Page 10 of Desert Loyalties
SKYE
I’m in a dingy room that looks like Hannibal Lecter’s torture chamber.
Its weirdly clean and so sterile, it makes my skin crawl.
Bleached walls, metal fixtures, not a speck of dust, but everything still hums with menace.
I’m sitting on the only chair in the room; it’s bolted to the floor.
There’s a desk shoved into one corner and a sad little cot in the other.
A camera is on the wall in the other corner, right over a toilet, but there’s no blinking light.
Minutes drag. Dumb and Dumber locked me in here and left me to rot. Then, the door groans open.
Mandrake steps in like a storm. He’s got thunder in his eyes, jaw tight, tension crackling off him. The sight of him, broad-shouldered, towering, barely contained rage, almost scares me. Almost.
He looms over me as I move to stand, practically a foot taller than my 5'6". The man might call me a pixie, but he’s the giant. They all are. His chest is heaving, fists clenched at his sides, nostrils flaring. The man is pissed. He opens his mouth, voice gravelly and cracked: “I’m so sorry, Sk—”
But I don’t let him finish.
I slam into him, my body reacting before my brain catches up. Feral and fast, I attack his mouth with mine. Deepening the kiss, our tongues tangle together. I Jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. He supports my weight with his hand on my ass, kneading the flesh.
Walking. He slams my back into the wall, using his hips to hold me up, he rakes his hand in my hair, twisting it around his wrist and pulling. Drake sure knows what turns me on.
He lowers me to the ground, unbuttoning my jeans.
I move back and shimmy it down my legs. Standing upright, I stare at him as our chest heave in sync.
I slap him hard across the face, turning his head to the side.
For a second, I think I went too far. But then he slowly turns his head back and grabs my neck.
Squeezing, he shoves me to the wall, slamming his mouth on mine.
I clamp down on his lip until the taste of blood hits my senses.
He groans as his hands disappear from my body. The sound of a zipper fills the air and he twists me around. Pulling at my waist, he bends me in half. With his hand on my shoulder, he says, “Hold on.”
Then with a twist of his hips, Drake enters me in one hard thrust. Both of us let out simultaneous groans, till his hand moves to cover my mouth. He pulls me up so my back is tight against his chest, murmuring in my ear, “Shh. I’m supposed to be questioning you.”
I pull his hand off, “Cover your mouth. You’re the one who can’t be quiet.” Instead of answering, he begins moving inside me in deep thrusts, causing me to pull his hand back on my mouth, to muffle the moans falling from my lips.
Chucking, he says, “You were saying?” I don’t answer, just bite his hand, hard enough to leave marks.
The pain fuels him, he begins thrusting, harder and harder.
His lips trail kisses along my neck towards my mouth until they reach my lips.
His hand squeezes my neck, in tandem with his thrusts.
The pounding intensifies, his hand growing tighter until it cuts off my breathing.
His other hand squeezes my breast, moving down.
My skin feels like its tingling, even through the tank, I can feel the heat of his palm.
He reaches between my legs right when dots begin appearing behind my eyes.
He lets go of my neck, slapping my clit at the same time and my vision goes white.
I’m too busy gulping in air to make any sound as I hurl right over the edge towards the best orgasm I have ever had.
All through it, Drake keeps pounding into me, prolonging the feeling.
I can feel him getting closer, his thrusts are less coordinated more primal.
Before he can cum, I buck him off. Growling he reaches for me, but I get on my knees before he can.
Looking up at him, I say, “Rough me up, baby.” Staring into his eyes, I wrap my lips around his crown, tasting my own juices mixed with his.
His hands are clenched at his sides, so I grab both palms and put them on the sides of my head.
With a muttered, “Fuck.” He begins moving his hips.
Looking up, his head is thrown back. He is face fuckin’ me like I’m his dirty whore.
With each thrust he goes deeper and deeper into my throat until I am gagging.
