Page 5 of Gonzo's Grudge
The way she said my name—like she possessed a piece of me—hit me wrong. Reaching up, I wrapped my hand firm around her throat, squeezing, claiming my authority. “VP or nothing at all. You don’t use my name. Ever.” That wasn’t how this shit worked. I was nothing more than another Outlaw cock inside her pussy, I didn’t have a name and neither did she.
Her breath caught, eyes widening as I cut off her air. She fought to push her tight cunt down on my length, every muscle straining. I held her there, halfway impaled, watching fear bloom in her gaze like it was the most beautiful fucking flower I’d ever seen. Yeah, she should be afraid. I released her throat just slightly so she could breathe but the pressure remained.
“You’re too big,” she gasped, panic and arousal mixing into one poisoned cocktail. “I can’t.” She was grabbing at my wrists as I tightened around her throat once again. “Breathe.” Her last word was on a choke.
I released, let her suck down oxygen like it was mercy, only to snatch it away again with my hands on her hips, yanking her down hard, filling her insides roughly now taking her breath away differently. She cried out, body clenching, and that’s when I started the rhythm—lift, slam, grind and rock. Flesh meeting flesh, her sounds turning from fear to something broken to sweet. The smacking of her ass to my thighs rumbled through the empty air around us.
Relentless. That was me. Relentless in war, in the club, in bed.
My cock speared her deep, so deep I felt the tremors in her chest as her lungs worked overtime to keep up. Rocking her hips, rolling them, I teased her within an inch of freedom before driving her back down, until her body surrendered, went limp, and instinct carried her forward.
Moans spilled out of her mouth. Small, mewing sounds, like she couldn’t believe the way her body betrayed her at first before turning into full-on howls. She was lost to me.
“That’s it,” I growled, encouraging and commanding in the same breath.
My thumb found her clit, pressed hard, unforgiving. She rolled her hips in circles, chasing something she didn’t understand. “Get there,” I ordered, teeth gritted, watching her eyes roll back.
Leaning forward, I shifted, sitting upright. She fell into me, tits in my face, nipples like bullets. My cock drove so deep I swore she felt me in her fucking throat. I took her nipple in my mouth, sucked hard, then bit down until she screamed.
Her pussy clamped like a vice, milking me, ripping sounds from her throat that were half sob, half prayer. She convulsed, lost in the storm, collapsing against me while her body wrung me dry.
I wasn’t done. She was lost in her own orgasm, but I hadn’t finished yet.
Hands back on her hips, I controlled her ride, chasing my own edge. Lifting her high, letting her slide almost all the way off, then slamming her back down, over and over until the heat in my gut exploded.
My phone rang just as I spilled inside her, cum flooding her, dripping down my balls, messy and raw. The ringtone cut through the haze, dragging me back to reality.
Slapping her ass, I muttered, “Go.”
She didn’t move. Blissed out, still riding the waves, she just clung to me.
My annoyance spiked. I grabbed her hips, yanked her off, tossed her to the floor like the plaything she was. She whimpered, sprawled out, cum leaking down her thighs.
The phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced. GJ calling.
Fuck.
Rolling to the side, I answered. “Lo.”
“Dad, shit’s bad.” His voice wasn’t his. Panic made it high, sharp, breaking.
Instantly, adrenaline flushed the whiskey and the pussy out of me. I was on my feet, half-stepping over the bunny on the floor, dragging my jeans up without even thinking.
“Where are you?” My voice was sharp, clipped. The Marine in me back to life.
“Pop Squally’s,” he gagged through the phone, the sound of vomit wet and ugly in my ear. “Dad—Squally’s dead!”
My world cracked in two. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Everything spun out of control. My world was coming apart. No it fucking shattered.
“What?!” I roared, shirt half on, boots still unlaced. “Where the fuck are you, and who’s with you?”
“I—I was sent to get Shank’s keys. Pop took ’em. I guess ’cause Shank got wasted. Clutch told me to ride over, grab ’em, save a fight in the morning. Pop was waiting for me, told me hurry, he had shit to do. When I got here…” He gagged again, retching hard enough I could hear his body seize through the phone. “The door was kicked in. Pop’s—” he couldn’t finish, just heaved.
“You call anyone else?”
“No. But I hear sirens. Lights. They’re here.” His voice broke. “Dad, I didn’t?—”
“Don’t move,” I snapped. “Don’t talk. I’m on the way.”
