Page 89 of Reaper Released

“I helped start this MC nearly ten years ago. I work hard. I've never had anything or anyone to spend anything on. Everything I’ve earned apart from my bike and necessities has just stayed there, being saved, going nowhere. I spent what I had because I wanted to.

“I don’t need it, and I want to buy these things for you. Really, they’re also for me. I love you, and I want to spoil you, and you can’t stop me. In sickness and in health, remember? Let’s call this my sickness, so you have to deal!”

“Ridiculous, you are totally ridiculous. You do realise I have more money than I know what to do with, right, and now, that’s yours too?”

“So we can buy more of these… what do you call them… FMBs, because fuck, I got hard while I was looking through them, imagining you in them and the things you were gonna do to me while wearing them. Fuck, I want to buy so, so many more pairs!” He waggles his eyebrows at me and, licking his lips, he laughs. “Open them!”

Opening the first box, they say on them: New Rock SHOE PUNK M-MAG018-C5. Opening the box, they are a stiletto pump shoe with black snakeskin leather with small silver metal skulls around them. They have a silver block carved sole and heel, and fuck. They are sexy. I slide them on, and they fit perfectly.

I walk up and down the walk-in. As I walk back towards Steel, he adjusts his jeans and takes a deep breath.

“Next!” he says excitedly. The next box I open says: New Rock BOOT PUNK M-MAG006-S1. These are shiny black leather ankle boots with a black stiletto heel, a big metal skull on the side, and a leather panel across the front, at the top, and across the toe with studs on. Sliding them on, I walk backwards and forwards, doing a little spin.

“Fuck they’re nice! …Next!”

Laughing at his ridiculousness, I slide them off my feet and open the third box. This box is larger. These say: New Rock PUNK M-MAG025-C1, and holy fuck, I think I about come in my pants. Looking at these, I know right away I’m wearing these tonight.

They’re calf-high boots with buckles all the way down. The buckles are a skull head on one side with flames on the other, leading down to a studded band across the toe with a studded panel on the ankle and around the heel. There are studs up the front of the whole boot. They have a carved, shaped silver stiletto heel and a carved silver platform. Standing and turning to face Steel, I slide my jeans off and kick them aside. I slide the boots on, slide my top off, grab the jacket and slip that on. I stand in the boots, my black underwear, a black bra and shorts set, and the black leather jacket.

“Holy fucking shit! Babe, that's hotter than hot!”

“I’m so gonna ride your face wearing this!” I gesture to my whole self.

“Yes fucking please!”

I turned to grab the box I have been looking for, shaking it at Steel. “Come on, baby, I’ve got a lot of things to thank you for!” I wink at him and drag him up.

“Wait, one more thing. Quickly press this top right silver circle on the mirror on my side!”

“What?”

“Last thing, I promise, quick, as I really wanna see those in action!” He points at my boots and grins like a fucking idiot. I place my box on the bench, walk over to the mirror, and put my finger on the circle. There’s a click, the mirror slides back, and lights flicker on inside a secret room. Turning and looking at Steel, he nods, and I walk in.

I step in there. To the left, on the wall, is racking with guns. Some of them mine. All mine are on the left, and all Steel’s are on the right, my M4A1 assault rifle, my two Glock 19s, and my Beretta M9 and SIG P226. I got them all from Pa Bernie, and underneath them, all in baskets hanging in place, is enough ammo to start a war. “You been getting acquainted with Pa Bernie?”

“Bernie?”

“Yeah, Bernie runs a security firm and does gun shows. We get all our guns and toys from Bernie.”

“Toys? Ahh, that’s what he was on about!” He points out the ones that are his, like I don’t know, a HECKLER & KOCH P30L and HI-POINT916 9mmLUGER, a Glock 19 and SIG P226. It seems we have similar tastes in guns as well as boots. Stroking my hand over all the guns, the feel of the steel against my fingertips. To me, guns aren’t about protection or firepower. To me, guns are sexy.

I buy guns and knives like Scar buys shoes and purses. I choose them for how they look, how they feel in my hand, how they make me feel, and having them touch my skin. I like sleek, I like black, I like simple and understated, but I also like to feel sexy holding that weapon, feeling the power I have while wielding that particular item.

I don’t have a favourite gun, per se. It’s all about mood for me. I’m a very sensual person when it comes to choosing my weapons. “Oh shit, Pa Bernie’s gonna be pissed at you!” I laugh. “Might wanna rethink your gun supplier!”

“I thought Bernie’s legit!”

I laugh again. “He is… most of the time. Well, about sixty-five per cent!” I wink at him. To the right are our knives, the ones I got from Bernie at the gun show. Turning to face that wall, to my left are all my knives and Steel’s. To the right, my Ontario 6143 M9 Bayonet, Ontario MK III, Gerber Mark II, Sheffield Fairbairn-Sykes dagger, SOG Seal Team Elite, Emerson Combat Karambit, CRKT Tecpatl and also in pride of place in the centre mounted to the wall is my Sniper Elite 385 Crossbow and arrows.

There are drawers beneath. Sliding the top drawer open, inside are my knuckle dusters. Sliding open the next drawer and my Ninja Hunting Rainbow Kunai throwing knives are in there too. “Steel, this is amazing!” I turn back around and slide my arse onto the drawers, leaning back. I kick my legs, snag him around his waist, and yank him towards me. “Do you know how hot weapons make me?”

“You’re here in a leather jacket, underwear and FMBs to die for. Do you know how hot you make me?” he growls, reaching between us and cupping his junk through his jeans and squeezing. I grin at him. “I think you’ve been harder!”

“I thought you promised never to lie!” He grabs my arse and drags me in closer, slamming his hot mouth into mine, forcing his tongue against mine, both battling for dominance. Grabbing the back of his hair and yanking, a growl comes from his depths, making me grin and grind into him, biting down on his lip.

“You like that?” Breathing heavily, he nods, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down. I climb down from the drawers, turning and pushing him back against them, sliding back onto the top of the drawers with his jeans around his ankles.

I climb back up, straddling him, forcing him back against the wall, knocking the knives, placing his hands on the drawers and putting my knees on them. “Be a good boy, and don’t touch!” Leaning in and kissing him and biting down on his bottom lip, keeping it between my teeth. “Understand?”

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