It must feel really good cause his entire face twists like he’s in pain.
So, I do it again, and again. There’s still a good amount of his cock I can’t quite manage.
So, I wrap both hands around the remaining part of his dick and massage it, up and down, lubed by my saliva and cum.
My tongue runs along the bottom part of his cock and he hisses with approval as I hollow out my cheeks.
His neck is completely strained, muscles clearly visible, he’s holding back.
I take my hands off his cock and go limp.
A ragdoll for him to fuck. He goes feral, thrusting, rutting into my mouth.
Saliva spills out of the side of my mouth, coating his cock.
My gagging pushes him harder as he thrusts a few more time before stilling deep inside my throat, coming in long spurts.
Afterwords, Drake steps back, falling into the chair with a thud and long breaths. I crawl toward him, laying my head on his knees. His hand slips into my hair, gentle now, soothing the strands he nearly yanked out earlier.
There’s a long silence, just his fingers and my breath.
“Now what happens?” I ask.
He sighs. “Now I go out, tell everyone you didn’t give me anything. Ranger will suggest we leave you alone for the day, starve you, question you tomorrow.”
He keeps stroking my hair. Calm now. Controlled.
“Everyone will clear out. We’ll lock the door. And hope the real traitor thinks you’re easy prey... make a mistake.”
I glance at the corner. The camera is still dark. “The camera?”
“We cut the feed to the control room,” he says. “Only Ranger and I still have access.”
“Not right now?” I ask, a small smirk curling at the edge of my mouth.
That earns me a look. “That turn you on, exhibitionist?” he says, voice rough. “I’ll make sure to save the tape.”
The teasing look disappears from his face when he sees the flicker of worry on mine because he adds, quieter, “Hey. Trust me. I won’t be far. Just say, ‘orange’ and I stop the whole thing. No matter what.”
“No,” I say, firm. “Don’t. I want to help.”
It’s the same thing I said yesterday when Drake first told me the situation.
We’d just finished round two with sweat still slick on our skin, when he sat up and told me the truth. That one of the reasons he wanted me out of the clubhouse was because shit was stirring. Serious shit. The DEA was planning a raid on the clubhouse, soon. A friend gave him the heads-up.
For the first time, he let me in on club business. Old lady privileges. In the Horsemen, it’s not easy to become an old lady, so the fact that he was sharing it with me before the Ceremony, feels like an honour.
The relationships that are not backed by the club, the non-old ladies, they get some protection, respect even, but they can’t come into the clubhouse unless specifically invited, they can’t call and find out about their husbands.
If a man screw around on his old lady, it is the duty of the brothers to set him right or tattle.
Yet if a man cheats on his wife, it’s ignored or considered the norm.
Anyway, Drake trusted me enough that he told me that someone inside the club was feeding info to the DEA. An informant. And while the club looked legit on paper, there were still some bones, not buried deep enough, that could still rattle the walls if they got unearthed.
He wanted me away from the clubhouse, so I wouldn’t get caught up in it.
But the thing is, I was already caught up.
The clubhouse is my home, the only place that felt safe in my 24 years.
So, I suggested a trap. If the traitor thought that they might have an ally, someone else jammed up in the drama, they might make a move. Slip up.
I said it should be me. I was an old lady, not officially, but I was in. Nobody knew how serious Drake and I were, for all they know, it was just sex.
Drake was against it. Said I was too vulnerable, too close. I said that’s exactly why it would work. I’m the only one he could halfway protect. And I’ve got enough ghosts in my closet to make anyone think I’m a liar.
He made the call to Ranger who was not happy that Drake told me, but he also knew that most of the brothers already tell me everything when they’re drunk enough, including Ranger himself. The only other person brought in was Micky. He had to know, had to play his part right.
Still stung when Caine jumped in to blame me so fast. Thought he was my friend. Guess not. Lehi has always been an asshole.
Now... we wait. See if the traitor took the bait.