Page 52 of Serendipity

I’d just have to work out if I wanted to do anything about it.

WE RODE the rest of the way home like that, and I let out a relieved sigh when I pulled into the Club parking lot and saw Goliath’s bike. I was worried he’d go off the rails, go on a killing spree and Damnation would have to clean up his mess again. But he’d come home, and I was so fucking thankful.

I slid off the bike, the cum on my stomach crusted to my body hair, pulling painfully as I moved.

Son of a bitch.

Dippy laughed, and I scowled at her. I held out my hand to help her off the bike, and she climbed off with shaky legs. Her cheeks were flushed and she couldn’t look me in the eye, and it was awkward as fuck. I hated that. So I did the only thing I knew would solve the problem, other than laying her on the fucking asphalt and letting her ride me like a Fat Boy. I leaned forward and kissed her softly. I tried to express all the tender emotions I wasn’t sure I was still capable of feeling in that kiss.

I moved back and looked down at her. “I need to find Goliath.”

She looked so lost, yet so beautiful in the red neon lights from the strip club and I wanted nothing more than take her upstairs and fuck her until we both couldn’t walk tomorrow.

But I had to find Goliath. I had an obligation to my Brother. I kissed her once more, this kiss far more of a promise than anything else. It was hotter, a vow that this wasn’t the end.

I just hoped I had the follow-through.

I walked around the back of the Clubhouse, ignoring Cain’s confused look and Solomon’s knowing grin. I knew where Goliath would be, and I had to mentally prepare myself for the state he’d be in.

He wanted her. Dippy. We could both see it, no matter how much we denied it to ourselves. But it would be hitting Goliath harder. He had killed off that part of himself, the part that wanted to treat women as anything more than a glorified fuck-toy. The part of himself thatwantedanything, other than the kill.

I walked past the back door to another single door at the side. It went down to the cellar, though we didn’t keep beer kegs there. It was a wet room, and the things we did down here were very… wet.

Easier to scrub down and bleach when we needed to have a conversation with a rat. A place to remove body parts, keep crying kidnap victims, stash drugs.

This was the nucleus of everything bad about the Club, and at the epicenter of that was Goliath.

He was naked, his body shadowed with hours and hours of ink. His back heaved as he punched the heavy brick wall repeatedly. His knuckles were already a mess. I noticed he had a make-shift cilice around his thigh, barbed-wire twisted around until it pressed tightly into his skin. It was something he hadn’t done in a decade. I wasn’t dumb enough to think he’d stopped using it because he’d gotten better; he’d abandoned it because we’d come to another agreement.

“G,” I said in a low, rough voice, and his hand stilled.

He shook his head, still not turning to look at me. “I don’t want to fucking talk. If that’s what you’re here for, then just get the fuck out.” He punched the wall again, over and over again.

His shoulders were so taut, it was a wonder that his muscles didn’t snap under his skin. “Stop. We won’t talk.”

I’d loved Goliath almost as much as I’d loved Laura. We’d been childhood friends, who grew into more. Being bisexual in a fucking MC Club had been fucking torture, but we’d had each other and kept it a secret. When Laura had come along and accepted us, it had been a fucking revelation and we’d loved her the more for it. When she loved us both, it was like it was meant to be.

When she’d died, it had killed us all, but I’d buried my best friend in the ground that day too, left only with this angry demon who wanted blood and pain all the time. For a decade, we’d had nothing but self-loathing and pain. That had morphed into whatever the fuck we had now, but as much as I knew it was unhealthy, I couldn’t live without it.

I shed my clothes until we were both standing there naked, Goliath’s chest heaving, the dead pools of his eyes telling me the darkness was riding him hard.

The darkness in my own soul rose to meet it. I stepped closer, appreciating the hard as fuck bulk of his body like I did every time. He was a fucking beautiful weapon. Then I pushed against his chest with two hands, sending him flying into the wall with a thud. The rough bricks scraped at his back as I launched myself at him, forcing him to kiss me even though we usually didn’t. I captured his face with my hand and slammed my lips down on his. Shit was different. He was going to have to get used to it.

I missed my best friend. I missed making love to this big, mean motherfucker.

We didn’t make love anymore. Hadn’t in decades. We fought with our bodies, the amount of abuse they could take now extreme. I needed to feel in control. He needed to feel punished. Once again, we’d become what the other needed without thought.

He ripped his mouth from mine and snarled, and I sneered back. Then I grabbed his arm and flipped him around roughly, slamming the front of his body into the roughness of the bricks. I could smell the faint stink of copper, telling me he was bleeding. Good. That would make him happy.

I pressed my hard dick against the cheeks of his ass. And it was hard, like a fucking steel bar. This brutality, compared to the sweetness of Dippy’s hands, was the dichotomy of my life. I pressed G’s cheek against the wall, holding him still as I kissed him again over his shoulder, then sucked and bit my way down his spine. My hand grabbed his hard, muscular hip and I ground myself against him. I reached around and tugged on his cock, nothing gentle and sweet about it. Luckily neither of us wanted sweet right now because he was hard as fuck in my palm.

I grabbed the chains that hung on the wall. The rest of the MC thought they were to keep those who screwed with Damnation stuck down here, and we sometimes did use them for that. But more often,

they were used so I could chain the beast down here while I worked. Sol and Cain knew; of course they did. They’d known us when we were so fucking happy. When life was perfect. It was inevitable that it would devolve into this.

G sucked in deep ragged breaths as I chained him to the wall, already calmer for having the metal tight against his wrists like a security blanket. I unwound the cilice from his thigh and threw the barbed metal on the ground at our feet. He didn’t need it. I was here to punish him just fine; to punish us both.

I kicked his feet apart, and I realized he still had on his boots. Well, so did I. This cellar wasn’t a place to walk around barefoot, no matter how much of a masochist you were. I reached down, running my hands gently down his side, over the slope of his ass and the adorable fucking dimples that dipped there. Fuck, I’d loved those dimples once upon a time. Every time we made love, my tongue would trace the tiny indentations. I still loved them, but there was no place for that kind of gentleness here in this fucking sex dungeon.

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