” Jesse breathed as he sank into her up to his hilt. She could feel his shaft throbbing wildly already; she knew he wouldn’t last long. “You’re tight.”

“Jesse,” she said softly, her voice trailing off into a strangled whimper. “You’re hurting me…”

“I know,” he replied, but softened his grip on her shoulder. “I have to.”

He grasped her hair in his hand instead, pulling her head up to face the rest of the Marauders as he began to pound her from behind. Layla spread her legs wide to accommodate his girth, but he was so much thicker than any cock she’d had before. Her lips parted and her brows knitted together as the heady mixture of pleasure and pain worked its way through her tortured pussy. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to stop or fuck her harder.

She grasped the edge of the bike seat, moaning as her tits began to swing in time with his vicious thrusts, trying to avert her gaze from the men standing around her. She felt so dirty; so wrong.

She loved it.

Her eyes fixed on Gareth, still staring at her intently. Something about looking into his eyes while Jesse was fucking her made it all the more enjoyable, and she pressed her pussy against the leather seat, rubbing her juices on it as she dripped all around Jesse’s pistoning cock.

“You’re mine,” he reminded her, wrapping his free hand around her throat. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” she repeated through his grip. His fingers sank into her flesh as if displeased.

“No. Say you’re my bitch.”

Layla’s face flushed. “I’m your bitch,” she murmured.

“Louder!” he demanded, and the magnitude of his thrusts rose to match his vehemence.

“I’m your bitch!” she cried out into the wide expanse of the chop shop, her voice carrying even over the sound of his hips slapping roughly into her bouncing ass.

“You’re damn right you are,” Jesse snarled in her ear, pressing his chest against her arched back as his hips began to buck. “And I’m gonna fuck you like one.”

He picked her legs up off the ground, forcing her to scramble for a grip on the Harley as he ploughed her relentlessly, each thrust deeper than the last. Layla squealed, licking her lips as Jesse so completely filled her, his dick ramming hard into her swelling sweet spot as he took what he needed from his new Marauder bitch.

Oh, fuck, she thought as a familiar tension grew between her hips. I’m gonna…

It happened before she could even finish the thought.

As Layla’s trembling clit brushed up against his leather seat once more, her whole body spasmed in the wake of a blissful orgasm, one so deliciously intense that she saw stars. She dug her nails into his seat, leaving deep tracks in the dark, worn leather as she clawed and howled like an animal impaled upon his meaty dick.

Jesse grunted, gave a few last, erratic thrusts, and then pulled out of her clenching pussy before it could milk his cum right from his fattening shaft. She heard the slick sound of him stroking it before he pulled hard on her hair.

“Turn around,” he said breathlessly.

Layla obeyed, and as soon as their eyes met, Jesse spurted his white-hot load all over her face, moaning in ecstasy as he covered her in his thick, salty lust.

Layla opened her mouth to accept it, closing her eyes tight as ropes of his jizz plastered them shut. She could feel his throbbing tip rubbing onto her lips, spreading his cream onto them like lip gloss until it trickled down onto her tongue.

A moment later, she heard him let out a long, breathy sigh, and she slowly opened her eyes to look up at him standing over her.

“Get dressed,” he said coldly. “Gareth’ll take you home.”

“W-what?” she whispered, sure she’d misheard him.

“Put your fuckin’ clothes on,” he repeated, lifting his jeans back around his waist as he retreated through the door and into their dining room.

Layla sat in utter shock on the concrete floor, covered in Jesse’s cum and quivering violently. She turned to look at the others, but they all avoided her gaze. Except for Gareth.

He stood up, walked over to her, and picked up her shorts. He held them out to her and flattened his lips into a thin, pale line.

“Better do what he says,” was all he had to say.