Tanner
Oh, shit. I’ve totally walked into some kind of sex-fueled something-or-other.
There are three guys. One sits on a couch with a leggy redhead straddling him, her buxom chest in his face and a glass of wine in her hand. He’s holding his cock in his hand, working it hard as she encourages him.
Two guys are working a tall exotic woman with short black hair in the corner, one guy’s hand working her pussy, the other guy getting a hand job as he laps at her exposed pierced nipples. She makes eyes contact with me, one eyebrow heading north while a small smile plays at her lips. She makes a big show of spreading her legs a little further, letting me get a better view of the fingering happening there. I blush and look away quickly.
Two other guys, staring at me now, were obviously watching their buddy get sucked off by a tiny blonde. She’s on her knees, so she looks even smaller. I’m pretty sure her blonde hair is actually a wig, and her face, what I can see of it, looks so young that I wonder if she’s even an adult. She’s got her mouth around some biker’s cock. His fists are in her hair and he’s thrusting, making grunting noises that literally make my stomach turn.
“Oh, good, the other girl is here,” one of the watchers says. “Dibs.”
I step forward, squaring my shoulders to keep from appearing too nervous. The last thing I need is one of them questioning who I am, what I’m doing. I need to blend in here, at least for a few minutes, in case Chip pokes his head in looking for me. These girls must be sex workers then. They think I’m a sex worker, so I need to act like a confident, experienced sex worker.
Ha. If they only knew …
But still, I can hide out here for a minute. There are only three people in this building who even know who I am, and that’s Griz, Spike, and that guy Chip. As long as they don’t come around, I’ll be fine. And I can walk right out the door with these women, no one the wiser.
Geesh. No wonder they think I’m here for the party. I’m only in my underwear. I don’t have huge tits but they’re okay, a handful at least. My bra looks immature, though, I’m sure. If I were a real sex worker, I’d certainly invest in some better underwear.
“Too much clothing,” a middle-aged guy says, shaking a finger at me. “Titties out, girl.”
Or maybe not.
I take a few more steps forward, hoping these guys are too drunk and sex-crazed to notice how dirty I am, how many scratches and bruises I have. I hesitate for a moment, frozen with fear at the thought of baring my breasts to these guys.
Fuck it. It’s like jumping in a pool for the first time. If I just get it over with, I’ll be fine. I unhook my bra and toss it to the floor. I pull my hair back, looping a long strand around to hold it in a ponytail. I’m trying not to look like a woman who was recently abducted, thrown on the back of a bike, and left as food for the gods. Or God. There’s only one in this house, and his name is Griz.
It’s actually Griz I think of as I make my way to the group in the middle of the room. The one guy has just ejaculated, the white stream of cum sprayed all over the blonde girl’s chest. He zips himself up and pulls a wad of cash from his pocket, tossing it at her like he’s tossing trash into a bin. She gathers the scattered bills and tucks them into the front of her thong before standing and reaching high over her head in a stretch. The guy whose dick she just sucked slaps her ass and she giggles.
“You took forever tonight,” the girl teases. “My muscles are angry after being in that position for so long.”
The middle-aged guy who told me to get naked walks up behind her, humping her from behind. “I’ll give you a new position, girlie. Bend over and I’ll take it just like this.”
“Asshole is a thousand,” the girl says.
“A bargain!” he hollers. “My old lady won’t let me near the rear.”
They all laugh and I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. Does this happen with the guys in my dad’s club? How can these women be so nonchalant about doing all of this with these men? I mean, none of these women seems to mind the activity—in fact, they look like they all know each other. The whole scene is really weird to me, but then again, I’m pretty naïve about these things.
The youngest of the three in this group wanders over. He’s not bad looking, with a cherub mouth and wavy brown hair. He rubs my nipple with his knuckles lightly.
I just stand there like a stone. A little dry humping and some tongue kissing does not compare to what’s happening here. I haven’t even the slightest idea how to act confident about sex, because I’ve never had it.
Yes, I’m a twenty-three-year-old virgin. And I don’t really want to lose it here with these strangers, so I sure hope this guy wants something easy.
He moves his hand to my neck, leaning in, nibbling my ear. “How much for a hand job?” he asks quietly.
