Page 19 of Toxic Biker

Plague

I lean closer, inhaling deeply. Her cunt smells so goddamn good, I can feel my tip seeping precum for the chance to finally be inside her. Everything inside me wants to flip her over again and slam deep, but I’m determined to stretch this out and bring her multiple orgasms before taking my own pleasure in her.

I can’t remember ever wanting another woman as badly as I do her. I meant what I said outside, this is more for me too, not just about fucking her. I won’t lie and say it’s not a big part of it, because it is, but Lacey means a helluva lot more to me than just burying my cock in a new piece of snatch.

She’s shaking, her warm, curvy body over mine as she attempts to hold the brunt of her weight off of me. She doesn’t get it; I want to feel her everywhere. I think she’s absolutely stunning and her thick thighs only make me crave to have my head between them as much as possible. Rather than reprimand her, I nip at her right thigh, then suck, leaving more marks behind. Damn near half of her neck is covered in a dark hickey, marking her as mine. I don’t need to mark her, though. Every brother in this place can easily see she’s not open for sharing or touching. That she’s mine.Propertyvote and all. One day maybe I’ll tell her how she already belongs to me.

“Fucking delicious, baby doll. Christ, you make me so goddamn hungry. Your pussy all pink and pretty, glistening wet, needing my mouth to clean up the messes you make.”

She moans, the sound going straight to my dick. I think the fucker may break off soon if she doesn’t shove me in her mouth and start to suck like a good little girl.

My ringtone blasts into the room, the sound more prominent thanks to overcharged senses. The only other noises are heavy breathing and the sweet sounds Lacey makes at my touch. The alert has my body growing stiff for an entirely different reason. Of all the times for the fucking thing to ring, it has to be right when I’m about to dive into my woman’s pussy. Is the world against me sinking my cock inside her or something? Every time I get close, something happens.

“Fuck!” I swear and carefully roll her so she’s lying beside me as I hop up.

“No, don’t you dare answer that phone!” I keep walking and she huffs, “I mean it, Asher, I need you. Leave it.”

“Any other time and I’d toss it against the wall, but I can’t today,” I grumble, more frustrated than she can imagine. I’ve wanted her sprawled and naked on me for longer than she has any clue about.

“Yeah?” I bark into the phone, impatient and growing angry at the world’s cruel joke of unending interruptions.

“Mr. Plague?”

I immediately straighten and tune into the unfamiliar voice, the formal tone, already alerting me to the fact this call is what I’ve been impatiently waiting for. “This is Plague, who’s speaking?”

I watch as Lacey heads into the bathroom. The shower turns on and then the shower curtain being pulled to the side as she gets in tells me this conversation is about to be somewhat private and I’m glad because I have no idea what this fucker is about to say. I want a minute to process if Seth’s already met the reaper before I have to tell his sister she’ll never see him again.

“Carlos Montoya, associate to Draco Sanchez. You wanted to reach us?”

“Didn’t have a choice. I think you have a friend of mine, and I need him back.”

His amused chuckle carries over the line, igniting my temper, but I manage to keep it in check somehow to get through this call. “Which friend is this? We know a lot of people.”

He’s toying with me, and it makes me want to rip my knife through his gut in response. Stupid cartel motherfucker. “Seth Murphy. He does… trading.” I clear my throat, implying it’s not the only thing he’s into, not that I need to explain anything. I have no doubt in my mind Carlos Montoya knows everything Seth is into and has been the one to get him into this mess in the first place.

“I’ll have to ask around, like I said, we deal in a lot of people.”

I’m sure they do. Women and children, if I had to bet.I grab the first clean pair of jeans I find, tugging them on. “I’d appreciate a status update on him and a location. Pretty sure he needs me to pick him up.”

“Yeah, biker? You got a car somewhere that I missed? I’ve only seen that shiny motorcycle you and your chick like to ride around on. Lacey Murphy’s her name, correct?”

This. Mother. Fucker.

“Glad you know who you’re dealing with,” I respond instead of feeding into his lowly veiled threat. Let him send some men; I will slaughter them and return them home in bloody bags to show him he’s not going to intimidate me where Lacey’s concerned.

Grabbing my cut, I tug it on and slip my feet into a pair of flip-flops. I’m not riding, just heading out to speak to my brothers about the call. I want to see if Angel has noticed anyone poking around the club and Ripper damn sure needs to know this new development. The shower shuts off as I slip out the door, the noises from the bar carrying into the hallway, but it’s not too loud to block this asshole’s next words out.

“Join me at our Dallas club. Maybe he’ll still be breathing…maybe he won’t.”

“I need an address and time,” I grit, ready to put my fist through this guy’s face.

“You’ll get a text,” he mutters and hangs up.

Fucking prick.

I stuff my phone in my pocket and hastily stride to my brothers. “He finally called.”

“When?” Blow questions.

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