Reaper's Property (Reapers MC #1) 7

Horse slid his fingers up, catching more of the pre-come oozing out and circled his head with it. Fuck, that felt good. What did it say about a man when jacking off to a memory felt better than a hot bitch like Serena doing a reverse cowgirl?

Horse felt a climax building in his swollen balls, a shitload of come just for Marie. She had the hottest mouth, the softest hands and a pu**y he’d die for. He couldn’t wait to blow all over her tits and make her rub it while she fingered herself.

Why the hell hadn’t he managed to f**k her yet?

Time to fix that. He’d walk up behind her, reach around and take the drink out of her hand, setting it on the table. Then he’d grab her around the waist before she could complain, swinging her little body up into his arms and carrying her right into the bathroom.

Ass like hers was too hot to wait until they got home.

She’d probably bitch a little when he bent her over, but he’d shut her up, warning her to brace against the counter. Damn, but his girl could bitch about anything. The thought of Marie’s face, all pissed off at him for calling her sweet butt, made his c**k jerk, and he had to stop moving for a second.

No good, blowing your wad before the best part.

After about a minute he’d cooled off enough to let the fantasy play out.

He’d push her over and slide his hands under that little dress, pulling it up until he saw the small of her back. Those fishnets would be hooked to a garter belt, with a black thong to match. He’d reach down and push the narrow flap of fabric aside, sliding his finger into her cunt to feel just how hot and tight she was.

She might complain but Marie was always ready for him, no question. Horse let the fantasy take over again. Fuck…

In his mind he unzipped his jeans, pushing them down just enough to pull out his c**k and balls, rubbing his c**k head against the crease of her ass. She shivered, and he slid off those naughty little panties of hers, dropping them to the floor. She stepped out of them and set her high heels wide, tilting up her ass and inviting him right on in.

Be rude to turn down an invitation like that.

He reached down, grabbing the tip of his cock, sliding it along the slit of her pu**y a couple of times before settling himself. Then he took her hips in his hands, holding her tight, and thrust himself all the way in. She screamed, muscles tightening up around his cock. He should have taken it slower, she’d probably never had a man so big inside before.

“Sorry, baby,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, sucking in deep breaths. He felt her membranes tighten around him, twitching and squeezing him harder than that goddamn masseuse from the spa in downtown Spokane. So f**kin’ hot. Horse couldn’t wait any longer.

Slowly he pulled out as she gripped him, muscles twitching. He retreated almost all the way, feeling her lips tighten around the rim of his head before slamming back into her.

Things got wild after that.

It took everything he had to stay upright as he f**ked Marie. She gasped each time he bottomed out, cunt wrapped around him so tight it almost hurt. Fuck, she felt good. Again and again he forced his way into her small body, until he felt his balls drawing up, ready to blow his load straight into her womb.

Marie was close too. She’d gotten so wet and sloppy that every thrust squelched and she kept begging him for more, to f**k her harder. He leaned over, covering her body with his, bracing himself against the counter with one hand while the other searched for her clit.

There it was.

Horse thrust his finger against it, too far gone to be subtle or gentle. Apparently she didn’t mind, because as soon as he touched it she blew up like a f**kin’ bomb around him, screaming. It felt incredible, the way her entire body centered on him, gripping him, begging for his come.

He’d give it to her too.

Horse released her clit, leaning both arms against the counter as he started really hammering her. Their grunts mixed as he took her, branding her as his and f**king her so hard she’d feel his c**k in the back of her throat.

Marie.

His girl.

His property.

Only his.

Horse blew up, coming so hard he forgot to breathe. He let his hand fall away from his cock, dropping the fantasy. Then he started laughing at himself right there in his bedroom, the sound anything but funny because f**king Marie in his head was better than f**king Serena for real.

Might as well shoot himself, get it over with.

Horse pulled up to the clubhouse, cutting it far too close for church.

One of the prospects stood in the parking lot outside, watching the bikes and keeping an eye on the gate. The Reapers bought the old National Guard armory fifteen years back. With its concrete block construction, walled courtyard and small windows it was perfect, both as a clubhouse and a fortress. Not that they’d come under attack recently. The Reapers were indisputably dominant in the area, with all other clubs operating only with their blessing. That was the subject of the meeting.

Protecting that dominance.

Horse walked into the clubhouse, which was first and foremost a lounge and hangout area. There were rooms upstairs kitted out for overnight visits, of course, and some storage, but they never kept anything too sensitive there. At least nothing where LEO could ever find it. The cops didn’t show up often, but the times they’d brought warrants they hadn’t found jack shit.

The girls needed to come through and clean the place out, Horse decided, looking around the clubhouse with distaste. Debris from last night’s party still littered the tables, couches and the long bar along one wall. Most of them were probably still sleeping it off upstairs, although a dirty blonde wearing a tight jean skirt and halter top was passed out on the couch, legs spread wide. Thank God he didn’t live here anymore; now that he had his own place he cringed at what used to seem normal in terms of hygiene.

Yup, getting old.

“You coming, bro?” asked Ruger, a heavily tattooed and pierced man with a short mohawk. He stood by the door with another of their prospects, Painter. “Last one.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Horse replied. He handed his gun to Painter, who set it carefully on the counter with the others, next to a box full of cell phones.

“You got mine in there already?” he asked. “Think I left it here last night.”

“Yeah.”

Horse nodded his thanks and walked into church.

Fifteen guys, all but three of their active, full-patch members, already sat around the big, scarred wooden table that had once decorated some fancy-assed conference room. Now it had a thousand nicks and little carvings in it, and a big RFFR painted in the center—Reapers Forever, Forever Reapers.