Bingo! A hand job I can totally do.
“A hundred,” I say, hoping this is even close to normal.
“For a hundred, I wanna come on your tits,” he says.
“Fine,” I say. I mean, gross, but whatever. That’s what soap is for. This’ll be an adventure and I’ll get it over with. And then I’ll escape and go home to a scalding hot bath and never see any of these people again.
He unzips his jeans and pulls out his cock. I take it in my hand, stroking it as he continues to fondle my breasts. It doesn’t feel bad. Not at all. In fact, there’s something oddly exciting about having my breasts exposed to the cool air, his calloused thumbs rubbing my hardened nubs. He’s very close to me, his head in the crook of my neck, his hands busy at my chest. I stroke and rub, hoping I’m doing it right. I’m focused, and while it feels kind of good, it’s not turning me on or anything.
I can do this. It’s a business transaction. I’ll be able to tell this story to my friends one drunken night. That one time I imitated a hooker and got a guy off with my hand.
CherubBoy moans, his eyes closing as a small dot of cum appears. He’s close already. I must be doing okay if he’s already at the pre-cum stage. Yay me!
I increase my strokes as I hear other sounds of pleasure around the room. I feel … powerful? I guess? I’m still not turned on, but I like the feeling of having control over someone like this. I like that just this little bit of human touch can drive a man so wild.
Just as the guy says, “Oh, yeah. Grip it harder. I’m almost there,” I’m jerked violently backward by the hair and shoved to the ground.
# # #
Griz
I’ve got the princess by the ponytail.
Seeing her there, this dumb kid’s cock in her hand, made me see red. I’m positively murderous right now, after my interaction with Spike. Knocking one guy out might not satisfy my bloodlust while the beast is out of its cage, and this fucking dumb shit means literally less than nothing to me right now.
“Get a good hand job, Micky?” I sneer at the young guy. “Your own hand stop working?”
“My hand works fine, boss,” Micky says. “But hers was about to finish what I was payin’ for.”
“Well, her hand is off limits to anyone but me,” I say. “She’s mine.”
Micky puts his hands up and his eyes go wide. “I swear I didn’t know, boss.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I say. “You don’t take a piss in my club without my permission.”
The kid looks like he might piss his pants. “I got it, sir. I really didn’t know.”
“Fine,” I say. “But she did. So she’s gonna pay for it.”
Still holding her by the hair, I pull her back to her feet and toward me so that her back is against my chest. I splay my hand across her chest, feeling her breaths come in shallow bursts. I make a big show of working those gorgeous pink nipples in between my fingertips. She actually leans into my hands, almost unconsciously. She fucking likes this. It makes my dick go hard, which really pisses me off.
“Remember that spanking I gave you earlier, kid?” I hiss into her ear. “It’s nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you now. You disobeyed a direct order.”
“I’m not your property,” she snarls through clenched teeth. “I don’t have to do a fucking thing you say.”
Her perfect little tits are taut, the nipples hard nubs. I pinch one nipple hard, making her yelp. My other hand travels to the edge of her tiny panties. I dip a finger beneath the lace, finding her wet. She sucks in a surprised breath. Was it the guy before me who made her wet like this? Or is it me? My hand holding her hair. My fingers touching her body.
I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it? Either way, this little princess is mine. My prisoner. And whether she likes it or not, she’s my property. That fucking kid doesn’t get to even breathe in her direction again. If he does, I’ll kill him.
Everyone in the room is watching. I say, “Anyone touches her, they lose a finger.”
Without letting go, I force Tanner Williams back out the door and down the hall to my bedroom.
# # #
Tanner
To say I’m shocked at how good his fingers felt in my folds would be a massive understatement.
When I was touching that Micky guy, it was experimental. It was required, in order to stay safe in the moment. It was exhilarating to have that kind of power over a man. But I wasn’t turned on by it. I wasn’t titillated at all, not until Griz’ fingers worked against my breasts. Not until his hand snaked down to touch me below my waist. How can this man make me feel like this, so easily turning me to jelly, my insides quivering with a desire I’ve never felt before?
As he pushes me down the hall, his big strides much longer than mine so that I keep tripping and stumbling, I’m honestly thinking that I hope he claims me. I hope he impales me on what I assume will be a cock of some impressive size.
