Page 34 of Torch
Once I had a text to say the camera was in place, I finished up my last beer with Micro, and said I was turning in for the night, because as much as I wanted to hang with him, I really didn’t want to be so exposed, especially if I’d had a few drinks. I made plans to shoot the shit with him in the morning in the workout room, which was basically just a makeshift gym, with free weights, and some punching bags. We bad guys had to keep in shape, after all. Not many of us bothered lately, but I felt like staying strong, or getting stronger, might keep me alive through this shit.
On my way up the stairs, I’d bumped into Ice, who told me Lissa had passed on my number to Grace, and he handed me a scrap of paper with hers on. I added it to my phone, and promptly burned it with one of my torches.
Texting with her, or even better, phone sex with her, was the perfect ending to our day.
“I’m close, Torch,” she hissed, while I stroked one off at a rapid pace, wishing it was her fucking tight pussy I was riding right now.
“If we were together right now, I’d be ramming inside you so fucking hard, you’d be begging me for mercy. Guess what though, babe?”
She let out a ragged moan. “There wouldn’t be any mercy?” She guessed, and I made a ding ding noise as I squeezed the head of my dick, and started jerking harder. I’d edged myself for long enough, and now I wanted a big fucking finish. I just wished I could paint her fucking face with my cum.
“Next time we do this on a fucking video, babe, so you can see me coming all over the screen, and painting your virtual face with my cum, got it?”
A long low moan, and ragged gasping was my response, and fuck yeah, I was ready to get mine too.
“Tell me you’re my filthy little whore, doc.” I jerked rapidly, picturing her on her knees, teary eyed from a throat fucking she’d never forget, covered in slobber, and about to get a facial she couldn’t get in a fancy fucking spa.
“I’m… I’m your filthy… whore,” she gasped out, still catching her breath from her own orgasm. Fuck! My orgasm suddenly roared through me, and lit me on fire in all the right fucking ways.
I made a bit of a mess with cum, but that’s what a guy’s bedroom looks like, just an FYI for any ladies who wonder. Whether it’s tissues, an old t-shirt, or a fucking sock… there’s cum somewhere from all the wanking off we do.
Beingwokeninthemiddle of the fucking night was never a good thing, and being roused from a deep sleep, by fists thundering on the door, was even worse.
“What the fuck!” I yelled, charging naked to the door and unlocking it, wrenching it open to glare at a grim Stitch on the other side of the door.
“What?”
He averted his eyes from my nakedness, and growled at me to get dressed, and meet him in Ice’s suite asap. He was stomping away for the stairs before I could answer, so clearly some kind of shit had hit the fan.
I ran to drag on a pair of jeans, and my cut on my bare chest, because I might not have time to get dressed, but I’m a fucking club guy through and through. I wondered if the new camera had picked up what was going on, and we finally had an ID on this fucker.
I locked my door and ran bare footed up the stairs to Ice’s room, rapping sharply on the door and being greeted again by Stitch.
“Nice of you to kinda get dressed,” he hissed as he locked the door behind me.
In the room was most of us in the know, as in Ryder, Ice, Has, Grease, Stitch, and me. No sign of Reacher, of course, but fuck… suddenly I was praying we weren’t in here for bad news about Ally. What if she’d… fuck no…
“It’s not Ally, right?” I gritted out, grabbing Stitch’s sleeve as he tried to pass me. He shook his head, and I felt a little of the fear inside me settle a little, but still something was up and it wasn’t good.
He ran a hand through his hair, which looked like he’d done it a dozen times already, and cast a look around the room at us.
“Jock’s dead.”
We were all struck silent for a moment, as a ripple of horror shot through all of us, but it was the last thing we’d expected to hear, because Jock had made a break from the club to retire out by the sea somewhere.
“What?”
“How?”
Stitch ran both hands through his hair and whirled around to face us.
“Shit. Look, before what happened to Ally, Reacher got a call from Jock. He said he had something important to talk to him about, and when he said it related to the problem within the club, it was clear that he knew something. He didn’t want to say over the phone, because of the possibility of ears overhearing, but he arranged to meet with Reacher this morning. They were going to be meeting at a coffee shop about a mile from here.”
I grabbed one of the spare chairs and dropped my tired ass onto it, wincing at the twinge of dull pain in my back from, you know, being stabbed.
“Yeah?”
Ice was tapping away at something on his computer, but listening in that way he multitasks, while the rest of the guys were lounging about, or standing, listening.
