Page 22 of Total Carnage
"Alright," I began, my voice low and steady, "we've got three potential entry points." I pointed at the map, where the ink bled into the paper like lifeblood. "Front gate's a no-go; too muchheat. Side entrance here," I tapped the eastern wall, "is more subtle, but still dicey."
"Back door?" Shivs asked, his gaze locked on the blueprint.
"Exactly." I nodded, my finger landing on a service gate nearly hidden by overgrown foliage. "Barely guarded. It's our best shot for getting in quiet-like."
"Risks?" Canon inquired, his sniper's eye already calculating angles and sightlines.
"Fewer eyes, but it's tight. One wrong move, and we're fish in a barrel." I leaned back, arms crossed over my chest. "We'll need to be ghosts—silent, unseen."
"Precision is key," I continued, the words slipping out like rounds chambered in a well-oiled gun. "One fuck-up, one clumsy step, and it's not just our asses—it's game over."
"Stealth's my middle name," Moab grunted, the corner of his lip twitching with the semblance of a grin. His fists were made for knocking heads, but the man could move like a shadow when he wanted to.
"Good, 'cause we're gonna need every bit of that boxer's grace of yours," I said, my gaze drilling into him.
"Plan's simple," I laid it out, clear as crystal. "Infiltrate, gather intel, get the hell out. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. We hit fast, we hit smart." Everyone nodded and headed their separate ways.
The last of my brothers' taillights blinked into the night, leaving me alone in that empty lot. I took a drag off my cigarette, the ember's glow a solitary beacon against the creeping shadows. I flicked the spent butt onto the ground, watching it sizzle out as those old familiar flames of rage licked at my insides. Stansfield had taken more than he ever had the right to, and I'd be damned before I let him get away with it. Revenge kept my heart pumping hard, a relentless drumbeat pushing me forward.
Boots crunching gravel, I walked back to my bike, the beast rumbling to life with a twist of the throttle. It felt good, that raw power between my legs, the kind of feeling that made you believe you could outrun your own fate.
Lexington unfolded around me, its streets winding like the complicated past I couldn't shake. City lights flickered, casting long shadows that danced alongside me, each one as dark as the thoughts clouding my mind. Every turn brought me closer to the showdown that was itching under my skin, the final face-off with Stansfield. I was ready.
Raven
Iwas burning, consumed by a fire that licked at my skin and set every nerve alight. The desert air of Lake Powell whispered across my body like a lover's caress, carrying the scent of Vin's leather jacket mixed with the wild freedom of the open road. My fingers traced the rough landscape of his scars, each one a testament to a life fiercely lived, and I reveled in the strength of his arms caging me in an embrace that spoke volumes of protection and possession. Where had he been all my life and why had it taken so long to find him?
"Raven," he whispered against my neck, and I shivered, not from the chill of the night but from the deep timbre of his voice vibrating through my bones. His hands, those manly badges of honor, explored me with a reverence that turned my insides molten. We moved together, a dance as old as time, and the stars above us bore witness to our union, a blending of shadows and light, of hard edges softened by yearning.
The memory of him was an undeniable force, wrapping around me, pulling me under. It was all there in the dream—the heat of his skin, the relentless drive of his body, the way my name became a sacred chant on his lips. With Vin, I wasn't the president’s daughter. I was just Raven, fierce and free, racing alongside him towards a horizon that promised no boundaries, no rules, no regrets.
Vin moved his hands gently against my boobs, fingers lightly pinching each pink nipple, my back arching, my soul raw with fire and need. His lips danced along the soft skin of my stomach, nipping, licking, and moaning like an animal ready to mate in the darkest of nights. He pressed his body against mine, his light the spark to start my fire. “Please,” I begged, though he’d assured me on more than one occasion that I’d never have to beg for his touch. He licked the dark patch of smoothly trimmed hair between my legs, the invitation of my legs spreading drawing a manly growl.
“Fuck, I need you, baby,” he said and I raised my pelvis, urging his mouth against my cunt. He spread my lips and ate me. Oh fuck, how he ate me, his tongue a sex toy with unlimited power. As soon as the first finger entered me, I came hard, destroying my soul. I collapsed, a ragdoll in his arms.
He turned me onto my stomach and slipped an arm beneath me, lifting me onto all fours. Behind me, he pressed the head of his dick against my wet hole and then grabbed my hair, tugging as he rammed inside. I screamed into the night barely able to take his width and length. I gasped several times. Catching my breath with Vin pounding away inside me had never been easy. He pulled back on my hair again with one hand and then slapped my ass with his other. This was the game we played together—how much pain could we endure from one another before giving up? We’d learned pain tolerance within the first week of dating.
Vin leaned forward, sliding his tongue over my left ear. “Fucking tell me how much you want it,” Raven. “My sweet little whore.”
“Damnit, Vin. Fuck me, baby. Fuck me until I beg for you to stop.” I urged him despite the fact the man had nearly killed me the last time we fucked.
“Such a sweet little cunt, aren’t you,” he growled. “I’m the reason you’ll tell every other man no. Right, baby.”
“Fuck yeah, baby. Fuck yeah.”
Vin pounded my pussy while laying kisses along my neck, his strong hands, hands that had killed too many men to count, squeezed my tits. Twenty minutes later, I felt the hot spurts of Vin’s seed fill my core.
He didn’t stop after coming. He rarely did. Instead, he slowed his strokes, his come keeping me lubed and inviting. Teasing me, he lick his finger and slid it into my relaxed ass. I knew better than to squeeze his finger—but I did it anyway…this time. He licked his finger again, two fingers entering my ass.
“Everything about you is tight, baby,” he said. He removed his fingers and when he removed his cock, a warm stream of come raced down my inner thigh. Towel? Fuck no. I wanted to feel it on me. I wanted to smell him on me. “Fuck, why couldn’t we have met ten years ago?”
I giggled and turned, laying back, looking at him, the stars in the night sky twinkling. “I would have been jailbait then.”
Vin shrugged. “Yeah, there is that.” He lay next to me and pointed at the sky. “Fucking universe put us together,” he said in his own poetic way. “I could never live a minute without you, Rave.” He pulled me into his arms. “You’re mine. Never think otherwise.”
But dreams have a cruel way of sharpening the hunger. Lying there in the afterglow of our passion, with the ghost of his touch still lingering on my skin, the ache for him twisted inside me. Iwanted that freedom again, the wind in my hair, the roar of the engine beneath us, and the certainty that, with Vin, I was exactly where I belonged.
Those sweet moments of abandon, where desire and destiny blurred into one, were a solace to cling to as reality loomed outside the fragile sanctuary of sleep. Even in the depths of my subconscious, I could feel the weight of the chains that bound me now, far away from the open skies and the man who had become my heart's reckless compass.