We reach his room and he slams the door behind us, pushing me toward the big bathroom. The hand on my breast stays put as his free hand turns on the bath water. As it fills, he turns us toward the sink and I can finally see his face in the big vanity mirror.
He’s seething. His whole body is rigid. He pulls at my ponytail, a hard tug that jerks my head back and brings tears to my eyes but also does weird things to the uncharted territory between my legs. A muscle twitches in his jaw as I feel his cock twitch against my backside through his jeans.
I notice blood on his white shirt for the first time and bruising on his knuckles. He’s been in a fight since I last interacted with him. A bad one, by the looks of it.
“Did you win?” I ask quietly.
He works his jaw but doesn’t answer right away. We’re facing a huge mirror, so I’m able to look him in the eye even though he’s behind me. It occurs to me that I’m still only in my thong. My whole body, apart from my pussy, is exposed. My nipples are hard nubs and I shiver with want suddenly, wishing he’d touch me. What is wrong with me, wanting this man that I should hate? I should be kicking and screaming, trying to get out of here.`
He seems to be considering my question, but his eyes roam the image of my body in the mirror. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking. He seems pissed, but then again, he’s been pissed since he first walked in the room and found me bound on his bed. Maybe this is his normal mood.
I can say one thing for certain, though—he exudes power, in his size, in the line of his jaw, in the intensity of his eyes. His long stride and the confident set of his shoulders play into it as well. I pity any man who decides to cross him.
My body is live wired around him and the air is thick with a chemistry I can’t name. It’s a heady feeling. When I consider what’s waiting for me back at Grave Robbers’ headquarters, I decide maybe I won’t mind if he claims me after all.
My hands are free, so I use them to pull off my panties, exposing my bare pussy. Griz shows no emotion, no reaction, and I’m disappointed.
I meet his gaze in the mirror. “Take my hair down?” I ask.
He lets my ponytail loose, looking almost surprised to see himself still holding it. I pull the strand holding it back loose and it falls long and soft around my shoulders. Griz moves slightly, pulling a hairbrush from a nearby cabinet and running it lightly through my long locks.
If I had to guess, I’d bet this guy has brushed a woman’s hair before. He’s methodical about it, picking leaves and dirt from throughout, carefully working through the tangles that have formed.
I have never experienced something so sensual, so intimate, and he’s not even touching me.
When he’s done, he cocks his head toward the bath. It’s nearly full, steaming hot, and inviting. I pad over and step in, moaning at how good the warm water feels on my muscles. As I slide in, I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t. He sits on the edge, dipping a finger into the water aimlessly.
“There’s room for two,” I say shyly, feeling my cheeks heat.
He considers this, then pulls his shirt over his head. He follows with his boots, socks, jeans, and boxer briefs. He stands before me, allowing me a moment to take in his hard-earned physique with its rippled abdominal planes, defined pectorals, and bulging biceps. His legs are a masterpiece, too, his quads and calves powerful and toned. His skin is tan and healthy, and he’s got a thick patch of hair on his chest that leads to a thin happy trail and a well-manicured bush of hair around his semi-erect and very large penis.
He steps into the water facing me, sliding down. Only our legs touch as he lays his head back, closing his eyes. The tense set of his shoulders relaxes just slightly and I can see, suddenly, what the responsibility of running the club must be doing to him.
When he speaks, his eyes still closed, it’s to say, “I never consider violence a win.”
I have to think about this for a long time but then realize he’s answering my earlier question. “What happened?” I ask.
“The man who took you is Spike. He’s my vice president. He took you without provocation and without my permission. I had to show him the flaw in his decision making.”
“So will you take me home, then?” I ask.
He sighs, and it is laden with surrender. “You’re club property now. Even if I haven’t claimed you officially, I claimed you verbally. To return you now, without getting anything of value in return, would diminish my power in my members’ eyes.”
I can hear in his voice and see in the way his jaw remains tight that this isn’t something he wants. I wasn’t on his radar, obviously, since he had no idea who I was. Now that he does, I see that I’m just a link in a political chain, and not one he would have pulled on, if he’d had a choice. He can’t take me home now, though; I get it. So maybe I need to make him want me to stay.
