Cherry and Tiff knew that, even if Cherry tried to get a little possessive sometimes. Every now and then, I’d have to remind her of the limits of our interactions. And sure, Tiff was technically our prospect Thorn’s occasional squeeze, but as the President of the Gods of Chaos MC, I had earned the right to be with any of the club girls I wanted. Unless she was someone’s old lady, and there was only one of those around these days. Most of the brothers weren’t too interested in making these girls a permanent part of their lives. Sure, they might take a liking to one or two, but they were rarely attached to anyone in particular. So, I borrowed Tiff every now and then.
I liked the way she tasted. And she reminded me just how much by climbing up and straddling my face at the same time that Cherry smoothly mounted my cock. They rode me simultaneously, deliciously rocking their beautiful pussies against me, their lips and tongues melting together above me. The sound of their moans filled the clubhouse as we worked with a triple goal in mind. Tiff’s pussy was like velvet against my tongue, as I fucked into both of them over and over, our bodies meeting in the space between, slamming into each other again and again, harder and faster with every sweet, debaucherous thrust.
Cherry tightened around my cock, her spasming pussy rhythmically pulling me over the edge as I reached up, and grabbing Tiff’s hips, I pulled her down towards me and pressed my tongue into her deeper and deeper until she was thrashing above me, the three of us coming together in a symphony of moans and soft screams, our voices echoing into the darkness of the still black night.
We collapsed in a pile of naked limbs on my bed, the girls cooing on either side of me as I caught my breath, our chests rising and falling in the quiet room. This time, the girls drifted off to sleep, and I gently untangled myself, leaving them cuddled together as I snuck off to the shower.
I cherished times like these. Rarely was there anything quiet about the clubhouse. The sounds of the party had faded long ago, and I knew all too well the scene that would greet me when I opened the door that led out of the peaceful privacy of my room and into the chaos of the clubhouse. But every now and then, I was blessed with being awake during those moments in between the chaos.
The peace was comforting.
I showered and dressed quietly, pulling my jeans over my hips, buckling my heavy silver skull belt-buckle, and placing my piece in the gun pocket of my cut. My knife slid smoothly into its leather case on my left hip, and my second knife fit snugly into my black leather harnessed biker boots. I stretched a clean, white t-shirt over my tattooed torso, and shrugged my cut on over my shoulders. I never felt quite right until I had my cut on.
Like I said before, chaos was my life. This vest was a badge of honor, a symbol of respect for everything I chose to do, the very person I chose to be.
It was a part of me just as much as my skin was.
I took one last look at the girls in my bed, looking like angels sleeping with nothing covering them but the pale moonlight streaming in from the window.
Any normal man would not be leaving. Any normal man would not be about to wind his way through the remnants of last night’s party, straddle a dangerous machine, and roar straight into the pitch black danger of the night to meet up with a fellow criminal to plan their weekly agenda of crimes. No. Any normal man wouldn’t have done any of that.
But, like I said before, there’s nothing normal about me.
I walked through spilled beer, side-stepped naked bodies strewn all around, picked up some broken glass, and turned down the stereo behind the bar. When I stepped outside, it felt like only minutes had passed since I had walked in. In truth, it had been several hours, but the night felt young, and as I took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill my lungs, I felt invigorated. Strong.
I pulled on my helmet, started up my bike, and drove slowly, peacefully, down the winding road that would lead me to the main highway that would eventually lead me to the coast, where I was expected in an hour. Plenty of time to go slow and enjoy the stillness of the night.
Unfortunately, that peace was short-lived. As soon as I spotted the headlights, I knew something was wrong. Nobody ever came this far down our road, and if they did, they were on a bike and I knew them well.
At first, I could only make out the shadow of the man. His long, sleek El Camino shimmered in the moonlight like a snake lying behind him, lighting him up. When he turned towards me, I saw the glint of gold in his mouth. Then, I saw the silhouette of his cock in one hand, and a pistol in the other. He froze like a deer in my headlight, to my advantage. Before he could think to take one step towards me, I was on him. As I jumped off my bike, I saw the woman lying at his feet. I saw her bloody face, her skirt hiked up around her hips, her bare legs and feet covered in scratches, and I attacked without any further thought or debate.
Whoever this guy was, he was no good.
I barreled into his chest, knocking him off his feet, his gun skidding through the dirt and resting in the grass ten feet away. Stunned, he stared up at me, locking eyes with me as I grabbed him by the lapels of his filthy white suit jacket. A crumpled pink carnation clung to his front pocket like a dying wish.
“Who the fuck are you?” I asked.
“Fuck you!” A sickly, evil grin spread across his gaunt face.