Page 69 of Fire Meets Fire

“Your pretty damn amazing cock! In my cunt. Now.”

Her dirty words thrown back at me almost do me in. I waste no time lifting her legs up and over my shoulders then guide myself in.

I’ve had her before, but not like this. It feels different now she’s in my bed. I can let myself go, taking time to find out what arouses her best. I swivel my hips, this way then that, then complete a full roll. I slowly pull out then slam back in, and then again. She bucks against me, a full participant as I repeat my performance.

I want to savour this, want to make it last, but that’s not going to happen. Taking hold of both of her hands and imprisoning them over her head, I feel her muscles contracting, pulsating against my dick. She’s close, and she’s going to take me with her.

“Open your eyes. Look at me,” I demand, determined she’s going to see who’s doing this to her.

She obeys, and the sex-glazed expression of those amazing eyes are all it takes. My cock swells which in turn seems to do something to her. For a second the world’s rotations seem to come to a halt as we both suck in air, then let it out in mutual groans.

Careful not to put my whole weight on her, I slip over onto my side, pulling her with me, my throbbing dick still inside her. While I hate all she’d been through and the reason that I can, I love that I can take her bare, love the feeling of our combined juices running out of her pussy and leaking onto the sheets. I have a fleeting feeling of sorrow knowing my seed will never take root inside her, but understand my grief for what can’t be could never rival her loss. I vow then and there to always be enough for her.

As our heart rates begin to return to normal, and our breathing evens out, words spill out of me that I never thought I’d tell another.

“I love you, Queenie.”

She doesn’t say it right back, but that doesn’t matter. Hopefully I’ve a whole lifetime to convince her.

She snuggles into my arms. “I could stay here all day.”

Chuckling, I agree. “Can’t see anything wrong with that. We’ve nowhere to be.”

Except, it’s then I hear a commotion from downstairs. Loud shouts, angry ones at that. And one of the voices reaching my ears is definitely not from a member of my club.

“You can’t go up there.” That’s Bull’s deep tone.

“Like fuck I can’t. Where the fuck’s Helo? What have you done with her?”

Then come heavy footsteps on the stairs and a banging at my door. “Prez? Think you ought to get down here. Can’t get rid of the fucker unless you want us to shoot him.”

“It’s Harold.” Queenie’s already halfway out of bed.

I, too, had recognised MacPherson’s voice. Quickly, I slide into my pants and, taking out a clean t-shirt for myself, take a second to throw it to her. “Put that on.”

She regards my Wretched Soulz tee and barks a laugh. “Making a point, are you?” But nevertheless, she puts it on, and I waste a moment thinking just how good my shirt looks on her and wondering whether I should let my brothers just shoot the asshole to save us from having to go downstairs.

While I’ve been ruminating, she’s finger-combed her short hair back, so it doesn’t look quite such a mess, but can’t hide the recently fucked look on her face. She shrugs, and grins, and puts on her pants and boots, then takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders.

I hold her back, take time to ravish her lips, then open the door and let her walk down the hallway in front of me. I wouldn’t be a man if I didn’t take the opportunity to admire her tight ass.

There, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, is a MacPherson I never thought I’d see. He’s not the broken man who came to beg us to restore his son’s bike at the shop, nor the man who gave in and paid us off so easily. He’s grown a backbone. He’s standing ramrod straight, his eyes blazing as he shrugs off the hold of my sergeant-at-arms. He’s a fucking warrior come to defend one of his own.

I knew I owed him for giving her sanctuary, and in a roundabout way bringing her to me. But it’s now I realise how much he, too, has fallen under her spell. And now he’s here, wanting to protect her.

Kudos to the old man. I realise I want to repay him for all those months he was keeping her safe.

“What the fuck, Helo?” he yells as he spies her. “What the fuck have you been doing?”

Leaning over the banister, I call down to him, “She’s been making sure you get that bike of yours fixed up.” Instantly the words are out of my mouth, I realise they weren’t best chosen. Not with her looking so obviously just fucked.

His face, which was already ruddy, goes a blazing red. He marches forward, putting himself right in front of my woman. “What the fuck have you done, girl?” He examines her from head to toe and comes up with the only conclusion he can. “You been whoring yourself out?” His hands gesture wildly. “If they’ve forced you, I’ll kill the fucking lot.”

Idle threats, as shown when the brothers who are in the clubroom bark laughs. But instead of taking umbrage, like me, they seem happy enough to watch and see how this plays out.

Queenie, herself, is snorting with laughter. “I’m no whore,” she tells him. “But I do owe you an explanation.” Steppingcloser, she slides her arm around MacPherson’s back and leads him to the bar. “There’s a lot to talk about, old man.”

“Less of the fuckin’ old,” MacPherson grumbles as, after only a moment’s hesitation, he allows her to lead him across the room.

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