I run my fingertips over the water and then flick droplets toward Griz’ face. He raises his head and opens his eyes, raising an eyebrow.
“You could, you know,” I say, blushing.
“Could what?” he asks.
“Claim me. Officially, I mean.”
# # #
Griz
I go hard the moment the words are out of her mouth. I want to think of her like a child, someone’s child, Draven’s child. But she’s no child. She’s a woman. A beautiful woman at that, and she was wet for me back there.
She can hardly look at me as she makes this offer, to allow me to take her. It reeks of inexperience. She has no idea what this means.
I would ravage her, hurt her, play with her, fuck her. I wouldn’t let up until she was boneless and weary and barely able to stand. I want that. I wanted it the moment I saw her holding that kid’s tiny cock. I wanted it when I grabbed her ponytail and when I touched those beautiful tits.
But claiming her means something. I don’t claim women. I don’t have an old lady for a reason. They are liabilities. The last woman I had in my life was killed just before I could get her out of an unsafe situation. Now, my daughter Shannon lives apart from club life to keep her from falling into this trap.
This girl … I don’t know her background. I know her father. He’s actually a pretty good man, a man I could get behind under different circumstances. I doubt he’d want his daughter being ravaged by some other club’s leader. He wouldn’t want this for her, just like I wouldn’t want it for my daughter.
But here she is, big brown eyes flitting nervously around the room, focusing anywhere but on my face, lest she find me mocking or angry or dismissive. I don’t think she realizes how beautiful she is, how affecting with her slim build, her modest breasts, her long legs, and her pale skin. I’m sure she’s been protected from the darker parts of club life, parts she only just began to see tonight in that room. Parts I’d prefer, most days, didn’t happen here.
I sit forward, grabbing the shampoo, squirting it in my hand. “Turn around,” I say coarsely, and as she scoots around, I lather her long hair, scrubbing it into her scalp while she moans with pleasure.
She moans. I’m not even touching her sexually and she sounds half over the cliff. My dick gets harder thinking about how responsive she must be in bed. I lean her back to rinse out the soap, then repeat the process with conditioner. Once that’s done, I grab the bar soap and lather her back and arms. I reach around and run my soapy hands over her tits. She leans back against my chest.
So trusting. I want to shake her and tell her not to trust me, that no woman in this life should ever trust a man like me. But here she is, warm and soft and leaning back as I wash as much of the day from her skin as I can, as if washing her will wash away all the ways in which this is wrong.
I move my hands down to her abdomen, then lower, my fingers light against her folds, finding the button of her clit. Her hips arch up to meet my touch. I never penetrate her, only stroke the skin between her legs as she moves her hips, her breathing shallow, her skin flushed.
I could go further. She’s asked me to, offered her body to me, but still, it doesn’t feel like the right thing to do. She doesn’t know the consequences of making this decision. If she goes back to Grave Robbers with my mark on her, she will be viewed as dirty, damaged property. Her father likely has a club member in mind for her. He’s probably planning on foisting her on someone he trusts, hoping that man will keep her safe.
I know better than anyone that there is no “safe” in this world, but this girl will be better off in her father’s world, with someone who really cares about her to keep an eye on her.
It’s that thought that makes me push her away. I rise up, dripping, and step out of the tub. I grab a towel and start drying my skin roughly. In the mirror, I can see her watching me, her eyebrows in a V, confusion written all over her face. Her cheeks are bright pink. She was close. I feel a little bad about not getting her off.
She stands as well and steps behind me. She doesn’t take a towel, just reaches out and traces the line of my side, all the way down to below my ass. Her fingertips trace along my backside, cupping my cheeks, sneaking around to my stomach. I close my eyes, because I don’t want to see the desire and determination in her eyes. I want to stay away from her, but she’s pushing all of my buttons so easily.
I turn and wrap her in my towel, effectively severing her touch. She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip in a way that makes me want nothing more than to pick her up and take her straight to bed.
I won’t, though. I have principles.
So I turn away, making my way to my closet. I pull on the first shirt and pants I find, and walk out the door, leaving her still standing in the bathroom, wrapped in my towel.
I lock the door from the outside, with a key.