Wild Like the Wind (Page 18)

He slid his hands up her back and into her hair to hold her head with both of them.

“No worries about sharin’, Keely. You got my word. But don’t lose sight of where this is at and what you’re gettin’ from me,” he warned.

She nodded.

“You gotta get home?” he asked.

“Soon-ish,” she answered.

“We gonna fuck again?”

She arched one perfect brow. “You have that in you?”

“You do the work, I could rally.”

She smiled.

“I blew you, you haven’t eaten me,” she told him something he very well remembered.

“Happy to oblige, but just sayin’, if you’re keepin’ track, I think you owe me about four.”

“I hear that, baby, but mama’s mouth is tired.”

And he heard that. She gave it her all, did it with gusto and kept going even after he’d blown.

“Guess it’s time for me to go down,” he muttered.

“It is.”

“You wanna swing off?” he asked.

He couldn’t imagine why she wouldn’t. He still had some hard but he was losing it fast.

She still hesitated.

Then she swung off and he lost her.

The thing that caught at him about that was it was Keely acting like she didn’t want to lose him.

He wasn’t going to get into that with her.

Instead, he rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom to flush the condom.

At this rate, the super would be up in his shit for clogging the pipes.

Whatever.

He went back to Keely and took her there with his mouth.

He pushed her there again with his cock and fingers.

Then they dressed and he walked her out to her car where they necked before he stood on the sidewalk and watched her drive away.

You’re So Chaos

Hound lifted a leg and put his boot to the door.

It popped open and he strolled in, seeing bodies scatter.

He didn’t have a mind to any of them, but the one he knew belonged to the man who lived in that apartment, an apartment in his building.

The guy tried to take off, attempting to go wide to avoid Hound, but even though Hound was a big man, he could move fast and definitely faster than a junkie.

So he caught the guy at the throat, lifted him off his feet, then slammed him down on his back on his soiled carpet, going down with him to press a knee hard to his chest even as he didn’t take his hold off his throat.

He got in his face.

“You gotta do this shit,” he lifted his eyes, indicating the dope paraphernalia that was scattered everywhere, “you do it somewhere else. Find a friend who don’t have a biker that gives a shit his building is clean. And you need to get supplied, you do that somewhere else too, motherfucker. I see or even hear that kinda scum has walked through the front door again, it won’t be the dealer I’m lookin’ for. It’ll be you. Have I been clear?”

“Yeah, uh . . . yeah. Yeah, man. Totally, yeah,” the guy pushed out.

“I am not a man who likes his time wasted. If I find my message has not been delivered, I won’t deliver it again. I’ll snap your neck,” Hound told him.

This last wasn’t true but the guy didn’t need to know that.

His eyes were glassy but big and filled with fear, his face was red, and he nodded his head even in Hound’s hold, because he believed him.

“M-m-message delivered,” he stammered. “P-promise.”

Hound shoved at his throat as he pushed up, not enough to cause damage, but enough to make the guy splutter and cough, turning to his side.

Hound looked down at him, feeling his lip curl.

Then he saw the carpet he was lying on was the same as his carpet, Hound’s not as rank, but it wasn’t far from it.

Him and Keely had been at each other now for a week. She had more than a rare occasion to walk on his carpet in her bare feet, especially now that his test came back clean so he went at her ungloved, she liked to clean up in between and he didn’t eat his own cum.

She hadn’t said dick.

He didn’t think about it.

Until then.

Hound walked out of the apartment, out to his truck, swung in and went to Target.

He nabbed a vacuum cleaner, and while he was there, grabbed some Windex, cleaning cloths, paper towels, a mop and some stuff to clean bathrooms.

On his way back to his apartment he called Chill, the recruit they’d taken on with Dutch. A good kid, couple of years older than Dutch. Not tall. Lean and wiry, smart and seemingly dedicated (so far). He didn’t know dick about cars and bikes except he liked them, and rode the last, so he didn’t work in the garage. Like all recruits, he worked in the auto supply store that was also a part of Ride, but unlike all recruits, he’d stay there after he was patched in.

And Chill was always moving. If he was sitting, his leg was bobbing. If he was talking, his hands talked with him. If he was hanging, his eyes were always darting around the room.

Being totally fucking hyper, of course, they called him Chill.

“Yo, Hound,” Chill answered.

“Just downed a junkie at my apartment building because I wasn’t a big fan of the element he was attracting to my space.”

“Righteous,” Chill replied.

Another requirement to be a recruit for Chaos, that being not down with that kind of shit at the same time willing to do something about it.

Chill’s mom was a recovering junkie, his dad, out of the picture for years, a non-recovered one.

So Chill was down with that.

“You probably won’t think that when I tell you I realized in not cleaning my crib for nine years, it’s not a man cave, it’s a dump like where a junkie would hang, so you’re comin’ over and givin’ it a scrub down.”

“Fuck,” Chill muttered.

It wasn’t easy being a Chaos recruit, and it wasn’t just because you got the shit jobs like stocking shelves, keeping track of inventory and waiting on pain-in-the-ass customers at the store.

It was because you were a grunt, you did what any brother told you to do, you went where they told you they wanted you to be, you didn’t question it, you didn’t bitch about it and you were on call 24/7 for all that shit.

“Find Dutch, bring his ass with you,” Hound ordered.

“Like . . . now?” Chill asked.

“You doin’ something for another brother?” Hound asked back.

“No, just workin’ the store.”

“Someone there that’s not Dutch to cover that?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, like now.”

“Right, be there in thirty.”

“Good,” Hound grunted, hung up, drove back to his pad and hauled the shit up to his apartment.

Then he went next door to hang with Jean awhile before he made her lunch.

“So, tell me how flattered I should be that you walked me in tonight and the place is spic and span,” Keely ordered.

She was naked, astride Hound’s lap. He was naked too with his back up against his headboard.

She wasn’t holding distant. Her chest was to his, resting on it, but she had her head back so she could look at him.

From their second time until then, Hound got the message loud and clear that they might be fuck buddies, but Keely was not going to let that stop her from being lovey and affectionate.

This meant any time they weren’t fucking, she stayed close and touched.

Hound wanted to find some way to warn her off that shit, set that boundary, keep them focused.